“Ogres,” he said to Snog, and the two of them let fly once again. Truesilver bolts flashed in Lushran’s light as they flew across the beachhead. Snog’s target took the bolt in the neck and it immediately ripped the barbed bolt back out, spraying arterial blood from the now-gushing wound. It dropped to its knees in the sand, trying hopelessly to staunch the fountain of blood from its neck; it was a mortal, if largely self-inflicted, wound.
Lian’s bolt lodged in the other ogre’s shoulder as it flinched from the oncoming missile. The impact made the ogre howl in pain and rage and to drop its stone-ended club or crude hammer to the ground, but it wasn’t a disabling shot. This time when the brute pulled the bolt out the wound was minor. The shamans did not cast any defensive magic, instead hastening their pace, and the goblins and remaining ogre escort kept formation about them.
The ward’s going to probably fry them all, Gem said to Lian. Why waste ammunition on any of them?
Lian replied, not pausing in his efforts to re-cock the crossbow, If we don’t keep firing on the ogres or the shamans, they’d wonder why. Odds are bad enough without them making time to take true defensive measures, scout out the approach with spells that might uncover the outer ward, or something else we don’t want them to do. He also suspected that if they held their fire the sailors would panic and run, triggering the middle warding, at least, as they fled. They might still do so, and he couldn’t spare the attention to keep them from it.
This time, the prince and his goblin man-at-arms let fly against the same opponent, but the brutish ogre was prepared for the missiles and leapt aside before they struck home. For the sailors, the ogre’s speed and agility was another surprise, but Lian and Snog had seen this before when they’d met the ogre named Teg in Greythorn Forest. The ogre wouldn’t be able to do that at closer range when the flight time would be in fractions of a second, but at a hundred and fifty yards the ogre had almost two seconds’ warning when they let fly. It was still an impressive feat, but it wouldn’t matter shortly.
“Hold your fire,” Lian instructed Snog as they both reloaded. The goblin grunted an answer as he worked the lever. They’d both chosen crossbows they could cock without using a cranequin, favoring speed over power.
At least they won’t suspect your reason to withhold fire, Gem observed, and Lian agreed silently with her. His composed demeanor had a calming influence on the lightly armed and unarmored sailors, but Lian wished someone was there to be a calming influence on him. His heart was pounding and he had broken out in a cold sweat as soon as he’d seen the ogres and the troll.
Far more bestial and primitive than even the ogres, the trolls, he knew from his studies—he’d never faced one—would never have worn armor like the thick plate this one wore, and from what he’d read trolls were more suited to clubs than bladed weapons. The ogres stood twice the height of a man, and the troll stood at least a yard, if not two, taller than that.
It strode beside the wraith that was once his twin sister. She was hovering at the troll’s head height as they approached and looked tiny by comparison, but Lian knew that she was at least as dangerous as the armored colossus.
“Do not underestimate the troll,” Lord Grey said. “The old blood is obviously still strong in the south, and he hasn’t degenerated like the ones around Dunshor.”
“I’m not underestimating any of them, Lord Grey,” Lian said, marveling that his voice was free of the tremors he felt. “But there’ll be a lot fewer of them in a minute.” The skull, scout, and sword all knew he’d added that part for the sailors’ benefit, but all four of them knew that it was very likely that it would matter very little in the end.
Chapter Thirty Three
“Though the goblins refer to K’vas as the Young Avenger in their tongue, she is not related in any way to Damar, save one: both of them are risen to godhood from a humble, mortal birth.
“As well-known as K’vas’ origin and reason for ascension is mysterious, Damar’s beginnings as a warrior in the service of the ancient, pre-Pelorian Kingdom of Syrene were unremarkable until the war with the Dark Corruptor’s priests and Undead creatures, a thousand years before the founding of the Empire. A lifetime of heroic battles against He Who Must Not Be Named and his twisted, horrific minions marked Damar for legend, but no one of that age could have predicted that he would rise to glory as one of the younger gods.
“By what criteria do the gods judge mortalkind for such an honor? No mortal knows.”
