Battle Mage

by Peter Flannery

  Putting his back to the Irregulars Falco turned to face into the valley. As the mist continued to lift he felt Sidian tense beneath him and then they heard it, an expanse of sound rising up and rolling towards them in waves. It was the distinctive cacophony of an army on the march, and within the approaching din they could just detect the inhuman growling and snarling of the Possessed.

  *

  Even though it was witnessed by a hundred of his fellow knights, Malaki was grateful that he and Falco had been able to share one last moment of intimacy. He watched as his friend moved into position and turned to scan the ranks of the Irregulars. He knew that Falco was looking for Bryna and he knew that Bryna would be sending out her heart to him.

  Thinking of his wife filled Malaki’s mind with fear and he tried not to dwell on what might be. Instead he thought of the vows they had made on that late spring evening and his hand moved to the scabbard that hung from his belt, the scabbard that Bryna had given him as a wedding gift.

  Malaki’s thoughts were interrupted as he saw Falco turn to face the mist shrouded valley. And then they heard it, the snarling cacophony of a Possessed army on the march.

  With a final thought for his beloved, Sir Malaki donned his crimson enamelled great-helm, armed his shield and gripped his lance. Beneath him Fidelis shifted and stamped as the Knights of Wrath prepared to fight.

  *

  Peering through a forest of spears, Bryna watched as Falco moved down the line towards the Irregulars. She could see him scanning the ranks of the Irregulars and she desperately wanted to catch his eye.

  ‘Stop your fretting, lass,’ said Patrick Feckler beside her. ‘He knows you’re here.’

  Hoping he was right Bryna settled down. She thought of everything they had been through and wished with all her heart that they were back in Caer Dour in a time before the shadow of the Possessed had darkened their lives. But then perhaps the bashful blacksmith’s son might never have found the courage to speak to her and she would never have known the deep joy of lying in Malaki’s embrace.

  Bryna’s hand drifted to the quiver on her back and her thoughts returned to that late spring evening and the vows they had spoken in a circle of flowers. She turned the silver ring on her finger and raised a hand to wipe a tear from her cheek.

  ‘Soft as shite!’ cursed Paddy who despaired of such sentimentality.

  Bryna shot him a look and yet despite her annoyance she was glad to have the gruff old villain beside her. She glanced at the other archers that now stood around her. They were the biggest and strongest of all the Dalwhinnies and she knew that this was no accident.

  ‘You watch her or I’ll roast your balls on a skewer,’ Paddy had told them.

  The expression in Bryna’s eyes softened. He might be as ‘rough as a badger’s arse’ but for all his protestations, Paddy the Feck was not entirely without sentiment.

  Secure in the bosom of her adopted family Bryna looked back at Falco who was now facing off into the valley.

  And then they heard it, the snarling cacophony of a Possessed army on the march.

  ‘Here they come, the bastards!’ announced Dedric Sayer and with a final thought for the men she loved, the Captain of the Dalwhinnies gave the order for the Queen’s Fifth Company of Archers to stand ready.

  *

  Falco stared straight ahead as the noise of the approaching army grew louder and the air became tainted with the stench of hot metal and putrefaction. And then, like a nightmare emerging through the shredding veil of death, they appeared, a shimmering band of steel and darkness stretching across the valley. Finally the mist evaporated completely, but it was not the warmth of the sun that burnt it away. It was the infernal heat of the Possessed, and the air was suddenly imbued with such clarity as to be almost cruel.

  The enemy seemed to fill the horizon and even from half a mile away Falco could make out the dark armour and round-shields of the Sciritae and the larger figures of the black armoured Kardakae. A fringe of some six thousand skirmishers moved ahead of the main force - javelin wielding Pelts and blind Toxitae archers. Using skirmishers was a tactic employed by the armies of Acheron, Thraece and Ferocia, but the Possessed lacked the judgement and discipline for such classical manoeuvres. Driven on by mindless hate they came on too quickly and Marshal Breton would have time to punish them before the main body of the Possessed arrived.

