*
The following day, and sixty miles to the south, Wildegraf Feuerson and his dragon, Berylian, were soaring over the wooded hills of Illicia. Banking suddenly the great green dragon circled back as if he had detected some sign of their quarry. Wildegraf leaned low over the dragon’s back, staring down into the trees. For a moment he was certain that there was something down there, but now he sensed nothing. After a few wing beats of hovering flight they moved on.
*
Far below, the Slayer drew back into its cloak of darkness as the wyrm hovered over the forest, the Defiant clinging to its scaly back. He knew they could sense his presence, as he sensed theirs. He also knew that they could not see him. If they could they would have already attacked. For a moment the Slayer considered letting the shadow fall and roaring out a challenge, but no. He could feel their power and he did not want to risk an encounter without the element of surprise. Better to wait until they came to ground and then to strike from darkness. After all - the darkness was a powerful weapon to have at one’s command.
*
The city of Le Matres was built around the confluence of two rivers with a great castle sitting on a low hill at its centre. As the cadet army drew closer the trees gave way and the land opened out into a wide valley looking east towards the border with Illicia. A substantial curtain wall encircled the city, but even from here the cadets could see the makeshift camps of refugees spreading out onto the plain.
‘I guess that’s who we’ll be escorting back to Wrath,’ said Malaki.
Falco nodded, daunted by the sheer number of people who needed their help.
The cadet army made camp within sight of the city and when morning came they began the task of distributing supplies and preparing to start work on the bridges they had been sent here to build.
With all the units busy, Falco found himself at a bit of a loss, so as the sun climbed into a hazy sky he rode into Le Matres and followed a cobbled street that led up to the castle. Leaving his horse at the stables in the courtyard, he climbed a series of stone stairways onto the battlements. The elevated position gave an expansive view of the surrounding territory and his thoughts flashed back to the great map in the Chamber of Council.
Back then, the city of Le Matres had been nothing more than a small black disk circled in brass. Now he was standing high above the city and he began to get a true sense of the world in which they lived. To the northeast lay the Illician city of Hoffen, and Falco found his thoughts drifting to the emissary and the soldiers of the Fourth Army. He wondered if they were safe and he felt guilty that he was here doing nothing while they risked their lives to hold the Possessed at bay.
Once they returned to Wrath Falco was determined that this would change.
*
Just thirty miles to the east of Le Matres, the morning sun was shining through a thin layer of cloud. The Fourth Army had moved into position shortly after sunrise and now the emissary and his officers looked down from a low rise as the Possessed appeared in the valley.
Dagoran Sorn seemed contemptuous of the forces ranged against them. He gave the impression that his mage warriors could defeat them alone. General Renucci had reacted with predictable scorn but the emissary was still determined to give them a fair chance. He had placed the mage army on the right flank with three thousand of his most experienced troops. The rest of the Fourth Army was arranged across the valley ready to bring their full force to bear.
They needed to break the Possessed quickly so that they could redeploy and be ready to meet the second army that was already closing on their position. The emissary knew his own men were up to the task, but he was not so sure about the magi. They looked like warriors and trained like warriors, but he trusted the courage of ordinary men. He was yet to be convinced by the mage warriors’ conceited sense of superiority.
Drawing his thoughts back from the magi the emissary turned to General Renucci.
‘Have the scouts made their final count?’
‘A little over ten thousand,’ said General Renucci. ‘With no more than a hundred bestiarum.’
‘And the second force?’
‘A similar size, and about five hours away.’
The emissary nodded. He had some twenty thousand troops at his command plus the thousand warriors of the mage army. Their greater numbers gave them a definite advantage but, in battle, nothing could be taken for granted. The important thing was to defeat the Possessed quickly without sustaining too many losses.
‘Gentlemen, to your places,’ he said and with a salute the officers returned to the units under their command.’
The emissary turned to the waiting signalmen.
‘Sound the parati.’
