Igrid nodded. "Good strategy," she said. "We'll take out their archers and anyone else who is lagging behind."
"Once you charge," Dearg said. "The battle will begin. We will charge, and T'kar will be surrounded on all sides."
"Come then," Igrid said. "Let us mount up and ride to our positions. Freyja, take care of yourself. Do what your new captain says."
"Of course, Igrid," Freyja replied, addressing her by name for the first time.
Igrid grinned. "I suppose you don't have to call me anything else from now on."
"Be careful," Freyja said.
"Alright," Dearg said. "Let's get to our positions and prepare."
Chapter Thirty
T'kar watched as the army approaching from the south neared. He sat upon his horse, positioned in front of his troops, with Lilit, Malthor, and Randar near him. His troops were eager and itching for a fight, and he was glad to oblige. This rebellion, led by an unknown but suspect individual, had to be crushed. Otherwise, the rest of the people might rise up with him.
T'kar could not have that.
"Lilit," he said. "I want the wyverns to leave by dusk and precede our arrival."
"They will awaken on time, Sire," she replied. "They will overtake us as we ride."
"Good," T'kar said. "And these soldiers that approach will be the first to die."
"Will you send them in as fodder?" Randar asked.
"Precisely," T'kar said. "They are underequipped and green. Too worthless to serve under my banner."
"The troops are ready, Sire," Jarka said.
T'kar rode to the front line to address them. He eyed them closely, seeing the passion in their eyes, and the fire in their spirits.
"Men," he called out. "Today we march to victory. The Highlanders and Riverfolk have remained beyond our grasp for far too long. It is time to crush them."
There was a collective growl among the soldiers. T'kar felt it within his very bones. The men were ready to destroy.
"Now is your time to show them that I, T'kar, am the king of this land. King Daegoth is dead, and his line is doomed to fade from the pages of history. This will be your history; the day you crush the forces that stand against your kingdom."
The soldiers cheered. Captain Jarka raised his blade into the air to encourage them, and T'kar drew his twin swords, crossing them above his head.
"We shall be victorious!" he shouted. "We will bring them terror! We will crush them under our boots!"
The soldiers chanted his name over and over again. T'kar held his blades out at his sides, howling into the air like a beast. His blood was pumping wildly, and his skin was burning with the rage of the upcoming battle.
"Captain Jarka," he said. "We march!"
Jodocus walked quietly among the rangers situated in the woods east of the river. They were oblivious to his presence, and went about their preparations without knowing they were being watched. The Druid was impressed with their ability to move silently, and how they arranged themselves without much leadership.
He had never seen a group of humans so organized and dedicated to their craft. Having watched the Alvar on many occasions, he noted how similar they were in spirit and tactics. However, the Alvar knew he was there. These humans did not.
As each ranger took his place in view of the river's road, they arranged dozens of arrows in front of them, sticking them into the ground for easy access. They communicated with each other through silent whispers and hand signals, something Jodocus found fascinating. It didn't take long for him to figure out what the signals meant. In just a short time, he was able to translate them and monitored their conversations.
Assembly in the south marching north, one of them said, having received a communication from another ranger in a nearby tree.
Smaller force taking the lead, another said.
Jodocus himself climbed a tree and looked off to the south, seeing the approaching assembly. They were right, he noticed; there was a smaller force taking the lead. They were likely less-skilled soldiers forced to the front lines to act as arrow fodder.
T'kar was smart, he thought. As smart as he was evil.
"What are you doing?" a voice came from below.
Jodocus looked down, seeing an impressively-clad Alvar staring up at him.
"Menelith," Jodocus said, floating down. "It's good to see you again."
"Jodocus," the Alvar greeted him. "I'm sure these men would not appreciate you spying on them. Make yourself visible or scarce; one or the other."
Jodocus shrugged, waving his hand and fading into full view. The rangers around them stopped what they were doing and looked their way.
"Men," Menelith said. "This is Jodocus, the Great Druid of Eirenoch."