  The thought offered a vague suggestion of hope, but then Falco felt the burgeoning presence of the demon, not a lesser minion like the dozens of dark angels that hovered in the sky or the hulking bestiarum that prowled through the advancing horde, but a true demon, a vessel of the Enemy’s spite.

  Behind him, Falco felt the entire army recoil with shock and he literally sagged beneath the weight of so much fear, but then he squared his shoulders and took their fear unto himself.

  Towards the left the towering figure came into view, almost twice the height of the troops around it. In the early morning sunlight it seemed even more obscene, as if such horrors should be confined to darkness, but no. The denizens of hell are not daunted by the sun. They are the terrors of night made flesh, abominations that have slipped the shackles of nightmare to hunt you down in the broad light of day.

  Even as he stared at the demon, Falco registered the sheer size of the force now advancing upon them. It was already almost equal to their own, but he knew this was only the first wave. The Marchio’s army had grown on its journey north and then it had been swollen by some thirty thousand of Prince Ernest’s troops. Falco might have felt daunted by the size of the opposing army, but all his thoughts were focussed on the demon now striding towards him.

  It was huge and horned and its black skin was riven with cracks that glowed and throbbed with the force of its internal heat. Its heavy head was almost wedge shaped with a chin that jutted forward like the prow of a Thraecian trireme. Walking on back-bent legs it was hunched forward as if the sheer weight of its massive shoulders bore it on. It was too far away for him to see the glowing embers of its eyes but Falco knew they were fixed upon him.

  And that was good. He wanted the demon to come to him.

  Between the two main armies the scattered swarm of Pelts and Toxitae were almost in range then Falco heard the signal for Impetus Equitum and six thousand cavalry burst out from the allied ranks to sweep away the scattered fringe of skirmishers.

  The battle of Tal Der Drei Brüder had begun.

  *

  The drumming sound of hooves was part of the new reality that filled the emissary’s mind, the dealing of death just part of the barren landscape that filled his heart. The lightly armoured skirmishers were no match for the wall of steel that smashed them into the earth and the Adamanti barely slowed as they completed their sweep and swung back behind the allied lines.

  For a moment the emissary felt the urge to peel away and charge the swelling mass of the main Possessed army. It mattered not that they were many thousand and he were only one man. All that mattered was that he would meet his end. The fingers of his shield hand actually tightened on the reins but then a stab of shame shot through his gut. Catherine would never have applauded such an empty gesture of despair. She would have treated such weakness with scorn.

  No.

  It was enough to know that he would die this day, but he would do so in a manner that might have made her proud.

  *

  The knights and cavalry made short work of the skirmishers and Falco turned his thoughts back to the demon. For all the trepidation that thrummed in his veins he was sure that he and Sidian could defeat it. With luck the allies might be able to inflict some significant damage to the Possessed before the Marchio Dolor arrived on the scene, but then he felt another presence. A second demon was approaching and it would soon be threatening General Renucci on the right.

  Falco was suddenly overcome with uncertainty. Somehow he and Sidian would have to stop them both. Looking from one to the other he knew there was no time to waste. Ahead of him the allied knights had cle
ared the ground between the two armies, but the main body of the Possessed was closing quickly. They were almost in archery range, which meant the sky would soon be full of arrows, but Falco could not wait.

  Even as he heard the command for the archers to ready their bows he drove Sidian forward. Just a few powerful strides and they were airborne. If they were going to stand any chance of stopping the second demon they would need to quickly kill the first.

  *

  Marshal Breton watched as the cavalry completed their sweep and curved back behind the allied lines. His knights had swept through the skirmishers like threshing sticks through a field of rotting wheat and those that survived the first assault were speared or cut down by the lighter cavalry that followed in their wake. It was a daring gambit but it had paid off. The battle proper had not yet been joined and already the valley floor was littered with thousands of Possessed dead.

