Assassin of the Heart: Book Two: The Temple Islands Series

by Richard Parker

  ‘What a Tar she would have made,’ he thought and killed a man attacking with a long spear. The enemy soldier did not handle the weapon all that well and died because of his lack of skill. Next to Cyndar fought the formidable Lee Brandt, swinging his long sword with devastating effect. Their pocket held firm for several hundred yards and then the Deutzani archers came into the area. As the Deutzani soldiers began to fall away and the first arrows flew in, the entire Massi pocket turned as one and ran toward the river, Krys and Cyndar the last to do so. Arrows dropped from the sky all about them as they ran full out to the southeast and Krys had to dodge several men in front of him that went down with arrow wounds, but he did not stop. It would have been suicide to do so. The banks of the river seemed impossibly far away and he was beginning to feel that there was little chance he would make it without getting struck. It did not help his assessment when several more around him fell to lucky arrows.

  “Go over the bank,” Krys yelled, hoping that they were far enough south to encounter the hidden Massi soldiers. No one answered they just ran harder, Krys and Cyndar caught up with Brandt and few other of the slower soldiers, Krys held back but Cyndar continued to run ahead and the young Weapons Master couldn’t help but admire the graceful lines of her form. Her running style reminded him of Vio Valencia and he felt a pang of homesickness for Noble Island.

  As they neared the river arrows became less and less frequent and one after another they jumped the bank and dropped out of sight. Krys smiled with relief as he neared the edges of the bank and spotted the hidden soldiers crouching and in a position to charge back the way he had just come.

  “Now!” Krys yelled as he jumped. Hundreds of Massi archers, embedded near the water line immediately opened up their own barrage on the chasing Deutzani soldiers. Krys landed hard in the sandy bank and rolled once before he was back on his feet, yelling with the others as they headed back up the bank to begin the counterattack.

  ǂ

  Lonogan Bock and Prince Phillip Toranado watched from the roof of a feed store as the cavalry broke through the first line defenses with surprising ease. The relatively inexperienced Massi troops collapsed completely after only a few minutes.

  Bock glanced at Phillip, wondering if perhaps they’d miscalculated the strength of the Deutzani.

  “My men will hold,” the Prince commented confidently, referring to the ten thousand hardened Toranado soldiers and marines that held the second and last line of defense of Manse and the bridge beyond. Nearly three thousand archers were in place behind the lines, some were on top of nearby buildings but a large line of bowmen were positioned directly behind the wall of foot soldiers. Even more were near the flanks where there would be a clear line of fire to support the lines of soldiers. As the Deutzani cavalry closed, volley after volley of arrows were launched into the onrushing men and horses.

  The forty-five hundred Deutzani cavalry, who rode through the hail of arrows, hit the wall of men, shields and spears in a haphazard charge. Most of the enemy horses shied from the bristling wall of steel points, but a few, crazed by the smell of blood and sounds of war dashed into the Toranado line with maniacal force. At first it seemed the wall of men would be breached by the sheer weight of horseflesh, but then the momentum of the charge collapsed and the well trained foot soldiers moved forward, quick to press their new advantage. Hundreds of the horsemen were caught in the surprise charge but most escaped to reform a few hundred yards away.

  “Reform the line!” Tabernas yelled from directly behind the wall of shields. His men quickly did as he bid, more through self-preservation than any order one man could give. They knew that against cavalry they had to work together and present a common front if they were to survive.

  The cavalry charged again, and again after threatening to break, the shield wall held and again came the counter attack, more and more horses and men fell.

  “They’re holding!” Bock yelled loudly in his excitement. Phillip looked at him with scorn for so doubting his men. He was about to say so when he spotted a flurry of signal flags in the distance.

  “Look there!” He shouted himself, unaware that he was doing so. The flags were those of the Deutzani King. Arsinol had foolishly driven deep within the oxbow. The enemy King was in the trap.

  Bock spotted the flags and quickly checked for smoke along the flanks. Nothing was in the sky in either the east or west.

