The Elementalist : Next of Kin: The Kothian Chronicles

by Andrew Wood

  Whilst he watched the ball of pure energy fly through the air, he already had the next generating in his other palm. He watched as his strike hit, smashing into an unsuspecting tribesman causing an explosion of raw power. Those around the man were also taken down by the blast, as the smallest of gaps appeared in the enemy ranks. The second and third blasts were sent in a similar fashion, both taking down several men each time. However, he realised continuing in this way would see him depleted of energy in just a few minutes, and he knew he needed to change tactics, or in this case, spells.

  As the massive Caruc approached, their wide feet pounding the frozen ground, causing a sound like rumbling thunder that echoed around. However, that sound was nowhere near comparable as the noise that came from the first three beasts crashing into the outer wall. Kurtis thought he could feel the very foundations shake under his feet, as he struggled to remain stood upright. He noticed a few around him being not quite as successful, as they were sent tumbling. He also watched in horror as a young man just ten paces away dropped forward with a long spear protruding from his torso. He felt pained, as things appeared to move in slow motion, the man arching back, clasping pathetically at the long wooden shaft of the spear, before tumbling forward off the wall to the enemy below.

  The first hit by the Caruc caused the wall to shake, the next did likewise, and Kurtis knew it would not be long before the first cracks appeared, and that soon after, parts of it would start crumbling away under the constant barrage. He took a deep breath and held both his arms aloft; he was going to try a spell he had only practiced a few times, with limited success. He let the power build, flowing through arms and out through his very finger tips, before pointing them down at the hordes of warriors below him.

  Tendrils of raw energy, like streaks of lightening criss-crossing each other, streamed forth, hitting scores of targets in a single blow sending them to their deaths. His focus was disrupted as he felt the wall shaking under his feet once more, and this time he was sent crashing backwards, almost falling off the wall completely. Dazed and shaken, he took a deep breath, before slowly standing as he heard the cries of another beside him fall foul of an arrow. The man's body slumped down right next to him, and Kurtis had no option but to see the last anguished look on his face as his life ebbed away.

  On the northern section of the wall, the Bosarian teleporters started by using their tactic of moving heavy infantry to the top of the wall. Within a few minutes dozens of Bosarian soldiers, with heavy shields were forming a barricade, and pushing forward allowing space behind, for more to be transported up to the top. The Kothian archers were shocked to see several volleys of arrows merely deflected aside from them by some kind of magical shield.

  A young Kothian magician, probably only just into his teenage years, stood beside a man in his sixties holding a sword and shield. The youngster was forced to step back as a Bosarian infantryman thrust a sword his direction. The older man beside him lifted his shield deflecting the blow, before pushing his own blade forward. The sharp point of the steel pierced the thin armour around the neck causing the Bosarian to fall to his knees, before collapsing forward in a heap. "Thanks," the young magician smiled up to the man beside him.

  The magician was not there for show, and although not particularly powerful, did have a few useful tricks of his own. He concentrated on the line of Infantry slowly building just ten paces ahead of him, before waving his hand to the left, sending three men stumbling sideward and causing the man on the end to go tumbling off the top of the wall. Despite this small success, both the young magician and the old man beside him were forced further back, as the number of Bosarians atop the wall grew, each time the enemy teleporters moved from top to bottom carrying another with them.

  The ground shook as a section of wall to the south finally came tumbling down, erupting in a cloud of dust. The mountain warriors did not waste time in waiting for it to settle as they immediately started pouring in through the breach. A bugle sounded, and Kurtis felt his arm being pulled from someone stood behind him, "We're retreating to the inner wall," he heard a voice shout. Without further delay, he headed for the stone steps, already full of retreating Kothians, as the wall was struck again causing many to stumble and fall.

  Kurtis was caught up in such a tumble, feeling himself knocked sideward he was bumped off the edge of the steps, but luckily for him only falling a few feet to the ground below. Despite the fall only being a short one, it still knocked the air from his lungs, and as he staggered to his feet, he felt his hands stinging. He barely had time to think of the pain as a fur clad warrior rushed his way, a long pointed spear thrust out straight for him. Without giving it any thought, he dived to his right, rolling away as the tribesman was forced to halt his charge. As Kurtis scrambled back to his feet, he managed to fire off a small burst of energy hitting his attacker in the chest. The blow may not have been a killing one, but it was certainly enough to stop the man in his tracks and send him to his knees in agony.

  With the bugle sounding over and over, the Kothians scrambled through the streets of houses between the outer and inner walls. The enemy had breached both the south and north sections, and it was only a matter of time before the gates were opened allowing them free access within. Those atop the inner wall fired down at the enemy pursuing those trying to retreat to the next line of safety. Amongst that number was Oran, King of Kothia, who had took up a bow despite being asked not to by his commander. Although a far better swordsman than archer, he still succeeded in scoring at least two hits against the Bosarians on the northern section.

