Hai laid his heels into the flanks of his mare. The horse leapt from behind an oak and charged into the grasslands. To Hai, nothing felt as exhilarating as racing across the Tre in the light of the moon. The southern breeze whipped against his face and the boy narrowed his eyes against it.
In the south stood the Malveel and his attendants. The beast remained unaware of the approaching horsemen. Hai prayed for the Malveel’s attention to remain focused elsewhere. He and his riders would need all the advantage they could muster.
Temujen’s host galloped east to the Derol. Noma alerted the Chieftain to his son’s charge from the north. The Malveel stood with only his attendants and guard in support. If the Eru eliminated Greeb from the battle they would acheive a major advantage. Without their leader, the Ulrog would be directionless.
The long grass whipped past the chieftain as he crested a low hill. There in the distance lay the Derol. On the edge of the forest stood several trees consumed by fire. They glowed like enormous torches in the distance. Small before the great flame stood a group of twenty. Central to the group stood the much larger figure of the Malveel. He faced the wood.
A shadow on the northern horizon caught Temujen’s attention. Hai and his riders moved rapidly through the moonlight. They would reach the beast before Temujen’s force. The chieftain prayed for his son’s safety.
Greeb stared into the fire. What happened within the Derol? The Malveel’s long tongue tested the air. His head snapped to the west. Horse. He tasted it on the southwest wind. Temujen approached. Greeb spun back to his attendants and roared at a tracker carrying a large ram’s horn.
“Sound the horn,” barked the Malveel.
The stunned tracker fumbled with the instrument. Greeb’s head whipped back to the western grasslands. Where were they? Close but not that ..... There! Cresting a low hill. Darker shapes against the dark horizon. His eye focused on them then spun on the tracker.
“SOUND THE HORN!” bellowed Greeb.
Portlo’s force was being overrun. His swordsmen scattered. The bodies of woodsmen and Ulrog littered the forest floor. Again timing held the key, but this time Portlo stayed his retreat for too long. Many fell under his command.
The steward hacked his way toward a group of embattled woodsmen. Half a dozen cleaver wielding Hackles encircled the Derolians. Portlo split the leg of the nearest Hackle dropping it to the ground. He used the stone body as a means to elevate himself and plunge his broadsword down into the next Ulrog.
With their attention momentarily captured by the steward, the Hackles were vulnerable. The exhausted woodsmen swung their axes in rapid succession. Two more stone men dropped with gaping belly wounds.
Portlo knew he reached a second crucial moment in the battle. The Horde isolated and surrounded his men in small pockets. He needed to deliver those he could and grieve over the fallen later.
“RETREAT!” shouted the steward.
Using the men he rescued as a rallying point, the steward hacked and hammered through the Ulrog, gathering as many Derolians to his shield as possible. The group gained strength from the steward. They methodically fought their way from the Ulrog into the darkness of the Derol.
Slundoc rejoiced. The woodsmen fled. Many of the enemy fell. His tactics resulted in success. His victory was secure. Now was the time for decision. He already risked everything by snatching control of the Ulrog in mid battle. Greeb would inevitably hear of his boldness and the Malveel was sure to mete out punishment, regardless of Slundoc’s minor success.
The tracker required a statement. He needed something that would ensure his place amongst the Hackles. He needed complete victory. He turned and faced the Ulrog crowded behind him.
“Hunt them down,” commanded the tracker. “They are beaten and ready for death. Oblige them.”
The Hackles shouted in triumph and streamed past Slundoc deeper into the wood. Suddenly, the deep, clear note of a ram’s horn drifted through the forest. The Hackles froze. Greeb called them back to the plains. The horn called a retreat. Slundoc clenched his blackened teeth and cursed.
“Into the woods,” shouted the tracker. “Finish your task. I will deal with the horn.”
The Hackles hesitated for a moment then rushed into the darkness. Slundoc spat then raced toward the forest’s edge.