  ‘Was it possible the Deutzani King would enter a battle with no sure avenue of escape?’ Bock thought. It did not seem possible that anyone could be so reckless.

  “Can you see if the Deutzani foot soldiers are attacking from behind the cavalry?” Phillip asked.

  Bock shook his head. The distance was lost in a haze of dust and men. He looked down a Laynee, who was pale from fear. Her eyes were jumping over the scene of death and carnage below them.

  “Laynee,” Bock said touching the small girl’s shoulder. Her head jerked up to him and tears flooded her eyes, “any word from Zebo?”

  The girl shook her head with such speed it caused her long hair to pendulum back and forth.

  “The bubble is open but Zebo won’t respond,” she told him, worried in her girl’s heart, that all the death surrounding her was somehow her fault.

  And then their attention was again captured by a Deutzani cavalry charge. This time they charged as a well formed wedge and drove deep into the rear of the Toranado lines, and for a few tense moments Bock felt sure the wall would fail. The fighting was hard and bitterly contested but in the end the wall again held and the cavalry retreated. The Toranado were losing men at an alarming rate, far more quickly than the Deutzani were losing horses.

  “You stay,” Bock shouted to Phillip. “Watch for signs of flank attacks,” he added glancing at Laynee once more. Her eyes were open and fearful at being left. “Stay with Phillip,” Bock said tenderly to her, and then rushed down the stairs of the feed and grain store, mounted his sturdiest fighting horse and raced to the lines, unable to hold himself from the fight any longer.

  Phillip cursed, tempted to rush off with the Massi General, but he knew that someone must look to the flanks and what reserves they had.

  He turned to Laynee.

  “Can you see?” he asked, wanting to let loose his own cavalry on the rear of the Deutzani force but unwilling to do so until he was sure the Deutzani were completely engaged. “Are all the Deutzani in the oxbow?”

  Laynee looked up at him a bit fearfully. When she tried all she could see was death all around and she was terrified by it. She looked off in the distance and shook her head.

  “I cannot tell,” she answered, tears in her eyes. “It’s too far.”

  “Laynee,” Phillip said turning toward her, bending down on one knee and grabbing a hold of both of her shoulders. He gazed at her with his fierce brown eyes more intensely than any man ever had and the intimacy of it made her blush. She could smell him, the sweat and leather and wild thoughts bounced around in her young mind.

  “I need you to look without your eyes,” he said and she gapped at him.

  ‘He wants me to project!’ She thought wildly, but she had never projected such a distance before.

  “Laynee we need to know. I don’t want to send Gwaynn into the same trap we are trying to set for the Deutzani,” he explained.

  “I…I’ll try,” she answered hoping that perhaps she could at least project far enough to see most of the battle lines. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the task at hand, and almost immediately the Speaker bubble she was holding open collapsed.

  Her eyes flew open. “The bubble,” she shouted with dismay.

  “You can reform it,” Phillip insisted, his face still mere inches from hers. “Please Laynee.”

  She stared back at him a moment then shook her head and closed her eyes, and began weaving her arms and hands. In moments she lost herself in the intricate steps of projection and then she was two. She did not hesitate and without thinking about what she was doing, moved out and ove
r the battlefield. The stench of death was all around, but thankfully she could not smell it. The sights, however, she could not escape and she was weeping uncontrollably when suddenly she found herself nearly two miles from her body.

  The battle continued to rage on all sides, men continued to fight and kill one another despite the horror that surrounded them. When she reached the breastwork she found it smashed, and the Massi soldiers were all gone from this place, there were however a great many Deutzani soldiers forming a line, gazing into the battle, concern plain on their faces.

  Laynee’s stomach cramped hard enough that her projected self doubled over in pain. She cried out, and in a rush moved back to her body. The last two hundred yards she literally streaked across the sky. Her projected self slammed home knocking her body hard into the Toranado Prince and she nearly fainted. He was holding her gently in his arms, looking down at her with concern and tenderness.

