“Now, Errin!” Delia cries.
Behind her, Errin and Aleya each take up one of the specially treated arrows and dip the tip in the fire behind the shields. Each arrow has an oil soaked rag tied just behind the arrowhead which ignites quickly. Taking but a moment to aim, they fire at the oil coated bridges.
Two arcs of fire soar through the air, each striking adjacent bridges. When the flaming arrows sink into the oil soaked wood, the oil bursts into flames. Using one arrow per bridge, they soon have all the bridges aflame and begin on the catapults.
Delia has moved onto her first catapult by the time the first bridge erupts in flame. The slingers continue peppering the remainder of the catapults as bridge after bridge begins to burn.
The enemy soldiers at first didn’t see from which direction the attack had originated. But when the flaming arrows began to appear, one soldier gives out with a cry and they surge forward.
Arrows fly from Hedry’s archers as the soldiers race past the fires to close with them. Some stop and attempt to put out the fires, those that do are the first to be targeted by the archers. The bridges must burn.
Ceadric draws his sword and says to the men mounted behind him, “For Madoc and Black Hawk!”
With battle cries filling the night, the horsemen charge forward and close with the enemy foot soldiers before they have a chance to reach Delia and her group. Riding them down, the battle hardened men lay about them with their swords, felling men left and right.
More soldiers stream into the area, racing to put out the fires consuming the siege equipment, but arrows continuously knock them backward.
Before the last few catapults have been struck by the bombs, a not so distant horn sounds from out of the darkness to the right and another answers from the left. It’s a trap!
Chapter Eight
___________________________
On the far side of the palisade, James and Jiron are led across an open area toward a large tent bearing the Empire’s flag. Now on the other side, they can see just what awaits them in the coming battle, should battle there be. A sea of tents fan out for over a mile. Men are virtually everywhere but most are congregating in the area just behind the palisade, armed and ready for battle. The camp is immense.
The rear of the palisade has a walkway near the top to afford crossbowmen a place to stand while they rain bolts down upon anyone foolish enough to attack. Numerous wagons, horses and the usual accompaniment for an army in the field are present as well.
Around them, the soldiers stand in hushed silence as he’s led through their ranks. Jiron’s right hand stays on the hilt of his knife where it still rests in its scabbard. Walking beside James, he tries to take in as much information about the layout and makeup of this army as he can. Such information could be useful when they return to Lythylla.
As they near what has to be the command tent, two guards stationed at either side of the entrance come to attention as the man leading them passes through. The tingling sensation of magic grows as James makes to enter. Not so much that another is increasing what they are already doing, rather that he’s coming into closer proximity to it.
“There’s magic inside, stay close,” he says in a whisper to Jiron before entering.
A table has been erected within the tent, large enough to accommodate a dozen men. More guards are stationed within the room as well as two crossbowmen. What he sees seated at the table stops him in his tracks. At the head of the table sits a warrior priest of Dmon-Li. To his right is an officer and to his left a man in robes, obviously a mage. He can hear Jiron’s slight intake of surprise when he, too, comes to realize what they are facing.
Stiffening his backbone, James takes another three steps into the tent before coming to a stop.
The warrior priest looks him up and down, sizing him up. Completely encased in armor except for his helm which sits on a stand behind him, the man makes an imposing sight. Shoulder length black hair with dark, piercing eyes that seem to bore to James’ very soul gives him a foreboding feel.
“We’ve met before,” the warrior priest replies.
Surprised, James says, “I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure.” This man doesn’t look like Abula-Mazki, but who knows when you’re dealing with the gods.
“Almost had you outside of Kern, but was balked by the commander of Cardri’s forces,” the warrior priest replies. “Almost came to war, but we decided upon discretion at that time.” After Saragon when he and Jiron were coming through Mountainside, they were set upon by a warrior priest that hounded them all the way into Cardri. This must be him.
The warrior priest’s intense gaze continues to bore into James as he says, “You wished this meeting. Why?”
His confidence is somewhat dampened by the knowledge of facing off against a warrior priest and he hesitates. Suddenly what he came here to say sounds weak and stupid. “I came here to tell you the time of the Empire’s occupation of Madoc is at an end. Your forces must return back behind the original border.”
The officer beside the warrior priest barks out in cruel laughter. “Madoc is all but ours now,” he says. “We are not about to simply hand it back.”
James glances to each of the three behind the table as he considers how to get the heck out of there. He hadn’t planned on a warrior priest, a mage maybe, but not one of those. “You have until the sun rises to make up your minds,” he says, stalling for time. He knows what they’ll say, he just needs this to last until Delia and the others make it across the river.
Coming to his feet, the warrior priest says, “You needn’t wait until the morning for our reply.” A sudden spike in the tingling sensation and a blast of energy strikes the shield as the warrior priest gives his reply.
The force of the blast bowls them over and they’re flung from the tent. Still encased within the protective shield, James and Jiron get to their feet as the warrior priest and the mage emerge from the tent.
“Brace yourself,” James says as the tingling spikes yet again.