Eidyn stood in a flash and released an arrow into the group trudging down the mountain trail. A sharp cry followed by a fluid filled cough echoed from the group. All but one of the Hackles froze in confusion. A lone Ulrog staggered forward through the darkness knocking his fellows from the path. He clutched at the arrow in his throat, unable to warn his brethren. Curses arose from those he bumped aside and one disturbed Hackle stepped forward and clouted him across the back of the head with a stone fist. The wounded Ulrog dropped with a clatter to the shale path below. Two dozen weary black eyes widened in shock and panic.
Eidyn notched and released another arrow as Kael stood and fired. The twin shafts slammed into the close fisted Hackle. Eidyn hit the left thigh, throwing the beast off balance. Kael hit the right shoulder, slamming the Ulrog to the ground. The battle of the ridgeline trail began.
Hackles exploded from the wood and surrounded Greeb and his attendants. The Malveel snarled and threw them forward into a thin line between himself and the still distant Eru.
“Where are your brethren?” snapped the beast. “We are set upon by the horsemen and your comrades dally to the horn.”
More Ulrog poured from the wood to the Malveel’s position. The Army of Mnim swelled but Greeb’s eye danced frantically over its numbers. Many Hackles were unaccounted for. An hour ago the Malveel Lord could have conceived of no scenario in which control of the Mnim lay in danger. Now he feared that complete control over the Eastern Scythtar was at stake.
How? Why? This was an insane gamble to take by the humans. So many of their plans might have soured on the smallest of circumstances. They risked their lives for the slimmest of chances to inflict damage on a superior force. It made no sense. What was the Malveel missing?
A shout from the Ulrog line to the north captured Greeb’s attention. The Malveel’s lips curled in revulsion. Shadows on the horizon. Hooves pounding the hard packed dirt. More horsemen moved on his northern flank. Temujen squeezed Greeb’s head in a vise, and Portlo had lured him there. The beast spun to the Hackles streaming from the wood behind him.
“Support the north end of the line,” roared the Malveel.
The Ulrog complied. Greeb turned to a tracker.
“Into the wood,” snapped the beast. “We could not have lost this many of my servants. Something delays them. They are to answer the horn immediately!”
Greeb swung his great black body back to investigate the progress of the main Eru force. The tracker nodded and sped past those Ulrog exiting the smoldering forest. As he ran past the trees, the tracker noticed the figure of Slundoc exiting the wood. His eyes quickly diverted and he dare not acknowledge his leader.
Slundoc ran toward his master, determination filling his eyes.
“My lord,” shouted Slundoc. “We achieve an unrivaled chance to advance the cause of Amird in the Derol ...”
Upon hearing Slundoc’s voice, Greeb’s scaly head whipped about. The single orb boiled red flame and focused into a tiny point of unparalleled intensity.
“ ... the woodsmen are broken and on the run. I ordered .. “
The great right claw ripped the air with a hiss as it swept below the tracker’s chin. Black blood sprayed the grasses.
“I order the Army of Mnim,” sneered Greeb as the tracker’s lifeless body dropped to the ground.
CHAPTER 24: WAR CIRCLE
Hai and fifty riders met the Ulrog line at full gallop. The horses were spurred at the last moment and leapt into the air. Hooves smashed the faces of stone men. Saber blades sparked off stony hides and spears skewered mud colored flesh. Cleavers slashed and stone claws raked.
The powerful arms of stone men ripped horses from mid air and tumbl
ed their riders onto the turf. Those not quick enough were trampled beneath the feet of the stone men. Other riders remained on their mounts, but stalled in the midst of the beasts and were quickly surrounded.
Hai and several riders finished their run near the edge of the Derol. They spun their mounts back toward the fight. The young Eru spurred his mare forward and rushed to the aid of his trapped comrades.
Once again, he directed his mount with his knees, using a pair of curved sabers to deal death to the Ulrog challenging him. The mare skipped and danced past the heavy handed Ulrog. Hai thrust and parried, spilling blood and blocking cleavers.
A second wave of riders smashed into the backs of the already occupied Hackles. Many Ulrog fell as this wave rode cleanly through the enemy’s defenses. They united with Hai and transformed their formation into the traditional Eru war ring, encircling the Ulrog position.
The Ulrog line stood broken and in disarray. Greeb and his priests barked orders to their Hackles. The stone men immediately complied. The Ulrog drew in around their master and his personal guard. They remained a sizable force and even this heavy a contingent of Eru riders would be hard pressed to maintain against them.
