* * *
Cromwell’s two-handed sword sheared through another foe, the body toppling from the wall. The Toran smiled grimly as he spun and kicked another soldier off the battlements. With Endra on his right and Ashlyn on his left, the trio had carved out a clear area for the rebels to climb up and join in the fight. The wall was slick with blood and entrails. The two women had cut down so many of Serban’s Trimenians, the walkway’s footing had grown treacherous.
A bright flash of light drew the barbarian’s attention. Across the palace grounds, near the main gate, he saw fire erupt, the flames high enough to lick at the top of the palace’s defenses. The Toran looked on as men jumped from the parapets in an attempt to escape the blaze.
The huge fire steadily began to encircle the walls. “Magic,” he shouted. The warning was not necessary. He could see that the combatants from both sides had taken note of the unnatural blaze. The Toran’s hatred for magic was great, but he wasn’t going to surrender to it.
As the flames drew closer, dark menacing clouds formed above the palace out of a clear sky. A deafening clap of thunder shook the walls and bolts of lightning rained down among the rebel army, wreaking havoc among the armored men besieging the walls. The fight nearly came to a halt as soldiers on both sides stood in awe of the sudden storm.
“Look,” Ashlyn called out, pointing to a small figure standing atop the palace’s apex. Cromwell could make out a man with his arms raised. A funnel dropped from the clouds and a fierce wind began to blow.
“It’s that wizard who is controlling this,” Endra shouted.
The figure pointed at the whirlwind and its tail began to move around the outside of the palace’s fortifications to his right. Powerful gusts hurled the rebels away from the wall, throwing them into the air like leaves in a fall wind.
“Get off the wall! Fall back!” the Toran screamed as loudly as he could. The evil wind picked up falling bodies and discarded weapons, flinging them through the air and into the forces outside the palace walls. The whirling steel cut down the attackers with impunity.
Grabbing Ashlyn around the waist, Cromwell swung over the wall, his feet finding a ladder rung. “Come on,” he called up to Endra. As the shieldmaiden moved to climb down, Cromwell watched the wind suck Endra’s hair above her head and then hurl her off the wall.
He saw her twist in the powerful gale for a moment and then hit the ground below. She bounced once then lay still. Quickly getting to the ground, he found himself in a panicked tide of fleeing rebels, all desperate to get away from the deadly funnel. Lighting arced down, blowing three men into pieces just to his left. Endra groaned and clutched her leg. The odd angle of it told him it was surely broken.
Picking Endra up and slinging her over his shoulder, he looked at his Matea. “You will have to cover us, Ash,” he shouted, his voice nearly lost in the wind.
Ashlyn nodded her understanding and moved ahead of them as they followed the rest of the army away from the wild magic’s chaos.
* * *
Sala’s charred body lay next to the burning ram, along with all those that had been battering at the gate. There had been no warning before the fire went up around them, and the flames had created a lethal barrier around the palace, then the lighting had crashed down from the sky. He had stood helpless as the whirlwind begin to move around the walls from the northern side of the fortifications. Serban’s men had abandoned the battlements as quickly as the rebels had, the heat too intense to stay on the walkway, though they still fired their bows, blindly arcing arrows over the wall into their routing enemy.
Sections of the wall of fire moved out and away from the palace, sliding over the men to near the fortifications. K’xarr had caught glimpses of a man, his face partially covered by a silver mask, that seemed to be directing the fire, but there was little he could do about it. The magic was too powerful. He had to sound the retreat while he still could.
Constantine’s peasants were already in full flight. They didn’t have to be told there was nothing left to do here but die. He had his trumpeter sound the recall and led his men toward the road.
Lighting continued to blast into them as they fled. Once on the road, it ceased, but if K’xarr thought they were safe, he was wrong. At first, it looked like a small dark cloud moving quickly towards the withdrawing army. As the black patch drew near, the mercenary captain saw it for what it truly was. A vast murder of crows came streaking down from the sky, their squawking drowning out all other sound. Diving into the fleeing soldiers, the feathered terrors began tearing at the rebel’s faces. Eyes were pecked out and ears torn away as the horrified army ran for shelter. It seemed the wizards could even control the birds of the sky.
