A quick glance of the ridgeline before them revealed no sign of the rust-colored standard with the black fox head. But he knew Tane’s company was up there somewhere, and most likely on his end of the battlefield. Exactly where, Nizar couldn’t say, but they were up there.
“Be alert for the swordsmith,” Nizar called to his command as they moved forward in their shuffling gait. “I want to be informed the moment anyone sees him.”
Pausing, Nizar took a deep breath and slowly expelled it in the centering exercise he had been taught. Now mentally prepared, he could use his “magic” to its best effect. Mentally locking the image of who he sought, Nizar began his prayer for Dakar’s assistance. Since he couldn’t cast true magic, he and all Dakar’s priests had to rely on their God’s awesome powers. The spells they cast were in truth simple prayers, requests for help, that Dakar would or wouldn’t grant.
A tingling in the back of his skull told Nizar that Dakar was answering his prayer. With growing excitement, he glanced up for a bird. From a bird’s perspective, he could search the whole battlefield with impunity. Then he spotted a single bird effortlessly gliding above them.
A raven! he thought with malicious glee. Sacred to Ashtar. Dakar will be pleased that I used a raven to help destroy His enemy and Her devotees.
Reaching out with his power, Nizar caught the raven and pushed into its mind. He would enslave it, and see through its eyes.
Suddenly a jolt shot through Nizar’s mind and down his backbone. The raven was fighting back! Impossible! Unless....
“Ashtar! You bitch!” he cried, realizing the Goddess of War and Adventure had taken the raven for Her own. Then with dread, he said, “Unless She has manifested Herself here to aid Her followers.”
The thought brought a surge of rage from Dakar, who was still linked to him via the prayer. Almost without thought, Nizar aimed his arm at the raven and growled low. Dark gray tendrils of power shot out at the raven. The bird cried in alarm and dived, then veered around to attack the tendrils with its talons.
Nizar gasped as razor sharp talons tore into the tendril, because each rend manifested itself upon his body. Blood flowed as the raven savaged the tendrils. In the back of his mind, Nizar heard Dakar howl in rage. Then more power surged through Nizar and into the tendrils.
With lightning speed, a new tendril exploded out of Nizar’s chest and streaked for the raven. The bird never saw it coming. In an eye blink, the raging raven was impaled and weakly flapping its wings. Its death throes were an inspiration to Nizar, showing for all to see that his God was the more powerful.
As the raven was ripped apart, then consumed in arcane fire, Nizar thought, I only pray Ashtar wasn’t just using the raven, but was the raven! I pray that thieving War Bitch is dead!
The thought of Ashtar vanquished set Nizar’s eyes ablaze. Any doubts he harbored were washed away. Dakar was going to destroy the Arisen. And Nizar was His sword!
Chapter 30
There was little for Tane to see from his position. It wasn’t like any battle he’d ever heard about, and his uncle and aunt were full of stories. Instead of shouting battle cries, the zombies just shuffled forward in silence. He found that dearth of battle bravado more menacing than anything he could imagine.
Many of the zombies carried edged weapons, with the rest bearing simple cudgels or rocks. A few wore the arms and armor of soldiers and warriors.
“Maybe we should tell them about you,” Raven said, nudging Tane in the ribs. “I’ll bet that’ll scare them.”
“Personally, I think we ought to toss you down to them,” Sergeant Gareth snapped. “Knowing you, you’d talk them into a stupor before nightfall.”
“I whole-heartedly agree,” Joelle said.
“Nobody asked you, witch,” Raven said, then turned on the sergeant. “Want to make a wager, Black-toof?”
“What kind of wager?”
“I say I’ll kill more zombies than you,” she said, patting a heavy leather purse hanging off her belt. Tane glanced down at it, wondering where she got all that coin. She was broke before they marched out of Kestsax. He reached down to ensure he still had his purse, and noted both Quinn and Armin did the same. “And I have fifty crowns copper to back up my claim.”
“Fifty! I don’t have that kind of coin,” he said.
“What do you have?” she said, getting a crafty look about her.
“Nothing. I lost all my coin dicing the night before we marched,” he said. He gave her a speculative look, “I thought you lost all yours, too.”