Several horses and their riders lay in crumpled piles amidst the shuffling feet of the Ulrog. A good sign for the Malveel. An equally good sign was the depth of the Eru war ring. The Eru often spun in a wall four horses deep. The war ring facing Greeb and his army was limited to two riders in depth. This hampered the Eru’s effectiveness. The confusion the circle engendered in his Hackles was often its most lethal weapon.
Additionally, more Ulrog streamed from the edges of the Derol and challenged the ring on its outer edge. Greeb was correct. Many of his stone men either refused to answer the horn, or were ordered not to answer. As they poured from the Derol and attacked the Eru, they caused a great disruption to the Eru plan of attack.
Greeb quickly took stock of his situation and accepted it. The Malveel’s head rose high over that of his guard and he peered west. The true test rode hard in the darkness. The true test would triple the Eru’s numbers. The true test would arrive in but a moment.
Temujen watched as Hai initiated a weak war ring about the Ulrog position. It held for the moment, but the gray shapes streaming from the forest would soon put an end to that. Could the chieftain hope to defeat the Army of Mnim here at the edge of the Derol? It was not the intent of Temujen and his comrades at the beginning of this endeavor, but Greeb played into every action in full.
The chieftain of the Eru edged the Midnight Mare to the south of the war ring. If the riders held any hope of continuing Hai’s offensive, Temujen needed to add strength between the ring and the forest. The riders instinctively read his intentions and the charge swept out in a wide arc, circumventing the battle.
A hundred yards south of the melee they turned and rode toward the forest. Within moments they were heading due north along its edge. More Ulrog streamed from the forest hurling rock and spear at the outer edge of Hai’s swirling war ring. Temujen winced as he noted the fall of a rider. The Eru’s horse was cut from under him by the blade of a cleaver. He spilled over the front of his stallion as the mount toppled to the ground. Half a dozen Hackles dared saber and arrow as they lunged forward and dragged the injured rider into their midst. Retribution was swift. Stone heels hammered the man.
A hundred yards more and Temujen’s force clove a gap between Hai’s ring and the Ulrog gathered by the forest’s edge. Half of the new riders melded into the spinning ring reinforcing its rank. The other half scoured the edge of the Derol, pushing the Ulrog force stalled there back into the tree line. Temujen joined their rank.
The chieftain ordered his riders to maintain a wall between the Derol and the ring. If Temujen could keep the Ulrog from reinforcing Greeb’s position, Hai’s ring would work effectively on the isolated Malveel and his guard. Several more riders fell to spear and rock hurled from the wood. Temujen frowned. The wood actually helped the Ulrog in this situation. The stone men attacked with projectiles and remained hidden behind the trees.
Temujen edged his riders away from the forest’s border. It mattered not if the Hackles within the wood were eliminated. The true battle raged within the war ring. Temujen’s task was to keep it isolated.
Hai swept the circle and spotted a rider surrounded by three Hackles. He kicked the flanks of his mare and drove her in amongst the beasts. His mount collided with the nearest Ulrog sending it to the ground. He dispatched the second Hackle with the saber in his left hand, while his right reached down and lifted his comrade onto the horse’s back. The third Hackle lunged toward the rising rider but a swift kick from Hai delayed him long enough for the men to escape. The mare swiftly ducked back into the spinning war ring and the rescued rider leapt from Hai’s mare onto that of a riderless stallion.
Greeb spat and snarled. Temujen was no fool. The chieftain bolstered the war ring but also possessed the presence of mind to block any Ulrog reinforcements returning from the Derol. The war ring now ran four riders deep and the Eru held a slight advantage in numbers. Greeb still held no fear of defeat. He commanded Hackles aplenty to sacrifice on the altar of Amird. His true fear lay in the retribution he would receive from Kel Izgra for losing so many in a battle that did not fit Izgra’s design.
A sardonic smile crept across his lips as he watched the spinning war ring. Whatever the outcome of this day, Greeb realized he had been manipulated. The Steward of Astel and Temujen led him to this battle and he followed like a hungry wolf on the edges of a migrating herd. Again the question arose. Why?
