by Toni Cox
“We thank you for your assistance, My Lord,” Ender said, sounding more frightened than thankful.
Blaid understood why the people viewed him with such fear, but he didn’t like it. Although he was Death, he was here to assist the people of Elveron and not to kill them. He helped those that were at the end of their lives, or those that were tired of living. He only killed in self-defence or in defence of his people. He wished they would understand that, but there was no time now to explain this to Lord Gemsson.
“You are welcome,” he replied. “Let us begin then.”
“Yes, My Lord.”
Ender spread a map of the city on the table before them. Someone had already marked the roads that had been blocked off and various other places had been marked with numbers.
“This is our Elder Hall,” Ender said. “This is where the children and elderly will go. It is one of the safest structures within the city.”
Blaid nodded.
“We have about ninety archers, which will be posted here,” Ender pointed to the spots on the map, “and here and here. That leaves us with sixty-three able to wield a sword or other weapon. There are also six crossbows mounted on the city walls here,” again Ender pointed the locations out to Blaid, “each of which can shoot a volley of ten arrows at a time. They have not been used for many a year, but I have the Builders inspecting them as we speak to get them into working order.”
“It is not much, but it will have to be enough,” Blaid said. “Show me the weak points of the city. Where are the Vampyres most likely to attack?”
“The northern part of the city is almost inaccessible from the mountain. Steep cliffs and wall surround the houses there. The south has some access points, but I think we have managed to secure them well enough. Our main roads come in from the east and west and those have proven more difficult to secure.”
“The Vampyres are coming at us from the west. Let us hope they will not take the time to split their forces and send half of them around to the east. I think we should concentrate our forces to the west of the city. Have this crossbow here,” Blaid pointed to the most eastern wall, “manned by two, with a detachment of ten archers, as well as someone who can carry a message to us should they come under attack. All other crossbows are also to receive two men, but with only two additional archers. We will need all the men we can get to protect ourselves from the west. The archers are going to be instrumental. We need to decimate the Vampyre numbers before they get too close. The more we can shoot from the wall, the less we have to fight on the ground.”
Blaid and Ender, together with what forces remained of the Legion of Stoneloft, poured over the plans long into the night. Blaid was glad that this city had so many defences; truly a mountain stronghold. It was not the type of city he would have liked to live in; too much stone for his liking; but he nevertheless admired the beautiful craftsmanship of the people of Stoneloft.
Every building was supported by carved columns of marble, every street plastered with a different type or colour of cobblestone and all the roofs were decked in black slate that shone in the sunlight. Every wall was decorated in carved murals, depicting scenes of life within Stoneloft or scenes of wars long forgotten. It was a stone city within a stone mountain and only the carefully maintained flowerbeds that edged every house brought some life to the city. Despite himself, Blaid had to admit that it was a sight to behold.
In the morning, he was given proper armour and he was allowed to choose weapons. He would have preferred his own, but those were put away carefully in some hole far away from here. He would recover them on his way back. He hoped that would be soon.
It was past noon when one of the Scouts arrived at the west gate. Breathlessly he gave his report.
“They are still marching strongly towards us. If they do not rest for the night, then they will be at our gates by morning. They are well armoured and carry swords, spears, and bows. There are no Werewolves in their company.” He took a shaky breath and then, with a small quiver of fear in his voice turned to address Blaid. “As My Lord has said, there are about seven hundred of them. And as My Lord has predicted, they have not divided their forces to attack the city on multiple fronts. It seems they will concentrate their full force on the west gate.”
“Thank you,” Ender said to the Scout. “You may go rest now.”
The Scout bowed and then retreated from the room.
“I want to thank My Lord for the warning. Without you, the Vampyres would have caught us by surprise and we would surely all have perished.”
“The fight has not been won yet,” Blaid warned. “We have underestimated the Vampyres before. They are strong and resourceful and I can guarantee they will employ everything they have to get what they want. Let your forces know how much time they have before the army arrives, so that they may rest. They need to be fresh and alert when the time comes, otherwise we might yet know defeat.”
Fire pranced beneath her, sensing her impatience. Convincing her father of her mission had proven difficult and at one point she even considered defying his orders and going after Kanarel without his permission. Then Jaik said he would lead the mission, taking five of his Guard, as well as twenty warriors from the regiment. Her father had not been happy about it, doubting Maia’s story about Kanarel being a spy, but after some good arguments from Jaik, her father had reluctantly relented.