“You have a good sword,” she said, ignoring his remark. “And that’s some fine looking mail, too.”
“It’s worth more than fifty crowns, too,” he said. “I’ll not accept such lousy odds. Make it three hundred crowns.”
“I only have fifty,” she said, frowning. “All right, how’s this – my fifty crowns and armor against your sword and armor.”
“Agreed,” Sergeant Gareth said. “Sealed with a kiss.”
Raven moved back a step. “No! Your breath smells worse than a cesspit, and that blackened toof is probably poisonous.”
The sergeant shrugged with a smile, but Tane noted it never reached his cold eyes.
By that time, Dakar’s host reached the Kestsaxian army amid a sudden flurry of lightning strikes and ear-shattering rolls of thunder. Again, drums and bugles filled the cool morning air, fighting with the thunder for supremacy. They were followed by a bellowed battle cry from the Kestsaxians, then the crash of the two armies meeting.
Joelle began chanting. While she chanted her spell, she drew strange runes in the air before her. Tane didn’t know what she was doing, and was slightly afraid to find out. The staticlike feel of magic tugged at the fine hairs of his arms and neck.
“I hate the way spellcasting makes my skin crawl,” Raven muttered, eyeing Joelle venomously.
Loud screaming and cursing stole Tane’s attention. The army seemed to be holding, but the zombies didn’t look like they’d waver anytime soon. He silently prayed the regular soldiers held. At the moment, he couldn’t recall any of the strokes that he’d been taught. And couldn’t understand why a few minutes earlier he had wanted to trade places with the front ranks.
“Sweet Mother, how horrible,” Quinn groaned. “They seem to come out of their zombie trance just as they die.”
“Only an Old One could be so cruel,” Raven said through clenched teeth.
Tane fidgeted and tried not to look. Were members of his family, or friends from the village, among their attackers? What would he do if they were and he saw them? Was there a way to save them?
A blood-curdling scream startled Tane out of his reverie. A great mass of zombies smashed into the front lines at a dead run. All were armed and armored. The soldiers were beginning to buckle in three places Tane could see.
“Fox Company! To arms!” Captain Kenelm cried.
Joelle suddenly barked out three strange words, then darted down the line and slapped each member of 3rd Section in the chest. Tane felt the spot burn with unnatural fire for a brief second. No one had time to question her about it, for the zombies broke through between two companies of heavy infantry to their right front.
“Company! Forward, MARCH!”
Fox Company lurched forward, bristling with swords. Everard Boarsbane began bellowing a fighting song, soon joined by other Tyrians and Jarlanders. Raven laughed. Quinn swore. And Armin eyed the zombies warily while Joelle’s chant changed once again.
“Hello glory!” Raven cried. “Ashtar! Ashtar! Ashtar!”
The Kestsaxian ranks evaporated before them. Scores of zombies rushed through, their faces, hands and bodies gory with splattered blood. Their dark eyes seemed to waver a moment, then fix on the advancing auxiliaries. Tane swallowed hard when he saw the dead eyes of a young boy, no more than thirteen or fourteen.
The first rank met the zombies with a thunderclap of steel on steel. The zombies fought in eerie silent, but fell dead just as easily as any normal
man. Their screams of pain and horror were just as unnerving as that of the Kestsaxian soldiers. The butchery was horrendous, but they kept coming and coming. There seemed to be no end of them.
~**~**~
Cursing venomously, Nizar trotted after his command. There were no birds in the area, no doubt due to Arisen interference. Curse them!
“How am I to find that damnable swordsmith?!” he demanded even as the first elements of his command broke through the Kestsaxian lines. “I cannot fail! I cannot, and will not!”
Nizar couldn’t see the Fox Company standard anywhere he looked. Tane had to be there. He knew what road Fox had taken, so they had to be on this side of the battlefield. But knowing the wicked humor of the Arisen, he began to believe They had caused Fox Company to be shifted to the other side of the Kestsaxian battle lines.
A flurry of bugle calls sounded within the Kestsaxian ranks. Standards and guidons were raised high in answer to the new orders. To the rear, over the heads of the forward elements, Nizar saw Fox Company’s standard. His heart began to hammer.
