Tomalt had grown tired of throwing men at the walls and wasting their lives. Only minutes ago, Jonrell had spotted eight robed figures strolling toward the castle through his spyglass. They approached confidently, as if they didn’t have a care in the world. Behind them, Tomalt’s ranks formed.
Two black mages, three green, and three yellow. And all I have are four to counter that, none of which are black. Caliva was right. I should have never let Krytien leave.
But it was too late for regrets. He had to make the best use of his assets. He pulled all resources back from the outer walls except the engineers and their siege equipment. He assigned his four mages to Raker and Drake, two in each corner drum tower.
Years of seeing mages in battle allowed him to guess their attack. The black robes, in the middle would use all their strength to bring down the castle’s walls. The green robes would either add support to the black robes or aid the yellow robes in protecting them.
He knew his siege equipment would not be able to penetrate all of their defenses. However, with his own mages in each tower, he hoped they could weaken one target at a time and eliminate the yellow mages first and then maybe a green one or two. Those lesser mages would be concentrating on the protection of the black-robed mages more than their own.
They black robes will probably still breach the wall, but at least this way we’ll be able to whittle down their numbers. It won’t be pretty battling the black robes afterward, but at least they’ll have to divert some of their power to protect themselves.
“Yanasi,” he shouted up to the turret that sat atop the inner wall’s gatehouse.
“Yes, Commander?”
“Where are they?”
“They just halted and are taking positions.”
“Fire the trebuchets now. We need to distract them,” Jonrell shouted. He looked at the runners who bounced up and down with a nervousness that bordered panic. “Get up to those towers and tell the engineers to let loose at their discretion.”
The runners sped off, skirting around the soldiers falling back through the inner gatehouse. Satisfied, he walked through the inner gate and took a position out front where Glacar eyed Kaz with a menacing glare.
Crusher stood a few paces back, looming above everyone. He stood out even among the thousands still alive. “Now what, Jonrell?”
“Now we wait for the signal, and then rush his men as they come through the breach.”
“What signal is that?”
“That all hell has broken loose.”
* * *
“We got that sucker,” hollered Raker, slapping the green robed mage on the back. After a few misses, one of the ballista missiles pierced a yellow-robed figure from across the field. Ha. I wish I could see the look on the boy’s face when he sees we drew blood first.
A thought struck Raker. “Hey, I’ve always wondered why ya’ll don’t wear the same kind of robes, at least in battle. I mean, all those different colors sure makes it easier to prioritize targets.”
The green robe mage wheeled. “Do you mind? This isn’t as easy as you think it is, and I would rather not die if I can help it.”
Raker spat over the side, “Don’t get your skirt all bunched up. Just do what you gotta do and I’ll keep out of your way.” He turned and gave his men a look, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. “Mages.”
* * *
Blood thumped in Drake’s temple and he felt as though a stone block rested on his chest. He was both scared and excited as his men rushed to reload the mangonel.
“Raker got one,” said one of his men.
A holler rose from his men as the first mage died.
One Above, he beat me to it. He’s probably laughing over there and looking forward to rubbing it in my face. “What color were the robes?” he shouted.
The corporal answered back. “Yellow.”
Drake grinned. I know what will get Raker riled up. “Turn all your attention to the closest green mage,” he told the mages standing near the merlons.
“But Jonrell said take out the yellow-robed ones first,” protested one.
“And I say we go for the green, and up here I’m in charge.”
“But there is a chance we won’t be able to pierce the shield completely.”
“I want you to feign an attack at the top of his defenses first, but hold back some when you do so. I want him to think we’re counting on the mangonel to penetrate his shields. When I say ‘Now’, shift your focus to the front of the mage’s body and put everything you have into weakening his defenses there. The real attack is coming from the ballista. Can you do that?”
“I think so.”
“Don’t think, just do,” said Drake, doing his best to sound tough. Not bad. Maybe I’m getting the hang of this after all.
Drake shouted over to one of the smaller towers further down the wall, where a ballista rested. “You fire that weapon when I give the command, not a second sooner or later.”
“We’re ready now,” came a shout back.