The two signalmen raised their horns and blew the call to stand ready, and the signal was immediately taken up by other musicians and relayed across the battlefield.
The emissary watched as the black mass of the Possessed advanced towards them. Looking up he saw the shapes of two dark angels hovering high in the sky, a sure sign that the demon army to the south was getting closer. He drew the horse head pendant from beneath his breastplate and kissed it before tucking it away and drawing down the bellows visor of his helm. He was the Commander of Clemoncé’s Fourth Army but in battle he wore the Illician armour of the Adamanti and now he drew his sword as he waited for the battle to begin.
57
The Slayer
Wildegraf kept low to the rocks as he looked down from the escarpment while Berylian shifted uneasily beside him.
‘Easy, my friend. I feel it too.’
Together the battle mage and the dragon gazed down, trying to detect any sign of the creature they had been hunting. Their search had brought them back towards the city of Hoffen but they were still within the Forsaken Lands and not a bird sang nor beast stirred beneath the trees. Even the animals of the wild seemed to know the land was doomed. Just twenty miles from here the armies of Illicia and Clemoncé were trying to hold the Possessed at bay, but they were grossly outnumbered and every month saw them being pushed further and further back.
Wildegraf clenched his fist in frustration. He and Berylian were needed there, at the front. He could not afford to spend much longer searching for the demon that had killed Jürgen.
They had found the battle mage’s corpse beside the cloven body of his horse. Rather than leave them to rot, Berylian had cremated them where they lay and Wildegraf drove Jürgen’s sword into the mound of glowing ashes, a token to mark the place where a great man had fallen.
But they had found no sign of the demon that slew him. It was not until this morning that they caught a definite hint of something, a sense of malice that left a faint trail of darkness as it moved across the land. Even now they were not certain of what they had found, but Wildegraf felt sure it was the demon. He sensed its presence but this was no minor duke. Only a demon of great power could shield itself from the concentrated vision of a battle mage.
He let out the breath he had been holding. If the demon had been down there it was gone now. Slowly they backed away from the cliff. Behind them the escarpment was level for a hundred yards before rising up a further series of cliffs. Wildegraf replaced his helm and slung his shield across his back. He was just reaching for the riding harness when he felt it, the presence of darkness on the escarpment behind them. Berylian gave a growl. He had sensed it too.
Peering through the visor of his helm Wildegraf frowned. He shrugged the shield from his back and reached for his sword. At first there was nothing to be seen but then, some sixty yards away, the grass and scrub started to wither as if burned by intense heat. Berylian tensed as the patch of scorched earth began to grow, extending towards them with the speed of a charging bull. The battle mage barely had time to couch his shield and draw his sword before the demon was upon them. It burst from the blackened earth, launching a vicious attack with two large curving blades. Wildegraf ducked beneath one, while Berylian recoiled from the other. The dragon did well to avoid
a fatal blow as the enchanted blade opened a shallow cut along his ribs.
Wildegraf stole a moment of stillness to focus on their attacker. The demon was about eight feet tall with powerful shoulders and strong back-bent legs that were wreathed in smoke. Its head, arms and upper torso were covered in heavy armour with two curving swords held tight within its fists. It was smaller than most of the demons they had faced but also more powerful. And now Wildegraf knew why Jürgen had fallen. This was no ordinary demon, this was an assassin, a Slayer.
But there was no time for further consideration as the demon continued its attack and Wildegraf found himself blocking a series of powerful blows. Then, as Berylian lunged with his jaws, Wildegraf launched a magical attack that should have been enough to stop the Slayer in its tracks, but the glowing harpoon of light deflected off the demon’s armour. Wildegraf attacked with his sword but somehow the Slayer managed to dodge it.
‘Its fast!’ thought Wildegraf as Berylian closed from the other side. ‘Too fast!’
