Battle Mage

by Peter Flannery

Jarek trotted forward as fifty of the Hussars formed up behind him.

  ‘Charge!’ he cried and the light horses sprang forward while the other half of his unit approached the Toxitae in a curving attack that made them less susceptible to being hit by arrows.

  The Sciritae were closing quickly and two more of the villagers fell to black arrows before they reached the cover of the buildings.

  ‘Bryna!’ cried Falco but Bryna had already brought the Dalwhinnies forward.

  They jogged down, formed into ranks and began firing at the black swathed figures of the Toxitae. The range was quite far but the Dalwhinnies aim was true and as the Toxitae began to fall so Bryna advanced.

  ‘Stay with them,’ Falco said to Malaki. ‘There’s something more than foot soldiers abroad this night.’

  Malaki gave a grim nod and with a series of short commands he divided his knights into two groups to guard the archers’ flanks. Falco could tell he was smarting at being overlooked in favour of Jarek, but now was not the time for complaints or recriminations.

  Drawing his sword Falco advanced with the knights as the sound of fighting broke out in the village. The screams of the villagers mingled with the clash of steel and the neighing and scuffle of horses, but Falco had been right to send Jarek. In the tight confines of the village the Hussar’s lighter mounts and exceptional horsemanship proved their worth, dodging frightened villagers and cutting down the Sciritae who snarled and raged at the fast and powerful horse soldiers.

  The sounds of fighting faded away as the Hussars cleared the last of the Possessed from the village, but still the Dalwhinnies remained in formation, standing in the open space between the houses and the tree line of the forest. Alex had formed his infantry into a defensive line ready to advance or hold against any further attacks.

  Jarek’s second form of Hussars finished off the last of the Toxitae before heading back towards the Dalwhinnies. One of the men had an arrow through his arm and he swayed in the saddle, while another had been thrown when his horse took an arrow in the shoulder but these were the only casualties. The unseated man was now back in the saddle and trying to calm his injured mount as the Hussars retreated.

  As the fighting ended the villagers moved towards the secure position established by the Exiles and the Dalwhinnies, while Jarek’s hussars searched the village for any remaining Sciritae. The tension was beginning to dissipate but Falco continued to stare into the trees where the shadows still appeared unnaturally dark, and suddenly he realised it was not a shadow but a breach in the fabric of the world. And then he felt them coming... large and powerful and fast.

  ‘Bestiarum!’ he cried. ‘Stand ready!’

  Even as he spoke two huge shapes burst out of the darkness with a third one close behind.

  They looked like great black bulls forged from the embers of a fire except that their limbs were muscular, with claws instead of hooves, and their heads were more like a bear or some kind of hellish ape. Teeth flashed and eyes glared and everything happened so quickly.

  Two of the beasts charged straight for the Dalwhinnies who had begun to lose formation. A few hurried shots were fired off, but they were not enough to stop such heavy opponents. Falco felt a surge of energy rising within him but the violence of it was terrifying and it vanished like the ghost of something dark that lurked inside of him. It seemed as if the bestiarum would tear into the Dalwhinnies, but Malaki and his knights were well positioned to meet such an attack. Their warhorses were bred for their power and could spring from standing into a full attack with a burst of explosive force. With a cry they charged forward to engage the beasts.

  Huthgarl struck the first with a lance thrust that entered the creature’s neck and drove deep into its chest while Malaki’s spear took the second in the shoulder causing the hideous creature to pitch forward exposing its ribs to the lance of Quirren Klingemann.

  With their momentum checked the first two beasts were quickly dispatched. However, the third beast went not for the Dalwhinnies but directly for the group of villagers that had been moving towards the Exiles. Some of them began to run but others just huddled together, transfixed as the creature bore down upon them. The powerful beast was about to tear into the villagers when a shout went up from the right flank of the Dalwhinnies.

  ‘Suivez dix!’

  Dedric Sayer loosed his arrow and not ten, but twelve others followed its course. The range was close and the arrows struck the beast in the hindquarters with a collective thump that sent it sprawling sideways. With a snarl it regained its balance but its back leg was dragging and before it could make another move Sir Garnier struck it in the face with his sword as he galloped swiftly past.

