by Sam Ferguson
A flash of light appeared then between the group and Erik. A mighty, bloodthirsty howl rent the air and a great, silver beast launched out from the light and tore into the nearest opponent. Lady Arkyn stopped on one foot, perching the other up on her straight leg for balance as she seized the moment to pick off several foes.
Arrows rained down, each one a shaft of whistling death that dropped a foe with ease. On the forest floor below, Silverfang did his work. Those men near enough to see the beast froze in place, staring at the snarling, bloody snout. A couple of the men squealed like children, but none of them moved. The wolf’s spell had them petrified. Fangs flashed and tore the enemies down quickly, allowing Erik to finally put distance between himself and the enemy.
Erik stumbled out of the forest, breathing heavily and shaking his head. His toe slipped into a hole in the ground and he almost fell to his face, but a strong arm caught him and hoisted him up. He looked up to see Braun
“Is it done?” he asked.
Erik nodded. “The warlock is dead.”
Braun steadied Erik on his feet and bent over to look into his face. “Are you certain?”
Erik shrugged. “Unless the man has a spell that can put him back together, he is finished.”
“Back together?” Braun repeated curiously, then he leaned back. “Is he in pieces?”
Erik nodded slowly. “Split in two diagonally from shoulder to opposing hip,” Erik replied. After a breath he added, “He was also on fire, from the sword.”
“Well,” Braun muttered. “I would wager that should do it.” The tone in his voice was one of bewilderment, but Erik could sense the underlying pride in Braun’s words as well. “Are you hurt badly?” he asked. “We saw the magical assault and feared the worst when you got hit.”
“I’m alright,” Erik said. “A little dazed, but I’ll live.”
Braun pulled him along to the other side of the house. Torches fully illuminated the scene before the manor. Gorin and several guards worked the catapults as quickly as they could. Demetrius was there also. Wendal and a few other mages were busy weaving spells and counteracting the enemy’s magic. Several men from House Lokton’s retinue were rushing about, hefting carts of clay pots filled with tar from the storage shed near the forge to the creaking catapults.
“The warlock is dead!” Braun shouted.
Everyone stopped just long enough to look back and hail Erik with a chorus of congratulatory shouts and cheers. Then a series of bells and gongs sounded around the manor and they all went back to their work.
“The warlock is dead, but the battle will be heavy tonight,” Braun said.
A long faced man approached from the front of the manor and took Erik’s chin in his hand, turning his head to the side. “You have a nasty gash here,” the man said. “I can take care of that. Look into the torchlight for me.” Erik did as he was told and the light made his eyes ache. He blinked against it, but the long faced man held him firm in the light. “Slight concussion too,” he said. “Pupils are not reacting to the light evenly.”
“Anything serious?” Braun asked.
The man shook his head. “No, I’ll have him back on the field in a few minutes.” Then he took Erik’s arm and laid it around his shoulders. “Come with me, Master Lepkin,” he said.
“I’m back to the battle,” Braun announced. “See you when you are ready.”
Erik offered a slight wave as the long faced man pulled him toward the house. They pushed through the doors and turned down the hall to the dining room. Erik looked around the room and noted that instead of food, the tables were covered with wounded men from the day’s fighting. Many of them were asleep, but some were writhing in discomfort and moaning. The sight made Erik’s heart heavy with sadness. He sighed deeply and turned to sit in a chair that the long faced man slid behind him.
A short, plump woman came forward. Erik could tell by her clothes that she was not from the academy, but he didn’t know who she was exactly. Probably the wife of one of the men who served House Lokton, but that was only a guess.
“I thought we were done fightin’ for the night,” she scolded the long faced man. “Now I hear the alarms and you are bringing me more heads to sew together.”
“War does not function on a convenient schedule,” the long faced man said dryly. “Just bring me a bowl of water and some gauze.”
The woman gave a hefty harumpf! and stormed off to fetch the supplies. She returned not a minute later with a small soup bowl and a blood crusted goblet stuffed with gauze and rags. “Here,” she huffed as she shoved the items into Erik’s hands. “I have more serious wounds to tend to.” Then she turned and went back to a groaning man on a table nearby.
