by Jeff Gunzel
The two magicians gazed at the very spot Eric had just disappeared through. It now seemed quite ordinary. Addel looked to Berkeni. “I can definitely see why Dragot fears him. Come on, we have to track him as best as we can.”
* * *
Corzon was furious as he stormed back into camp. “Assemble battle formations now,” he shouted angrily.
Athel spoke for maybe the first time since they had arrived. “The men need to rest. They are not ready!” She ducked under the quick backhand meant to send her across the field.
“Don’t ever question my authority!” her father screamed while pointing an accusing finger at her. “Go assemble your precious slaves and have them ready.” She glared at him momentarily then turned to round up her men. After all, they were loyal to her and no one else.
Word spread quickly that the short wait was over and it was time to prepare. The Steel Maidens began to contort their bodies in ways that would make any normal person cringe. For them, it was just their way of loosening up, getting ready to do what they had spent their whole lives preparing to do.
Then, suddenly, one of the farmers from Corper slinked up to Corzon with shaking hands fumbling nervously about his chest and stomach. “Sir,” said the small man with dark, shaggy hair in a trembling voice. “I humbly request an audience. Please, sir.”
Corzon quickly turned on the man with anger flashing in his eyes. “This had better be of utmost importance, or you will be dead before this battle ever starts.”
The poor man’s voice was even shakier now as the uncontrollable trembling in his hands began to transfer through his whole body. “Yes, sir, it is. I-I mean we...all the farmers...want to lead the attack against these...uh...these swine. We would be honored!”
Corzon’s smile split his face as he grinned down on the poor little man. “Well, that’s very noble and brave of you.” He leaned over and whispered in the man’s ear, “But that was always the plan.” Then he pushed the little fellow to the ground. “Get ready.” There was a mad scramble as all the warriors began to form ranks. Beasts were hastily hooked up to the war towers that had only been jacked up an hour ago.
The peasants began to form up at the front; one line across the field, three men deep, each one trembling while holding a tool they had never used in their lives. Swords had no place in a farmer’s hand, nor in any fifteen-year-old boy’s.
Corzon stood just behind the sacrificial recruits, snickering to himself. They could use up some of the enemy arrows as well as provide a little distraction and cover. He certainly didn’t expect any to survive.
The dark-eyed man could still remember his red-headed wife’s words. You come back to me... The words rattled around in his head. It gave a man strength he didn’t know he possessed to hear passionate words of love from his woman. The effects could be simply magical. I’ll hold you again, came the silent promise.
“Charge!” came the roaring command as the farmers went running, swinging swords that felt as awkward and heavy as tree limbs in their untrained hands.
* * *
Azek anxiously paced the top of the wall. He practically had to force Ilirra to go back to the castle after the failed peace attempt. That woman is too tough for her own good. Down below, he could see the men bringing up the large tree base on wheels to reinforce the front gate. Then he looked over at the field and saw the charge.
“Get ready, men!” Bowstrings drew back tight with notched arrows. They aimed high, looking to spread fury from the sky on the would-be attackers. Azek held his fist in the air, waiting to drop the signal for the wave of death to launch.
But something was off. He just couldn’t do it for some unexplained reason. The way they were holding their swords? Dragging them like heavy poles? Nobody was following the charge either. Everything seemed...wrong. Just this one group of men? The archers’ hands began to shake and tremble with the heavy tension of drawn bows, and a few even peeked at his general direction from the corners of their eyes, beads of sweat forming quickly due to strained muscles. What was he waiting for?
The men charging began to rummage through their coats as they ran. Some even dropped their swords. They have some sort of secret weapon. I’ve waited too long... Then, one at a time, their hands ripped free from inside their coat pockets, flashing green. Green cloth with a single gold star? They were waving replicas of Taron’s flag. Azek’s eyes went wide with recognition. “Open the gate!” he screamed.
