Dragontiarna: Knights

by Moeller, Jonathan

  Accolon laughed again. “That was thirteen years ago.”

  “I suppose that is a long time for you humans,” said Caius, “but to us khaldari, it is merely a short while.”

  “Very well,” said Accolon. “You can stand with me and look imposing.”

  With that, Accolon turned to look to the north.

  Niall shared a look with Caius, and the dwarf winked at him.

  ###

  “Here they come,” said Ridmark.

  He had wondered if they had drawn up their forces outside the town too soon. Standing for too long in the sun was an excellent way to wear down the stamina and morale of an army. And morale would be especially important for this army. The men of the Empire were familiar with the goblins and ogres and used to fighting them, but this world was strange and alien to them. The men of Castarium were fighting to defend their homes, but before today, they had never faced goblins or ogres, and none of them had ever seen a dragon.

  And the gnolls. Tyrcamber said the gnolls were good fighters, but God and the saints, they smelled bad.

  Now three dragons circled overhead, two of them green, the third larger and crimson. Beneath them marched a large force. There were between three to four thousand goblins in the enemy host, and five hundred to perhaps a thousand ogres. There was no way Ridmark could have fought such a large force with just his men-at-arms and militia. He would have been able to hold the town for a time, especially with Calliande and Antenora to counter the dragons, but Ridmark wasn’t sure if they could have lasted until Arandar or Tormark arrived with aid.

  For that matter, if Calliande and Antenora hadn’t been here, if the Signifier had attacked any one of a hundred other towns, there wouldn’t have been any hope. The Signifier’s dragon could have attacked with impunity from above, the dragon fire annihilating the defenders and setting their town ablaze.

  Of course, the Signifier and his forces were only here because of that damned white stone in the forum.

  Because the woman who called herself Aeliana had activated the stone.

  But how? And perhaps, more importantly, why?

  Ridmark shoved aside the questions. Right now, they were just a distraction.

  “Perhaps it is just as well that the Signifier fled here,” said Duke Hulderic Grimnir, sitting atop his horse with a scowl. “If he had kept his forces in Castle Grimnir, we would not have been able to take it.”

  “The Signifier is after a greater prize,” said Tyrcamber. Ridmark had taken Tyrcamber and the Duke and the other Imperial knights to look at the stone, in hopes that one of them would recognize it. None of them had, alas. “If he gets ahold of that menhir, he can retake Castle Grimnir with ease, and perhaps a dozen other castles.”

  “Do you think they will try to parley first?” said Calliande.

  “No,” said Tyrcamber. “No, I doubt it. The Signifier sees that we marched outside our walls, so he thinks this is an opportunity. He’s going to try and roll right over us to take the town.”

  “Perhaps we should take the fight to him,” said Hulderic. “Attack before he can strike.”

  “No need,” said Tyrcamber. “He’s going to…”

  Almost as if the Signifier had heard him, the dark elven lord’s dragon let out a furious roar, a plume of fire stark against the blue sky. The two smaller green dragons roared as well, though they did not breathe their toxic mist. Likely the Signifier wanted to avoid having the mist hinder his troops. An answering shout rose from the army, the harsh cries of the goblins mixing with the deeper basso roars of the ogres.

  “And here they come,” said Tyrcamber.

  The goblins began to march forward at a steady pace, unhurried but not slow, the ogres scattered among them. The three dragons kept circling over the army, following its progress. Ridmark was suddenly reminded of the battle before the gates of Cathair Animus. Compared to that battle, this attack was little more than a skirmish. Nearly half a million warriors had fought and bled in the Valley of the Kings before Cathair Animus. Yet the Confessor had brought three dragons to that battle, and Ridmark remembered them circling over the Confessor’s host.

  “If the dragons attack, you are ready?” said Ridmark to Calliande.

  “We are,” said Calliande from atop her horse, and Antenora nodded.

  “Sir Angaric and I will strike the enemy once they are close enough,” said Tyrcamber to the Keeper. “Likely that will force the Signifier to act.”

  “They are attacking!” said Hulderic, his voice tight.

