by Candy Rae
He glanced at Wilhelm. The Weaponsmaster sat on Mislya’s back, his eyes ranging everywhere at once.
The battle was being fought between Mackie’s Ridge and the coast, a solid seething mass of Lind and Larg with some vadeln-pairs amongst them. The Tenth Ryzck and Jim’s vadeln-pairs were there and with them Wilhelm’s son Eitel and his Jilya but Wilhelm knew he could do nothing to help them. His responsibility was here, protecting the wounded and looking after the surviving cadets.
The cadet guard duos stood restlessly.
Wilhelm calmed them, “stay together, keep your eyes peeled.”
How the Kranj of Larg had managed to stay out of sight, as they slunk up the hill behind the ridge, nobody afterwards could fathom but manage it they did.
Suddenly, they were there, all ten of them.
The cadets were young; they were bone weary.
There was a shout of alarm.
Brian and Wilhelm turned their heads.
Sofiya and Mislya were quicker on the uptake than their humans.
A split second then they, the Weaponsmaster and Brian Randall were racing to the rescue.
* * * * *
“Bloody hell,” cried out Colonel Senot as he watched the emergence of the Lindars over the ridge through his binoculars. He shouted to his fellow officers pointing inland with a hand that stayed steady only with a great deal of effort. Hawk-eyed Colonel Ross watched unbelievingly as Lindar upon Lindar topped the rise and bounded down into the fight.
Colonel Morgan ran over and demanded the binoculars.
“The General is on his way,” he informed them as he raised them to his eyes, all but dragging them from Senot’s grasp, “and where did they come from? Thought Bvdmaldr had scouts out.”
“Not to the north,” answered Senot in a grim voice, “Karovitz told him he should but he paid no attention.”
“More fool he.”
“What do we do now?”
“We get out of here as fast as we can get the boats loaded, I’m not hanging around.”
He thrust the binos at Senot and charged away, calling out his orders as he ran.
Colonels Louis Senot and Philip Ross looked at each other for a moment then they too began to call for their lieutenants and sergeants.
The beachhead compound was soon filled with men running around in ordered chaos, picking up their equipment and forming into ranks, waiting for their General to give the evacuation order before it was too late.
Few panicked. These were regulars, not conscripts. They knew what to do and of their Larg ‘allies’, few much cared. They were far more concerned with staying alive.
* * * * *
Jim and Larya, desperately fighting in the midst of the northern ranks felt the despair and acceptance of defeat by their enemies as the group of Larg encircling him visibly shivered. There was a howl from the rear of the kohorts and then the Larg turned and began to fight their way downhill.
Jim was wounded, he felt faint with the pain, he held on to Larya’s sweat-matted ruff with his left hand as he watched.
Then it happened, in slow motion. Jim, light headed with loss of blood saw the wounded Larg raise himself on his haunches and lunge towards him and Larya. Larya did not sense his approach and, wounded herself, lacked the mobility to wrench herself and her vadeln out of reach of the teeth. The jaws snapped shut on Jim’s shoulder as the huge male Larg put his full weight behind his lunge.
Jim fell to the ground.
: Jim and Larya are down : ‘shouted’ Kolyei.
: Dead? : gasped Tara.
In the confusion, the only duo who had seen it happen had been Kolyei and Tara.
Jim lay still, to all appearances unconscious if not dead, Larya by his side.
Tara screamed with desperation as she and Kolyei tried to reach them, Kolyei throwing himself atop the Larg in a desperate attempt to deflect the killing bite, Tara stabbing at his exposed neck.
They landed on the muddy ground with a bang that forced the breath out of Tara, then the Larg turned on them.
The battle lines surged one way then the other. The battle was not yet won. If the Larg managed to regroup they might still win the day.
Lying winded on the ground Tara became aware of the low thrumming growl of rage from thousands of Lind throats as the news came that their beloved Ruza Jim, Susyc of their army had fallen and the Lindars and Vada Ryzcks pressed harder, intent on finishing it once and for all.