The dragon attacked with his steel hard talons, but the demon countered with its vicious blades and Berylian was fortunate not to lose a limb. Wildegraf sent a searing arc of energy at the back of the Slayer’s legs but the demon merely stumbled and whirled about with a mighty downward blow that would have split a normal knight in two. Again Wildegraf raised his shield and fortified his arm but with each crushing attack his protection was growing less. He shot a bolt of energy into the Slayer’s midriff causing the demon’s strike to go wide. The Slayer drew back for another attack when a familiar sensation warned Wildegraf that Berylian was about to attack with fire.
With an instinctive reflex the battle mage surrounded himself in a protective sphere but the demon must have sensed it too and with that same astonishing speed it turned to face the fiery attack. Berylian’s flames slammed into its head and shoulders but the Slayer was protected by its unholy armour and Wildegraf watched in horror as it thrust one of its blades through the writhing jet of flame.
‘NO!’ he cried as the demon’s blade sank into the base of Berylian’s neck.
The flames vanished and Berylian reared back. The sword had cut through nerves and tendons above the dragon’s shoulder and his left forelimb dragged as he shifted to avoid a second thrust.
Lunging forward Wildegraf struck the Slayer in the small of the back, an attack of passion that finally did some damage, but the Slayer turned and Wildegraf was sent reeling as one of its swords hacked into his shield. Fortification saved his life but it was not enough and the battle mage felt warm blood coursing down his arm. Gritting his teeth against the pain he launched several attacks of his own but the demon parried them all until it was ready to strike back.
The Slayer broke Wildegraf’s leg with a savage kick then drove him to his knees with a punch that caved in the left-hand side of his helm. Finally an upward cut threw the battle mage onto his back and he lay there coughing up blood in the echoing confines of his helm.
Fighting to remain conscious Wildegraf rolled onto his side. His shield arm and his right leg were broken and the Slayer’s upward strike had sliced deep into his chest. But still he turned to see.
Through the mangled slits in his visor he saw the Slayer striding towards Berylian who backed away, limping on the injured leg that would no longer take his weight. He saw the demon reel as the mighty green dragon landed a heavy blow but it was not enough to stop it. The scene explode in flames as Berylian attacked with fire once more but again the demon hunkered down to ride out the storm. There followed a brutal exchange of blows and for a moment Wildegraf thought Berylian might prevail but then an arc of blood went flying from one of the Slayer’s curving blades.
As his vision began to fade Wildegraf saw Berylian slump to one side, his wings flapping awkwardly as the demon stood over him. It tore at Wildegraf’s heart to see his brother-in-arms at the mercy of such a fiend, but his own body was broken and there was nothing he could do to stop it. They had underestimated this Slayer and paid the ultimate price, but far worse was the fact that they could no longer warn their friends. The armies of Queen Catherine were fighting in this area and they had no way of knowing about the instrument of death that was come upon them.
The Slayer dragged Berylian over towards the cliff before returning for the battle mage. Wildegraf looked up as the demon loomed over him. With unwavering faith he gazed into the Slayer’s hot inhuman eyes but instead of murder he saw cruelty and guile and he knew that he and Berylian would not be allowed to die just yet. The Slayer would make them suffer and use their pain as a beacon to draw yet more great souls within reach of its blades, and then it would kill again.
As the Slayer reached for him Wildegraf tried to send his thoughts out into the world.
‘Beware! My beloved people and fellow Souls. The enemy has a new weapon. Beware!’
58
The Failings of Normal Men
The air above the valley shimmered with the unearthly heat of the Possessed but without a demon in their midst the emissary knew he could defeat them.
The enemy had come on with predictable ferocity, but the soldiers of the Fourth had faced them many times before and they held formation as their archers broke the first wave of attacks. Hundreds of lightly armoured Sciritae fell in those first few volleys but hundreds more leapt over them in a relentless surge of hatred. Only the most serious of injuries would stop the Possessed. Pain meant nothing to them and the only fear they felt was the fear of failing their master. The soldiers of the Fourth were ready for such mindless violence and they met it with courage, discipline and skill, but now the Possessed swept round to the right flank and it was Sorn’s warrior mages who stood in their path.