“Ok, let’s do this,” Drake said, looking back to his men.
He gave the signal and the mangonel’s arm slammed into the wooden crossbeam and rock flew into the air. As the rock reached its peak he shouted to the mages. “Now.” At the same instant he dropped his arm, signaling the ballista to fire.
The green mage expected the attack to come from above and therefore could not recover to guard his front while maintaining the defenses over the black-robed mages. A missile hit the mage in the sternum, blasting him back and pinning him to the ground.
Drake jumped up. “We got him.” He could have sworn he heard a curse from across the castle.
* * *
“…that cocky little…”
“Sir,” said Senald cutting Raker off.
“Boy what’s wrong with you? Don’t ever interrupt a man while he’s in the middle of a tirade.”
“Uh, sorry Sir. It’s just that it’s happening,” said Senald, pointing out across the field.
Raker felt the sudden thinning of air.
This is going to be bad. Really bad.
“Quick lads, get another round ready and aim for another yellow one. We ain’t taking our chances with the others. We need another kill before they come at us full force.”
* * *
The concussive force caused the outer gatehouse to burst apart. As Jonrell struggled to gain his breath, bits of debris fell from the sky and the granite wall glowed red.
A hand went to his shoulder and he faced Crusher. The giant’s mouth moved, but the only sound Jonrell could hear was a high-pitched buzz. “What?” he yelled, shaking his head in attempt to clear out his ears.
“I said, that had better be the signal,” said Crusher.
Through the gaping hole in the castle wall, Jonrell saw Tomalt’s men rushing past the distant mages, racing toward the castle’s breach. “Yanasi, open fire,” he yelled and a volley of arrows flew into the closing masses.
He unsheathed his sword and held it aloft. This was the final stand. There was little left in the way of strategy now. There was only the will of one man against another, and for that, he needed to be here. He let out a cry and ran toward the gap. Pounding steps and echoing cries followed him.
Today the battle is decided.
* * *
Elyse pushed her mount through the low lying branches, Jeldor coming in beside her. His men had run the last several hundred yards after hearing the thunderous blast that shook her insides. They pulled up on their reins. “One Above, we’re too late.”
“No, Your Majesty. The wall has been breached, but the fighting continues. We still have time.” He twisted about in the saddle and yelled out over his lines. “Captains, form ranks. I know you’re tired, lads, but we’re here now and ready for the payoff.” He paused. “This is our chance to inflict a little payback on all those who’ve looked down upon us and our lands. Let’s make all the effort we went through count.”
A shout erupted and within moments, me
n began their march toward the castle at a double-time pace. The Duke turned in his saddle. “You’ll be staying here, Your Majesty. I’ll leave two squads for your protection.”
“One is more than enough,” said Kroke pulling in beside Elyse. “You need all the men you can spare. Besides, I’ll be here with her.”
Elyse turned in her saddle. “But don’t you want to be in the mix to help your brethren?”
“Aye, but I’ve got my orders to see to your safety above all else and I’ve never been one to break command.”
“Your Majesty?” asked Jeldor.
Elyse nodded. “Go. I’ll be fine.”
Jeldor managed a slight bow in his saddle and rode off as he shouted and pushed his men forward. Rygar rode with him, too worried about Yanasi to wait any longer.
Elyse looked over at Kroke who gripped the hilt of a dagger and twisted it in his hand as he watched the fighting from afar. “Thank you. I know this isn’t easy.”
Kroke’s eyes seemed hollow, distant. “No, it’s not.”
She felt guilty. “I’m sorry. Perhaps, you should go after all. I’m sure a squad of Jeldor’s men is enough to guard me.”
“No,” said Kroke. “I do not renege on my word, and if it’s all the same, I don’t trust anyone else to look after you after what we’ve been through.”
Elyse looked up and smiled.
The two turned back to the scene in the distance, swarming bodies amidst a cacophony of screams.
* * *
His men had formed a barricade of sorts near the breach. They fought in packed surroundings, some climbing over fallen stone, as they dodged blows from the enemy. Their effort made Jonrell proud.
