by J. L. Doty
“Two thousand Kulls, eh,” the Surriot said thoughtfully. “I wish I knew what Illalla planned next.”
Tulellcoe turned his back to the fire, edged in closer to the warmth. “Unless he’s a fool he’ll move out early tomorrow. And he’s no fool.”
“What’s our next move?” the woman demanded.
Morgin could see them all looking to Tulellcoe for leadership. The wizard took a deep breath, thought for a moment. “There’s not a lot we can do with sixty men, but I’ve got an idea. We need axes. We’ll use swords if necessary, but axes will be faster.”
“Some of the men are from these parts,” the Surriot said. “They might know where we can find axes. Better yet, the peasants on the road will have axes. Around here a man has to clear the land, so that’s the first thing he gets when he starts a family.”
“Good idea,” Tulellcoe said. “Take some men and see if you can recruit some peasants to do a little chopping for us. Volunteers only. We need them for half a day, then they can continue south with their families. We also need torches, and oil. Torches we can make, and we can conjure oil, but what do we put it in?”
“How about our water skins?” JohnEngine asked. “There’s plenty of streams in this forest so we don’t need to carry water with us.”
They all looked at Tulellcoe expectantly, and he nodded slowly as if trying to assemble the details of a plan. Morgin slipped back into the forest, remembering Illalla’s mention of a “. . . bunch of Elhiyne rabble,” and Bayellgae’s prediction that they will, “. . . attack usss tomorrow, massster, though they don’t know it yet.” And too he remembered how Illalla had laughed and said, “So they think they will surprise us. Well we’ll have to prepare a little trap for them, eh?”
~~~
Illalla et Decouix rode at the head of his army. He had learned long ago that a leader must lead his men, otherwise they might think he had fears like they, and once they began to believe that, they would fear him less, or perhaps cease to fear him at all. The High Lord of the White Clan knew well the lesson of fear. It was the real source of power, for it kept his subjects in line, and he was proud of his ability to wield it like a sword. If only he could induce a little more fear in that fool son of his.
He stood high in his stirrups and turned to look at his army on the road behind him. For as far as the eye could see there were riders, three thousand of them arranged in ranks of four. Behind them clattered eight hundred wagons in single file, and behind that nine thousand foot-soldiers walking four abreast. It was not the largest army he had ever assembled, but it would be sufficient for his purposes this time, and it was an army to be proud of. With it he would crush these upstart Elhiynes, and after them each of the Lesser Clans would have its turn.
“Look, sire,” one of the men riding beside him called. “Up ahead.”
The High Lord did not at first look, for that would seem as if he was obeying one of his lackeys, and that must never appear to be the case. He lingered for a moment, taking pride in his army, then slowly turned to look forward. Far up the road he saw one of his scouts riding hastily toward them.
When the man arrived he rode past the High Lord a few paces, turned his horse, then matched the pace of his king, saying only, “Sire?” If the man hadn’t done it properly, Illalla would have had his head.
“What is it, man?” Illalla asked without turning to face him.
“I bring ill news, sire. The road ahead is blocked.”
“What?” Illalla shouted, turning his anger on the poor man.
The man cringed. “I said the road ahead—”
“I heard what you said, fool. Blocked by what?”
“Trees, sire.”
“Trees?”
“Yes, sire. Trees. Chopped down and toppled into the road, hundreds of them.”
“Call out my escort,” Illalla shouted.
The blast of a horn echoed through the surrounding forest. A short time later the king of the White Clan rode out from the main column escorted by twelve twelves of Kulls. They rode hard for several minutes, and Illalla began to doubt his scout’s word, but then they rounded a sharp bend in the road and he brought his horse to an abrupt halt.
The scout had exaggerated somewhat. There were not hundreds of trees in the road, but there were a great number, perhaps as many as a single hundred. There appeared to be more at first sight, though, because they were not stacked into a neat pile but spread down the road for a goodly distance. Illalla cursed, then turned to a lackey. “How long will it take to clear these?”
“Not long, sire. We can take a couple of draft teams from the wagons and have it clear by midday.”
Illalla laughed. “Fools,” he said. “They probably spent the entire night chopping down trees, and we’ll have it clear in a few short hours. Get to it man.”
The man bowed in his saddle. “Yes, Your Majesty,” he said, then rode off to comply.
Next Illalla turned to his Kull commander. “The trees are only a feint. Their real target is the wagons. Let them burn a few, and when they retreat east, I want you waiting for them with twelve twelves of your men, and I don’t want any of that rabble left alive. After you’ve disposed of them, take your men out to patrol the road for one day’s march in advance of the main column. Kill anyone you find on or near the road. Is that clear?”
Illalla watched the halfman smile at the thought of the fun he and his men would have. The Kulls always enjoyed the killing. The halfman nodded, said, “Aye, Lord,” then rode off to do his king’s bidding.
Illalla continued to speak, but to no one in particular. “Fool Elhiynes. Imbeciles. That bitch Olivia wants time to gather her forces. Well she is going to learn that I cannot be slowed. In seven days I will be at Sa’umbra, and that will be the end of Elhiyne.”