"Hello," the Druid said, waving and smiling.
The men were unimpressed.
"Are you going to help?" Menelith asked.
Jodocus laughed, cocking his head. "You know I can't help, Menelith," he said. "But I will do what I can to protect the forest."
Menelith nodded, folding his arms across his chest. "This very battle will affect the future of Eirenoch, and the forests within it."
"Yes, yes, of course," Jodocus agreed. "It seems to me that the road is a bit dry. Do you see how the mud is cracked and pitted? Yes, well I think there is a little something I can do about that. I'm sure the Keeper won't mind."
Menelith raised a brow in question.
"The Keeper," Jodocus said. "Ptah, the Grand Druid."
"Whatever you say, Druid," Menelith said, shaking his head. "Do what you can. Just stay out of the way."
Menelith walked off, and the other rangers simply stared at Jodocus expressionless. He shrugged, snapped his fingers, and disappeared from their sight again. As he began heading toward the river, he heard one of the rangers whisper, "Who the hell was that?"
He could only grin.
Dearg watched the sky darken; not in dusk, but the spreading and thickening of a cover of clouds. They seemed to roll in without any warning, materializing above them and coming in from all sides. It was strange, but Dearg realized it could work to their advantage. The road sloped downhill toward them, and the rain would make it slippery for the enemy.
"There's a storm coming," Odhran said.
"Yes," Ivar replied. "Our storm."
Freyja rolled her eyes, and Dearg grinned.
"Always so dramatic, Ivar," he said.
Ivar pursed his lips and nodded humorously. "Of course," he said.
"Rain," Fleek said, smiling. "Rain makes mud."
"Yes it does," Dearg said. "And we'll use that the best we can."
Baleron suddenly climbed up higher on the wall, looking off into the forest. He made a few hand signals and then climbed back down.
"A smaller force is coming ahead of the bulk of T'kar's forces," he said. "They are on horseback."
"Good," Dearg said. "Once we take them out, we'll have more horses."
"It's strange though," Baleron said. "Why would he send another force so far ahead? I can see sending them in if he could see the results. But they'll arrive far ahead of the rest of them."
"Thinning the herd," Ivar suggested. "Weaken our defenses before the main army arrives. That makes sense, somewhat."
Dearg understood Baleron's suspicions. The horsemen must have some weapon with them other than themselves. Knowing the trap that was set, they wouldn't even make it as far as the valley in front of the wall. They would be stopped at the river. It seemed pointless unless they were accompanied by something else. The wyverns perhaps?
"Will they arrive at nightfall?" Dearg asked.
"Beforehand," Baleron replied. "Less than an hour perhaps."
"The wyverns wouldn't be with them," Dearg said. "Nor would they fly overhead to precede them."
"True," Baleron said, leaning against the top of the wall. "The Fomorians aren't afraid of the sun, though."
Dearg looked at Baleron in question. "They would have giants with them?"
Baleron nodde
d. "Likely," he said. "They are hard to kill. They might slip past the rangers and head toward the wall. They could easily break through it and allow the bulk of the army to ride through and destroy the village."
"Then we will meet them at the river," Dearg said.
"That may not be necessary," Baleron said. "The Alvar are skilled in dealing with them. I'm not sure T'kar knows the Alvar are with us."
Thunder rumbled overhead, and they could all feel the light sprinkling that followed. Dearg held his hands out to catch a few raindrops. Fleek opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue.
"The rain comes at a most opportune time," Dearg said.
Baleron stood up again and made more hand signals. Shortly after, he made a few more gestures, chuckled, and jumped back down.
"Menelith saw the Druid," he said. "This is his doing."
"So he is helping, after all?"
"As much as he can, I suppose," Baleron replied.
"He seems like a bastard to me," Ivar said, grumbling.
"He shut you up," Freyja jested. "I like him."
Ivar shot her a glaring look, smiling crookedly. "You're next," he said, patting the top of her head.