Enhancing his voice, Nizar commanded, “Veer to the right, my fiends! Our prey is at hand!”
Chapter 31
The Lelt in the first rank, two ranks in front of Tane, fell with a crude spear in the belly. Tane stepped up to the second rank, as that man took his fallen comrade’s place. A rock rang off Tane’s helmet before he got set, while the husky Amazon woman to Tane’s right skewered the zombie that crawled under the first rank to threaten him.
“Let one get by you, Tane!” Raven called. “I want to get one up on Black-toof!”
Tane was more than happy to let Raven do all of his killing, but the zombies wouldn’t cooperate. The Jarlander in front of the Amazon was pulled off her feet and jerked into the zombies, where she disappeared under a mass of bodies. Three zombies slipped in through the opening before the Amazon could close it.
Tane slashed and hacked, knowing in the back of his mind he was fighting stupidly. Use the point! his subconscious screamed. But they were too close to wield his long sword like he was trained. Now, too late, he understood why they had been trained with short swords. Fortunately, Raven stepped forward and stabbed one and Tane managed to beat another to the ground. The Amazon slashed the third zombie’s throat and took her place in the first rank.
“Ha! Look at me, Sergeant Black-toof!” Raven called, taking her place beside Tane. “I’m in the killing zone! All the woe to you!”
She stepped forward and her sword flashed between the two soldiers in the first rank, taking a zombie in the lower belly.
“That’s two for me!”
Sergeant Marji in the first rank fell back with a knife in her throat. Sergeant Cade stepped up in her place, and was promptly dragged down and strangled. Sergeant Gareth took his place in the first rank, and promptly killed three zombies.
Raven screamed in outrage.
Tane thought the world was going mad. All Raven and Gareth cared about was their grisly head counts. Men and women were dying all around him, and a quick look showed thousands of zombies pressing in behind the ones engaging them. There seemed to be an unusual number of swords within the zombie horde. And the usual five ranks of Fox Company were down to three in some places.
The man in front of Tane fell dead.
Screaming in fear and rage, Tane stepped forward and began stabbing at anyone he saw. Whenever he noted zombies trying to crawl past, he’d slash down at their necks. Those he didn’t kill he had to trust the man behind him to kill.
“Twelve, Raven!” Gareth cried. “How many do you have?”
“Pig!” she cried. Turning to the Amazon in the first rank, “Sophie, I’ll relieve you. Fall back on the count of three. All right?”
Tane didn’t hear her answer, and suddenly was beset by four cudgel wielding zombies girls. He slashed and kicked until they fell before him. He felt hot tears flowing, soul-sick to have cut down mere children no older than his cousin Jessy.
“Ashtar! Ashtar! Ashtar!” Raven cried, taking the exhausted Amazon’s place and cutting down a zombie each time she cried her Goddess’s name.
A quick glance showed the Tyrian was exultant. Her eyes shone with green fire, a tiny smile on her blood-splattered face. Sergeant Gareth seemed just as happy in his slaughter.
I’ll never make a soldier, Tane thought, and cut down an old man threatening him with a measly pair of rocks.
A moment later Joelle, then Quinn joined the first rank, soon followed by Armin. Tane felt a moment of panic. Fox Company was being decimated at an alarming rate. There were only two ranks behind his squad. First platoon to their left was down to two ranks in places.
A zombie thrust a rusty dagger into Tane’s left leg just above the knee. Three more dropped their crude weapons and clawed at his arms and clothes. Horrified, Tane realized they wanted to capture him, take him alive. The vision of himself magically enslaved, a zombie threatening his friends, flashed before his mind’s eye.
Howling with terror and pain, Tane smashed one zombie’s skull and hacked at the others as he fell back. The Lelt behind Tane whooped in battle joy and slipped past to join in the fray, cutting off Tane’s would-be captors. Tane limped back ten paces and stopped to remove the dagger. It hurt worse coming out than going in. Bright red blood gushed out of the gaping wound, making his head spin and his gut lurch.