Greeb had no time to ponder. The riders slowly tightened their noose, dodging in and out of their spinning rank and taking swipes at any foolish Hackle that strayed too far from the seething mass of his brethren. The Ulrog returned the fight by tossing stone, spear and cleaver at the spinning ring. In most cases, Eru shields deflected the flying weaponry. However, a few riders were unseated and the Ulrog swiftly dragged them to their deaths.
Greeb contemplated his options. Retreat to the mountains? Stand and fight? Move his force into the wood? One fact in all of these choices remained clear. The Malveel lord must unite his force. Whether he chose to fight or flee, he needed as many Hackles as he could muster, and more than half of his force hid behind the trees of the Derol. The red orb narrowed and focused on a direct line between himself and the wood.
“Amird!” roared the beast. “Priests to me! Hackles, join your brothers in the wood!”
Flame erupted from Greeb’s head. The fiery pulse arced over his crowded force and washed down upon the Eru riders. Horses snorted in terror and pounded into one another in a vain attempt to dodge the flame. Riders fell to the earth, engulfed in the fire of Greeb. The Malveel’s great wings unfurled and wrapped about his neck and chest like a shield. Great claws raked the ground and propelled Greeb through the Hackles gathered before him and the Eru spinning past.
Horses tumbled as the beast slammed them aside. Eru riders dropped and sprang upon their feet as their mounts awkwardly scrambled to regain footing. Without their mounts several Eru were forced to meet groups of Hackles toe to toe. They exchanged a flurry of blows. Both riders and Hackles dropped from mortal wounds.
Greeb paid no attention to the fighting. His intent was clear. Join his two forces by the edge of the wood and their number again made them too great a match for the Eru. He passed the war ring and charged hard to the Derol’s edge. His personal guard followed, trailed by the remainder of his force. A half dozen Eru formed up and rode into the Malveel’s right flank. Greeb sneered. The rider’s closed within a few strides of the beast when his great black wing lashed outward. The Eru mounts reared as the black sheet slammed into their chests. Razor edged scales along the wing’s edge slashed the flesh of both rider and mount. The wing passed and the red flame of Chaos followed. The charge broke and the Eru struggled to find cover from the flame. Greeb leapt through the air and landed beside the wood. Hackles rallied to his side.
; Reports filtered back to Portlo. The Ulrog held positions both inside and outside the wood. Certainly the forest favored the Ulrog now. Without the woodsmen to pressure from the east, the Ulrog would use the Derol’s natural defenses. The Eru riders would be unable to force a confrontation as long as the Ulrog remained within the Derol.
“We must return,” said the steward to his men.
They raised their weapons in support of his decision, beating their swords against their shields. Portlo nodded his thanks for their support.
Temujen’s riders formed a line twenty yards from the edge of the Derol. Behind them, the grasslands were littered with the bodies of horse, rider and Hackle. Within the wood, the black eyes of the stone men glared at the line of horsemen. A calm unfolded in the storm of the battlefield. The Ulrog held the wood. The Eru owned the Tre. Hai moved in beside his father.
“We cannot rout them from the wood, Father,” stated Hai.
“We do not wish to rout them,” replied the chieftain. “Our task is clear. Every moment the great worm hesitates is a moment the Seraph acquires to achieve his objective.”
The red orb glared across the line of riders on the Tre. Temujen was a stubborn fool. His gamble failed. The Eru lost many more riders than they could afford. Greeb and his Ulrog controlled the wood and were protected from the horsemen. The Derolians and their Astelan leaders were routed and scattered within the deep recesses of the Derol. Certainly Temujen knew his fight was over. Why did he choose to remain?
Once Greeb received a proper count of his forces and realigned their rank, the Malveel would make a push toward the Mnim. At best, Temujen would harass his army. However, if Temujen chose a direct confrontation, the Eru would certainly lose enough riders to render his force ineffective for years to come. This development would please Greeb’s masters in Kel Izgra and lessen any punishment Greeb would receive for disobeying orders. However, the Malveel could not count on such favorable developments. He needed to extricate himself from his problems on his own. A tracker ran forward and bowed.
The Trees And The Night (Book 3) Page 30