Lightning flashed and an immediate crash of thunder followed. The rain then came at full force, falling in an almost continuous sheet. It wasn't long before they were all drenched and miserable. But, they remained at their posts, rain be damned.
"Damn rain," Randar said, pulling his cloak around him. "This is going to make it difficult to fight."
"Relax, Randar," T'kar said. "We won't be making our appearance until the morning. Once the horseman are annihilated, which they will be, we will wait. The Fomorians will keep them busy while we rest."
"Excellent strategy, Sire," Malthor said. "Is there anything I can do until then?"
"Keep your mouth shut," T'kar said. "Lilit will keep watch on the skies and direct the wyverns. They will arrive at nightfall and seek out the mysterious group that hides in the forests. I want you next to Randar, and you will go with him when he meets this foul creature who leads the enemy."
"Negotiations?" Randar asked.
T'kar turned his head and smiled. "Yes," he said. "Negotiations."
"What kind of deal are you going to demand?" Malthor asked.
"No deal, fool," T'kar said. "Just a ruse. While they are busy riding out to meet you, my archers will travel to the east and flank the wall. They will fill the Riverfolk village with arrows. Flaming arrows."
"The village will be burnt to the ground," Malthor said. "Or the lake, rather."
"Just a distraction, my boy," T'kar said. "There won't be any damage, but they will send their own archers to defend it, thus allowing us to charge through and avoid being filled with arrows."
"Ah," Malthor said.
He looked at Randar, who winked and nodded. "The king listens well," Randar said. "It was my idea."
T'kar grumbled, and Randar smiled at Malthor.
"I look forward to seeing you fight, Sire," Malthor said. "I hear you have the ability to ignore deathly wounds that would kill a normal man."
"Wounds that would kill a man," T'kar corrected him. "I am not a human, as you can plainly see. I am something much greater and far more ancient than your race."
"I am curious then," Malthor said, riding up next to him. "To what race do you belong?"
"My race is insignificant," T'kar said. "They are a worthless species of grunting and squatting savages. They are no greater than the apes that inhabit the jungles of Anwar. But I am greater. I have spoken to and received the blessings of Kathorgo since I was a child. He has given me the intellect and powers of a god, thus allowing me to rise above my apish brethren and become the king I am today."
"Interesting," Malthor said, truly fascinated. "I had wondered why you are far more solid and muscular without ever lifting a finger."
T'kar glared at him for a moment, and Malthor felt his heart thump. He realized then that he had made an error in judgment and fully expected the king to lop his head off with a single swipe of his blade. But, a smile slowly spread across the king's face, and Malthor laughed uncomfortably.
"You have spent far too much time with Randar," T'kar said. "I will have to separate you two eventually, lest you inherit his mouth."
"Forgive me, Sire," Malthor said. "I meant no disrespect."
"No worries, Malthor," the king assured him. "Get back in line."
Malthor dropped back next to Randar, whose grin told the young necromancer that Randar was indeed rubbing off on him. He returned Randar's grin.
"Rest easy, my friend," Randar said. "The king appreciates a smart mouth, and looks down on weakness. You're fitting in just fine."
Ahead, a lone rider was swiftly coming in their direction, throwing sprays of mud underneath his horse's hooves. He stopped in front of T'kar, who brought the procession to a halt.
"The village ahead is abandoned, Sire," the man said. "No sign of any commoners. The fields are burned, and the buildings are empty."
T'kar growled. "Of course they are," he said. "But I wonder where they went. There is no sign of them at all."
"None, Sire," the man said. "Captain Baen says they must be the mysterious force you are looking for."
"I doubt that," T'kar said. "They were weaklings. Whatever the case, burn the village down. Show our enemies that we are coming."
"Yes, Sire," the man said, riding away.
"Lilit," T'kar said. "The cloud cover should be sufficient. Call to the wyverns. Have them scout ahead."
"It begins," Baleron said, pointing at the column of smoke that rose in the distance. "They have set fire to the village."
