Janniss leaned over and drew forth an arrow. The others followed her lead, sending arrows flying down in a tight formation, the concentrated number of missiles slicing into orc flesh until they looked like pincushions.
Allindrian saw the arrows rain down on the orcs, which drew a quick smile from the ranger. She drew forth her silver sword and ran from her hiding place so quickly that her feet were a blur, and by the time the orcs knew she was there she was already in their midst, her sword flashing left and right, slicing across hamstrings and creating chaos as she flew by them. The archers had killed a handful of them which gave her some room, but there were still at least five orcs in front of her battling against the faltering Finarthian infantry.
Allindrian didn’t slow her pace, however; in fact she sped up, leaping high and planting her right foot on the shoulder of an orc, continuing her momentum forward by using the backs and heads of the beasts as platforms, flying over the top of them like a breeze, then leaping free and landing amongst her own astonished infantry. Her appearance was so sudden that even they had no time to react to her as she practically materialized in front of them.
There was no time to think as the enemy surged forward. The well trained infantry had formed a quick perimeter giving the rest of the men time to retreat through the gate, but anyone watching from the wall above knew that they could not hold out long.
Jonas, Hagar, Kiln, Riker, Kromm, and everyone else who could, ran for the gate opening. Jonas’s heart ached for his friend, knowing full well that if he was indeed in that front formation that he would not make it. But there was nothing he could do. There were probably a thousand enemy creatures between him and the others. There was nothing left to do but try and get as many survivors as they could through the gate before they were all overwhelmed. Archers on the wall continued to fire down at the enemy but it was like trying to stop a swarm of bees with a spoon.
As they ran through the gate Hagar stopped and turned back towards the brave men keeping the enemy at bay while the rest retreated to safety. Jonas stopped with him, looking up at the great beast. “Hagar, we must go, there is nothing we can do.”
The ogrillion shook his head. “Hagar stay, protect gate,” he rumbled. He turned back towards the enemy, planting his feet wide, and tightly gripping his giant mace. He looked back at Jonas. “You go, friend. My duty,” he said, tapping his iron chest. The beast’s language skills had improved over the weeks that Jonas and Tuvallis had been communicating with him.
Jonas knew he would not convince the ogrillion to change his mind, he could see it in his eyes. He reached up, touching Hagar’s arm. “Friend,” he said. The flood of men pouring through the gate finally pushed Jonas back, carrying him away like a leaf in a stream, and leaving Hagar facing out towards the enemy. If Jonas could have seen his face, he would have seen the ogrillion smile.
The great ogrillion ran forward toward the enemy, shielding more men as his magnificent mace swung back and forth forming a wall of deadly steel, crushing any monsters unfortunate enough to come within range. And despite their large numbers none were able to unhinge Hagar’s tree stump legs from where they were rooted. Ten, fifteen, twenty more men ducked behind the beast and ran through the gate to safety.
Within minutes most of the men had made it through and Kiln couldn’t wait any longer. If the gate were left open much longer, he was afraid enough of the enemy could breach it, and they would not be able to close it. Finally he had to give the order to shut the gate. Everyone knew it had to be done, but the anguish of watching the brave men struggle to get through was almost unbearable. The creaking of the gears was an ominous reminder that not all of their men would make it through, sealing their fate to that of Hagar's.
When the gate finally crashed shut, twenty men had been left behind. They turned and stood resolutely beside Hagar, and within seconds the enemy was upon them. There was no screaming or crying out in fear. The soldiers had already accepted their fate. They faced the enemy, planting their feet firmly in the ground, and flanked the giant ogrillion.
Hagar’s mace flashed left and right, destroying orcs and goblins by the handfuls. The remaining Finarthian warriors formed a wall of shields and swords cutting into the enemy as they crashed into them. But it was as if they were ants trying to keep a boot from crushing them. Within moments the brave soldiers had been cut down, leaving Hagar surrounded and alone.