The Larg sensed this, knowing at that moment that the Lind would give no quarter.
Some of the Larg kohorts reacted unpredictably. Life was sweet. Honour be damned. The Lind had never before wished to kill all in their path. They would no longer be content with cleansing the lands of the Larg, this time they wanted to kill them.
Bvdmaldr had no reinforcements to disembark, so sure he had been that twelve kohorts would be enough. He had been assured the north would be taken by surprise and that the Lindars were many days run away.
What has gone wrong?
Then he received word that the human regiments were preparing to evacuate. They had let loose the captured kura and zarova not already embarked.
Bvdmaldr came to a reluctant decision. He would save what he could out of this mess. He himself would stay, honour demanded the ultimate sacrifice but he could order the survivors to go, thus saving them from the Largan’s wrath and disgrace.
He ordered all but his own kohort back to the beachhead and to evacuate.
Those humans who remained he would force to continue their defence of the perimeter fence and his kohort would form the rearguard, buying enough time for the others to get away. The northerners would be unlikely to attack the fences, rough and ready as they were, their sharp staves a formidable barrier. The Lind were not fools, they knew that attacks on human-made fortifications was costly.
The kohorts disengaged and fled.
One brave kohort refused Bvdmaldr’s order, as was their right and they joined with Bvdmaldr’s own and a number of like-minded individuals and moved into formation.
Bvdmaldr watched as his enemies bore down on him. Death was his future. As he lunged he had time only for a fleeting thought of his mate and young ones playing in the sun around their den. Seconds later he was dead.
Many leagues south, his family were not out enjoying the sun. The young ones lay quiet, their chests still, their pain-filled whimpering silenced at last. Bvdmaldr’s mate lay beside her dead litter, struggling for breath, her own fight for life almost over.
For sickness had come to the lands of the Larg, none knew from whence it came, it was spreading like wildfire from pack to pack.
There was no known cure.
None of Bvdmaldr’s kohort or the others that fought with him lived long enough to see the last southern ships leave.
They died and with them died the war.
Now was the time to tend to the wounded, to grieve for the fallen and to wonder yet again just why the Larg continued to attack time and time again. Rybak was a large planet; surely there was room for all to live in peace?
* * * * *
Peter and Radya were frantic with worry. Linked mind-to-mind with Kolyei, Radya had watched the battle for the ridge from Kolyei’s eyes, had felt their despair the previous evening and the pain as they fought.
They sensed the jubilation when the Larg kohorts broke then the gut-wrenching fear as the wounded Larg attacked the injured Susyc.
Peter and Radya shared Tara and Kolyei’s brave leap to save Jim and Larya, then nothing.
: I cannot sense Kolyei : whined Radya.
: They are not dead : Peter ‘shouted’ in her mind. : Knocked out but not dead. Don’t close down on me :
But Radya continued to whine even as she strained her mind out towards the ridge, desperate to catch even a faint sliver of thought from Kolyei’s mind.
Her ears twitched and Radya relaxed.
: I feel him. He is weak but he is alive :
Peter took a deep breath.
&n
bsp; “Can you sense anything else?” he asked urgently, “what of Tara?”
: Hurt. I sense pain. Much pain :
: Any more? :
: No bleeds I think, none that are big but many hurts :
Tara and Kolyei had been stunned by the impact.
Kolyei came to his senses.
To his left the Larg lay beside them and to his alarm the huge tawny body was still breathing. Tara, where was Tara? He could not feel her on his back. The impact must have dislodged her from the saddle.
Then out of his uninjured eye he saw Tara, mouth set hard against the pain from her injuries, drag herself over his inert body and, with a grunt of effort, slither down beside his head, putting herself between him and the Larg who was now crawling towards them. She struggled to get her knife out of her belt.
: I’ll get him. I’ll get him :
The Larg’s mouth was close to Kolyei’s throat.