Erik leaned around the long faced man and watched the woman work, changing the blood soaked bandages for new ones. A rivulet of blood streamed out over the edge of the table and dripped onto the floor below. The plump woman cursed under her breath and furiously went to work applying pressure and shouting to another pair of women to come and help.
“Shouldn’t you help him?” Erik asked the long faced man.
The man sighed and turned away to look. Then he summarily shook his head and went back to cleaning Erik’s face. “No, he is already dead. He is just too stubborn to give up his ghost yet.”
Erik jerked his head back and looked at the cold hearted man angrily. “Shouldn’t you try?”
The man frowned. “I have seen more than a few battles, Master Lepkin. Obviously that bump on your head knocked your senses loose, otherwise you would see the logic of my words. In war you must be able to properly recognize those you can save from those who are too far gone. A proper triage center doesn’t waste efforts on those who will expire.”
“That’s cruel,” Erik whispered.
“War is cruel,” the man repeated flatly. He then used a wet rag to wipe the last bit of blood from Erik’s head before cupping his left hand over the wound. The man’s eyes rolled back into his head slightly and his eyelids flittered as he mumbled words that Erik didn’t understand. A warm, tingling sensation poured into his gash and he felt the skin sealing itself together. The fogginess in his head cleared away and he felt revitalized. A moment later the man pulled his hand away and dropped the dirty rags into the soup bowl. “You should be fit to return to the front,” he declared.
“Why not use your magic on the others?” Erik insisted.
The man turned a crooked smile on him, the first sign of emotion that he had shown since Erik first saw him. “Surely you did take a heavy shot to the old noodle, didn’t you?” he jested. “If my magic was powerful enough for the wounds these men bear, I would have helped them hours ago.”
Erik stood up and left the room, barely pausing long enough to thank the man for helping him. He pushed out through the main door, his right hand sliding down for the hilt of his sword. Men ran back and forth in front of him, some carrying rocks and more tar-pots for the catapults, others rushing forward to the front lines. Captains shouted orders and soldiers grunted as they were quick to obey.
“Master Lepkin, we could use you at the front,” Gorin bellowed above the din.
Erik nodded and broke into a run. He slid his sword out from the scabbard and called forth its fire. The night hung dark and heavy over the field. The few blazing fires served only to prevent his eyes from adjusting properly. It was hard for him to distinguish friend from foe, then he remembered his power. He summoned it forth, allowing his gift to highlight his enemies for him. A confident smile crossed his face and he rushed into the fray. He kept his breathing rhythmic and steady, calculating each swing of his flaming sword as the warriors closed in around him.
Gorin fought a few yards away, breaking down the enemy with his mighty hammer and working his way through, while Erik sliced and cut his way through the first wave of enemies. Thanks to his power, each enemy had a faint red glow about them, making it easy to spot them in the darkness. Flames hissed and roared, trailing behind each swing of his sword. Someone ch
arged in with a high arching swing at Erik, but he quickly brought his sword up, catching the attack and flinging it to the side. Then he flicked his wrists, aiming the blade’s point at his foe’s chest and driving it through as easily as a hot knife through butter. The man’s eyes went wide and he fell back to the ground.
Erik pressed on, sequestering his fear with each breath farther and farther to the back of his mind. He allowed only enough of it to remain so as to keep himself alert, otherwise he was in the moment, as Master Lepkin had taught him.
*****
Silvi ran to the burning tent and let out a horrified scream when she saw Gondok’hr’s charred remains. As she surveyed the scene in unbelieving shock, her eye was caught by an emerald amulet reflecting the dying flames where the tent had stood. Sensing a subtle pulse of power, she went in quickly to retrieve it. Then she ran toward the rear to find Eldrik. Many of the warlocks were already engaging the enemy, but the sight of magic being used was causing more than a few of Eldrik’s men to balk. When she finally found Eldrik, he was being confronted by several of his men.
“What evil is this?” one of the men shouted at Eldrik. “Where did these wizards come from?”
