Kargaroth

by Mark B Frost

  The Cainites in the tower realized the danger they were now in and let their barrier drop. As soon as they did so, flaming arrows and heraldric spells hit from both directions and it was quickly torn to the ground. The remaining siege towers were soon evacuated as the sorcerers realized they had become deathtraps, and Zynex ensured they were each burned down.

  He turned his gaze to the city and saw a troop of Cainites heading to the front gate. “Not yet!” he exclaimed. “You aren’t supposed to attack until Kulara gets back!” He took off running for the city, releasing a series of shrill whistles and shouting, “Open the gates! Open the gates!”

  * * * * *

  Hartik drove his troops forward impatiently, eager to catch Felthespar’s chieftains and make them pay for his humiliation. As Kulara noticed their approach, he removed himself from where he had been leaning on Cyprus and spurred his councilors to beat a hastier retreat. The mountain man looked up to the city walls, expecting to see someone drop a ladder or rope, but there were no signs of life above. The councilors ran past the wall to the west side of the city, and into the forest there. Hartik was pleased by this. He hated forests personally, but knew the Cainites with him were suited to the woodland environment. He sent a couple of troops to take to the trees and spy ahead, checking for a trap.

  He kept pursuing his quarries, who seemed to be retreating in a panicked manner with no destination in mind. Soon his spies returned and assured him there was nothing ahead, save for an enclosed valley cut off by mountain walls. Inside his helmet, Hartik smiled at this information. The fools were heading into a cul-de-sac.

  Soon the forest thinned, then vanished completely, and they were left racing through a canyon with steep walls. Hartik began to grow suspicious and asked his scouts if they had checked the valley for a trap as well. They reassured him that it was empty. He dismissed the concerns from his mind, and set his focus on the upcoming kills he would need to make to finish this.

  Then they entered the circular valley. The Military Council came to a stop in the center and turned to face their pursuers. Hartik brought his forces to a similar halt and took a moment to gloat. “Fools. You’ve stepped into a perfect little trap.”

  Kulara’s eyes went wide in shock, and he placed his hand mockingly over his chest. “My word. I was about to say that exact thing to you!” A smile crept across his face and he gave a loud whistle.

  Boulders strewn about the valley floor suddenly came to life. Their rocky surfaces were tossed aside, drifting in the wind, revealed to be nothing more than cleverly painted cloaks. Their guises discarded, the Children of Cain stood revealed and armed. Myris himself rose up directly in front of Kulara and angled his Soul Scythe out, taunting Hartik forward.

  The big man was not daunted by this display. “Well played, General. But there are still less than five hundred of your Cainites to a thousand of mine. You will be slain.”

  Kulara reached up and scratched his chin. “Your numbers certainly check out. I must’ve gotten overconfident. Or maybe...” He turned and cupped his hands around his mouth, and shouted at the top of his voice, “Oi!” The Cainite commander looked up to the mouth of the ridge enclosing the valley, and slowly a single soldier mounted on large dragon-like creature topped the rise. In his right hand he easily wielded a two-headed battleaxe unlike any Hartik had ever seen. Shasta gave a wave to Kulara, then made a motion over his shoulder with the Conformer and started to charge down the cliff wall. Soon five hundred soldiers on peistback were following him into the valley.

  “Incredible,” Hartik muttered as he watched their descent. “Those creatures they ride can scale the mountain walls with ease. This is an unforeseen advantage.”

  Shasta brought his troops behind the other Military Councilors and Children of Cain, waiting patiently for the next move. The Cainites still held a slight advantage in numbers, but Hartik knew that a decent mounted soldier was a match for five on foot. He was unwilling to take the chance that the Knighthood’s cavalry were anything less than decent soldiers.

  “They got us. Retreat, retreat! Back to the battlefield. We’ll level things out there.”

  The Cainites gladly turned to do his bidding. They started to run back to the mouth of the valley, but then the canyon floor was upheaved. Two huge wooden boards were thrown aside and the Phoenix Dragoons marched out of an enormous trench which had concealed them.