The determined and desperate Tara settled the knife in her hand, too slow she was thinking, but she couldn’t move any faster. She knew she wouldn’t be able to stop the killing bite in time.
Eitel and Jilya appeared out of nowhere. The young man’s sword swished down through the air like a glinting nemesis, the Larg shuddered, his blood spilling out over Tara.
: Tara? : ventured Kolyei. Pain racked his body, muscles protested as he tried to reach her.
: It hurts : her ‘voice’ was faint : I think every bone in my body is broken and my side feels damp :
Eitel’s voice appeared to be coming from a great distance as he dismounted and bent down beside them, Jilya standing guard. The kohorts were fleeing towards the coast, but the danger was not over. The battlefield was littered with the dead and dying but more than one Larg remained alive. Each and every one of them was eager to kill one last enemy before he breathed his last.
Tara was unconscious now; Kolyei was awake.
“I saw it happen but couldn’t reach you in time,” Eitel said to him as he ripped apart Tara’s armour to get at the wound. He had to stop the bleeding before she died from blood loss and shock. “It was a brave thing you both did.”
Kolyei turned a despairing head towards the motionless bodies of Jim and Larya.
Tara roused.
“Jim?”
The question was barely audible and Eitel strained to hear it.
“Hold on,” he said and crawled over to look.
“Alive,” he answered, “I can stop the bleeding, but I can’t do much more until I get him to the medics.”
“Larya?”
“She’ll live, but I don’t think she’ll be bouncing around for a while. I’ve heard Peter and Radya are on their way.”
“Nice,” whispered Tara and she drifted back into unconsciousness.
Eitel and Jilya went to seek help.
From the Keep the weary defenders watched as the remainder of the regiments of Murdoch evacuated. They set loose any herds not already embarked. This caused a lot of confusion as the half-crazed beasts stampeded away from the smell, the death and the pain-filled keening that was now the battlefield.
Francis listened to the remembered lament, the song for the fallen that he had first heard after the Battle of the Alliance nine years before. This time, human voices joined with the Lind, their two species as one in their quest to keep the northern continent free.
“No more shalt you run, hunt and play,
Under the soft warm sun of day.
He who hast died, he hast gone away,
She who hast fallen, she canst not stay.
Midst trees tall,
We mourn you all.
Midst mountains high,
We for you sigh,
Midst rivers fast,
We sing of seasons past.
Midst valleys deep,
We thy memory keep.
Midst meadows bare,
Thy deaths we will share.
He who has died has gone away,
She who has fallen canst not stay.
Be still, mine rtathen.”
The Battle of Trumpet Keep was over.
The Larg invasion of Vadath had turned into a rout.
The revenge planned by Aoalvaldr the Larg had failed.
* * * * *
Francis and Asya, with Jim and Larya incapacitated, took command.
From the Keep’s walls, they watched as the Larg fled past, intent on reaching the beachhead before the Lind.
Although he dearly wished to harry and to perhaps kill them all, Francis knew there was no way he could.
The northern army was too bone weary, there were too many wounded and, as Francis calmed down, the need to kill dissipated. Let them go. Vadath was safe again. More importantly, the old, the children and the younglings were safe. No point in prolonging the slaughter. Many were dead and reports were coming in of other Larg depredations to the west. Not all the Larg were fleeing. Some were still hunting and killing. They would need to be hunted down before they killed again.
No, let them go. Demoralised and defeated, he hoped it would be a long time before they ventured north again.
The herds could be replaced, homes and dagas rebuilt, but so many lives had been lost in the insanity.
As the Lind had been wondering for generations, so Francis wondered just why the Larg kept coming north on their missions to kill and destroy. He could understand their need to augment their food supply in times of drought, but this attack, Francis knew, had, at its root, revenge and hate.
Asya sensed his thoughts.