Silvi stepped forward, shouting over the men. “They are Senator Bracken’s allies. That is all you need to know!”
“Horse-apples!” another shouted. “I am not throwing myself in with this lot. They aren’t wizards, they’re warlocks!
A third man added, “The mindless warriors and now the wizards. It’s unnatural.”
Eldrik pushed Silvi behind him. “A battle rages behind us,” he shouted. “We have come here to put down enemies of the crown, enemies of House Cedreau. Will you now abandon the oath you swore to me, to my father?”
“I promised you my blade, not my soul,” the first man shouted back. Others joined in with him.
A large man broke through the throng. “Master Eldrik is the leader of House Cedreau now,” he boomed. “I say any man willing to fight with him is a friend. We could use magic if we are to fight against the likes of Lepkin and others from Kuldiga Academy.” A few of the men agreed with him.
“No,” said the first. “I watched these other soldiers butcher Master Orres not more than a few minutes ago. This is not the fight I believed it to be.”
“Master Orres fought against Senator Bracken,” Silvi pointed out. “You saw him fall this day because he was a traitor.”
The man spat on the ground. “I went through Kuldiga Academy during Orres’ first year as headmaster. He was always a stubborn, proud man, but never a traitor. I am done here.” The man turned and left.
“You can’t let them leave,” Silvi said.
Eldrik shrugged. “What should I do, turn on my own men? No, let them go.” Then he turned to the men. “Those who wish to go may go, but you are no longer in the employ of House Cedreau. Gather your belongings and leave. You have no more place with me. The rest of you, those of you who honor your word, you are my brothers. Fight with me this night, and let us lay waste to Lokton Manor.”
“For the honor of House Cedreau!” the large man shouted. Several others repeated the chorus. Some of the men went toward the back, obviously on their way out, but the majority of the group stayed true and moved forward. “Shall we march to the front?” the large man asked.
Eldrik glanced to Silvi and then turned to survey the battle. Occasional blasts of fire exploded on the ground just fifty yards away, obliterating man, tent, and horse alike. Some two hundred yards beyond that the rest of Bracken’s forces were engaging the enemy. In the dark it was impossible to know who was winning. He knew that Bracken’s forces outnumbered House Lokton, and with the addition of his own army plus the warlocks it should be even more tipped in his favor, but he didn’t know strategy very well.
Silvi approached him from the side. “If your men are good with bows, they could skirt around the forest edge to the north, and flank House Lokton’s mages. They don’t have many, just a handful of left over mages from the academy.”
“The warlocks are already engaging the mages,” Eldrik replied. Even as the words left his mouth, he could see the wisdom in her idea. He nodded and changed his mind. “Yes, that is a good plan.” He turned back to his men. “Grab bows, sneak along the edge of the forest to the north and take out their mages. Afterward, make for the catapults. Destroy their ability to launch long ranged assaults.”
The men cheered and sprinted off to accomplish their orders. Eldrik started to walk after them, but Silvi stopped him. “A general does not fight with the men,” she said. “Leave the blood to them, yours is to observe and command.”
“It would be better if Bracken were still alive,” Eldrik admitted. “I have never commanded others in battle.”
“I will be with you,” she assured him. “Also, I thought you should have this.” She pulled a great jewel from her robes.
“What is it?” Eldrik asked as he took the stone from her. He turned it over in his hands. The deep, vibrant green gem felt warm to the touch and had a glow about it. It was half as large as his hand, but it was not exceedingly heavy. The chain it hung from was severed in the back, but it appeared easy enough to exchange for a new one.
“I am not certain what it is,” she said. “When I ran to Gondok’hr’s tent, it was the only thing not consumed by the fire. I can feel magic inside of it. Strong magic.”
Eldrik tucked it into his pocket. He looked up to the battle. Green, purple, and blue fireballs rained down from the night sky. Some dissipated as they struck invisible shields, others exploded in the air, but a few managed to wreak havoc on the men below. Both armies took heavy casualties from the magical missiles. He marveled at the power the mages and warlocks controlled. “I wish I could do something like that,” he said.
