The Ragged Man

by Lloyd, Tom

  They would be assailed on two sides, barely able to fight back until they breached the fort’s walls: it would be the greatest test the Menin Army had ever faced. Their enemy was ruthlessly inventive and had had weeks to prepare for battle; that made it a horrific prospect — but Lord Styrax himself would be leading them, and that was enough for the army.

  Styrax watched Vrill go, then raised an armour-clad arm and struck it against General Gaur’s. The two had no need for parting words. Gaur had devised the plan with his lord, and he knew his part well enough; everything else was understood. He left without a word.

  Styrax looked out towards the enemy lines, visualising what he’d scouted from wyvernback the previous evening: two great defensive ditches, each running for more than half a mile, reached out from the castle called Moorview in a diamond shape, with a wooden fort at the nearest point and Moorview at its rear. The castle was set in an indent of the forest, although there was open ground on its right flank. His scouts reported smaller, staggered defences set beyond each of the great ditches.

  The Narkang cavalry would be concentrated on the open ground on Styrax’s left, which gave them space to manoeuvre. The bulk of King Emin’s army would be behind the ditches, probably concentrated at either end, and he guessed their orders would be simple enough: stay put, and resist assault. Doing anything so complicated as advancing would leave inexperienced troops vulnerable - and they were inexperienced; six months before they’d all been farmers and ploughboys! - so it was unlikely the Menin would be able to tempt them out. Still, Vrill had a few hundred captives to execute in plain view, just in case he could torture them into forgetting their orders.

  ‘Sound the advance,’ Styrax called, ‘and let’s show them what they’re all afraid of.’

  The Bloodsworn around him turned to march to their positions - on foot, fighting as his bodyguard - but two lingered, staring straight at Styrax, barely ten yards away. He felt a prickle of magic tremble through the air and was drawing his sword before he’d had time to think.

  As the man on the left ran forward, the Bloodsworn armour started to disintegrate, pieces cascading from its body as it moved with impossible speed. It had covered the ground between them in a heartbeat, bringing up a shimmering sword, ready to strike. Styrax threw himself back, but his attacker followed, blindingly fast, his sword distorting the air as they parried and broke, and moved again, and again.

  Styrax blocked with desperation, the weapons moving too fast for a normal human to clearly see. His armour turned a glancing blow in a shower of sparks and Styrax went briefly onto the attack with a volley of blows that would have felled any normal man — but each was met and blocked, and the ring of their blades came so fast it sounded like shattering glass.

  Distantly he felt a flicker of apprehension as he finally recognised the figure attacking. The armour now was identical to his own, and the sword seemed to tear at the air it passed. Styrax found secure footing and drew on his Crystal Skulls. The magical artefacts pulsed at his command, tendrils of spitting light lashing out, burning furrows through the earth and scorching the moorland grass.

  Koezh Vukotic pressed his advantage. Staying light on his feet, he dipped and weaved his way between the savage streams of magic, cutting through the storm with his rage-filled sword. Koezh forced Styrax to turn, deflecting his sword up and catching the Menin lord a glancing blow across the ribs. It didn’t pierce the metal, but even as Styrax slashed at his opponent’s head, Koezh had moved and cut across Styrax’s cuirass, nicking the edge of the monogram plate bearing Koezh’s own initials.

  Styrax hurled himself forward, using his greater bulk as a battering ram to drive Koezh back, but the vampire rode the blow and turned it to his advantage, nearly managing to thrust his sword point into the back of Styrax’s knee, then smashing the pommel of his sword into Styrax’s chest. The white-eye saw the blow coming and slashed crossways, forcing Koezh to retreat or be decapitated. He won himself an instant to breath —

  — and a second figure flew forward while flames erupted from the ground all around them, and Styrax twisted with unnatural grace, parrying the blow and filling his sword with magic to score a blistering trail down the other attacker’s thigh - but his blow was turned by the same whorled armour, and his attacker had already pivoted and kicked out at him. Styrax dropped to a half-crouch, pinning the armoured foot under his arm and punching with his left hand into the side of Zhia’s knee. He didn’t wait to see if he’d caused any damage, but rolled his body through the air, moving around Zhia to use her as a shield against Koezh’s follow-up.