-- “Younger Gods” by Sage Dia Keppel, 2553 PE
The shamans began chanting in unison as they approached, and their magic swept across the outer ward without interacting with it, seeking the necromantic ward inside of it. Though they were nearly at a run, they focused their information-gathering spells with an ability that impressed Lord Grey, and he said so.
“Aye,” Snog said. “They’re exerting themselves like their lives depend on it.”
Lian nodded, his mind snapping to an idea. “Lord Grey, be prepared if you can to make it look like Radiel’s casting at the others, especially the ogres,” he said. “Maybe we can make them flee rather than fight, or even turn on her.”
“I’ll look for an opening, Lian,” the skull replied, “but when I did that to Lyrial I was being carried by him.”
Lian nodded again. “I know, and she might have enslaved all of them magically,” he said. “They might not be able to turn against her—or even run—no matter what we do.”
“Shield your eyes!” Lord Grey suddenly commanded, and all five of his living allies did so just as the goblin shamans and their nine remaining guards reached the outer ward, totally focused on unravelling the middle one. The sudden flare of magic took them utterly by surprise.
Gem’s senses were not affected by the blinding light, and through her Lian could see what was happening. Lord Grey’s outer ward became a crackling maze of electricity, like a massive eruption of sheet lightning on a summer night, discharges crackling in every direction along the outer curvature of the ward, focused on the arc within forty or so degrees of the enemy’s position. It was far, far denser and stronger than sheet lightning, however. Arcs of electricity fanned outward from the ward circle, spreading a great cone of destruction beginning with the goblin casters and their escort and extending a dozen yards into the cypress trees.
The crashing thunder from all of the electricity wasn’t like one or two lightning bolts from a storm but a huge cacophony of horrific, deafening noise. The electrical and sonic chaos continued for nearly five full seconds as power continued to surge from the ward. When it was done, Lian opened his eyes, seeing the sand now displayed numerous regions of yellow-orange glow where the lightning had struck and melted it into spots and odd shapes of glowing-hot glass. Two of the cypress trees had been hit, cracking one in half and setting the second on fire, and one of the rear group goblins who had been standing far closer than the others lay motionless and smoking under the second tree.
Of the nearer goblins and the ogre there was little trace save smouldering bits of charred flesh scattered out away from the ward. Not even the goblins’ boots—the ogres wore none—had survived intact. Despite the impressive destruction unleashed by Lord Grey’s warding, Lian grimly made sure his crossbow was ready to fire, for the majority of the force was still in the marsh.
Twenty yards back from the furthest reach of the lightning ward, Tenkiller bellowed, “Be still and silent!” His voice rivaled the volume of the warding’s thunder and was loud enough to get the others’ attention despite the ringing in their ears.
The troll’s eyes were completely dazzled by the sudden outpouring of mind-numbingly bright lightning, and only their position far back from the advance party had saved the remainder of Radiel’s force from being deafened as well blinded, fortunately only temporarily. It was a terrifying taste of what true blindness might be like, but Tenkiller forced himself to turn to the wraith. “We’re blinded, at least for the moment,” he explained to the floating Undead, who had be
en startled by the sudden flashes, but her supernatural senses were otherwise unaffected. “We’ll resume advancing when the afterimages fade.”
He hoped that most of them had closed their eyes, as he had, in response to the lightning. Whoever hadn’t might be permanently blinded, and now that their numbers had decreased he needed every goblin’s blade, puny that they were, to be certain of success. He could barely see Radiel, but he knew she was probably consumed with rage. The fall of the werewolves had almost been expected, though Tenkiller could now see why the crossbowmen had been hasty to maintain their fire. How different things would be if one of them had reached that warding first, he thought, then put that aside.
It would also have been different had the entire group stuck together and hit the ward as one, so on the balance, the Hand of Bes (though that wasn’t the name Tenkiller’s people gave her) was against the shamans and their guards, and not yet turned against them. He was pessimistic enough about the stain on his honor to believe that she would eventually turn against him, but perhaps it would not be today.