The attack didn’t stop until they had passed through Brova’s northern gate. The entire force was in complete disarray, and the tally of casualties would be grim. K’xarr knew it was no ordinary mages that aided the baron.
The captain watched the last of the rebels as they stumbled into the city, while he tried to get his wits back about him He saw Ashlyn come through the gate. Blood ran down the young mercenary’s face from a cut to her forehead. Cromwell followed close behind with Endra slung over his shoulder. The last man through the gate was Rufio. His lieutenant came trotting into the city, his face smudged with soot and dried blood crusted on both ears.
“I thought he didn’t have any magic,” Rufio said sarcastically.
“The rebels said he had never used any on them. There was no way to know he had sorcerers of such power behind him.”
Rufio looked up the hill. “Well, he does, and by what I saw, they are not to be trifled with.”
“Your gift of stating the obvious is astounding, Dragitan,” Kago said as he joined them. “Who can command the elementals of fire and air like that? By the gods, even the birds yield to their sorcery.”
“Kian mentioned he ran across a member of the Circle on the way to retrieve Dimitri. I would guess that might be the mages we face.”
“If that’s true, what chance do we have?” Rufio said, kicking at the ground. “Mere men can’t stand against such power.”
“We will find a way, damn it,” K’xarr said confidently. “Now listen, Sala is dead. If the Trimenians will accept it, I am going to put you in charge of what’s left of them, Rufio.”
The Dragitan took a deep breath and nodded, then he glanced up at the distant palace. “We are going to need Kian to have any chance at winning this fight, Captain.”
“The coward has fled,” Kago said hotly.
Rufio grabbed Kago by the breastplate. “You half-breed piece of shit, I have seen the Slayer stand his ground when any other man would have run. He has saved me and my friends more times than I can count. If you call him a coward again, I will kill you the instant the word leaves your lips.”
Kago shoved the Dragitan’s hand away. “He isn’t here, is he? What would you call it?”
Rufio stepped forward again. “He’s not with us because you are a bastard.”
Kago’s hands balled into fists as Rufio stepped into a fighting stance.
“By all the fucking gods, stop it now,” K’xarr shouted, putting his arm between them. “No one is killing anyone. Do I have to remind you two that we are all sword-brothers? You have sworn an oath to this company and each other. We are in a tight spot, and I won’t have you two at each other’s throats. If you want to bicker like children, leave, or end this now.”
Rufio pressed his lips together and gave K’xarr a reluctant nod before storming off.
“He is a touchy bastard,” Kago said.
K’xarr took a step forward and leaned close to Kago’s face. “So am I.”
“So be it.” Kago shrugged, walking away.
An undead baron and powerful mages wasn’t enough of a fight for his men, K’xarr thought. The idiots wanted to kill each other too.
* * *
Tavantis found his brother squatting like a ghoul among a field of dead men outside of Brova. In the distan
ce, he saw a small army fleeing down the road from the Trimenian palace. Magical flames and a whirlwind moved around the palace on the hill above the city.
“Vanguard’s circus must be in town,” Tavantis said.
“They are,” Kian said without looking up.
His twin clutched the black sword Silence before him, staring into the dark blade as if he saw something inside it. His advice to Kian would be to throw the sword into the deepest ocean. Malice had been one thing, but this sword was another.
“What are you doing out here among these rotting corpses, brother? I thought you would be in the thick of things up there on the hill?”
Kian came to his feet and gazed into Tavantis’s eyes. The wizard knew pain and rage well. He could see both in his twin’s golden eyes.
“I have the Star of Saree and I am going after Mother. I have come to retrieve you.”
“You are chasing a ghost. Mother is dead. The Beast will kill you if you try to stand against him.”