Suddenly the spot where Joelle had slapped him prior to the battle became searing hot. While he tugged frantically at his mail to get at his burning chest, it quickly moved down toward the wound. Within a dozen heartbeats it found the wound and the smell of scorched flesh rose up to Tane’s nose even as white hot pain consumed the wound. It lasted only a few heartbeats, but left him sprawled on the cold ground, panting and shaking in pain.
As the arcane heat dissipated, Tane wiped the tears away and examined his leg. The blood flow was stopped, and the wound had the look of a days old injury. It still throbbed mightily, but his leg felt stronger. A quick test showed it able to support his weight reasonably well.
Grimly looking back at the raging battle, he thought, Damn, now I’ll have to go back in.
Steeling his resolve, Tane hurried back to the battle lines. He found 3rd Platoon down to one and two ranks in places, and the rest of the company just as decimated. If anything, there looked to be even more zombies pressing in on them than before.
Chapter 32
Huffing and puffing, Nizar reached the top of the incline. His command had pushed the Kestsaxians back as much as fifty paces in places. Even so, this was the closest to actual fighting he had ever dared. But if Tane was to be captured, then a free-thinking person would have to lead the effort. Zombies couldn’t be trusted to do it right. The idiots would as likely kill the man as capture him.
As if to prove him correct, just as Nizar spotted Tane fighting in the first rank, and just twenty paces away, a zombie thrusts a rusty dagger into the man’s leg. The zombie lost hold of his dagger, but had another and thrust for Tane’s throat.
Nizar’s heart froze. To have come so close!
To Nizar’s relief, Tane proved fast enough to parry the death blow, and smash the offender’s skull as well. Nizar scowled, for he wanted to torture and sacrifice the stupid zombie. But as Tane fell back, limping with the dagger imbedded in his leg, Nizar felt a wave of euphoria wash over him.
“The swordsmith is wounded and helpless!” he cried to the heavens. “My God, our victory is assured!”
With barked orders, Nizar deployed his most heavily armed and armored soldiers to smash through the weakest spot of Kestsaxian lines. Even as he issued his orders, Nizar watched as Tane writhed on the ground just thirty paces away. Tane’s activities seemed to indicate a chest wound, though he wore a mail vest and Nizar couldn’t see any sign of injury.
Frowning, Nizar reached out with God-given senses and felt the magic within Tane. But it wasn’t his own magical ability, but a spell placed upon him. At first Nizar thought it the source of Tane’s threa
t to Dakar, then realized it was a healing spell.
“Dakar damn you, swordsmith!” Nizar cried. “Hurry! Attack! Attack! The swordsmith is being magically healed!”
Nizar could see all his efforts going for naught. The High Priest would surely blame him for the failure to kill or capture Tane. He could very well be the High Priest’s next human sacrifice. The thought sent him rushing the Kestsaxian lines even as Tane began testing the strength of his leg.
Suddenly, Nizar found himself facing a red-headed woman in Vikon armor. She was chanting a spell over and over even as she fought, her magic lending extra force to her blows. Dead and dying littered the crimson earth before her, piled waist high in places. Nizar saw that he’d have to kill her to get to Tane.
“Joelle!” another Vikon called, pointing at Nizar. “Beware! A priest!”
Nizar cursed and ducked when a bright, silvery bow appeared in her left hand, and in a flash an arrow flew towards him. He hadn’t realized a witch could wield magic so fast. His hand fell on something hard, fingers instinctively wrapping themselves around it.
A spear.
Gory with blood, it was the one weapon Nizar could wield faster even than the witch could her magic. So ducking behind a zombie, whose chest instantly exploded when a silvery arrow struck him, Nizar made to attack from a different angle.
As planned, the witch was immediately engaged with his zombies. As the zombies pressed close, she sent the bow away and used her sword. She had little time to search him out, thus giving Nizar the opening to attack.
Witches were another group Nizar despised. Many were the times he was sick or injured, and sought out the Vikon, or other witches, for magical aid. And without fail, they turned him away. He was poor, and didn’t have the coin needed to receive their magical healing. He was forced to suffer like a mere animal, sullen and resentful as he huddled in some dark alley licking his wounds.
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