  Kurtis reached the gate of the inner wall, and turned to see his fellow countrymen behind still being cut down by the enemy. He puffed out his cheeks, and rather than make his way through, he headed back the way he had just come. Feeling anger like none he had ever felt before, he raised his hands skywards and let the energy flood through his entire body. He concentrated his gaze on an area at the back of his own countrymen making good their escape. He knew he could not help everybody, but at least he could perhaps allow those around him time to get to safety. He felt as if the power in his body was about to consume him as he finally let it release.

  Streaks of lightening spewed forth, zigzagging through the air, bouncing from one man to the next. He watched through weary eyes as scores of warriors screamed and yelled as they were struck. He did not know how long he had managed the spell for, but he felt himself being dragged backwards, before everything in the world went black.

  As the gates to the inner wall were finally shut, those who had managed to make good their retreat had no option but to once more take up defensive positions, and await the on rushing enemy to strike again. Both the Mountain tribes and Bosarians had succeeded in breaching the wall, using very different methods and tactics. Now both sides were free to roam around the streets at will, although Hadan of the Vardac tribe was conscious about causing too much damage to a prize he wanted to keep. The tribal chief had already agreed with his fellow leaders that he was to get Pitford as part of the gains made from their now certain victory.

  Oran turned to Katria, "We cannot hope to hold them for long, you should join the other women and children in the hall," he said, having to speak loudly to be heard. Katria merely smiled at the man, "Sire, I am quite happy to die for the cause. I may not be a great help but I can assist nonetheless," she replied. Oran shrugged, feeling the situation they found themselves in was now almost certainly hopeless. The enemy had barely taken twenty minutes to breach the outer wall, and although that inevitably meant having his troops spread thinly around it, they had been merely brushed aside. At least he thought, the inner wall was much smaller, and the troops he had left would be more concentrated. Perhaps that might help delay the attackers for a while at least.

  Hadan rode atop his Caruc, and although his tribe had been the ones to break through the wall, it had come at a great cost. He knew it was now time to allow one of the other tribes to take the brunt of the next attack, and as such,
he sounded a horn, telling his own men to regroup. He was glad only a few of his own men had been caught up in the magical strike that had downed hundreds of warriors in one swoop. The forks of lightening may have been wondrous to behold, but not for those caught up in it. He knew he needed to be cautious; the Kothian magicians were obviously far more powerful than Shonna of Bosaria had made them out to be.

  Katria closed her eyes for a second, and saw the sight she hoped to see. "Ramon is returning," she said to the man at her side. Oran turned his head to look at her as he pulled another arrow from the quiver on his back. She could see hope returning to the man's face, where just a few moments ago there had been nothing but despair. "Then we must hold them until they get here," he shouted launching another arrow down into the attackers preparing another assault below.

  The inner wall may not have been as large as the outer one, but it was certainly in better condition, and far thicker. The first Caruc to go crashing into it barely caused a thud, as the beast's rider was sent flying by a Kothian magician looking down on them. The youth watched, as his magic caused the man in question to land several feet away, before being trampled by another creature advancing alongside.

  The Bosarian teleporters were lining up as the Kothian commander, Denny Porter watched on. He had witnessed this very same manoeuvre just a little earlier at the outer wall, and was not about give the enemy the same opportunity again. He called for his group of archers to focus their aim on the group, and watched anxiously as the arrows were fired. He saw at least two of the robed figures hit, and despite it only being a small number, it at least had the desired effect of making the others retreat further back.

  He was unsure as to how close they needed to be to reach the top of the wall. From the little experience he had with magicians, he knew a powerful teleporter like those who had rescued King Oran, could leap miles in a blink of an eye. He also knew, that those not so powerful, could barely manage jumps of thirty or forty paces; he prayed these were the latter.

  Denny Porter watched that particular group with interest, almost ignoring the more traditional exchange of arrows and crossbow bolts flying from either direction. The teleporters were grouped up with infantry, yet from the gesticulating arms from some of them, they appeared unsure about what they were being ordered to do. He almost ignored the fact that one of the men beside him was taken down by a bolt from an enemy crossbow, as his focus remained on the Bosarian magicians. He watched as a man he assumed to be some sort of commander walked over to where they stood, withdraw his sword and thrust it into the gut of one the robed figures. There was a clear verbal tirade as the enemy commander pointed to the top of the wall, probably Denny thought, an order to carry their duty or risk a similar fate.

  The teleporters reluctantly stepped forward, each holding the arm of at least one infantryman, and Denny Porter knew what was coming. He tried to judge from their gaze where abouts on the wall they were targeting, and realised it was probably where he stood. He shouted for his own men to crouch down, and take up a position of shields up and spears held out upwards at an angle. He ducked down as a few of the enemy suddenly appeared atop of the wall aside of his position. As soon as he saw them, he shouted for his own men to lunge forward. The Bosarian soldiers were greeted by a row of spears and a shield wall, and were forced backwards off the wall. The enemy teleporters had time to return for more, but Denny Porter was not going to let up on those either, ordering his archers to keep them under constant fire, forcing them to jump longer distances they were clearly comfortable in doing.