We will not be taken easily, Tomalt.
Jonrell did not want to lose ground, but the sheer number of Tomalt’s forces caused them to slowly waver. As the two armies intertwined, arrow fire ceased, lest archers hit men from their own ranks. The mangonels and ballista had also been abandoned and Jonrell could see Raker now leading men with a wide grin while wreaking havoc with his mace.
However, nothing seemed to deter the sorcery that ravaged the presses. The entanglement of bodies, the coalescence of suffering and death, only grew worse with each attack from Tomalt’s mages. The four mages Jonrell had at his disposal refused to give up, but they could not stop the tendrils of sorcery that crawled through the air toward his men.
Jonrell’s forces fought with passion and ferocity but despite their effort they began a cautious retreat to the inner walls, lest the surging enemy surround them. Tomalt’s men must have sensed the change. They pressed with even greater resolve, nearly climbing over each other to make it through the break in the wall.
One Above, help us.
A long, deep horn blast, echoed over the land and muted the chorus of battle. Its ominous call reached the ears of every man and caused heads to turn despite the immediate dangers around them.
Only a man from the mountains would blow such a thing. Elyse did it! She convinced Jeldor. Jonrell quickly relayed the message to his men and with renewed strength stood as firm as mighty oaks.
Jonrell dodged a blade meant for his head. Outside the castle walls he heard a separate clash of arms, distinct from the battle around him. The horn blasted again, further girding his men. Jonrell’s opponent flinched at the noise and he made the man pay, slashing across his eyes, blade biting deep into the man’s skull. He fell in a crumpled mass.
Jonrell scrambled up a pile of stone rubble to look out over the press of men.
Tomalt sat atop his white destrier, signaling a retreat before being pinned in the middle of two forces.
Jonrell hollered out to his men. “Let’s send them to the One Below! We’ve got them on the run!”
Jonrell could not immediately climb down as soldiers rushed past him, anxious to make Tomalt pay with the battle turning in their favor. The last of the men trickled past him as he joined his men.
“You ain’t going anywhere,” came a voice from Jonrell’s right.
He turned and saw Glacar lifting his giant ax over his head. Jonrell stumbled back and tripped over a corpse. He had never been so thankful for his clumsiness as the ax came down, narrowly missing his arm. “Glacar, what in the name of the One Above are you doing?”
“Something I should have done on Mytarcis when you followed Melchizan’s every fool order for free. Something I should have done when you denied me those slave women. Something I should have done when you allowed that black devil to join us.” He paused and revealed a yellow-toothed grin amid his mess of a beard. “I’m relieving you of your command.”
Jonrell stared, dumbstruck. “Because of that, you’re going to kill me? We’ve fought together for over a decade.”
“Aye, too long to be taking orders from such a soft man. I’d much rather Ronav had never died. That man had more grit to him than you ever did.”
Jonrell rolled away as the ax blade came down again. In his panic, he left his sword behind. Hurrying to his feet, he faced the hairy beast of a man, weaponless. “So, that’s it? I’m soft and you no longer like the company I keep?”
“More or less. Though, I will say that one of those fine men you had me look into when in Lyrosene made me an offer I just couldn’t pass up. The way I figured it is if I’m going to kill you anyway, why not make some money in the process. Besides, I ain’t about to die for your cause. I’ve followed you long enough on your backward jobs.”
Jonrell and Glacar circled each other. So that’s it. The weakness of every mercenary is money, though I thought my men were different. Who made the offer? I gave out more than a dozen names to him and Kroke. One Above, I sent Kroke with Elyse! Jonrell shook his head. No, Kroke may be a killer but he is a far better man than Glacar has ever been.
“Enough,” said Glacar coming to a stop. “After I kill you, I’ve got an army to catch up to. I’m sure Tomalt will need some good men, especially when he learns I eliminated you,” he added with a grin.
Jonrell dodged to his left, reaching for a sword but was cut off by the burly man. The great ax swooped down toward his face again. He had overcommitted. He knew he would never make it out of the way in time.