  Hartik made his way through his own ranks, eager to face this new threat directly. Cildar stood at the front of his Dragoons proudly, sunlight glinting off of his magnificent white armor and warming his blond curls as his hair drifted freely on the breeze.

  “It looks like you’re missing your helmet, little man,” Hartik taunted.

  Cildar gave a clap, and his Dragoons reached behind their backs and drew forth full-sized tower shields, which they locked together with their comrades. They formed rows fifty soldiers wide, with columns ten deep. As Hartik watched their activities, he was certain he could smash through the ten-man barricade and make a path for his troops to escape.

  “A phalanx,” he continued taunting Cildar. “The Cainites know of it. You used them in the first Arocaen and they found ways to break them. And even if they hadn’t,” he slammed his sledgehammer into the ground in front of him, causing a mild tremor, “no defense can withhold me. I am a human battering ram.”

  Cildar stood in front of the rows of his Dragoons, separating himself by several yards, seemingly vulnerable and exposed. He reached over his back and smoothly drew his Trine Lance, then stabbed it into the ground at his side. “Perhaps. But no one has ever defeated my Phoenix Phalanx.”

  Hartik grew impatient, desiring to get back to the Cainite army before the cavalrymen decided to hit them from behind. He charged forward, commanding his troops to do the same. Cildar pointed both of his hands forward at the approaching troops and shouted, “Phoenix Flame!” The Dragoons placed their hands on the inside of their shields, and each used their Aura Blast technique. The shields expanded the blasts into huge beams of light. The beams from the back rows passed harmlessly through the Dragoons and fed more power into their shields. By the time the energy reached the front of the columns, the light had grown so powerful that it turned a radiant orange, and exploded with a roar at the blinded Cainites.

  Even protected against white magic as they were, the Cainites had no means of withstanding this assault. They rushed straight into their own dooms, and the foremost three hundred of them were disintegrated before the spell fizzled out. Hartik, however, survived long enough to make his way to Cildar. He came at the Dragoon warlord with a mixed roar of indignation and cry of pain, swinging his sledgehammer with all the might he had ever expended in his life. Cildar raised his left fist and the boulder crashed into it with a thud, shattering into a thousand pieces and disintegrating into the light of the Phoenix Flame. With his right hand the Lord of the Phoenix seized his Lance, and struck with it a sweep at Hartik’s shoulders. The big man fell back with a gurgle, swept away into the tide of the Dragoon Corps’ holy energy.

  The light of the Flame faded, then the Cainites were quickly set about from behind by the cavalry and Children of Cain. Cildar motioned with a bloody hand for his Dragoons to dash forward and join in finishing them off. As they did so, he stepped forward and looked down at what remained of Hartik. Most of the giant’s armor was still intact, remarkably, so very little damage had been done to him by the Phoenix Flame. Still, the Trine Lance had effortlessly torn through the weakened suit, and the Cainite champion’s head and shoulders lay separated from the rest of his body by a good yard.

  “It looks like you’re missing your head, little man,” the paladin mocked coldly. He headed forward to regroup with Kulara and Myris, who had finished the Cainites and were ready to return to the battlefield. Shasta turned back to the north and gave a shout. Another five hundred cavalrymen came over the rise, each mounted upon a peist, with another peist tied behind for the Dragoons.

  “Alright,” Kulara announced,
“Stratas is probably wondering where his soldiers are. Let’s go deliver the bad news.”

  * * * * *

  Karrin led the troops Stratas had sent to invade the city and kill civilians. She had been given two thousand good soldiers—a quarter of which were Elites—to handle the potential trap laid by the Dragoons on the other side of the gate. She was confident this was more than enough to handle anything that might be waiting for her, and spent a rare moment in satisfaction as a sensation of being in complete control washed over her.

  As she had predicted, the front gates opened at their approach. She quickly led her troops forward. The central units of Felthespar’s forces had been all but wiped out, and Karrin knew she had only allies at her back. She was playing the Onion Knights like fools, seeing their every move a mile away. She felt invincible.