Dearg stood up next to Baleron, gazing toward the south. He could see the flames building up despite the rain, and the movement of many men still traveling north. The smoke barely concealed them, and he could still see the banners among them.
"Once they reach the forest, we will signal the rangers," Dearg said.
"Won't the two groups hit each other if they start shooting?" Ivar asked.
"They never miss," Baleron said, shaking his head. "That is not a concern."
Dearg's gaze wandered back toward the main army, who was still out of his range of vision. However, he saw glimpses of figures moving to the east, hidden among the rocks and hills. There seemed to be a detachment moving separately from T'kar's main group.
"Do you see them?" Dearg asked.
"I see them," Baleron replied.
"Freyja, Odhran," Dearg said. "Gather the archers and line the rim of the lake's walls. Be ready to defend the village."
"Interesting," Baleron said as he watched. "A distraction perhaps?"
"We will have no archers at the wall until the rangers return," Dearg said. "T'kar is smart, but he doesn't know who hides in the forest."
"Something doesn't seem right," Baleron said. "He's creating distractions but leaving himself vulnerable."
"Or he's protecting his archers," Ivar suggested. "He knows there are horsemen present that will flank him so he sends them elsewhere."
"How would he know this?" Dearg asked.
"I don't know," Ivar said. "But when the main army is visible, look for spearmen in the back. If you see any, than we know for sure."
"Damn," Dearg said. "We have to warn Igrid."
Baleron began making hand signals again. Dearg stared off toward the forest, still not seeing who he was signaling, but he had faith the message would be relayed. Once Baleron dropped back down, he gave Dearg a nod.
"The Alvar will tell her," he said.
"Good. The Northmen will be prepared. Their archers can ride and fire at the same time."
"They will have to," Baleron said. "Otherwise they will fall before they even reach their targets."
Igrid called her horsemen to a halt, pausing on the west side of the forest as an Alvar warrior came from out of the tree line. She turned her horse and rode toward him, nodding at him in greeting. She was impressed with his appearance, the way his
golden hair contrasted with his dark brow and vicious demeanor.
"Well met, Alvar," she said as her horse reared to a stop.
The Alvar bowed his head in greeting, placing his hand over his heart. "Queen Igrid," he said. "I have been made aware of your arrival. I am honored to meet the queen of the Northmen."
"The honor is mine," she replied. "Do you have news for me?"
"T'kar's archers have split off and headed toward the Riverfolk village," he said. "The rear flank may be guarded with spearmen, and I was told to warn you."
"Thank you," Igrid said. "We will be prepared if so."
The Alvar bowed his head again and rushed back into the forest. She watched him go, still in awe at his presence. She felt a sense of godliness being so close to a warrior of such legendary fame. It was like being in the proximity of a Valkyrie.
"He's a lithe fellow," Wulfgar said. "Especially for how tall he is."
"That means a lot coming from someone your size," Igrid said.
Wulfgar chuckled "So what's the plan?"
"Watch your targets when we charge," she said. "Their archers have split off and may have been replaced by spearmen. T'kar might have anticipated this move."
"Understandable," Svengaar said. "He knows his horses were taken."
"But he doesn't know who took them," Igrid replied with a wink.
Baleron held his horn tightly, waiting for just the right moment to sound two blasts. Dearg stood beside him watching, anticipating the soldiers entering the narrow road between the forest and the river. They marched quickly, carelessly sounding off as if marching to dinner. Little did they know they were marching to their collective doom.
"They seem inexperienced," Dearg said.
"That is good," Baleron replied. "But I worry more about what might be with them."
"You say the Alvar are skilled in killing the Fomorians?"
Baleron nodded. "Yes they are, but they may not have the chance to kill them before they are reach the wall."
"We might not need to worry about that," Dearg said. "If our mystery sorceress appears again."
Baleron chuckled. "Perhaps," he said. "But she is probably as reliable as the Druid."
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