  Styrax caught a glint of red light in the air and summoned a grey dome of energy to deflect the bloody fire lashing down at his head. He released Zhia, but kept her between himself and Koezh, knowing her to be the weaker fighter. White swirls danced around her body, exploding into sunbursts of sparks as his sword hit them. She retreated, keeping her sword close to her body as she waited for a chance to get inside his guard. He obliged; smashing an elbow forward as she stepped into a thrust and snapping her head back.

  With both fists around his grip Styrax punched her in the chest, putting all his power into the blow. It smashed her backwards, driving Zhia through the air, but before she’d even hit the ground Styrax was moving, striking out as Koezh came at his other side. The blow was parried and he dropped low to slash at the vampire’s legs, but it was deflected into the ground even as Koezh hacked at his neck and was stopped by a grey bar of magic.

  Koezh made a twisting gesture with his hand and Styrax felt his feet wrenched sideways. He turned into the movement, flinging himself around, and as he dropped, he lashed out wildly, as Koezh turned the blows with practised ease.

  One-handed, Styrax turned his first two blows, and stepped into the third, casting forward a corkscrew of raw energy, and somehow the vampire managed to both drive himself backwards while at the same time twisting so one arm pierced the centre of the spiral. With one hand, Koezh grasped the stream of magic itself and savagely ripped it away.

  With the energy dissipated, he cut upwards at Styrax, but the white-eye had already retreated and he smashed Kobra down, nearly catching Koezh on the upswing- but the vampire sprang away, sliding backwards across the magic-scorched grass.

  Styrax braced himself and unleashed the full force of the Skulls at Koezh, but the twisting cable of uncontrolled magic unravelled, spraying wildly all around while the Skull fixed to Koezh’s own armour blazed bright white.

  Zhia appeared in Styrax’s periphery. The whorled pattern on her cuirass was distorted and buckled, but it didn’t hamper her as she raced back into the fray. Styrax stepped away from her charge, taking a glancing blow from her sword on his pauldron as he extended his sword and felt it pierce the flexible mesh covering her armpit. He drove forward, and as Kobra’s fangs skewered her flesh he dragged and her side around and lifted his weapon, pulling her on to her tiptoes.

  Then, sensing Koezh behind him he tugged Kobra out of Zhia’s armpit and slashing left-handed as he moved to the left, away from the vampire’s onrush. Koezh anticipated the move and a grey bar of energy caught Styrax’s sword before it could cover his body. The vampire cut up at his exposed wrist; Styrax had to lean forward to take the blow on his vambrace instead, but still he felt the sword pierce the metal and a hot burst of pain flowered in his arm.

  He dived forward frantically, evading the next crippling blow, and rolled close to the perimeter of flames that was keeping his soldiers away. He felt the sizzle of acid on his flesh: Koezh’s sword had scarred his skin again. Now he placed both hands on his own sword and flooded his body with magic to wash away the pain before leaping to his feet and immediately dodging to strike inside Koezh’s follow-up blow.

  The vampire moved even faster now, aware his sister was injured and the fight was all his own. They struck and blocked and parried in turn, until they locked swords, pulling each other to within a few inches. Each tried to shove the other off-balance in the split-second before retrea
ting, but their unnatural strength was equally matched.

  Styrax stepped back first, cutting up at Koezh’s hands, checking the blow and lunging at his face. Koezh, the smaller man, dodged with astonishing speed, diverting the thrust upwards with the guard of his sword and turning it into a thrust of his own. Styrax stepped into the blow, catching it on his chest before Koezh could get any force behind it, then slamming an elbow down onto Koezh’s shoulder and at last getting him off balance.