  Hundreds of goblins cast spells, fire and lightning and ice swirling around their fingers. Tyrcamber called that a Lance spell. Hundreds of goblins and ogres hurled their magical attacks. If that volley had been directed at Ridmark’s men, it would have destroyed them utterly.

  But the men of the Empire could all use magic, and they were accustomed to this sort of warfare.

  Knights shouted orders, and both the Imperial soldiers and the gnolls, all of them at once, cast Shield spells, and suddenly hundreds of domes of translucent light flared before them. The overlapping Shield spells soaked up most of the goblins’ barrage of Lances. Some of the spells got through, and men fell dead to the ground, their chests pierced with spikes of ice or their hearts incinerated with elemental flames. The Imperial soldiers answered with a volley of Lance spells, and the goblins cast Shields before them. Each side repeated the same tactic a half-dozen times, battle magic howling back and forth between them.

  “Will your soldiers be vulnerable to the Malison here?” said Calliande.

  “I do not know,” said Tyrcamber. “I still feel its power within me, so I assume so. Best not to risk it. But they are close enough for us to strike. Sir Angaric!”

  The bearded knight nodded, and both Tyrcamber and Angaric began casting spells, fire blazing around their hands. Angaric finished his spell first and thrust out his palm. A brilliant shaft of white-hot fire lanced from his hand and shot into the advancing goblins. Ridmark saw the spell slice through a dozen goblins and half a dozen ogres, cutting them in half as if they had been made of wax.

  Tyrcamber surged to his feet, standing in his stirrups, and made a fist, his voice rising to a shout.

  Dozens of spheres of elemental fire fell from the sky like rain, and each one landed amid the advancing goblins. The spheres exploded, fire blasting in all directions, and in the blink of an eye, Tyrcamber must have killed or wounded a hundred of the enemy.

  When he had called himself a powerful wizard, that hadn’t been idle boasting or empty bravado. It had simply been the truth.

  “Damnation, man,” said Angaric, wiping sweat from his brow. “How you do that without passing out, I’ll never know.”

  Tyrcamber’s smile showed more pain than amusement. “I pray you shall never have to find out, my friend.”

  As Tyrcamber had predicted, his spell urged the goblins to act. The Signifier shouted something from the back of his dragon. He spoke the dark elven tongue, so Ridmark did not understand his words, but the dark elven lord’s voice was more beautiful and more terrible than any human tone. The goblins and the ogres roared again, and all the creatures charged, abandoning their steady advance for a furious run. It was a bold tactic and one that a more cautious commander might not have used.

  But all three dragons turned and flew towards the army.

  “It’s time,” said Calliande to Antenora, and both women began casting spells.

  “Well,” said Ridmark. He dropped from his saddle and drew Oathshield, Aegisikon shifting to its shield form on his left arm. The Imperial nobles gave that curious looks. “Shall we?”

  He strode forward, and Oathshield started to burn with white fire in his right hand, reacting to the aura of malevolent power around the Signifier. Accolon came with him, both Caius and Niall trotting after, Niall’s face a mask of determination. Kharlacht and his warriors accompanied them, and Sir Daniel and Sir Angaric followed Tyrcamber. The golden-eyed knight’s strange crystalline sword burned, flames wreathing th
e blade.

  The charging goblins and ogres crashed into the defenders, and Ridmark drew on Oathshield for speed and power and sprinted at the enemy. A goblin started to turn, raising its sword, but Ridmark was too fast. Oathshield blurred in his hand, and Ridmark took off the goblin’s head in a burst of blue-black blood. Around him, the others crashed into the goblins, and the enemy attack fell apart as they butchered their way through the foe.

  ###

  Calliande galloped behind the lines of the defenders, raising her staff and casting a spell. Riding a horse while wielding magic was tricky, but she was used to splitting her concentration in multiple directions at once, and this was no different. She cast a spell of elemental air, drawing on the magic of the Keeper’s mantle and the Well of Tarlion to augment her power, and released her attack.

  She unleashed the lightning spell, and the bolt screamed down towards the nearest green dragon.