‘Now we’ll see,’ said General Renucci.
Feeling an unnerving degree of tension the emissary watched as the Possessed streamed towards the magi, but before the leading Sciritae could attack they were cut down by a blinding volley of magical attacks. Hundreds of glowing blue shafts speared into the Possessed, as effective as any unit of archers. And even when the Possessed did reach them the warrior mages did not yield. Fighting with sword and shield they put on a fine display of skill.
‘They seem to be holding,’ said General Renucci, sounding almost disappointed.
The emissary nodded but he could see the tension in the magi’s ranks. The warriors in the front were fighting well but many had already moved out of line and the ranks were beginning to lose cohesion. For a regular unit of swordsmen this could prove disastrous, but the magi were not regular swordsmen. Their magic infused blades seemed to slice right through the bronze-steel armour of the Sciritae and they were supported by hundreds of magical attacks from their brothers in the ranks behind.
Satisfaction and annoyance vied for position in the emissary’s mind as he turned his attention back to the rest of the battle. The centre was holding firm and the left flank had already begun its advance, ready to envelop the Possessed.
Satisfied that the main part of the battle was under control, the emissary turned back to the magi. In addition to the Sciritae, a large unit of heavily armoured Kardakae were now approaching them and the emissary wondered how they would deal with this more powerful threat. Galen Thrall’s mage army had finally been given the chance to prove itself.
As the heavy shock troops advanced the emissary could see Sorn giving orders for his men to redress the ranks. The warrior mages reacted with impressive discipline, overlapping their shields and bracing for the inevitable impact. Then, at the last minute several bestiarum came charging through the Possessed. They leapt clear over the front ranks of warrior mages and immediately began tearing into the magi.
Watching anxiously, the emissary moved forward to get a better view.
‘Isolate, contain, dispatch!’ he breathed, repeating the infantry mantra for confronting bestiarum.
Then, even as the magi struggled to contain the raging beasts, more than six hundred Kardakae attacked their front ranks.
For a
second it appeared as if the mage army would collapse and the emissary feared the worst. But then a collective burst of light exploded from the magi as they unleashed a huge magical attack. The sound of the attack rolled across the valley like thunder and the first ranks of Kardakae were literally torn apart.
‘By the heavens and all the stars that fall,’ intoned General Renucci.
The emissary was equally stunned by the force of the magi’s attack but his thoughts went immediately to the Queen who was waiting to hear if the mage army’s success would seal her fate.
‘Oh, my love,’ thought the emissary. ‘Steel your heart, for Thrall’s boasts were not in vain.’
It seemed the magi were right. They could offer something that might save them all. For a moment the emissary was paralysed by the consequences of what this meant for himself and the Queen, for their chances of ever being together. As soon as he heard the news, Galen Thrall would call for a vote of no confidence in the Queen and insist that she accept the ‘support’ of Prince Ludovico as King.
The anguish of the thought wrung at the emissary’s heart, but then he noticed the bodies of numerous magi that had also been blasted along with the Kardakae. He saw that two of the bestiarum had not yet been killed and that the remaining ranks of Kardakae had already recovered and were pressing forward once more. He waited for the magi to unleash a second attack and press home their advantage, but no such attack materialised. Instead the mage army began to give ground, stumbling backwards and breaking the formation of the troops behind them.
‘They’re folding!’ said General Renucci aghast.
For a moment longer the emissary looked down upon the magi as the entire right flank of the army began to give way. Far from enveloping the Possessed it was their flank that was about to be turned. He swept a quick glance over the battlefield. If they drew back, and consolidated the centre, they could still win the battle but not before the second Possessed army arrived. Steeling his mind against the urge to fight on he made the inevitable decision.
Battle Mage Page 49