  Side-on to his enemy, Styrax swung down as he moved clear; trying to chop into the vampire’s throat, but Koezh dropped flat on his back and the blow caught only thin air. As Styrax stabbed down, Kobra’s fangs met a flat grey disc. With his full strength behind the blow, the weapon penetrated, but the impact juddered right through Styrax’s body and the fangs were stopped by Koezh’s cuirass — and Styrax had to hop gracelessly back to save his ankles.

  Koezh was already striking as he leaped to his feet and caught Styrax’s blade as they both moved into the attack, locking weapons again. Styrax, catching a movement out of the corner of his eye, threw himself backwards as Zhia arrived. He gave ground right up to the encircling flames, desperate for space to evade her - only to watch in astonishment as Zhia’s slender sword ran straight and true into the seam of the black cuirass, driving deep inside.

  Her brother faltered, driven sideways by the unexpected impact, but before he could react, Zhia forced her sword further into Koezh’s guts. A gasp of pain escaped his lips as she retracted the weapon and stepped back. Her brother staggered and dropped to one knee, his hand going to his side as a spurt of black blood spilled out.

  Styrax didn’t hesitate, advancing and smashing Koezh’s sword aside. With the vampire defenceless, he cut at his opponent’s neck and felt Kobra tear through the armour. Koezh fell, limp before he hit the ground and a sudden silence descended.

  ‘I’m sorry, brother,’ Zhia whispered, her voice strained, ‘but it must be this way.’

  She turned to Styrax, who faced her with his weapon raised warily, but the Vukotic princess shook her head and sheathed her weapon.

  ‘You will have to enjoy your battle alone, Lord Styrax - I am done for the day.’ Her right arm went to the armpit where he’d injured her. He could hear from her laboured voice that the wound was severe.

  Do I kill her now, while I have the chance?

  ‘You could kill me,’ she said, correctly guessing his thoughts, ‘but that would deny you an ally for the future — one who could be of use to a collector.’

  With a gesture she dismissed the flames crackling all around them and the true Bloodsworn rushed forward, stopping dead as Styrax raised a hand. He thought for a moment, panting to get his breath back after the furious exchange, barely able to string a coherent thought together.

  ‘Go then,’ he said eventually, ‘go with my blessing and remember this debt.’

  ‘My debt to you? How very male,’ Zhia gasped, her arm drawn tight up to her chest. ‘I suppose that’s all the thanks I’ll get for persuading Koezh our chances would be better without the Legion of the Damned.’

  She looked down at the corpse of her brother, lying at Styrax’s feet. A faint mist was building over it as his body started to decay and disintegrate.

  ‘As you wish,’ she said finally. ‘Until we meet again.’

  She turned and faced the wall of soldiers. They didn’t move, and she looked back at Styrax, who gestured, parting the Bloodsworn for her. Once a path was clear, the vampire left without looking back once.

  Styrax looked down at the putrefying armoured corpse at his feet. Koezh’s Crystal Skull was still attached to the cuirass, and he quickly tugged it free. The armour was already soft and malleable, decaying with Koezh’s body; the metal would melt into nothingness unless it was removed with alacrity, as Styrax had the first time they fought. If not, it would slowly reform with Koezh’s body in the crypt beneath the Castle of Silence, far to the east. Koezh’s sword was similarly indistinct within the mist, and as he watched, it sank into the moorland beneath it, unclaimed yet again.

  He looked up at the assembled troops surrounding him. With an effort he smiled. ‘First blood to us,’ he announced hoarsely. The responding cheer was deafening.

  ‘Enemy’s advancing,’ Veil said, pointing.

  King Emin looked up. ‘So it begins,’ he muttered. ‘How about the left flank?’

  Veil squinted at where the smaller Menin force had formed up, by the tree-line. ‘Looks like it - I’d need a mage to be sure.’

  ‘Where are the damn mages?’ Emin growled, seeing nothing but soldiers. The fort contained more than a thousand men, as closely packed in as could be managed without causing complete chaos.