  The battle had been ongoing for barely an hour, and already Pitford was becoming a mass of bodies. Those who had not made it past the outer wall were left were they had fell, just like those atop of it. The number of dead inside the outer barrier was rising by the minute, as both attackers and defenders succumbed to the constant ferocity of battle. Here and there, lay the wounded, left to help themselves or die from their injuries. At least the Kothian injured were treated better, as the healers were working overtime to deal with the ever-increasing number. Oran knew that if things continued as they were he would lose, despite some small successes, his numbers were still far fewer than the enemy. He grabbed Katria by the arm, "Any sign of Ramon yet?" he asked her, knowing that defeat was surely looming. They had managed thus far from keeping the Bosarian teleporters and infantry getting a foothold upon the wall, but he also knew it would only be a matter of time before they succeeded.

  Chapter 10.

  Ramon rode quickly, knowing he had been forced to take much longer than he had wished. Although a majority of his soldiers were on foot, he had little option but to leave them behind. He needed to move quickly, and so those not on horseback, would have to catch up as soon as they could. Those that rode with him, were cavalrymen or magicians, the latter of which he hoped were strong enough to be decisive in the upcoming battle. If he moved swiftly enough he could even catch the enemy unawares and strike at the rear of their lines, he just hoped he got their in time to do so.

  Maxim, although still very tired was among them, riding the horse which had been bought for him by Danton when they had escaped from Woodhaven, that now seemed so long ago. So much had happened since that time he could barely recall all the details about it. The thing he would never forget however, was the day that he met his friends at the wooden hut in the forest. Mikel at that time had seemed for want of a better word, mean to him. Melia had been a little more welcoming, but the one who now rode to his left, had greeted and treated him as if they had been the best of friends for years.

  Maxim thought it strange that he was thinking of such things at a moment like this. They were riding into battle, little more than a mile from Pitford, and he was reminiscing about the first time he had met Zack. The image of the young man with short brown curly hair and big brown eyes, with a warm smiling face was soon shoved aside, as another image appeared. Maxim felt a shiver run through his body as he pictured a tall-cloaked figure, the man's face shadowed by the hood pulled up over his head. He did however hear a voice, a few words, "We are coming...We are coming."

  Maxim felt a chill, and was almost glad when his attention was diverted to someone shouting. "They are already attacking," he heard from somewhere to his right. He looked up to see the walls of Pitford ahead of him, and smoke pouring up from within. The thought he should perhaps teleport forward and get there a little more quickly crossed his mind, but he turned to see Darion still atop his horse. He thought perhaps if he was not doing it, then it probably was not worth doing, and that it would likely save what little energy he had anyway.

  Mikel had been forced to leave Tia in the group following behind, although he had wanted to leave her at Denley. The youngster however was clearly having none of it, and as a compromise, she was allowed to travel with her brother Samuel and the other young lad called Connor, in the group following them. As a result, Melia had also been forced to travel with that group, as she was unwilling to leave Samuel in his current condition.

  Mikel sensed Shadow running cross-country, not bound to the tracks and roads as he was, ahead of his position. He closed his eyes for a brief moment hoping to get a better view of the battle ahead, and was shocked by what he saw. The gates to the outer wall were open, and bodies were strewn everywhere, whether they were the bodies of Kothians or Bosarians he was not sure. "The gates are open," he announced to the others as they swung left, taking the final turn before reaching their goal.

  Ramon had no particular plan, other than to go charging in en masse in hope that they caught the enemy by complete surprise. After all, they could not possibly have anticipated him breaking through from Denley so quickly and easily. As strange as it seemed, just having Darion and Maxim with him gave him a confidence he had not had before. With the two most powerful magicians he knew at his side, surely they would be able to repel the invaders.

  Kurtis awoke to the sound of battle continuing around him. He looked up to see a young face smiling down at him, "How do you f
eel?" she asked tenderly moving his hair from his eyes. He tried to move, and felt every inch of his body react to tell he would not be moving anywhere. "I feel so...weak," he managed to say as he watched the young girl stand and wave to somebody stood nearby. He felt himself being picked up on a stretcher, before hearing an old man's voice, "Take him into the main hall...He has fought his battle," before slipping back into a dark dream-like state.

  As they rode up toward the gates, trying to avoid the bodies of the fallen, Darion nudged just a little ahead of the main group. No sooner was the old man through the stone archway that acted as the entrance, before he was off teleporting away to the left. His horse, now unmanned, just trotted to a stop as the others caught up and passed it by.

  Mikel sensed Shadow prowling down one of the side streets just off to the right of the main thoroughfare and swung about that direction. He glanced back to see Maxim and Zack mirror his own actions, as Ramon led the main cavalry charge straight into the rear of the unsuspecting enemy.

  The noise of the advancing horses gave little warning to the Bosarian troops lined up facing the inner wall. With their long spears held low as one would hold a lance, Ramon swung aside to let the cavalry make their charge. With all the magical ability amongst their ranks, it seemed the best form of attack at the moment, was to do so by more traditional means. With a thundering of horse's hooves, the cavalry rode closely together, lances held out in three ranks of forty or more. With the enemy infantry shielding themselves from the defenders atop the inner wall, they quickly proved a soft target.