That was not intended to stop me, she observed, surprising the troll by sounding completely calm, even bemused. The lightning wouldn’t have harmed me in any way; it was intended to kill any allies I brought with me.
“Can you tell if it completely discharged,” he asked, “or if it could possibly strike again?” He was starting to be able to see better, and a quick glance showed him that the surviving goblins, with a poorer vantage toward the beach, were mostly unaffected by the flashes. The ogres were rubbing their eyes in pain, except for Krung, who was sidling his way toward a grove of trees. Tenkiller hitched a small rock into the ogre’s shoulder. He shook his head sharply and made a “come here” gesture. Krung, who’d surmised that the flash had blinded everyone else including the wraith, hastened back to the group.
Radiel had just been about to make a quick lesson of the ogre, for she was now low on magically compelled servitors. The ogres’ minds had been like Alec’s in a way, and her control magics would slip off of them after a short time, so they weren’t under any magical control whatsoever. Most of the goblins, including the now-incinerated shamans, she’d ruled with fear, save the scouts that she’d bound more tightly.
All five—the one Krung had injured had been healable, after all, but then one scout had been too close to the lightning ward—kept watch on the ten warriors that remained in her service, and they’d have eagerly slain their kindred had they dared try to flee. It was true, they were outnumbered, and the scouts were some of the smaller members of the tribe, but they were fanatically loyal to Radiel and none of the warriors dared cross her in front of them.
Instead of slaying Krung for his disloyalty, she ignored him completely. She replied to the troll, That spell completely discharged, Tenkiller. The next ward, the necromantic one, is still there, and now I can sense the necromancer himself, near to my br…the spellsword wielder.
“Can you unweave the next ward, or should I send one of the scouts to trigger it?” the troll asked. “You’ll have to protect him against arrows and bolts.” He wondered what she’d been about to say—brother, perhaps? All he could tell at this distance was that they were of a similar size. Even up close, Tenkiller found it difficult to differentiate between humans. He supposed it really didn’t matter who the swordsman was and told himself to stop worrying about it.
I’m not certain that one of the scouts will trigger it, she replied, pulling on her lower lip thoughtfully. I am impressed with the planning our enemy has shown, and underestimating them further is unwarranted. She’d wanted to hold more of her power in reserve, but that necromantic ward needed to be destroyed. Moving to a position near the first ward, she began singing a spell to break the ward, channeling power despite the distance. Countermagic was also one of her stronger suits, and while the strain was significant, it wouldn’t significantly detract from her ability to cause harm to Lian’s small force.
Lord Grey’s magic came out to meet hers—this time, from Lian’s pack, Radiel noted very carefully—to counter her spell. She smiled tightly as she began pitting her will and her power against his, for while he was by far a better magician than her and had reserves of power that at least matched her own, she was a lot closer to the ward. Using the differential in range to its fullest advantage, she varied her countermagic and her spellsong a dozen different ways until she found the key notes of the sustaining spell to the ward and unraveled it.
Lian and the goblin both loosed bolts—Truesilver-tipped bolts, she noted—at her, but her standing defenses swept them aside without distracting her from her singing. The necromancer couldn’t stop her, though he did make her expend more of her strength than she liked in his efforts to shore up the ward.
“Once again, my boy,” Lord Grey’s voice said under his spellsinging, “I am both impressed and saddened by her talent.” He abandoned the attempt to protect the ward, knowing it was a lost cause, and sang several spells over the living creatures’ blades.
All of the living creatures on or near the beach felt the ward break, for it was as if something had been making it hard to breathe and now was gone. It hadn’t affected anyone’s actual breath, but its absence was strongly felt. To the wraith, it was like a splinter had been removed from her eye, and she grinned harshly at this demonstration of her talent and power. Advance, she ordered, making a fast circuit around the back of the formation to make sure no one tried to stay behind.