  “There are a great many enemy foot soldiers at the breastwork, but no cavalry,” she said softly and Phillip smiled.

  “Were they moving to attack? Were there any Deutzani beyond the river?”

  Laynee shook her head. “They were just watching the others…looking in toward the fighting. I…I didn’t see any others.”

  Phillip smiled again and lifted her up to her feet where she nearly swooned again.

  “Can you reform the bridge with Zebo?”

  Laynee nodded her head. “But I need food…some fruit perhaps.”

  Phillip pulled a handful of dates out of his pocket and handed them to her. “They are for my horse, but under the circumstances…” he said.

  Laynee smiled at him and quickly ate a few, and then with new confidence she quickly opened the Speaker bubble to Zebo.

  “Where did you go?” a voice immediately asked, clearly worried.

  “Never mind,” Phillip shouted. “Tell Gwaynn it’s time!”

  “It’s time!” They heard Zebo shout, then a crash of voices sounded just before the bubble collapsed once more.

  “His fault this time,” Laynee said reproachfully and ate another date. Phillip was still holding her close, his arm wrapped loosely around her shoulder and she silently hoped he would never take it away.

  ǂ

  “It’s time!” Zebo yelled and a thunderous roar went up from the Massi and Toranado cavalry alike. The charge started of its own accord and gathered momentum as they topped the rise. The Deutzani soldiers guarding the entrance of the oxbow were still nearly two miles away, as the horsemen approached at a fast gait. Their approach went unnoticed until they were within a half-mile of the destroyed breastworks and then the Deutzani soldiers scrambled to form lines against the approaching threat. At a quarter of a mile away the cavalry began to gradually increase their speed until at last they bore down on the enemy at a full gallop.

  The Deutzani troops, who numbered just under a thousand, had little chance of holding against over five thousand charging horses and men. Their lines broke almost immediately and they were quickly running in all directions desperately trying to escape death, which was crashing down around them. Most did not escape, the Black Horseman found them and reaped their souls from this world, but a few managed to get away by diving into the Scar River and fighting the current to the far side.

  While a large contingent of cavalry circled back to finish off any of the Deutzani stragglers, Gwaynn, Samantha and Gaston led over three thousand horsemen into the heart of the battle for the oxbow. Their attack began just as the Deutzani cavalry were collapsing near Manse and the Toranado heavy infantry began to press their advantage from the south. Slowly, steadily, the heavy troops began to push the Deutzani horsemen back into the advancing front lines of the Zani foot soldiers, creating chaos.

  “Form the line!” Gwaynn yelled as they hit an area relatively free of fighting. The order was repeated up and down the loose formation of cavalry until finally a rough line was formed. Gwaynn peered into the chaotic distance, unable to discern which army held the upper hand at this point. He kicked Eve into trot, then a canter, aiming at the highest concentration of enemy troops he could see. The line hit the unsuspecting Deutzani rear at a full gallop; cheers erupted from the nearby Massi soldiers, but Gwaynn and the others did not hear them amidst the screams of battle. The fighting was intense from the start but after making great headway into the Zani army the charge finally bogged down. All around Gwaynn, men were hacking and dying and in the early stages it was hard to tell which army would falter but suddenly all the Deutzani resistance in the area broke down. Their defenses became uncoordinated and singular as the formations dissolved and thousands died because of it.

  Gwaynn was not used to fighting from horseback and made several mistakes in the early part of the battle, luckily however, none of them were costly. He took a glancing spear tip in the ribs and a kali sliced into his ankle, cutting nearly to the bone. It bled but not horribly. He tried to keep an eye on Samantha, who seemed to have better luck fighting from Bull. The massive horse charged and trampled over anyone foolish enough to challenge them. The two reeked of destruction and Gwaynn was not entirely sure whether it was horse or rider that was causing the most damage. But as he watched over her, Samantha shot arrow after arrow from Bull’s strong, stable back and her aim seemed little affected by his movements.