Midnight was circling high overhead in a cloudless sky, watching the proceedings below. Fire snorted and Maia looked around at the others mounting their horses. It was still very early and they were right on schedule, yet she felt that every minute could make the difference between them catching Kanarel and him getting away. It was a perfect summer’s day for travelling and surely Kanarel was making good time. She hoped he would not suspect that he was being followed and that they would be riding at a steady walk, stopping at all the usual camps and inns.
When Jaik finally gave the order to advance, Fire gave a mighty buck, kicking his hind legs high in the air and Maia laughed with relief. It was good to be out and to be doing something that could mean the difference between winning and losing the war.
Wolf had been given Kanarel’s scent, from the bedding he used in the guest lodge, and was now running ahead of them, nose to the ground. Maia trusted he would lead them true, but even if that was not so, Kanarel’s spoor was easy to follow. Her father had given him an escort of two men to see him home safely. Not expecting to be pursued, the trio was taking the trip at a leisurely walk. Cantering after Wolf, their group would catch up by evening; or sooner, depending on when they broke camp this morning.
Early in the afternoon they reached the spot where Kanarel and his escort had made camp. From the signs, it was clear that they made camp early the night before and only left after the sun had already risen high this morning. It infuriated Maia that Kanarel could be so relaxed and enjoy the company of his two Elf companions, all the while planning his betrayal.
The camp revealed that they were now about six hours behind them, which meant they would not catch them during daylight hours. Jaik assumed they would probably catch them when they reached Peak View Lodge, which would be as good a place as any to capture Kanarel.
Later that afternoon the spoor turned away from the Trade Route and they followed it south for about an hour. Shortly afterwards Midnight let Maia know what he had found and they spurred their horses to a gallop. Within another mile, they finally reached the place where Midnight had landed. At his feet lay Kanarel’s two companion, both with their throats cut. Kanarel and the horses were long gone.
Jaik instructed one of the warriors to stay with the fallen Elves so that they would not be eaten by wolves and ravens; they would collect them to take home on their way back.
It was fully dark and they relied on Wolf’s nose and Midnight guiding them from overhead. Without his two escorts, Kanarel was wasting no time and drove his horses hard. Even galloping as fast as they could over the uneven ground, they were not catching up with him.
Eventually they had to stop and rest. Their horses were breathing heavily and they needed to drink. Another three hours remained until morning, when they resumed the chase. Kanarel had to rest his horses at some point too and Maia hoped they would catch up with him by morning.
As the sun rose to their left they discovered two of Kanarel’s horses by the wayside. Both stood with their heads hanging low, sweating profusely and clearly at the end of their strength. Wolf milled for a while, trying to pick up the scent again, but he eventually sat down and howled. Jaik and Archer got off their horses and scanned the ground. The earth was hard here, but even so, their own horses were leaving prints in the dirt, but they were unable to pick up Kanarel’s tracks. Even Midnight was unable to detect anything.
Frustrated, they kept heading in a southerly direction. A few miles ahead was higher ground, a low ridge that spanned for miles in either direction. They hoped that from that vantage point they would be able to discover something, but as they approached the ridge, Maia sensed danger from Midnight. Quickly she let her brother know and they halted, watching the ridge with trepidation. Rising higher, Midnight approached the ridge to see what lay beyond. All of Maia’s senses screamed at her once Midnight caught sight of it and Fire whinnied in fear.
Like a ghost, the huge Ice Dragon rose from behind the rocks, his white skin glittering like diamonds in the morning sun. He hovered there for a moment and then screamed his challenge to Midnight.
“Kill, Shard!” Kanarel screamed the command as he also crested the ridge.
The tension in the air was thick as they watched the army march into sight. This path that led to the city was part of the main Trade Route and wide enough for them to walk six abreast. The column stretched far back and then disappeared around a bend in the road.
Blaid scanned the surrounding mountain; he did not believe for one moment that the entire army would simply walk to the front gate of the city and ask to be admitted. Soon he spotted archers on the higher ridges above the city; far away, but probably just within reach of their arrows. Blaid noticed that they had changed their crude bows used during the war for ones of elven make. They were long, elegant weapons that could shoot accurately over a distance of at least two hundred paces; more if the archer was good.
Soon the main army spread out on the more open terrain leading up to the city. Blaid thought that the situation would have made for a good ambush had he more men at his disposal; the army had the city to their front and a narrow mountain pass to their rear, with nowhere to go to their left and right. It would have been a simple matter of attacking their rear, driving them towards the city and letting the archers do the rest from the battlements. But he did not have extra warriors and it was too late now to change any plans.