A blur crashed into Glacar, causing the ax to fall off its mark. The two figures tumbled to the ground, grunting and screaming curses, in a tangled mass of limbs and steel.
Where did Kaz even come from?
Jonrell grabbed a nearby sword and took a step toward Glacar. A large hand swooped in and picked him up off his feet by his shoulder, dangling him in the air like a doll, before setting him back down. Crusher looked down, shaking his head. “This is their fight.”
“Are you crazy? I’m the one Glacar tried to kill.”
“Today, yes. But Glacar has been looking for ways to either kill or maim Kaz for months. Kaz probably hasn’t said much to you because he didn’t want to cause any more problems. But now he has cause to fight back. And there is no stopping someone like Kaz once his blood boils.”
The commander looked around and saw that the four men were somehow alone in the shadows of what remained of the castle’s outer walls. Outside of the walls, the fighting carried on and he heard Jeldor’s horn booming, signaling an inevitable victory. He was glad to have such reassurance because he could not take his eyes off the two men circling each other, one as heavily built as a bear, the other as agile as a panther. They faced each other, ax against sword.
Seeing the hate in their eyes, Jonrell replied. “I understand.”
Kaz wiped away spit from his cheek.
“That’s right you black devil, you’re nothing to me,” said Glacar, grinning. “Killing you will be one of my favorite tales to tell.”
“Then you’ve lived a pathetic existence,” said Kaz.
Glacar roared. Their pacing ceased amidst an eerie silence in a space that had only moments before been riddled with sounds of death and disorder.
They collided in a maelstrom of slashes, and thrusts, weaving in a blur that left Jonrell
dizzy as he tried to follow their movements. He had seen Glacar in battle many times over the years, but never had he witnessed anyone match the man’s ferocity and combat instinct. But with every swing of Glacar’s ax or stab of the spear-headed pommel, Kaz’s sword deflected the blow and countered with startling speed. The rumors of Kaz’s deeds in battle no longer seemed so farfetched to Jonrell.
Within moments after their initial clash, Kaz had taken the upper hand and forced Glacar to step around and over the mangled bodies and melted granite that littered the ground.
A faint voice from above startled Jonrell, whispering, “I’ve never seen any man fight like him. He should have been born a Ghal.”
Jonrell shook his head. Never had he heard a Ghal make such a claim, as the race lived in a constant state of war. But unlike Crusher, he found little joy in the duel. Glacar had tried to kill him. They had always had a bit of a shaky relationship, but he was still a member of the Hell Patrol. To see two of its members fight in such a way made him nauseous.
The man who put him up to this will die. I will see to that myself.
He seethed in anger, not only at the betrayal, but because he felt helpless watching Kaz fight a man Jonrell knew he could never defeat.
I would already be dead if not for him. I’ve made many bad decisions in my life, but Kaz was not one of them.
Kaz pushed Glacar to the ground. He hit hard with an expulsion of breath, but managed to throw a fistful of dirt as Kaz closed. Kaz stumbled back, wiping his eyes, curses tumbling from him in his native language. Glacar pushed himself up, chest heaving.
In a panic, Jonrell attempted to intercede but Crusher reached out and grabbed him once again. “Where are you going? I told you this fight is between them,” said the giant.
“Glacar is going to kill him.”
“This is the way Kaz would want it to be. No interference.”
Jonrell saw the finality in the giant’s eyes. Crusher didn’t remove his hand from Jonrell’s shoulder.
Jonrell turned back to the fight as Glacar flashed a savage smile, hefting his mighty ax with both hands. Kaz shook his head rapidly. Even blind, he tried to ready himself.
Jonrell cried out. He ripped his shoulder painfully free of Crusher’s grip as the wide blade descended. But it never found its mark. Kaz’s arm shot forward, his sword penetrating through Glacar’s mail until it protruded from the mercenary’s back. Glacar’s mouth hung agape and blood dribbled from it. Kaz jerked his blade free. Glacar clutched at the mortal wound, trying to stem the flow of blood. He locked eyes with Kaz. “You’re still a black devil.” He crashed into a heap of stone and his body relaxed.
Rise and Fall (Book 1) Page 52