Tavantis’s brows furrowed. He had never heard Kian speak with such defeat. “You may be right, but I am going to do it anyway. Besides, I don’t think there is anyone who would morn my loss too greatly. Are you coming with me or not?”
“I will go with you, but have business to finish here first. K’xarr will need me now, and when the battle is over, I intend to kill Kago Kattan.”
The wizard rolled his eyes. “How long is all this going to take?”
“I don’t know now, with the Circle involved.”
Tavantis sighed. “Very well. I will wait, but not long.”
Kian nodded and started for the city.
“Wait, I am coming with you,” Tavantis called after him.
Kian look at his brother curiously.
The wizard shrugged. “I have nothing better to do.”
* * *
Night had fallen and once again, K’xarr pulled his officers together inside the Broken Hammer. The young Trimenian soldiers who had survived the assault on the palace had agreed to allow Rufio to take command. There was no one left of any rank who survived the first assault, and with Sala dead, there had been little argument over the decision.
He hadn’t asked Constantine to join them. The man would just anger him and send the meeting into chaos, and what he had to say was too important to allow that.
Kian had wandered back into the city with his brother Tavantis in tow. Where he had come across the mad sorcerer was a mystery. Kian had said nothing about why his twin was in Brova, and K’xarr didn’t want to ask. The Slayer stood against the far wall staring at Kago like he wanted to devour the man. It was best to leave that situation alone for now.
However, the mage sat in the corner of the tavern sipping a cup of black tea with a smug grin on his scarred face. K’xarr hated the bastard; Tavantis was arrogant and a liar. He would rather trust a Sidian swamp serpent than the mage. When Kian’s twin showed his face, usually trouble followed.
“We still outnumber Serban. All we have to do is change our strategy,” Kattan proposed.
“How do we plan against magic?” Endra said, rubbing at her splinted leg. The shieldmaiden would be of little use in the coming battle. The break was clean, but it would be sometime before she could fight.
“We have a mage with us now,” Rufio said, jerking his thumb towards Tavantis.
Tavantis lowered his cup and glanced around the room. “I am not with anyone. I am here waiting for my brother, nothing more.”
K’xarr and the others looked at Kian for an explanation, but the swordsman remained silent.
“What would it take for you to help?” K’xarr asked through gritted teeth.
“You don’t have anything I want. If the mages inside are members of the Circle, they have plans for Trimenia. They wouldn’t help the vampire for any other reason, and, my dear captain, why would I want to cross the Circle anyway? I have dealt with them before, and it wasn’t enjoyable for either of us.”
“He will help,” Kian said, his voice low. “If he wants mine in return”
Tavantis’s face remained calm, but K’xarr could see the flash of anger in his eyes.
“I will get you inside the walls, nothing more,” the mage said, glaring at his brother.
“Fine, we will attempt a frontal assault tomorrow then…” K’xarr was cut off by screams from outside. Everyone ran out of the tavern and into the street. The cries were coming from the northern part of the city, where the bulk of the peasant army had gathered.
As they ran toward the sound, they met hundreds of peasants running though the dark streets of Brova, fleeing the other direction.
K’xarr grabbed a man as he hurried passed. “What in hell is going on?”
“The blood drinkers are among us. Flee for your life.”
K’xarr let the man go and looked at the others. Drawing Crimson Wave, he glanced at Kian. The swordsman pulled Silence from it scabbard and headed forward.
The streets were in chaos as soldiers and rebels alike tried to find the cause of the ruckus. Someone had set fire to a building near the northern gate, and in moments, K’xarr saw a second go up in flames. As they neared the burning buildings, he saw that dozens of bodies littered the cobbled streets. The corpses were torn and mangled. Many of them had their throats torn out.
Kian charged ahead, seeing something K’xarr didn’t. In the flickering light of the fire, K’xarr saw a young man wearing an apron rush at the swordsman faster than any mortal could move. He closed with Kian as another man approached the swordsman from behind. Kian swung his blade with deadly accuracy, taking the young man in the apron’s head. He wasn’t quick enough to stop the other attacker from leaping on to his back.