A ball of flame flies toward them and strikes the shield. Rather than being deflected, it settles upon the shield and begins eating it away. The temperature inside is increasing rapidly, James and Jiron begin perspiring. Nothing but flame can be seen all around them. Whatever is transpiring on the other side of the shield remains unknown.
James can tell the integrity of the shield won’t last much longer under the flame’s attack. He says, “I’m going to give you a crystal. Once you have it, step away from me and say ‘Shield’. It will form a protective shield similar to mine around you.” He opens one of the pouches and hands him a crystal with a deep crimson glow. Before he gives it to him, he adds, “It will only last about ten minutes, less if you are targeted magically.”
Jiron takes the crystal and nods. Stepping back, he says, “Shield!” and a shimmering shield springs up around him.
Reaching into another pouch James removes several other crystals, each glowing a deep crimson. Holding two in each hand, he concentrates and then let’s the magic from each of the crystals flow through him in one massive surge.
Whoom!
The shield surrounding them explodes outwards in a gigantic explosion. Soldiers, tents, and everything else in the vicinity gets lifted up and thrown backward several yards. Those who were closest to the blast lie unmoving upon the ground.
The warrior priest is knocked backward by the unexpected blow, the mage fares even worse. The fiery mass coating the outer side of the shield is blasted outward. The caustic mass flies in every direction, striking men, tents, wagons, etc, including the mage. When it hits, it begins burning and eating away at the flesh. The mage cries out as his flesh is consumed by the fiery mass and is soon lying on the ground, the remnants of his body smoking.
Fires break out all over this section of the camp wherever the fiery mass comes to land. Even the palisade is burning, some of the hellish fire having been thrown that far.
James tosses the now shattered, empty crystals to t
he ground as another shield springs up around him. Going on the offensive, he lets loose the power…
Crumph! Crumph! Crumph!
…and the ground between him and the warrior priest erupts, throwing dirt and dust into the air.
Once the warrior priest’s vision is obscured, James pulls out two crystals and says, “Activate. Countdown twenty.” Turning to Jiron he says, “Let’s get the hell out of here!”
He tosses them to the ground behind them as they turn to race back toward the palisade. Soldiers are already moving to extinguish the fires burning there before they have a chance to catch. They take no more than two steps when he again feels the tingling sensation spike. “Dodge!” he yells.
Bolting to the right, James feels the sizzle as another fireball shoots past right where they had been a moment earlier. “Keep going,” he says to Jiron. “Whatever you do, don’t look back!”
Just as the tingling sensation spikes again, the countdown reaches zero.
Schtk! Boom!
A blinding white light blossoms behind them and the force of the blast knocks them forward to the ground. Heat and sound accompanies the wall of force and it feels as if their being broiled alive but then it passes by.
“Damn!” Jiron says as he gets back to his feet. “What did you do?”
“Explain later,” replies James. He glances over to the palisade and sees there are still about a thousand men between here and there. Behind him, all traces of magic have disappeared. Hopefully he got the warrior priest with that but he finds that rather unlikely. If Abula-Mazki can survive a mountain falling down on him, this one will probably survive as well.
The pouches at his waist are nearly empty. He actually hasn’t used much of his own power as yet. Like he told Jiron back when they first met, if he has time to prepare, he doesn’t get tired. And he’s had all winter to prepare.
They make a break for the gate in the palisade, bolts rain down upon them but each is protected in their own protective shield. Jiron only has another eight minutes or so and then he’ll be at their mercy. Before they reach the leading edge of soldiers, James removes one of the two remaining crystals and throws it ahead of him toward the approaching troops.
“Down!” he yells to Jiron.
Jiron sees him fall to the ground and drops as well.
The crystal flies through the air and hits the ground just in front of the troops. Suddenly, a dozen soldiers drop to the ground as the crystal leeches a hundredfold. A fraction of a second later, six red beams like lasers shoot out from the crystal, at an upward angle reminiscent of search lights. They slice through whatever it touches and then the beams rotate forty-five degrees. A cry erupts all over the field of battle as men are cut in two, literally sliced apart by the beams. Then after the beams come to rest, they blink out.
Boom!
The crystal explodes in a deafening roar, leaving a four foot crater where it had lain.
“Come on!” cries James as he gets to his feet. The number of soldiers between them and the gate has been reduced by almost two thirds, the rest are fleeing for their lives after witnessing the devastating attack.
“James, the gate is closed,” hollers Jiron.
Looking toward the palisade, he sees the gate standing closed. “See if you can open it,” he says as the tingling sensation again comes to him. Glancing back, he sees the warrior priest coming fast, whatever damage the massive explosion earlier had done to him is no longer apparent.
Turning to face the warrior priest, he lets loose the magic…
Crumph! Crumph! Crumph!
…but it doesn’t even faze the man. As the ground erupts around him he continues moving quickly toward him, seemingly unaffected by the blasts. When he spies James there before him and the sea of dead behind, a hellish grin comes to him. Raising his hands over his head, he speaks words which are painful to hear.