“I will teach you,” Silvi promised. “After this we will have time to train you properly.”
“Can you cast any spells?” he asked. She looked at him curiously. “I mean, can you summon a great fireball to hit the house?”
“The house?” she echoed.
“If Erik’s family is still inside, then striking the house may divert the enemy’s attention.”
Silvi took three steps forward and held both of her hands up to the sky. She muttered words in a tongue that Eldrik couldn’t understand. Her head fell back and she shouted into the night, repeating the words over and over in a cadence.
A great light flashed high in the sky, up above the clouds. The ground shook as a wave of thunder rumbled down over the battle and a mass of churning, yellow flames tore through the clouds, descending toward the house. Frantic shouts filled the night and men scurried out of the way as the fire struck the far corner of the manor. Tile, stone and wood splintered apart, cracking and popping loud enough to be heard even where Eldrik stood. A thick wall of flames spread out around the area of impact until a third of the manor was ablaze. Shouts and agonized yells went up from the enemy and brought a great smile to Eldrik’s face.
*****
Erik felt a wave of heat pass over him as a large fiery sphere devoured a portion of his home. Archers too slow to scramble out of the way vanished in an instant and others leapt from the roof out of desperation. Wood and shards of stone flew into the battlefield, ripping through several men and laying them low. One particularly large hunk of rock blasted through one of the catapults as it was in mid-launch. The tar pot shot up a few feet and then dropped back onto the catapult, drenching it and the crew around it in liquid fire.
“Go!” Gorin shouted from nearby. “We’ll hold them off while you get everyone out!”
Erik nodded and sprinted for the house. A pair of axmen were foolish enough to try and stop him. Erik made quick work of them and continued on his way without losing a step. He ran as fast as he could, but Braun was already leaping up the steps to the front door, followed by a handful of footmen.
“Braun, use the tunnel!” Erik shouted. Braun turned and gave Erik a single nod.
“I’ll get them out,�
�� he promised. “I’ll meet you at the stables.”
Erik shook his head. “No, stay in the tunnel,” he shouted. “In the last chamber where you have a few weapons and armor, just before the exit to the stables. Stay down there and wait until it is over.”
“I’m not leaving you to fight them by yourself,” Braun replied hotly.
“Do it,” Erik said.
Braun frowned, nodded, and then disappeared into the burning house. An arrow zinged by Erik’s ear and he turned, expecting to see Lady Arkyn, but instead he saw an enemy soldier reloading his bow for another shot at him.
“They’re coming from the north!” Erik shouted. He ran forward, somersaulting under the soldier’s next shot and stabbing the man through the gut. Erik stood and surveyed the scene quickly. To the west Gorin was leading the defense. He was heavily outnumbered, but managing to hold the front. To the north, Demetrius and his catapult crew were busy defending themselves from a group of twenty while the mages from the academy were caught between the enemy warlocks and a large force pouring out of the forest to the north. Erik made a split decision to attack the enemy warlocks.
He ran forward as quickly as his legs would propel him. Arrows flew by him, but this time they came from the direction of the house and bit into the enemy. He guessed Lady Arkyn had seen him and was lending her support. A warlock turned to face Erik. A swirling green snake of fire coiled before the man. Just as he moved to send the spell, an arrow sunk into his forehead. The spell fizzled and the warlock fell backward.
The next warlock threw a large spike of ice, but Erik sliced through it with his flaming sword, instantly melting the spell. The water harmlessly splashed onto his chest as he ran forward and drove his sword into the warlock’s chest. The warlock dropped to his knees, snarling and cursing as he fell. Erik pulled his sword free just in time to block a warrior’s axe as he came in with a diagonal chop aimed for Erik’s neck. Erik stepped back and swung horizontally, catching the axman’s hip with the top third of his flaming blade. The man lurched forward and twisted, trying to close his wound. Erik then reversed and brought his sword back to finish the man with a quick slice through the neck. Then armor and bodies slammed together as House Lokton warriors rushed around Erik to engage the warlocks and enemy warriors with him.