  The terrified villagers held onto each other as the beast thrashed around not twenty feet from them, but a few more arrows from the Dalwhinnies and a final spear thrust from one of the knights soon brought an end to the raging beast’s death throes. The three huge corpses lay like heaps of glowing ashes, their bodies slowly breaking up and blowing away on the wind to leave behind only a blackened skeleton with massive teeth and claws.

  The night became suddenly quiet and was only disturbed by the panting breath of horses and the muted sounds of distress as the villagers tried to calm their children. The strange curtain of darkness faded from beneath the trees and the sense of danger receded in Falco’s mind.

  There would be no more visitations from the Possessed tonight.

  From the road came a rising clamour as those from further up or further down the column surged forward to see what had happened. It was only then that Falco realised the entire encounter had lasted only a few short minutes. Four of the villagers lay dead, with at least a dozen more injured. Several of Jarek’s Hussars were wounded and a number of the Dalwhinnies had been hit by Toxitae arrows but the volume of their swearing was an indication that none were seriously hurt.

  Now the commanders took control, setting up a defensive perimeter and organising a thorough search of the surrounding area. After some discussion it was agreed that the villagers would sleep with the army tonight and after gathering a few belongings they were escorted to the rear of the column where space was found for them in the wagons.

  A subdued calm settled on the clearing and it was almost surreal to hear the ordinary sounds of the night slowly returning to the world: wind in the trees, the distant babble of the river and the mournful hoot of an owl. Children were crying and the injured moaned as Falco and the army medics did what they could to ease their suffering. Falco had just ‘cleansed’ the entry wound of a Toxitae arrow when one of the assessors addressed him.

  ‘Falco Danté,’ said the man in a stern tone. ‘You will follow me.’

  Falco wanted to stay and help the injured, but then he noticed that Bryna, Malaki, Jarek and Alex were also standing ready to go with the assessor. To one side, Sir Garnier watched them with an unreadable expression in his eyes, his gaze moving from Malaki to Falco and back again. Quickly washing his hands, Falco followed the assessor who took them to the command tent where they were questioned about the incident that had just taken place.

  ‘And what was it that made you call the column to a halt?’ asked one of the assessors.

  ‘Just a feeling,’ said Falco. ‘I could feel something in the trees.’

  ‘The scouts saw nothing when they passed through,’ insisted one of the commanders.

  ‘There was nothing there when the scouts passed through,’ said Falco.

  ‘Then where did the Possessed come from? Did they cross the river?’

  Falco shook his head. ‘They just appeared,’ he said. ‘They came out of the shadows as if the darkness led to another place.’

  The assessors looked at each other nervously. They had all heard stories of the Possessed appearing out of nowhere.

  ‘Then it seems that we are fortunate,’ said the spokesman finally. ‘For if the army had moved on just a little further the villagers would have been dead before we could have come to their aid.’

&nbs
p; Falco accepted this acknowledgement, but in his heart he felt guilty that he had not read the warning signs more quickly. Had he done so, the four deceased villagers might still be alive. But at least he now recognised the strange darkness from which the Possessed could emerge. He would not make the same mistake again.

  After a thorough analysis of events it was judged that the cadets had acted with exemplary speed and judgement. The Hussars in particular were singled out for the skill and efficiency with which they had cleared the village.

  Jarek simply bowed his head in a rare display of modesty, but as the assessors dismissed them he glanced at Falco and the expression in his eyes was filled with a complex array of emotions. There were the after effects of fear and excitement, pride and satisfaction at the praise he had received, but there was also a strange sense of conflict. It was Falco who had favoured his unit over the knights, and it was Falco who had instinctively taken command of the situation. Something told Jarek that this was worthy of respect, but somehow he could not bring himself to acknowledge it.

  Falco gave a sigh as Jarek moved off to rejoin the Hussars.

  ‘I wouldn’t expect a thank you from that one,’ said Malaki.