K’xarr watched as the man’s sunk his teeth into Kian’s neck. Instantly, the bloodsucker sprang from the swordsman’s back with an inhuman scream. The thing rolled on the ground, tearing at its own face and convulsing. It flopped like a fish that had been cast on the bank, then laid still with smoke rising from its open mouth. It hadn’t found the Slayer’s blood to its liking, K’xarr thought.
The Slayer touched his neck and looked down at the dead man. With a shrug, Kian ran toward the northern gate where four more of the creatures came sprinting inside the city from the road. Kian’s sword slashed the head from another, as gouts of red fire blasted into the others and set all three ablaze. They whirled and howled before spinning to the ground, consumed by Tavantis’s magic.
“They are blood drinkers,” K’xarr shouted, just as one flung itself onto him. He hit the ground, thrusting his red blade up and blocking the vampire from biting him.
“Get off, you bastard,” he heard Cromwell shout. The Toran jerked the creature off him. It twisted in his arms, sinking its fangs into the warrior’s massive bicep.
“Pull its head back,” K’xarr shouted.
Cromwell grabbed the creature’s hair and ripping its fangs out of his flesh. K’xarr slashed with his sword, careful not to hit Cromwell. The thing’s body fell to the ground while Cromwell stood holding its bloody head.
“Form squares,” K’xarr screamed.
The peasants ran to the south side of the city, but the Sons and the Trimenian soldiers struggled to obey his command. “Stay in the light, and fight, together,” the mercenary commanded.
He could hear others echoing his instructions. Again he saw flames erupt, this time further up the road. It was too dark to see, but he thought it must be Kian’s twin. The branded wizard must have decided that killing these things was in his best interest.
Men and women leapt from the shadows and with blazing speed, they tore into his forces. With torch and sword, his men slowly killed them, but not before they had inflicted terrible damage. Throats ripped out, limbs torn off—the strength and speed of the night creatures was devastating.
He saw Kian still near the northern gate. He fought two of the things, one tearing at his chainmail and the other snapping at the swordsman’s face. With strength born from something beyond this world,
the Slayer threw one off his sword, striking the other and cutting it in half. The other rose and lunged for him. Kian stepped to the side and as the creature passed, he struck its head from its neck.
K’xarr wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but finally the attacks ended. Many were dead or wounded. The fire flickering off the remaining warriors’ faces told a tale of fear and despair. Serban had played his hand well. How would he ever lead these men against the baron after such a nightmare? One thing was for sure, none would sleep this night.
* * *
The baron leaned on the battlements, gazing down at the city. The fires were beginning to dwindle now. He wished he could see what devastation his minions had wrought, and the look on Strom’s face.
“Very clever,” Silver Scar said with a snicker. “I would say you have given them something to think about.”
“We shall see when the sun rises,” Serban said arrogantly.
“Where did you get so many, and how were you able to get them to attack with such savagery?”
He knew he shouldn’t tell his secrets, but he couldn’t help himself. Perhaps the Circle should know what he was capable of. “I turned half the palace’s staff just before winter broke, and imprisoned them in the cells below the palace. Unable to feed, they became nearly mindless. When I sent them out tonight, they were mad for blood. The trick was keeping them from attacking my own soldiers before I got them out the gate.”
“How did you manage it?” Stone Crow said, his voice carrying a little disgust in it.
“I pulled my men away from the walls and used some bait,” Serban said, pointing at a line of dead bodies just outside the walls. “I took a few of the remaining servants, bound them, and set them outside. Between their bloodlust and my command, those I turned could not help but rush to the simplest meal. Once outside the walls, I commanded them to attack the city. The fledglings hadn’t drunk their fill yet, so they were quite willing to obey.”
Silver Scar nodded. “I must say well done, my lord baron.”
The Star Of Saree (GODS OF THE FOREVER SEA Book 3) Page 42