: They need only ask, we gladly would give herds but they never ask, they always attack and then come killing and death. We tried but Larg not listen :
: We have to find a way to make them listen :
Asya shook her head. She knew, better than Francis that that was impossible.
Francis recollected himself to his duties as Susyc.
: Tell the Lindars to keep the beachhead contained. More Lindars are expected and they will help. I don’t want any breakouts :
Asya sent the order then looked at Francis expectantly. Francis didn’t notice, he was gazing into space, his mind a blank. He didn’t want to think, he needed time to recover but was realising, as Jim had before him, that he could not, must not.
“I’m going to visit the injured,” he said with a sigh, coming to himself. He remembered that Jim and Larya had always made a point of doing this as soon as they possibly could.
“I take you there,” answered Asya. “Holad dom is at the ridge. Those with hurts will be glad to see you and hear news of victory.”
“Victory?” he patted Asya on her neck, careful of her stitches. “Yes, I suppose it is a victory, but it doesn’t feel like it.”
* * * * *
Emily almost didn’t recognise the battered female, nor the bloody form of her rider pinned beneath. Sofiya’s throat was torn apart. Sofiya’s lifeblood was seeping away and Emily could do nothing to stop it.
Brian might have lived with immediate care and surgery but all Emily could do was watch his anguished gaze as he felt his life partner lose her battle for life. Emily knew he would not wish to continue without his Sofiya.
“Emily,” he gasped out and placed his torn hand on Emily’s own as she frantically tried to stem the blood. His blood mingled with Sofiya’s own as his trembling hand fumbled towards his life-mate’s inert form.
Then there was emptiness within Brian’s mind where Sofiya had been.
Emily could only sit quietly beside him, his head nestled in her lap as Brian too breathed his last. It did not take long and then he was gone, leaving a great emptiness within her.
She turned a grief-stricken face to Ilyei, her tears flowing unchecked, as she stumbled to her feet absently rubbing her bloody hands on her tunic. Brian’s blood.
“We’re on our own again Ilyei,” she whispered. He leaned against her in mutual comfort and Emily drew strength from him as they mourned together.
: I loved Sofiya : his thought cracked with emotion
.
: Why us? : Emily wept : First Thomas and Stasya and now Brian and Sofiya :
: It is war. This why Lind hate war :
He nudged her hard with his snout and Emily staggered back in surprise.
: What? :
: Grieve later. Others need our help. You must be strong :
He nudged her again.
: Tara and Kolyei. Look :
Through her tears she saw their friends on the ground, still and quiet. For a wild moment Emily thought the two had joined Brian and Sofiya in death’s blue pastures.
: They are alive but need help :
As Emily stumbled towards them she realised that Tara was moving.
: Kolyei is not awake : offered Ilyei.
Emily allowed herself one last fleeting glance at Brian then knelt beside them.
“I’m stuck underneath, I think my legs are broken, in fact I think everything is broken.”
“When were you wounded?” queried Emily, feeling for her pulse and shunting her grief to one side. Ilyei was right, others needed her skills and there would be time to mourn later. Tara did not answer. She had fainted again.
Emily ran her hands over as much as she could reach of Tara and Kolyei and, to her relief, she felt no major bleeds. Someone had smeared Smaha salve on the only large wound and roughly bandaged it. She sensed someone coming up behind her and Ilyei.
It was Tina and Daltei.
“Go,” ordered Tina, “Daltei and I are here, Eitel sent me, we’ll look after them, go tend the more seriously wounded,” and Tina plumped down at Tara’s side.
The normally fastidious Tina was a sight to behold, streaked with blood and sweat. Tendrils of sweaty curls had escaped from her helmet. She placed a sympathetic hand on Emily’s shoulder.
“Daltei told me,” she said simply. “Brian and Sofiya are not the only ones. Mark and Aya fell on top of the ridge and I can’t find Alan and Kiltya either. Daltei cannot sense them. He fears the worst. Yvonne too.”
Emily was stricken, Mark, Alan and Yvonne?