  ‘And I wouldn’t expect a Knight of Wrath to be ordered about by a man who hasn’t even passed his own rite of trial.’

  The disapproving voice came from Sir Garnier and Malaki stopped as he stood face to face with the senior member of his order.

  ‘Why would you let your decision to attack be overruled?’ asked Sir Garnier. ‘Do you have so little faith in your knights?’

  Malaki’s face flushed red. For a moment Falco did not know if he would retort with anger or submit before the knight’s unbending gaze. Finally he replied with the calm dignity for which he was known.

  ‘You speak in ignorance, my Lord,’ said Malaki and Sir Garnier’s eyebrow arched at such insubordination. ‘If you knew Falco as I do, you would not need to ask.’

  Sir Garnier’s face settled into a hard expression but there was a condescending smile on his lips.

  ‘The Lord Commander was right,’ he said. ‘You are not ready to ride to war with us. Above all else you must have faith in your brothers.’

  ‘Falco is my brother,’ said Malaki and Bryna’s eyes fair shone with pride.

  Sir Garnier stared at Malaki for a moment more. His smile broadened as if he was amused by the naivety of Malaki’s words.

  ‘Farewell, Malaki de Vane,’ said the knight. ‘I’m sure one day you will be ready to ride with the Knights of Wrath.’

  ‘La force, l’honneur et la foi,’ said Malaki, refusing to be dismissed so easily.

  ‘Strength, honour and faith,’ said the knight and the smile had gone from his lips as he bowed his head.

  Sir Garnier walked away and the friends continued back to the area where their units were now encamped. As they drew close to the Dalwhinnies, Patrick Feckler came forward to meet them.

  ‘Any problems?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ said Bryna. ‘Just talking things through. Where’s Dedric? I want to congratulate him on stopping that beast.’

  Paddy gave a wry smile and some of the nearby Dalwhinnies laughed. ‘He’s over there in the woods, crying like a baby.’

  Bryna looked concerned but Paddy shook his head.

  ‘Don’t you worry. Some of the villagers came over to thank him for saving their lives. Hugged him and brought him gifts. Made quite a fuss, eh lads?’ Paddy exchanged another mischievous grin with the Dalwhinnies but Bryna still looked confused.

  ‘You could be brute’n nasty to Dedric Sayer for a year and he’d never bat an eye,’ said Paddy. ‘But kindness and gratitude... Well, that’s something he’s never had to deal with before.’

  Bryna gazed into the trees.

  ‘Just leave him,’ said Paddy. ‘He’ll be right.’

  A few of the men came forward with food and drink and they sat together talking quietly about the battle that had just taken place, but Falco noticed the hushed comments and the way many of the men looked at him when they thought he wasn’t looking. None of them had sensed the evil emerging from the darkness. None of them had such an awareness of the Possessed.

  ‘Don’t worry about them,’ said Malaki, handing Falco a skewer of seared venison chunks. ‘They don’t understand how you knew, but they’re glad that you did.’

  Falco gave him a dubious look.

  ‘It’s true,’ said Malaki, tearing a chunk of meat from his own skewer. ‘Some of the other units are asking if you can ride with them tomorrow.’

  Falco glanced up at two men who had been speaking in lowered tones. One of them looked away, embarrassed at being caught out, but the other offered a tight-lipped smile and gave Falco a nod of acknowledgement. Falco was reminded of Aurelian’s words.

  Make no mistake. If you do encounter the Possessed, then every man and woman in the army will look to you for guidance.

  He wondered at the way he had taken command when the Possessed broke through. It had seemed so natural. But he also noticed the way it rankled with Jarek and Sir Garnier, and even Malaki.

  ‘You were right,’ said Malaki suddenly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You were right to send Jarek into the village.’

  Malaki picked a stringy piece of meat from between his teeth. And Falco smiled.

  56

  Le Matres, Hunting & The Commander of the Fourth

  Two days south of the city of Hoffen, the command tent of the Fourth Army was charged with tension. Since arriving on the front they had fought a number of small engagements but now two larger Possessed armies were closing on their position and there was also a demon army moving up from the south.