  Her aim was perfect. Calliande hadn’t been aiming for the dragon, but for its umbral elven rider, and the elf had not expected a magical attack. The lightning bolt struck the dragon and shot up and down its body, and the great beast screamed, spraying a plume of green fog into the air.

  The spell also blasted the umbral elf from the dragon’s back. The elf tumbled head over heels and disappeared somewhere into the raging battle. Tyrcamber had said that the umbral elves were not immune to normal steel, and Calliande was pretty sure that the umbral elf was also not immune to a hundred-foot fall into the ground.

  While the dragon thrashed, Antenora cast her spell. This time she unleashed a small globe of fire, no larger than her fist, so hot it shone a bluish-white. She had packed a tremendous amount of power into the spell, and it the sphere hurtled skyward and struck the side of the dragon’s head. It erupted from the other side of its skull in a spray of embers, and at once the dragon went limp and fell from the air, golden fire shining around its limbs.

  The dead creature was still mostly in dragon form when it struck the ground, and it must have crushed a few dozen goblins in the process.

  Calliande knew they had taken the first dragon and its rider by surprise.

  The second and third would be more cautious.

  The Signifier reacted as she would have expected, and his crimson dragon changed course, circling back over his army, and the Sight saw the flow of corrupted power as the dark elf summoned magic for a protective spell. The second green dragon hurtled towards Calliande, opening its jaws, and a plume of deadly green mist shot over its fangs.

  Calliande shouted and cast a spell, as did Antenora. A dome of pale white light surrounded them and their horses, and the dragon’s acidic breath washed over it. The dragon twisted in midair, spinning around for another attack, and Calliande had the impression that the umbral elf upon the creature’s back was baffled. Likely the elf had never encountered magic like that of the Well of Tarlion.

  “Fire and ice?” said Antenora.

  “Aye,” said Calliande, beginning another spell, white mist swirling around her staff. It was another spell she had seen Tamara of the Arcanii use to good effect against the Confessor’s dragons in Owyllain. Tamara had conjured freezing mist, using it to coat the dragon’s wings and impede their ability to fly. The Confessor’s dragons had been powerful enough to resist the effect, but even the smallest of the Confessor’s dragons had been larger than the green one that now plunged towards them.

  Calliande raised her staff and cast a spell, and a sphere of whirling white mist sprang from the end of her staff and flew towards the dragon. The creature swerved, trying to avoid the spell, but the sphere of mist struck its left wing. The mist hardened into a layer of glittering ice, and the dragon’s left wing locked into place, immobile. The dragon swerved to the right and plummeted towards the earth, and it crashed hard into the ground, its claws raking furrows through the dirt as it skidded to a halt. Calliande didn’t think the dragon had hit the ground hard enough to break any bones, and the umbral elf kept his seat.

  But that was all right because it gave Antenora an excellent target.

  She thrust her staff, and flames flowed down it, condensed into a whirling sphere of flame, and hurtled forward. The umbral elf saw it coming and started a defensive ward, but it was too late. The fireball struck him in the chest and exploded with enough force that it burned through some of the dragon’s scales. The blast also hurled the umbral elf backward through the air, limbs flailing, his body wreathed in flames. Calliande didn’t know if the explosion had killed him, but he was definitely dead by the time he hit the ground behind the dragon’s tail.

  Fatigue dragged at her mind as she summoned power for another spell. Calliande had used a lot of magic in the last few hours, and while the mantle of the Keeper augmented her stamina and she was in excellent health, she still had limits, and she was starting to run up against them.

  She also felt a wave of pity. That green dragon had once been human. According to Tyrcamber, the dragons were humans who had used too much magic and succumbed to the Malison, losing themselves to the furious magic of the world of the Empire. Calliande wished there was a way to reverse the transformation, a way to cure the dragons and return them to their humanity.

  But she knew of no such way. And if she spared the dragon, it would turn and attack the men defending the town. Or it would fly into the town and start killing women and children until it was so stopped.

  It was with regret but no doubt or hesitation whatsoever that Calliande cast her next spell.

  A spike of ice stabbed up from the earth, pierced the dragon’s jaw, and plunged into its brain.