  Then she stepped through the gate to see the city on the other side. She would have taken a pause to admire the vast sprawl of the metropolis, but there was a sight before her that she could not tear her disbelieving eyes away from.

  There were two thousand soldiers there which she had never seen before.

  The man in front seemed decisively uninterested in the Cainites’ arrival, and stood chatting with one of the officers behind him. The officer coughed and motioned forward, and the man turned. He was youthful, tall and lanky, with long blond hair and wearing blue ceremonious robes decorated with countless medals. He gave an elegant bow to Karrin as she continued to stare open-mouthed.

  “Good day. I am Leprue Messe, acting Lord Councilor of Felthespar. And you must be... killed. For invading my city.”

  He charged at Karrin with speed that shocked her even further, his feet never seeming to touch the ground, and struck at her with a beautiful katana. She recovered her composure in time to block the attack with her Mammoth Scythe, and quickly struck a powerful counterattack. Leprue barely avoided it, hopping away from her and looking down to see a large slash torn into his vest.

  He straightened himself and looked at her with a smile. “You are quite good. I see I shouldn’t play around with you.” He held the Sword of Serral out to his side, pointing it away from his body. The sword flickered and then began to glow with a rapidly pulsing green light. When the light was flickering so fast Karrin could no longer focus her eyes on it, he dashed at her again.

  His sword moved at deadly speeds, slashing repeatedly from angles Karrin could only barely perceive. Still she managed to keep up with him, blocking the first ten hits of the attack, wondering if he would ever slow down so that she might have an opportunity to strike. Then, on the eleventh hit, the katana shattered the blade of her scythe and sent it flying away. Instinctively she turned her head to watch the blade zooming through the air, and five more rapid strokes from the Sword of Serral bit into her flesh.

  Leprue hopped back across the battlefield, landing closer to his own soldiers and pointing his Serral at the Cainites. As the scraps of Karrin’s body collapsed into a blood-soaked pile on the ground, he declared, “I may not be in the prime of my life anymore, but I am still a Knight of the Moon.” Neither the Templars nor the Cainites had made a move during this exchange, so he signaled, “Guardians! Drive them out of your home!” The Templar forces came forward at a charge, Leprue leading them the entire way, and the disheartened Cainites quickly beat a retreat.

  * * * * *

  It was at this moment that Stratas Ezul began to realize Kulara Karfa had tricked him. After sending Hartik and a thousand soldiers to pursue the councilors, he had sent a messenger back to his city to bring in two thousand reserves. Once the messenger was dispatched, he found Karrin, gave her two thousand troops, and sent her at the front gate. He was just about to turn his attention to sending the rest of the army to thin out the flanks, when suddenly they were hit from behind by a large force.

  While carefully coordinating his troops to turn south and face this new threat, he tried to ascertain where this force had come from. As he watched the battle and observed the condition of the soldiers, it dawned on him—the Cainites had never really thinned out the center of the Knighthood’s army. Kulara had instructed the soldiers to gradually shift themselves into the flanks where the battle was sparse, giving the Cainites the illusion that they were winning speedily. Then the flanks had closed in. Stratas’ forces had pushed their way nearly right on top of the city, but since they were focusing on the central battlefield they had not driven the flanks back. When the Knighthood forces closed together they were met by only a small amount of resistance, and by the time they had finished their pincer they were behind the invading army.

  Still, Stratas could not fathom the reasoning behind it. With the casualties taken so far and the three thousand troops he had sent off on missions, there were six thousand Cainites and six thousand Felthespari, and now the Cainites curiously held the city. It seemed the enemy general intended to squash them against the city walls, but he did not possess nearly the manpower for such a tact. The Lord Commander waged his counterattack against the knights, but in the back of his mind misgivings lingered.

  Answers to these sorts of questions come in time, and so it was for Stratas. As he concentrated on rallying his troops south, he heard a cry from behind and turned once more to the north. The troops he had sent with Karrin were retreating from the city, and a huge force of fresh soldiers charged after them. “What the hell’s going on?” he muttered to himself as he tried to gain a higher ground from which to oversee matters.