Jonas and everyone else had run to the wall and were now looking down with horror. They watched as the ogrillion was repeatedly stabbed with long spears and pierced by countless arrows. And yet still he managed to wield his spiked steel, dealing death to those who came near. Nearly fifty monsters had fallen to his mace, when suddenly they all pulled back leaving Hagar alone by the gate. His body was riddled with arrows, and his thick skin was covered in blood from the numerous wounds that had been inflicted on him. Yet despite his grievous injuries, Hagar ground his feet into the ground, holding his mace firmly in front of him, growling defiantly before the enemy.
The army parted and a lone rider trotted forward on a huge steed, fiery flames fluttering around its hooves. Everyone knew without a doubt that it was Malbeck the Dark One who approached, his presence followed by a shadow of thick evil. Even from the wall they felt it; like a clinging stench that you couldn’t shake.
Tuvallis ran forward to stand next to Jonas. His eyes were wide with fear. It was the first time Jonas had seen this much emotion on the typically stoic warrior. “What is he doing?”
Jonas shook his head sadly. “He blocked the entrance while the gate was shutting. He saved forty men.”
“I need to get down there!” Tuvallis shouted, frightened but determined to go and find a way to help his friend.
Jonas grabbed his arm in an iron grip. “Do not; do not let his last act be diminished. Do you think he wants you to die next to him?” Jonas asked. “He chose this.”
Tuvallis wilted in defeat and resignation. “He doesn’t deserve this,” he whispered as he turned dejectedly back to the wall.
“Of course he doesn’t,” was all Jonas could say as a lump formed in his throat.
Malbeck trotted his horse back and forth gazing in disdain at the injured ogrillion. It was deathly silent. “Interesting,” he whispered, but somehow his voice easily carried to everyone. “I have heard of you, but seeing you in the flesh is another matter. What an anomaly you are. But you stink of Shyann’s touch and I tire of this game we are playing. They,” Malbeck indicated the city in front of him, “cannot stop me. Nor can you.”
The Dark One lifted the Spear of Gould high into the air. As he began to chant the tip began to glow red with an intense heat. Everyone on the wall looked on with stunned expressions, morbidly waiting for what was to come and knowing that it could not be good. Within seconds a beam of red light burst from the tip of the staff and struck Hagar in the chest. The light flashed even brighter as it lifted Hagar off his feet, sending him catapulting backwards into the gate with such force that the weakened hinges cracked from the stone. The massive doors caved in, opening the entrance for the enemy. Hagar’s still form broke through the gate and rolled for twenty paces across the ground of the killing field.
The defenders shot into motion, running from the wall, and taking the stairs two and three steps at a time to reach the men below. The outer wall had two ways to reach the ground. Some took the stairs flanking both sides of the gate, while others ran the length of the wall to the towers on each corner where other stairs were located.
There were probably two thousand men crammed into the killing ground and on the bridge, blocking access to the inner gate. They were the same men who had fought valiantly all day and had watched countless numbers of their brothers in arms die. But they knew that if the enemy managed to breach the inner gate it would be over. Thousands of beasts would enter the city, raping and pillaging, killing all and destroying their home. The wounded had already retreated across the bridge and through the gate, leaving only the best of the Finar
thian infantry in the killing ground. There were an additional four thousand men inside the inner wall and many of them now lined the battlements with arrows nocked to string. Everyone knew that they could not allow Malbeck’s army to breach the inner gate. They would all die trying to protect their families inside.
Fifteen men lifted Hagar’s body and carried his still form across the bridge and through the gate to the safety of the inner wall. No one knew yet whether he was dead or alive, but his courage would never be forgotten. The soldiers blocking the inner gate gripped their weapons tighter, inspired by the ogrillion’s courage and sacrifice, and more determined than ever to risk their lives to protect their home.
Riker had been able to find another horse and he was mounted again next to his father when the gate had crashed open and Hagar was flung through it like a limp doll. Kromm quickly ordered the men to form defensive lines. All their commanders were dead, but they willingly followed the king’s orders. The men were well aware of Lord Kromm's reputation, Battle King of Tarsis, a legendary warrior with whom they were honored to fight. The men formed up quickly, bracing their feet in the dirt before the bridge, steel held firmly in their iron grips.