  I don’t understand,’ said one of the younger officers. ‘I thought this area was fairly secure.’

  ‘Something’s happened to the south,’ said the emissary. ‘Both Jürgen and Wildegraf are now missing and we won’t know why until Nathalie returns.’

  He looked down at the campaign map. If they acted quickly they could defeat the two Possessed armies before they could come together into a larger and more dangerous force. But if they were joined by the demon that was moving up from the south then the Fourth Army would have no way of stopping them.

  The emissary’s contemplation was suddenly broken as Dagoran Sorn slammed his hand down onto the map.

  ‘Enough of this waiting! We need to attack!’

  The parchment around his hand began to darken with the pent up magical energy that suffused his flesh. The commander of the mage army was growing increasingly impatient. The battles they had fought thus far had been over quickly and the magi had not had the opportunity to demonstrate their skills.

  ‘We know where the enemy is. We should attack now before the two forces have a chance to join together!’

  ‘We will,’ said the emissary.

  ‘Then what are we waiting for?’ demanded Sorn.

  ‘We cannot attack until the scouts have returned,’ said General Renucci. ‘We cannot plan a battle until we know what we face.’

  ‘But we know what we face,’ said Sorn. ‘We face the Possessed and unless we stop them they will reach the Clemoncéan border within months.’

  ‘I have been fighting the Possessed for twenty years,’ said General Renucci between clenched teeth. ‘I refuse to be lectured by a pompous mystic who’s never known a day of battle.’

  He raised his eyes to glare at Sorn who matched his anger with cold contempt.

  ‘We are all aware of the threat we are facing,’ said the emissary. ‘And I commend Lord Sorn for his eagerness to join the fight.’

  Despite the emissary’s calming presence the tension between General Renucci and Sorn persisted while the other officers shifted uneasily. They had never known such discord in the command tent of the Fourth.

  Looking down at the map the emissary breathed a heavy sigh.

  ‘Lord Sorn is right. We need to engage the Possessed armies before they have the chance to comb
ine. But we must be careful and we will not attack until the scouts return.’ Sorn’s mouth took on a sour twist while General Renucci gave a satisfied sniff of concurrence. ‘And whatever happens we cannot allow them to join up with the demon army that is approaching from the south. Until Nathalie returns we have no way of stopping a demon.’

  ‘We could stop it,’ said Sorn, raising his chin to meet the disbelieving looks of the other officers.

  General Renucci was about to voice their collective incredulity when the emissary spoke.

  ‘Have you ever faced a demon, my Lord?’

  ‘We have been trained to face them,’ said Sorn, deftly avoiding a direct answer.

  The emissary gave a sigh. They had all heard stories of the mage warrior training. How each of them had been submitted to mental assaults designed to harden their minds against evil. But there was an expression in the eyes of those who had faced a demon. It was an expression of utter hopelessness, the realisation that the sum of all one’s courage was simply not enough. For all his pride and arrogance, such an expression was absent from the eyes of Dagoran Sorn.

  ‘No,’ said the emissary and Sorn’s indignation flared anew. ‘We will attack the Possessed armies to the east but then we must wait for Nathalie.’

  Sorn glared at the emissary, enraged that he seemed to value one battle mage over his force of a thousand warrior mages. He already felt it beneath him to take orders from a simple soldier, but his force had been placed under the emissary’s command and would remain so until such time as the magi could prove their boasts. With nothing more to be said he gave a stiff bow and swept from the command tent with two of his purple cloaked warriors at his heels.

  ‘He’ll change his tune,’ muttered General Renucci. ‘Once he’s faced a real Possessed army. He’ll not be so eager then.’

  The emissary remained in the command tent as the officers took their leave. He shared General Renucci’s annoyance but he also understood Sorn’s impatience. Sorn was eager to report their success back to Galen Thrall and he saw the emissary’s caution as a deliberate attempt to delay the inevitable. However, despite the threat they posed to the Queen, the emissary was determined to give the magi a fair opportunity to prove themselves. But he would not risk the Fourth Army to do it.