  ‘There’s the runt,’ Coran said, indicating the diminutive form of Tomal Endine, who was weaving a path towards them, through the Kingsguard and the catapult platforms that stood between the central tower and Emin’s position on the rampart.

  The mage laboured up the wooden ramp towards King Emin, and Coran reached down to drag the small man the last yard while he gasped for breath. The King’s bodyguard stood out from the crowd by more than size now - his cuirass and helm were painted a bright bloody red, in contrast to the green and gold livery that surrounded him. The rest of the Brotherhood wore black-painted armour, punctuating the crowd of resplendent Kingsguard like needles secreted in a haystack.

  ‘Piss and daemons,’ Doranei said, ‘man’s exhausted and the battle’s not started yet!’

  Endine gave Doranei an unfriendly look and sparks crackled momentarily across his knuckles.

  ‘Your Majesty, Mage Holtai reports both sections of the enemy are advancing. Two lines of heavy infantry are moving directly here, with archers and cavalry protecting them, while a mixed force of infantry and cavalry are stationed on their left flank. The smaller force is keeping tight to the forest and they too are protected on their left flank by cavalry.’

  King Emin nodded and turned to face his army, the bulk of which was lined up behind the long ditches. They stood in long lines that would be vulnerable on the open field, but these great defensive works would massively reduce the force of any infantry charge.

  ‘There is more, your Majesty,’ Endine said urgently, ‘I sensed magic used in the enemy camp - not a spell in progress, but energies shaped quickly, with violence meant.’

  ‘Which means?’

  ‘That I don’t know, but most likely Lord Styrax fought someone of great power - perhaps he even gave Larat’s Chosen a Crystal Skull to use in battle and had it turned against him.’

  King Emin frowned. ‘I doubt that; he will assume he has the advantage there without help from doubtful sources.’

  ‘I can see no other explanation - the magic expended was considerable — ’

  ‘And without a Crystal Skull,’ Emin finished for him, ‘what fool would bother?’ He forced a smile. ‘It’ll do us no good speculating. If the enemy is divided, they’ll be less enthusiastic about throwing themselves on our stake-points!’ The king gestured towards the long lines of raised stakes surrounding the fort and provoked a cheer from those nearby.

  ‘Endine, return to your post,’ King Emin said once the noise had abated, ‘when I need Cetarn signalled I’ll send a runner. In the meantime, keep us safe!’

  The sickly mage bowed and scuttled back to the tower in the centre of the fort where the scryer, Mage Holtai, sat watching the enemy’s movements, and three battle-mages waited for the coming assault.

  ‘Will Cetarn be enough?’ Doranei asked quietly. ‘He’s no white-eye, no matter what they’ve cooked up on that chained mound.’

  ‘Cetarn will play his part,’ Emin replied distantly, ‘as must we all.’

  ‘Is that why you’re here, your Majesty?’

  Emin gave him a sharp look. ‘Your meaning?’

  Doranei edged forward, keeping his voice as low as possible and ignoring the fact that Coran also stepped closer, just in case. ‘The fort is vulnerable; you must see that.’
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br />   ‘Must I?’

  ‘Yes,’ Doranei said firmly, ‘the ditches aren’t long enough to be certain we won’t be cut off, yet here’s where you make your stand. Wouldn’t it be better if you moved further back, where the whole army can see your standard and take heart?’

  King Emin gave him a more genuine smile than he had Endine. ‘No, my friend, it is best I’m here, on that you must trust me - as I trust you and Coran to keep me safe.’

  ‘Are you intentionally putting yourself in a dangerous position?’ Doranei asked quietly.

  ‘Remember this — we are all in mortal danger today,’ Emin said, ‘and it will do the men good to see that I take the same risks they do. In the context of a battle plan, my significance should not be overstated. If Kastan Styrax wishes me dead, he will achieve that goal wherever I stand. My death may be a blow, but the Menin know they must do more than that to win the day.’