  At once, the golden fire started to flow up and down its limbs.

  ###

  An ogre lumbered towards Accolon, raising its axe with a roar.

  He bore Hopesinger now, and the mighty soulblade made him stronger and faster. Accolon called on his link to the sword, and speed filled him. He surged forward, into the ogre’s guard, and stabbed. His soulblade punched through the armor covering the ogre’s torso and sank between its ribs. The creature bellowed its rage and tried to bring its axe down onto Accolon’s head, but he was inside its reach, and it could not get enough power behind the swing. Accolon ripped Hopesinger free, leaped up, and opened the ogre’s throat.

  As the creature fell, three goblins rushed towards him, one of them casting a spell, the other two drawing back their swords to strike. Accolon stepped towards them, calling on Hopesinger’s power to defend against hostile magic. The soulblade pulsed with white fire, and the goblin hurled a Lance of acidic mist at him. The spell broke into nothingness against his soulblade, and Accolon killed the goblin that had cast the spell with a quick slash of Hopesinger.

  He stepped back as the other two goblins pressed their attack, but by then Niall and Caius struck. Niall took the goblin on the left. Before the creature realized the danger, Niall bashed it across the face with his shield and plunged his sword into the staggered goblin’s side. The goblin on the right tried to block Caius’s dwarven mace with his sword. That proved to be a mistake because the dwarven steel shattered the goblin blade. The creature stumbled, and Caius’s next swing caved in the goblin’s head.

  Accolon turned, looking for new foes. He saw plenty from which to choose, but…

  They were winning the fight.

  The mass of goblin soldiers had crashed into the men of the Empire and Ridmark’s men-at-arms, but they were holding. Here and there the armored ogres had broken through, but the reserve companies of serjeants from the Order of Embers and the Order of Iron had rushed into the gap, wielding swords and spells against their foes. The serjeants of the two Orders had better armor and shields than Duke Hulderic’s men-at-arms or the gnollish warriors, and Accolon thought they were better soldiers as well, and they seemed to be stronger with magic. The serjeants plugged any gaps in the line, driving the goblins back.

  For that matter, Ridmark, Tyrcamber, Kharlacht, and the Imperial knights were ripping their way into the enemy’s left flank, cutting
down goblin after goblin. Tyrcamber was a formidable fighter, his burning sword leaving the enemy slain in his wake, and he was by far the strongest wielder of magic among the men of the Empire, throwing spells with ease. The powers of Sir Angaric and Sir Daniel were less potent but just as deadly. Angaric hurled Lance spells of fire, and from time to time he had the strength to fling another of those blazing bars of fire that cut goblins in half. Daniel seemed to have the ability to use magic of the mind, and he cast spells that made his eyes glow with hazy white light. When he did, the goblins and ogres around him went slack, their expressions dazed, and Ridmark and the others killed them.

  And, Accolon had to concede, he was playing his own part in the battle.

  He had been a good swordsman and fighter, he knew. Not the best in Andomhaim, and not a match for someone like Ridmark or Tamlin Thunderbolt, but certainly not unskilled. Yet Hopesinger’s power transformed him from a good swordsman into a force of nature. Accolon had seen Swordbearers fight numerous times before, had seen their prowess in battle. Only now did he truly understood how the realm of Andomhaim had endured for nearly a thousand years with the Swordbearers to defend it. The Knights of the Soulblade had stood fast against the urdmordar and the dark elves and the Frostborn and countless creatures of dark magic, and perhaps now they would hold against the goblins and the ogres of the Signifier.

  Accolon killed another ogre, and then a booming roar rang over the battlefield.

  The Signifier’s red dragon banked and swooped towards the melee, fire dancing behind its white fangs. Shadows and blue fire blazed around the Signifier himself, and both the dragon and the dark elf struck in unison. Fire lashed from the dragon’s jaws and slashed across the struggling men and gnolls of the Empire, killing those who did not cast Shield spells in time. At the same instant, the Signifier gestured, and shadows and blue fire lanced from his hand and ripped across the battle, killing dozens of men in the blink of an eye.