Each word seems to go through him like a knife. Standing there before the warrior priest, James instinctively covers his ears as the words continue to set his mind and nerves afire.
Then from around him, among the dead a black mist begins to arise, the sight of which brings a horror which nigh on paralyses him. As the warrior priest continues speaking the words, the mist coalesces in many different areas among the dead.
Through strength of will alone, he manages to get his feet once more moving toward the palisade. Ahead of him he sees that Jiron is still some distance from it as he, too is overcome by what is transpiring around him.
Step by step, he progresses toward the gate in the palisade. Not very far from him is one of the points where the black mist is coalescing. It starts to take on a distinct shape of a bipedal humanoid roughly three foot in height. When the warrior priest utters the last word, the form solidifies and a pair of red eyes stare out from the black, demonic head.
To James’ horror, the head turns in his direction and the mouth twists into a malignant grin. The lips pull back to reveal a row of jagged pointed teeth. A quick glance reveals numerous of these creatures are upon the battlefield, each point where the black mist coalesced now contains one. Then suddenly they’re in motion.
James lashes out with the power at the one closest to him and has the satisfaction of seeing it lifted off its feet and thrown backward a dozen yards. The lethargy he experienced while the warrior priest was casting his spell ends and he’s able to once again race toward the gate where Jiron is attempting to lift the bar keeping it closed.
A cry that sends a shiver down his spine pierces the night from behind and he glances over his shoulder to see another of the hell spawn running awkwardly to catch him. Again he lashes out with the power and the creature is thrown backward.
Turning his attention to the gate in the palisade, he sees Jiron with his back to it, knives flying as he battles two of the creatures. The shimmering of the shield surrounding him has disappeared, the power within the crystal having been depleted. Behind Jiron, he sees the bar keeping the gate secured has been removed.
More of those creatures race toward him and Jiron. Each time one gets close to him, he blasts it back with magic. Jiron is now facing three and is at least holding his own, the creatures shy away from the touch of the cold iron of his blades.
Cries from the creatures sound throughout the battlefield. James casts a glance around him and sees dozens of the creatures closing rapidly. He’s not going to make the gate before he’ll be swarmed by them. Not too far ahead of him, Jiron has his back to the gate and is holding off five now, his knives moving so fast they’re but a blur.
The last hundred feet between them is quickly filling with more of the creatures. He blasts out with his magic and ten are flung away only to have the space immediately filled by others. Unable to hold them at bay any longer, he throws up a protective barrier just as one creature leaps over the heads of his fellows and smashes into it. The contact of the creature causes an immediate increase in the amount of power required to keep the barrier in effect, just as the touch of those creatures back in the pass on the way to Ironhold had.
Must be similar in nature, though there’s nothing of fire about these creatures. Within the barrier, James concentrates to maintain the barrier against the onslaught. His forward motion stopped as more and more of the creatures bar his way. They’re packed in so tightly around him that some are beginning to stand on the shoulders of their fellows, creating a wall of creatures on the outer side of the barrier.
The magic of the warrior priest has been absent since the appearance of these creatures which has James worried. Of course it could be that the summoning of these creatures took all he had. He fervently hopes so.
Jiron can no longer be seen through the press of creatures, they have worked themselves three high around his barrier and their combined effect is draining the magic from him in growing quantities. He’s not sure just how much longer he’ll be able to hold it.
Miko is among those upon the battlements keeping an eye on the enemy camp. James has been inside now for
some time. He had laughed along with the others when the enemy soldiers were scattered by those small spheres that flashed and zapped. Though now he’s begun to worry. It’s been many minutes since they were escorted in through the palisade to meet with the commander.
He glances down to the courtyard below where Illan and the rest of his men sit on their horses awaiting the signal to come to James’ aid should the need arise. When Illan looks up at him, he shrugs. Turning to look back at the enemy camp, he prays they’re alright.
Then from the heart of the enemy camp, a flash of red and then a moment later a massive explosion rips through the night. Fire seems to be thrown in every direction.
“What happened?” Illan hollers up at him.
Miko turns his head to face him and says, “A large explosion in the camp. Looks like James is giving them what for.”
Schtk! Boom!
A massive white light accompanies an intense explosion from the same area as the earlier one. The concussion of the blast is such that those on the battlements can feel it roll past them. Miko strains to see what’s going on but the whole area is one mass of moving bodies and can’t make out where James and Jiron are.
When beams of red light shoot out into the night, he turns and descends the steps three at a time to the courtyard below. When he hits the bottom, he races to Illan. “We need to go, now!” he hollers as he gets into the saddle.
“The catapults are on fire!” they hear the cry from someone on the wall.
“Good,” Miko hears Illan grunt beside him.
From atop the wall, Henri’s voice hollers, “Open the gate!”
From behind them, they hear one of Illan’s men say, “Black Hawk flies again!”
When the gates open, the cry goes up, “For Madoc and Black Hawk!”
Shades of the Past: The Morcyth Saga Book Six Page 11