~~~
Morgin looked down at the road far below and watched the wagons and carts passing slowly by. The train of supplies for the advancing army stretched both up and down the road for as far as he could see. It coiled in and around the mountainous forest like a snake, and for the first time he appreciated the enormity of the host that would soon descend upon Elhiyne.
From his vantage atop a high ridge Morgin had an easy view of the developing scenario below. Tulellcoe had chosen to attack the wagons at a place where the forest was thin, and the sides of the road sloped upward steeply to sharp ridges on both sides. He had split the small Elhiyne force into five platoons lead by himself, JohnEngine, France, Cortien Balenda, and Valken Surriot. He’d spaced the platoons carefully up and down the road so as not to interfere with each other, and he and France, with their respective platoons, hid just above the ridge on this side of the road, while JohnEngine and the Balenda and the Surriot hid above the ridge on the other.
After leaving the Elhiyne camp the night before Morgin had returned to the Decouix camp in the hope of learning more. Even with the perimeter guards aroused by his earlier visit he’d found it easy to slip past them, though he didn’t learn much from Illalla and Bayellgae, only that they had anticipated Tulellcoe’s raid. But when Illalla went to sleep, and Morgin began slipping through the shadows toward the perimeter, it was at that moment, standing in the midst of the Decouix camp in the stillness of the wee hours of the morning, it was then that he finally chanced upon a plan of his own. He was one, single man, and he’d been racking his brains for days now trying to think of something he could do to make a difference. He could not get close enough to Illalla to assassinate him, not with Bayellgae constantly hovering about, but he realized that he could strike at Illalla’s men with impunity. And while he alone could not kill enough of them to make a difference, common soldiers were a superstitious lot. He could strike such terror in their hearts over the next few days that when the final battle came they would be tired, and fearful, and the edge of their battle skills would be that much blunted. So before he left the camp he silently slit the throats of two twelves of men in their sleep, and left them to be found by their comrades in the morning.
<
br /> He’d returned to the Elhiyne camp, watched them through the night as they made preparations for the day’s raid on the wagons. And then with the rising sun he’d slipped away to his present vantage.
He’d sat there quietly watching his friends watching the army pass, first the columns of mounted soldiers, then rank upon rank of foot soldiers, and now the wagons. He’d also observed Bayellgae hovering high overhead, a tiny streak of winged venom snaking through the clouds. The serpent had certainly spotted the Elhiyne forces below and reported the fact to its master, though it was not until much of the army had passed that Morgin spotted the company of Kulls sneaking carefully into position behind Tulellcoe and his men.
Tulellcoe’s intention was to strike quickly, then retreat up a small ravine that led to a large game trail, the only path through the forest growth wide enough for a company of more than sixty riders. It was there that the Kulls had chosen to wait for them, hiding in the shadows just off the trail. They would attack the Elhiyne force once they recombined into a single unit after the raid. In that way, Illalla could insure that few, if any, escaped..
From Morgin’s vantage he could see quite a ways up the road, and when the leading elements of the army began to stop he knew it was time for him to move. He turned away from the ridge, found Mortiss waiting quietly behind him, mounted up and started working his way down toward the Kulls. He knew it would take some time for such a long procession of men and supplies to grind to a complete halt, but he moved hastily nevertheless, conscious that if he were late, or Tulellcoe moved too quickly, the Elhiyne warriors would all die.
He stopped a short distance behind the Kulls to cast a spell of shadow over he and Mortiss, but found that deep shadow already lay about him like a cloak, and he realized that he must have been living in shadow constantly now for some days. AnnaRail had once warned him to beware of spending too much time in such a nether state, that wizards before him who had made such a mistake had slowly lost contact with reality, and become more nether than mortal. That frightened him, but he had no choice, so he shrugged off the thought and extended the shadow to include Mortiss. Then he nudged her forward slowly, quietly, until he was only a few strides behind the waiting Kulls who sat atop their horses in an eerie silence, broken occasionally by a spluttering horse, or the creak of saddle leather as one of the animals shifted its weight. From Morgin’s new position he could see only their backs, and a chill ran up his spine.
Suddenly shouts and cries broke the stillness of the forest air. Morgin silently shifted his position a little until he could see a small stretch of the road. There JohnEngine’s small platoon had charged down the opposite slope and chased away several of the wagon handlers. They quickly commandeered a half-dozen wagons and bunched them together in a jam that blocked the road, then released the teams of oxen and set them loose. They commandeered another half dozen wagons, added them to the already formidable jam, then JohnEngine tossed a water skin on top of one of the wagon tarps, and with a stroke of his sword he split it easily. A shower of glistening oil ran down the tarp and soaked into the material. Each of the other riders split a skin of oil over the jam of wagons, then one rider with a torch touched flame to the oil, and in moments an inferno blocked the road.
Morgin suddenly understood Tulellcoe’s plan. If the other platoons did the same as JohnEngine’s, then the road was now blocked by five such infernos, each of which would blaze well through the day, the night, and into the next morning, and even then they would still be too hot to clear. Illalla could conjure rain to put them out, but bending an elemental to one’s will in that way used incredible amounts of power, and the wizard would be exhausted for days to come. Tulellcoe had done well, for Illalla’s army would be stalled for at least two, maybe three days. But now it was up to Morgin to see that the Kull trap failed.