Kromm was impressed. “Good men to die with,” he said. He looked at his son, and felt a rush of conflicting emotions, fear for his safety, eagerness to fight by his side, but most of all an overwhelming pride. “You could leave, boy.” Though he knew in his heart what his son would say.
“I’m staying,” Riker said firmly.
Kromm just nodded, looking back towards the gate just as a dark rider, mounted on a large black horse, emerged like a wraith’s shadow. Another mounted warrior wearing similar black armor was just behind him, followed by a dozen huge ogres and hundreds of orcs and goblins. They began pouring through the opening but within moments they had come to a standstill, as the great number of large beasts had caused a choke point at the outer gate. There were thousands more enemy fighters milling about outside, but they could not get through the outer gate as their own brethren had virtually blocked the entrance. There were just too many of them.
Kiln, Jonas, Allindrian, and Tuvallis had joined the defensive formation before Malbeck had entered, and now Kromm and Prince Riker rode forward, joining them on the front line before the Dark One.
Lor-telliam had stayed behind on the wall, gazing down at the confrontation brewing on the killing ground. He was not alone. The remaining twenty or so archers, specifically the females trained by Allindrian, had remained, unsure of what to do. They converged on the Ekahal knowing that he would have a plan. They looked up at him expectantly, eyes wide with fear.
He began to assess the situation. Probably twenty thousand of the enemy remained outside the outer gate eager to get in and shed bled, while the defenders numbers were probably close to eight thousand. Malbeck and Koranthos were already within the gate. It was inevitable that unless they were stopped they would breach the inner gate by the end of the day and all would be lost. So, how to stop Malbeck? It all rested in the hands of Prince Riker. But for the courageous young prince to be able to kill Malbeck, he had to be given the opportunity to face him.
Then it came to him. It was simple actually, and Malbeck’s arrogance had provided the opportunity. The Dark One didn’t have to enter the conflict himself, he could have sent Koranthos, or have just waited for the superior numbers of his army to overwhelm them. But he thought he was invincible and his blind pride had led him to the front ranks. This could prove to be his downfall, the Ekahal thought, as he began to formulate a plan.
The outer gate was damaged and agape, but if Lor-telliam could somehow close the opening, Malbeck would be cut off from the rest of his army, giving the defenders and the prince a chance to kill him. He had an idea.
He addressed one of the female archers standing near him and he urged her to crouch with him behind a battlement. “What is your name,” he asked. She had big bright eyes and was very young, maybe eighteen winters.
“I’m Janniss, sir.”
“How many arrows do you have?”
Janniss looked in her quiver at her hip and saw only four arrows. “Not many, sir, just four.”
By this time the other female archers had crowded around the Ekahal, each one looking over their remaining arrows. They didn’t have many, but enough for a couple of barrages.
“Listen carefully,” Lor-telliam addressed the group. “I’m going to use magic to shut the gate, trapping in Malbeck and his warriors. When I give the word I want you all to attack the back of Malbeck’s army inside the gate with all that you have. Focus on the back lines so you don’t hit any of our men. Do you understand?
“Yes, sir,” they said in unison.
Malbeck and Koranthos rode their dark steeds forward into the space between the two armies. “I have longed to face you on the field of battle,” he whispered, facing the group of defenders, though no one was really sure who he was addressing.
Jonas felt a lump rise in his throat. The face they were looking at was the same face that he had seen while unconscious and struggling against the magic of Dykreel who was trying to take his soul. Could it be true? Had the apparition he had faced there told the truth? Was Malbeck’s form that of his father, taken possession of, tortured and twisted over a period of twenty years to become the receptacle for Malbeck’s spirit?
“Ah, Jonas, the fallen cavalier,” Malbeck slowly whispered. “As prophesied you have been a thorn in my side for many years. Finally, I can now rid myself of your existence.”