* * *
“Traitors!” screamed Corzon as he watched them funnel through the open gate. “They’ll pay for that.” He turned towards the assembled flanks of true warriors. “Charge!” Thousands of soldiers began running towards the wall. Many of the frontline men ran carrying thick siege ladders. If any were to fall, the men behind them were to pick up the ladders and keep going. Once they were able to breach the walls, there would be no stopping them.
Corzon looked to Athel. “Take your slaves down the right flank while most of the resistance is on the front wall.” She nodded and ran off to get her men, who were patiently waiting for her to join them. They had already devised a plan amongst themselves that was at least similar to his.
Arrows rained from the sky as wave after wave of impaled Dronin soldiers fell to the ground, but due to sheer numbers alone they were working their way closer and closer to the wall. The living ocean of black had almost touched the stone when a loud whistle blew from somewhere.
Suddenly the very ground beneath their feet seemed to erupt. Jacob, along with his new mercenaries, whipped the camouflaged green tarps away from their bodies as they jumped up in front of a wave of shocked soldiers.
Jacob unleashed a furious whirlwind attack against the surprised Dronin around him, dropping men left and right with hard, skilled shots from his twirling staff. The other mercenaries each took out three to four apiece just from catching them completely off guard. But even with the sneak attack, they were ridiculously outnumbered as they slashed away at the enemy with their swords and shields.
Another whistle blew from the top of the wall in three short bursts. All the leathers knew exactly what to do. They rolled towards each other with all the skill and speed ever seen by any of the warriors. The first to arrive at their predestinated spot held their shields high in the air. The following arrivals that rolled in held their shields up as well, interlocking with the first. Then the next, then the next, as their shields became one.
This exact pattern was repeated in five separate locations throughout the battlefield, so on and so on until five perfect silver domes formed from shields stood like indestructible huts. They resembled the shells of turtles and were completely impenetrable. The tactic had been completed in seconds.
The Dronin quickly surrounded them, banging away at the assembled domes with axes and swords, trying to get at the living insides. Another whistle blew from the wall: two short bursts with one long. Then all the lowest shields raised outward in perfect unison as slashing swords fired out, cutting deep into the shins of surrounding warriors.
The nearest soldiers crumpled to the ground as yet another whistle blew: one long, short, then long again. The upper layer of shields folded inward as swords pierced straight out, cutting deep into faces and eyes before retracting back into the safe turtle shells.
Azek screamed for the archers to cover them as flimsy rope ladders were thrown over the side of the wall. The final whistle was one long blast as the living domes collapsed in on themselves, disassembling back into a mob of mercenaries now running straight for the wall. They scrambled up the ladders as archers darkened the sky with cover fire that was so heavily concentrated it drove the surrounding enemy away from the leathers. The mercenaries had more than done their part. So far, so good...
Chapter 14
Briggits scattered across the black marble floor, running for their very lives it would seem, as the air ripped wide open before them. Eric came dashing through the tunnel of light with his sword in hand. He pointed it left and right as the little c
reatures with brown hoods darted in all directions, clicking away nervously.
Never lowering his sword, he began to stalk through the long hallway. The inside of the tower was not at all what he had expected. Through his forced magical journey at the hands of Berkeni, he had been given a glimpse of it once before, but that had been the dungeon area where all the savage humans were being kept. Here, beautiful ornate tapestries hung from the spotless walls. The hall was well lit by hanging lanterns flickering away, causing his stalking shadow to bounce off several areas all at once.
Each and every footstep was slow and deliberate as the enraged killer silently placed one foot in front of the other. Determination burned in him like a raging forest fire. His pure hate for this demon coursed through his veins as he stalked the very thing that once stalked him. You cannot hide from me!
* * *
Lookers marched up and down the great wall as they flashed their silent hand signals to the men manning the catapults. They would quickly turn them a notch one way or the other before sending the blunt missiles soaring just over the archers’ heads. The men hardly noticed, as they were busy pushing back siege ladders and fighting the handful of warriors who had made it up onto the wall.