  The marshal allowed himself a grim smile and ordered his archers to raise their bows. The enemy was now in range, but even as they prepared to shoot he saw Falco and Sidian surge forward and rise up into the sky. He wondered why Falco would attack now when they were about to fill the sky with arrows, but then he saw the second demon driving towards their right flank. Master Danté now had two opponents to face and if he did not kill the first demon quickly then General Renucci’s force would be torn apart.

  But still they could not lose this opportunity to weaken the enemy’s ranks and trusting that the archers would try to avoid their battle mage he gave the command for them to shoot.

  *

  Falco and Sidian were high above the ground when they heard the collective thrum of bowstrings and a cloud of arrows burst up from the allied ranks behind him. In a sudden squall the feathered shafts whistled past them to fall like steel-pointed hail on the advancing ranks of Sciritae. These massed volleys would have a devastating effect, but Falco knew that the Possessed would not be cowed by losses. Again he wished that he could fight in the front line, protecting those he loved, but an enemy of thousands was not his to fight. His opponents were the demons of power that controlled this hellish force. The first of those was now staring up at him and its red eyes burned with all the fury of hell.

  He and Sidian were now so close that they could feel the heat of the demon’s gaze. Another volley of arrows streamed past them but all Falco’s thoughts were for the demon. They needed to kill it, and kill it quickly, but as they came closer the demon flung up a burning arc of Baëlfire and Falco realised that this would be no easy task. He called up a protective shield but it was not quite enough to stop some of the hellish fire from burning a gash in the tip of Sidian’s right wing. The dragon gave a snarl of pain and Falco felt his golden gaze focus like a lance on the demon. Then Sidian pulled in his wings and fell into a dive.

  Behind them the entire army watched in awe as they descended towards the first of their hellish foes. To normal men the demons of the Possessed seemed utterly unassailable, but these normal men had a champion. Together Falco and Sidian were known as Le Cœur Noir and The Black Heart was about to enter battle.

  *

  Standing amid the black clad ranks of the Exiles, Alex Klingemann could hardly bare to watch as Falco dived towards the demon. Blinded by grief he had not known how to speak to him, how to tell him that he did not really blame him for what had happened to Quirren. But now it was too late. Like the rest of the army he had followed Falco on this mad gesture of defiance. But unlike them he had not done so with any sense of hope. He did not believe they would survive this day, but at least they had a chance of death. Unlike his brother who would spend the rest of eternity writhing in agony.

  For Alex the pain was all too much. As Falco and Sidian closed on the demon he saw an arc of dark fire shoot up towards them. Falco might die at any moment and they would never have the chance to make their peace. The captain of the Exiles did not see the moment when Falco disappeared from view for his eyes were clenched and sealed with tears.

  100

  Demons of Fire and Flail

  The Possessed streamed towards the allied lines as Falco and Sidian dived towards the demon. Falco had risen up in his riding harness, ready to dismount as he and Sidian closed in for the attack, but just as he was about to leap the demon sent another gout of fire streaming towards them. Sidian avoided the attack by jinking sideways, but Falco lost his grip on the riding harness and fell thirty feet to the ground. Fortunately he was able to fortify his body, but still he was winded as he landed flat on his back amid a horde of snarling Sciritae.

  Unwilling to lose his momentum Sidian continued the attack and was just reaching out with his talons when the demon grabbed a nearby Kardakae and swung the heavily armoured warrior at him. Dark armour smashed into black scales and like Falco, Sidian was sent sprawling among the Sciritae. Rushing forward the Possessed were eager to take advantage of their downed foe, but neither the battle mage nor his dragon were about to be overcome just yet.

  Falco’s entire body felt numbed with shock as he hit the ground but there was no time to lie in a dazed stupor. The Possessed were closing around him and he needed to move. Struggling to fill his lungs with air he twisted and rolled as half a dozen kopis swords stabbed down at him, glancing off his armour.

  Kicking the legs out from under a Sciritae he managed to roll clear and get to one knee, but his shield was twisted on his arm and his own sword was still in its scabbard. For a moment the Sciritae thought him helpless and they closed in once more, but then Falco summoned his power and the Possessed had but a fractured second to realise their mistake.