  He got a quick troop count and saw there were only two thousand knights in this new force. A substantial amount, but not too many to deal with, especially now that his own troop count was back up to eight thousand. He started doling out orders and told his officers to split the army, concentrating four thousand to the north and four thousand to the south. Four thousand could hold off the six thousand in the south for a time, and should be enough to make quick work of the two thousand in the north. Once the pincer attack was stopped the Cainites would be in no real danger, and there were still two thousand reinforcements on their way from New Cainis.

  Then there was another sound, this time from the west. Stratas screamed in aggravation as he made his way through his troops to get a better view of what was happening now. To his dismay, a thousand new Felthespari soldiers riding on large dragon-like mounts were charging in his direction, followed by the joint forces of mounted Phoenix Dragoons and the Children of Cain. He tried quickly to form some sort of counter to this, but there was no time. The cavalry ripped straight into the Cainite forces, taking a bite out of the ranks of the dark army. The Dragoons and Children of Cain circled around and linked up with the struggling Templars, giving them more than enough extra manpower to start throwing the Cainites back.

  Stratas shouted out further commands. “Start backing the army to the east. Pull away from the Onion Knight forces enough that we can have an avenue of escape if need be. Force their units to join together again so we’re not caught in this pincer!”

  It was then that Stratas’ messenger returned from New Cainis with bad news.

  Chapter 44.

  Lifeless Vortex

  The three wanderers stood at long last at their destination. Atheme had always envisioned the ether pole being something intangible, a mere ripple in the currents, but the sight before him was something else entirely. The pole was a huge, writhing, twisting ball of energy, sucking wind and earth both into it and crushing them together, occasionally releasing slight backlashes of heat and sound. The visible effect was slow and gradual, even though the currents were moving so fast Atheme could feel his Morabet vibrating ferociously in its sheath. He took the enchanted weapon and threw it aside, as far away from the vortex as he could chuck it, worried that it might blow itself apart. Serene seemed to think this a good idea, and nodded her approval.

  Standing there before the phenomenon, the Lord Councilor noted how relatively peaceful it was. The slow flow of wind into the pole was quiet and soothing, and he felt almost lulled into a sense of
security. Abaddon, in contrast, was shaking as if under continuous assault, and seemed ready to run at the slightest signal.

  Atheme almost tapped a Scanner matrix out of habit, but caught his tongue just in time. There was no telling what an open matrix would do in currents this intense. It might fade out harmlessly, or might create a backlash large enough to kill them all. He placed a hand on Serene’s shoulder. “We’re on dangerous ground. I think we should get this process started as quickly as possible.”

  “I agree. Abaddon, are you ready?”

  The battered mystic gritted his teeth and nodded. “If I wait to get any more ready, I’m going to be dead.”

  “Okay, let’s begin.” Cautiously, she began opening herself to the currents. A silver aura grew around her and her eyes filled with intense energy, turning solid white. She spent a moment adjusting her divine blessings to offer herself some resilience to the chaos, then stepped around to the left of the ethereal vacuum, about ten yards from it. Atheme bit his lower lip, displeased to see his love in such obvious peril. Serene motioned for Abaddon to take the same position on the other side of the pole, then said to Atheme, “Stay close to him. If things start to get out of hand, you’ll have to fight him long enough for me to regain control.”

  “What? Isn’t he going to merge with the gods again? Become the Hell Knight? You want me to hold that thing off?”

  “You beat it before. Surely you can fight it for at least a little while.”

  “I don’t think you understand how that last battle went,” he muttered under his breath. He did not argue further, but instead drew his sare and extended it to five-foot length, blades out.

  “Abaddon,” Serene continued instructing, “how well do you understand the barrier that Aveni and I placed over you?” The man responded with a simple nod, so she continued. “This is what you must do. It’s going to require immense willpower, but I have faith in you. I saw you break the influence of Kargaroth once, I believe you can do it again.”