Another heavy stone struck one of the moving towers as Dronin soldiers scattered into airborne cartwheels before the tower collapsed in on itself, crumbling to the ground. Many of the wall soldiers were still firing their bows, although now they were just firing blindly into the enemy flanks. It didn’t matter now; the Dronin were up against the wall, and any arrow released was bound to hit something.
Two more towers came crashing into the wall. Metal doors slammed down on the stone as a fresh flood of warriors gushed onto the walls. They were making a hard push now as men wielding double swords and axes began to carve into the archers, who were unprepared and nowhere near as adept at melee combat. One of the archers backed up urgently as three warriors bore down on him. He raised his bow defensively in the hopes of trying to buy a few more seconds of life.
The man would live another day, as a black streak flashed across the three. They all looked the same direction for an instant, wondering if they had even seen anything at all. Dead men don’t always know they are dead immediately. All three grabbed for their throats at the same time. Warm blood sprayed through their fingers and onto the poor archer as they dropped to their knees, gurgling the whole way down. The lucky soldier mumbled a silent prayer before drawing his short-sword and rushing back into the battle.
The black flash continued her path of death, eyeing enemies through tunnel vision created by unmatched speed. She streaked across the wall as if sliding across ice with bladed feet. Lighting-fast slashes opened arteries. Well-placed silver missiles found new homes in eyes and throats. Any invader who caught the slightest glimpse of the streaking phantom never saw anything else again. Jade was a killing machine as she dashed across the walls, every slash and throw made with frightening precision.
Morcel seemed a little too grateful for Addel’s healing. It appeared he was having far too much fun as his great axe tore through one enemy after another. Warriors who had dedicated their whole lives to the art of combat were sent to the afterlife as easily as insects by his whirling axe. The man looked crazed, with his animalistic green eyes flashing murder and a huge toothy grin that just wouldn’t leave his face. Compared to the horrors he had faced in the arena, this was nothing more than sport to him now.
Azek’s long sword flashed like a viper as his smooth dance of death actually began to turn the numbers back in favor of the Taron soldiers. He did not resemble Morcel, who was nearly cutting soldiers in half with his heavy, sweeping blows, but his quick kills were frighteningly efficient, as he used only enough movement to deflect an axe or sword a little off course, then opened a neck or chest with a lightning-fast counter. Each soul eaten by his blade was accounted for by two strokes or less as the grizzled assassin cut through them like butter.
Although he never even saw the strike, Azek ducked under the heavy axe that would have easily removed his head from his body, then rolled along the ground as another bit hard into the stone floor, missing him by inches. He effortlessly rolled to his feet, remaining in a low, crouched stance with his elbows back and sword pointed towards the latest threat. The giant towered over the spot where Azek once stood, his long, braided beard now frazzled from movement as the monster took several deep breaths.
Azek looked up at Grandling with a sinister grin. “That was your chance, big man. Now you will learn what it takes to become a Taron blademaster.” Grandling only smiled back as he approached the much smaller man, twirling each axe in slow, spinning loops around his wrists, each one making a deep whooshing sound with every revolution—a telltale sign of how heavy they actually were, given that he was not moving them that fast.
Grandling charged in with amazing speed for a man his size and lowered a single axe down hard. Azek easily rolled out of the way, slashing quickly at the top of the man’s wrist as he sprung back up a few feet away. The grizzled veteran was still remarkably light on his feet.
The giant ignored the blood running down his arm as he slashed right, then left, then right again. Azek clipped each axe blow with light, precise shots, sending them only slightly off course, enough so he wouldn’t be hit, as opposed to defending himself with a full parry. Each slight deflection was answered with viper-like slashes in turn: one on each arm, and a third crossed Grandling’s nose and cheek.