“Not fallen, but reborn. Surely you can feel the power of Shyann around me,” Jonas countered. Everyone in the killing ground had become deathly silent, waiting and listening intently, primed and ready for action.
Malbeck's laugh sounded like the soft hiss of a snake. “You will die, just as your father did. His form has served me well these last few years,” Malbeck continued, confirming Jonas's worst fears. “I have expended far too many resources trying to kill you. Everyone around you dies, yet you still live, a vexing situation indeed. I guess your weak goddess only has enough strength to protect you. She has allowed everyone else to die, your mother, your entire village, your father, Taleen, Myrell, and now your best friend, Fil, I think his name was. And there have been many others as well.” Malbeck smiled, exposing needle sharp fangs. “Surely you must find it difficult to live, surrounded by the ghosts of those who perished because they knew you.”
“You killed them, not Shyann. Their deaths rest on your shoulders and no one else’s,” Jonas said, his voice shaking as the impact of the Dark One’s words slammed into him. He felt his heart pound as a wave of anger and pain washed over him. Was Fil really dead? Jonas knew it was a strong possibility, but it had not yet been confirmed. Or was Malbeck just baiting him?
“Well that is true, indirectly I guess, but you were my real target, you always have been, along with the king here,” Malbeck said, turning to face Kromm. “I found spells, many spells in the Shan Cemar. The book has given me important secrets, riddles that have provided me with valuable information. Kromm must die, for he stands in the way of my plans. You should have died when I destroyed your city, another failure I will have to rectify today.”
“You seem to have lots of failures,” Kromm retorted. “I too have longed to kill you.”
“Such confidence,” Malbeck laughed again. Then the Dark One turned his milky white eyes on Riker. “You are wearing the armor of King Ullis Gavinsteal. Did I misread the riddles? Is the threat the king of Tarsis? Or is it the prince? Please tell me that the lives of everyone here do not ride on your shoulders, young prince. Surely this is a joke. Let your father wear the armor so killing him will at least be a challenge.”
Riker immediately tensed, tightly gripping the Sword of Light and raising it higher, challenging the Forsworn’s minion with a fierce glare. “You talk a lot, let’s get on with it.”
Malbeck laughed louder, his mocking confidence unnerving enough by itself, but amplified further by the da
rk aura that emanated from him, surrounding the defenders with a suffocating blanket of fear. “Tihr-Alliam will not be enough, young warrior. Although I applaud your impotent courage.”
As the dialogue progressed, on the wall behind them Lor-telliam began to chant, a soft whisper slowly reciting the words of a powerful spell. Janniss and the others nervously waited behind the battlements with arrow to string waiting for the Ekahal’s orders.
The spell soon unleashed a glowing wall of iron which burst from the ground, pushing upward and instantly solidifying between the gate's frame that was now empty, with the shattered gate laying in pieces across the killing ground. Some creatures had tried to push through the magical wall as it was forming, their efforts ending with limbs severed as the glowing green wall crystalized into solid iron over a hand's width in thickness. Malbeck was now cut off from his army and he had only a few thousand beasts surrounding him. Their odds had suddenly improved.
“Now!” Lor-telliam yelled. He then stood up from the wall and immediately began to chant another spell. Janniss and her archers stood up quickly, firing into the back row of monsters below them, starting a chain reaction of fighting on the ground below.
Kromm screamed “Finarth” and spurred his horse forward, attacking with a vengeance. The prince was right beside him, his sword held high, the bright light from the blade shining like a star. Their fearless charge broke the spell of fear that had temporarily paralyzed the Finarthian defenders. Emboldened by Kromm’s courage, they screamed for Finarth and fearlessly charged the enemy.
Malbeck remained ominously still while the monsters around him poured forward to meet the defenders with steel. But they kept a path open for their master to fight. Koranthos, the king of the Banthras, moved next to Malbeck, drawing his great sword of fire from his back.
The Cavalier Trilogy: Book 03 - Glimmer in the Shadow Page 41