  The battle paused in his area long enough for Gwaynn to try to assess the overall situation. Samantha was nearly fifty yards to his right, away from the river and toward the middle of the fighting and his heart thumped with fear for her. He pulled on Eve’s reins and pushed out in her direction. He killed a cowering Deutzani soldier as he past before blocking a spear thrust at him. Eve spun nimbly and then charged down the man who threatened them both. Gwaynn was almost to Samantha when off to the west he spotted the King’s flag; the Deutzani King’s flag. Gwaynn stared in the direction, recklessly ignoring the chaos and danger around him and then he spotted the old Deutzani King.

  “Arsinol!” Gwaynn whispered to himself and began to force Eve through the surrounding melee and closer to the man who’d destroyed his world. He could feel his enemy’s death coming. Gwaynn would kill him, somehow he knew this to be true, but before he was half way to his objective a figure flew up and crashed into the Deutzani King and then all was lost behind a host of fighting men and horses. Gwaynn tried to push forward again and was nearly unseated as a lance struck his shoulder. It glanced off his jerkin and slid past his ear. He pushed it away and shifted his attention to his immediate surroundings. He was only just becoming aware of the danger when an enemy pike man jabbed his long deadly weapon directly into the pit bull leather armor that protected Eve’s chest. The horse reared suddenly and Gwaynn desperately tried to remain in the saddle but his injured leg was still weak and could not hold. Gwaynn slipped backward and crashed to the ground.

  “Gwaynn!” Samantha yelled, seeing his fall, and as he struggled to his feet a mass of enemy soldiers swarmed toward him.

  ǂ

  de Baard had a slight smile on her face as she sliced through one Deutzani soldier after another. She sustained only one minor wound on her left hand when a spear point struck her third knuckle. The sharp steel point cut open her finger before she could pull her hand away. The wound hurt and she checked it quickly before she parried another thrust and killed the man who’d given it to her. He died with a surprised, almost funny, look on his face. de Baard laughed lightly then, but as the battle progressed the wound became an annoyance. Blood flowed steadily over her hand and into her palm, making the grip on her kali slippery.

  Lee Brandt was nearby, still swinging his large sword with enough force to topple a small tree despite the fact that he had an arrow lodged in his right thigh and a sword wound at the base of his neck. Three inches higher and he would have been bled out with his throat cut.

  Krys too was still in the action and as far as de Baard was aware, he was untouched. He was spinning and slashing, moving so quickly about the enemy that she thought he would never tire. If
she’d not seen Gwaynn in action she would have thought Krys the finest with the kali she’d ever come across.

  Despite the fact that the Deutzani soldiers and archers were falling at an outrageous pace, they kept coming. de Baard kept expecting the Deutzani cavalry to reform and charge down upon them, but they did not. The Massi were now pushing on the Deutzani from two sides and the Toranado from a third, if Gwaynn and the cavalry managed to break through they would be hitting the fourth and then the Deutzani would be doomed. It was possible they were doomed already for they could maintain no uniform lines of defense and de Baard could sense panic beginning to swell in the less disciplined of the enemy troops. Some were dying too quickly for the skill they must possess.

  Suddenly there was a great commotion from the north as a large group of Deutzani fled; some ran toward the river and some toward her position. She and Brandt and a host of other fighting Massi, hit them with renewed fury.

  “The cavalry!” Brandt whooped, striking a man so hard that his head flopped backward from his shoulders. How it did not come off was anyone’s guess. de Baard gazed past the fighting to where the tall man indicated and could hear the crush of horse hooves. She could just see the front lines of the Massi cavalry attacking the far edges of the Deutzani formations, but then she spotted something much more interesting…the flag of King Arsinol.

  And after a moment’s search she saw the King himself. He was astride a large chestnut mare and fighting for his life, swinging a great double bladed axe with great effectiveness. His advisor was there also, fighting with more ability than de Baard would have given him credit.