The man howled as he stumbled backward, rubbing the back of his hand across the fresh cut to his face. Azek smiled again as he sunk down once more into that low stance, looking like a coiled snake ready to strike.
The big man was growing desperate now as it became clear that even though Azek was well into his middle years, Grandling had no hopes of matching the blademaster’s speed. He reached back and fired one of his axes through the air, followed quickly by the other.
Azek’s eyes grew wide at the surprise tactic. With his sword gripped firmly, he deflected the first to the side, then the other up high as a shower of sparks sprung from the heavy blows, but Grandling had started running at Azek the second he released the missiles, chasing them through the air. By the time Azek had deflected the last one high, the giant was on him. He pinned Azek’s sword arm behind his back while crushing the lean man in a bear hug with his other arm. The Taron warrior gasped as precious air was driven from his lungs, dropping his sword from a hand now rendered useless.
Memories of old flooded through his quickly fading thoughts.
“Ilirra, will you marry me?”
“I’m sorry, Azek...I truly love you, but I can’t. No one must ever know about us.”
FLASH
“Azek, look at her gorgeous eyes. She is so beautiful. I love her with all my heart already. I will name her...Jade.”
FLASH
“No! I won’t let them take her! Why won’t you stop them? Azek...I hate yoouuu!”
The giant looked hard into Azek’s eyes as he continued to crush the life from the fading assassin. His smile was wide, showing all his teeth to a man who was still just as dangerous as any. It was the worst mistake he ever made. Shattered teeth and blood flew through the air as the grizzled veteran drove his head straight in.
The crushing bear hug loosened instantly as the giant covered his mouth with both hands, stumbling backwards in near shock from the vicious blow. Azek’s bag of tricks was nearly bottomless. He dropped down and delivered a hard elbow to the left knee, then to the right knee, then left again as it crushed under the force. The unorthodox attack brought the giant crumpling to the ground. He slumped there on his knees, breathing shallowly, covered in his own blood.
Azek stalked around the living mountain’s back. He never picked up his sword or any other weapon. He placed his hands on each side of the big monster’s head. In perfect Dronin tongue, he whispered in his ear, “Sleep, my brother.”
CRACK... The lean man broke the huge warrior’s neck like a twig
.
Azek quickly retrieved his sword and whirled about to evaluate the situation. There were still many invaders on the walls, but the thing that bothered him most was looking out into the sea of black leather. Their numbers were still so vast. Till death, my lady. He began to charge back into the thick of things when a strong arm grabbed him by the shoulder.
He whirled around with surprise only to see a tall figure in a tan cloak. “Jussst keep them off of usss. We’ll do the ressst,” came the slow, hissing drawl from under the hood. Azek simply nodded as more of the cloaked figures climbed the stone steps and stood shoulder to shoulder along the wall.
In one clean motion, all the figures threw their arms back at once. Tan cloaks came fluttering down the wall like leaves from a tree. Everyone who was near them, friend or foe, scrambled to get away from the fearsome beings only talked about in stories and legends. They joined hands in groups of five as the lead cryton in each short line began chanting. The others hung their heads, still as statues while they combined their energy. The eyes of those chanting began to take on a yellow glow as they looked to the sky.
A sky that was cloudless only moments ago began to slowly turn black. Frightened men gazed up into the sudden darkness. The blackness began to churn in a giant, spiraling mass while the crytons continued their mindless melody. Small at first, little static flashes of yellow here and there danced between the black clouds. Then it began...
The lead crytons of each line simply pointed to a spot on the battlefield, and large bolts of yellow energy surged directly from the black clouds, bombarding that exact location, sending Dronin warriors flying through the air from the massive impact. Again and again, the simple act of pointing became a weapon of unimaginable strength as thick, yellow bolts rained from the sky. One of the siege towers exploded into sparkling white- hot flakes, sending charred warriors tumbling to the ground. The crytons continued to rain death from the sky, proving to all that the stories of their supernatural abilities were not exaggerated.