JohnEngine and his men disappeared from Morgin’s view as they moved down the road to regroup with the rest of the Elhiyne force. Morgin, with exaggerated slowness, quietly drew his sword, then touched Mortiss’ flanks with his spurs and nudged her forward. She moved naturally among the deep shadows of the forest, and without making a sound took a position in the midst of the mounted Kulls, just another shadow among the many in which they hid. And there he waited, wrapped in his Kull cloak and his shadow.
The leader of the Kulls was on his feet near the trees at the side of the trail. He watched the trail, while the rest of them watched him for the signal to attack. Then suddenly Morgin’s ears caught the distant sound of straining men and horses riding hard. The entire company of Kulls tensed, and many began to reach for their swords, and in that moment Morgin picked the Kull nearest him, raised his own sword high over his head. He intended to cut the halfman down without warning, then, from within his shadow, deal as much death and havoc among them as he could, creating enough noise to warn the approaching Elhiynes so that they could disperse into the forest. Then he would disappear into the shadows beneath the trees. But in that infinitesimal instant his plans changed.
The sword in his hands flared with red fire high over his head and screamed into life, and before he could even begin to bring it down it brought itself down, with his hand just a passenger on its hilt, and it literally cut the halfman and his horse in two.
Screaming out its hatred of all living things the sword cut through a flat arc and beheaded another Kull, then flashed down and took off the head of another’s horse. Then pandemonium erupted in the shadows as the Kull’s mounts panicked, while it was all Morgin could do to hold onto the sword and stay in the saddle at the same time.
Mortiss reared and brought her fore hooves down in the face of a halfman, bucked and kicked another out of the saddle with her rear hooves. She worked with the sword as if its efforts and hers were coordinated in some way, while Morgin was nothing more than the thread that held them together, though he was ever on the edge of losing his grip on the hilt and his seat in the saddle. With his free hand he let go of her reins, gripped the saddle horn and held on for dear life, while she and the sword ripped through the company of Kulls without mercy.
~~~
As JohnEngine charged headlong up the trail with the rest of the company of warriors, it was the flow of power that he first sensed, a vast unleashing of energies beyond anything he would ever hope to control. Tulellcoe must have sensed it in almost the same instant, for both of them reined in their horses simultaneously, and the men behind them bunched up as they tried not to override them.
A mounted Kull sprang out into the middle of the trail. JohnEngine had his sword out in an instant, but it was not needed, for the Kull’s horse was bucking and kicking wildly, and out of control it quickly carried the halfman off into the forest. Suddenly Kulls on screaming, panic-stricken mounts were everywhere, and it was all JohnEngine could do keep his own mount under control. He could hear the scream of some monstrous beast, alternating between a constant, low growl and a wild shriek, and then a creature of shadow and death lunged into the trail before him, and at the power and evil he sensed flowing from it, he thought then and there that his life would end.
It was a monstrous sight, a constantly shifting, undefined shape, streaked with power and darkness, and it towered over JohnEngine as it advanced. But then another Kull on a panicked mount shot in front of it, and a flaming red talon the length of a sword reached out and cut both halfman and beast in two. Then suddenly it was gone, disappearing into the depths of the forest, vanishing without a sound, leaving behind a trail littered with parts of dismembered Kulls and their mounts. And in the distance JohnEngine could hear the scattered, surviving Kulls trying desperately to regain control of their panicked horses.
It was France who spoke first. “What in netherhell was that?”
Tulellcoe shook his head wonderingly. “Perhaps something from netherhell, though I think not. It didn’t feel like the netherlife, and in fact there was something oddly familiar about it. But it was certainly something that doesn’t like Kulls.”
Valken Surri
ot looked at the carnage that lined the trail. “Well, let us thank the Unnamed King that it doesn’t feel the same way about us. In fact, we owe it our lives.”
“Well I certainly appreciate that,” Cortien Balenda said, “but I’d rather not stick around to express my thanks. Let’s get the netherhell out of here before it comes back and decides it doesn’t like us either.”
~~~
Morgin spurred Mortiss through the forest, running from something he couldn’t define. The sword had come so close to JohnEngine, it had wanted to taste the blood of his own brother, and had not the mounted halfman suddenly come between them, and provided a meal for the sword’s hunger, Morgin was not sure he could have kept it from devouring JohnEngine’s life. He ran from that thought, rode blindly with all the speed Mortiss could deliver, rode himself to exhaustion.
Chapter 19: The ShadowLord
“That was a good raid last night,” JohnEngine said. “We didn’t lose any men, and we cut further into Illalla’s supplies.”
Tulellcoe shook his head, looked at the empty road far below. “But that’s not enough. We didn’t slow him down and he can spare the supplies.”
The Balenda nodded. “Yes. We have to do more.”
JohnEngine turned his back on the road, surveyed their temporary camp. They’d bivouacked on a high slope overlooking the road. The men were resting while he and the Balenda and the Surriot and France and Tulellcoe and Abileen held a short council of war. They all needed rest, a long night’s sleep and a hot meal.