  A shockwave of blue energy pulsed out from Falco’s kneeling form and more than a dozen Sciritae were blasted away. There could scarcely have been a more convincing demonstration of a battle mage’s power, but the brightness of a Defiant is anathema to the Possessed and the proximity of the demon made the Sciritae bold. They rushed him from all sides, but now Falco had drawn his blade and the sword hummed with an ominous tone.

  The first Sciritae to reach him did not even manage to land a blow before Falco severed its rancid torso at the waist. He reversed his stroke and cut a diagonal swathe through the armoured breastplate of the second. He smashed a third in the face with his shield and took the strike of a fourth on the crown of his helm before sweeping low to remove its right leg at the knee. The creature snarled as it stumbled forwards and Falco silenced it with a savage kick from one of his armoured boots. He killed another with a neck strike that spattered his face with scalding blood but there always seemed to be more. Ahead of him he could see the larger forms of Sidian and the demon engaged in a mortal struggle.

  For the moment it looked as if Sidian was a match for the demon but he also had to defend against the Sciritae that struck at him from all sides and it was only a matter of time before something found a gap in the dragon’s defences. Cleaving his way through the hordes of Sciritae, Falco fought his way towards them.

  He had almost reached them when Sidian dodged a sweeping claw strike and grabbed the demon’s forearm in his jaws. Using his great strength he pulled the demon off balance and was about to strike for its throat when a bull-sized bestiarum slammed into his side. Releasing his grip on the demon’s forearm Sidian arched away from the beast’s slashing tusks, but then the demon managed to get an arm around his long neck and things might have ended badly had Falco not got close enough for an attack.

  From ten feet away he sent a bolt of energy spearing into the demon’s side and Sidian was able to pull free of its grip. As Falco closed the remaining distance the bestiarum turned to face him, springing to the attack with an explosive burst of speed, but Falco spun away from its charge and brought his sword round in a rapid arc, hacking down to sever the creature’s spine even as it went charging past.

  Turning his attention back to his primary foe Falco had just enough time to raise a protective barrier as the demon threw out a wave of Baëlfire. Even inside the dome of energy Falco could feel the heat of the flames and he gritte
d his teeth against their devouring power. Outside his protection a number of Sciritae screamed as their flesh was consumed then, even as the dark flames died away, Falco charged forwards once more.

  Having recoiled from the flames, Sidian also resumed the attack and now they could hear the sounds of battle raging behind them. The Possessed had reached the allied lines and Falco knew the second demon would soon be closing on General Renucci’s position. He clenched his teeth in frustration and tried to maintain his focus. This was only the first of the Marchio’s demons and they were running out of time to kill it.

  *

  Marshal Breton swept his eyes across the long front of the battle as the enemy tore at their defences. Unlike a normal army, the Possessed showed no fear of death or injury. With heedless abandon they threw themselves against the thickets of spears and tried to claw their way over the unyielding shield walls, but somehow the lines held.

  Feeling a wave of relief he raised his gaze. Three hundred yards beyond the lines there was an intense knot of activity where Falco and Sidian were doing battle with the first of the Marchio’s demons. The area was crawling with Possessed but he could just make out the larger shapes of the dragon and the demon along with the bright blue flashes of Falco’s magical attacks.

  Glancing over to their right flank he saw that the second demon was now getting dangerously close to General Renucci’s position and with a stab of impatience he wished that Falco would hurry up and kill the first. But that was unfair. The flashes of light meant that Falco was still alive and Marshal Breton tried not to think of what would happen if he should fall.

  Drawing his eyes away from the demons the marshal turned his attention back to their defences. The lines were still holding but he could see that in many places they were being forced to give ground. The front line of battle had quickly become a quagmire of black blood and gore and a grizzly bank of maimed bodies had built up in front of the defenders, requiring them to edge backwards as the Possessed used the additional height to leap over the front rank of defenders.