Unlike the scouts of the goblin tribes in the north, these carried no bows or crossbows, so the fifteen goblins would have to close to throwing axe distance before they could harm their opponents. The four remaining ogres and Tenkiller could hurl rocks, and each of them carried a number of small boulders in sacks for that purpose, not expecting to find any on the beach.
Radiel sang protective wards of her own, intended to deflect Lian and the goblin’s bolts from her slaves, and covered the front of her dwindling group with its curved shape. It was still possible, she realized, for a high-lobbed bolt to strike some of the goblins in the rear of her formation, but she doubted that would be obvious to the two crossbowmen. And even if they did kill stragglers, well, such a stupid slave shouldn’t have fallen that far behind when she’d told them to keep up.
Lian and Snog opened fire on the lead goblins, figuring they’d be unable to dodge. The bolts swept in on target but they deflected wide of the small warriors at a distance of twenty feet. They reloaded—during which time Radiel and her creatures advanced thirty yards, passing the outer ward circle and nearly reaching the second—and this time both fired at one of the ogres, since the range had decreased and the ogre would be much more challenged to dodge them.
These bolts were deflected as well, so they reloaded their bows once more and then slipped their straps over their shoulders. Radiel was maintaining the missile shield, so it might become possible to shoot one of the attackers after they closed and she stopped protecting them to do something else.
“Do not throw until you’re sure you can’t hit the swordsman,” Tenkiller ordered in the tongue common to the goblins and ogres. “If you don’t know which one’s the swordsman, then you’d better by the gods not throw!”
He’s the human with the crossbow, Radiel supplemented, her tone pleased with Tenkiller’s efficiency. Do not harm him!
The other humans, though… Tenkiller thought as he pondered the range. The other humans had slid back behind the two crossbowmen, though it looked like they were avoiding moving too far. He was surprised that none of them had tried to cut and run, given what was coming toward them. Humans might be braver than he’d believed. The troll pulled a smooth rounded stone from the heavy leather bag at his waist and let fly, the boulder tracing a very flat arc as it soared across the beach. He’d been aiming for the man in the center of the three sailors, and his throw was just a little off target, curving left, but then it suddenly veered away from the now-cringing men.
She’s not the only one who can spin a shiel
d, he thought.
As they grew closer, Radiel said, I will aid your next throw, Tenkiller.
He produced another stone and chose his target carefully. It was closer now, and he selected the outermost sailor this time, slightly older and fatter than the others. Radiel sang another spellsong and the stone seemed to throb in his gauntleted hand, though it wasn’t distracting. He let fly, and this time the stone was unimpeded by Lord Grey’s protective warding. The impact on Naryn’s shoulder hurled him to the sand in a bloody heap, the shock and crushing damage of it having robbed him, mercifully, of consciousness. Even with magical healing, the wound might never heal, and if he didn’t get treatment soon, that wouldn’t matter, either. It was a fatal blow without magic.
That did it, Tenkiller thought with a feral grin. The other two, faces pale in Lushran’s yellow glow, turned and ran northwest toward the water. He assumed they’d head west, back to where the wraith had said they’d come from but didn’t much care.
Their missile ward is only near the swordsman, Radiel said, still keeping most of her attention on the enemy casters. Tenkiller quickly ordered the ogres to throw at the retreating men. The risk of hitting the swordsman was minimal, given the defensive shield around him.
Meanwhile, Lian shouted at the two men to get back inside the protective warding, but they were too panicked to listen, trying to get out of range before more boulders came crashing in. They didn’t get the chance to make it that far, however, as the ogres let fly with their own rocks, now having targets they knew the wraith didn’t want alive. The crossbow-wielding human cried out a warning, but they never saw what hit them as two of the four undersized boulders struck them.
One hit Jinian square on the middle of his back, snapping his spine and throwing him down hard in the sand face-first. The other fell short but bounced on the beach before it struck the rigger’s hip, crushing bone and internal organs mercilessly, and Mikos’s mouth erupted in blood as he crumpled to the ground.
By Blood Hunted: Kingsblood Chronicles Part Two (The Kingsblood Chronicles Book 2) Page 47