He let Ender know the positions of the Vampyre archers and then went from station to station to make sure everything was ready.
“My Lord,” an archer called him as he walked past. “They have brought a ram.”
Blaid looked down off the wall of the city just as a group of twenty or so Vampyres rolled forward the battering ram. They must have built it on the march, for they did not have it when he left them to come to Stoneloft. Cursing under his breath he finished his round and then took up his position next to Ender.
“I am glad we fortified the gate. Hopefully it will be strong enough to withstand the ram,” Ender said.
“We can hope,” Blaid replied, “but we should concentrate on reducing their numbers while they are still outside. When they eventually break through I would prefer to do battle with as few of them as possible.”
A horn sounded; a sound so alien it made Blaid’s hair stand on end; and the first arrow was fired. Soon it was raining arrows all around them as the archers in the mountains targeted the battlement to dispatch their own archers. Ducking behind their shields, the archers retaliated, but were unable to aim at the Vampyre archers hiding within the cracks and ridges of the mountain.
Blaid shouted for them to concentrate on the ones below; they could ill afford to waste their arrows.
Boom!
The battering ram crashed into the gate for the first time. Blaid felt the repercussion through the stone of the wall.
Boom!
The Vampyres had covered the battering ram with a thick layer of leather to protect those operating it. His arrows would be useless there, but he could just make out the feet of soldiers closest to him and took careful aim. His arrow flew straight and he watched a Vampyre falter and then duck out of the cover of the battering ram to remove the arrow from his foot. Blaid did not give him the chance; one more,a well placed arrow saw the Vampyre dead on the ground.
Boom!
The ram carried on regardless, but he had now found its weakness.
“The feet,” he yelled. “Concentrate on the feet.”
His cry was taken up and soon more Vampyres dropped out of the cover of the ram. As they emerged, they were shot down. But others took their places and the battering ram carried on mercilessly.
Boom!
Vampyres were now climbing over their fallen comrades to get within shooting range of the city. Undeterred, Stoneloft’s archers gave it everything they had. Undeterred also, the Vampyres kept advancing. At first Blaid thought the Vampyres had no plan; simply walking up to the city to be shot; but after a while, he realised that the tall Generals of the army had remained at the back and were watching the proceedings. Those at the front were there to draw the Elves’ fire and spend their ammunition. They did have a limited number of arrows, as most of the weapons went with their army to Greystone, but they had to diminish the Vampyre army before they managed to break through the gate.
Boom!
Relentlessly the Vampyres replenished their fallen at the battering ram and carried on assaulting the gate. Arrows whistled past Blaid’s ears as he peered over the wall to shoot his own. The ground in front of the city was now littered with Vampyres, but Blaid could feel their own dead and dying all around him. The Prime within him screamed at him to help those that were slow to die, but there was no time for that now. Another well placed arrow, another Vampyre dead.
Boom!
This time the wall shook and Blaid heard the creak of wood and iron as the gate buckled. It would not withstand another hit.
He nodded to Ender and then ran down the stairs to join the swordsmen in the large courtyard of the west gate. They were ready, swords and spears pointed towards the mangled gate, awaiting the rush of Vampyres that would pour in any moment.
They were not disappointed; one last assault of the ram finally brought the gate down and once the ram retreated, Vampyres stormed through the gate, hissing, and screaming. With a shout, Blaid led the charge. He killed the first Vampyre by slashing his throat. The second he disembowelled and the third he stabbed through the eye. The smell of blood was now thick in Blaid’s nose and the death screams of the men around him whipped him into a fury. In quick succession, he killed another twenty or so Vampyres before he was finally confronted with a General.
Quickly he assessed the warrior in front of him; tall, strong and holding two, long-bladed swords. The General grinned at him, exposing his fangs and then, out of the turmoil behind him, stepped three more Generals to join him. Blaid lifted his sword and drew a shorter blade from his belt. The Generals came at him, hissing, or laughing, he knew not which. They came at him from all sides; faster, stronger, and smarter than any others he fought before. Their swords clashed with his with such force that his arms went numb from the shock and he was soon shaking from the effort to keep them at bay.
All around him Elves were battling Vampyres, but he could not see which had the upper hand. The Generals were relentless in their attack and with his inferior weapons all he could do was defend himself. On and on they hacked and slashed at him and he was soon bleeding from too many wounds to count. He was getting angry, but it was the screams of pain and death of his fellow Elves around him that eventually unleashed the Prime within and, in a black rage, he
overran the Generals as if they were toys and then swept through the courtyard, killing every Vampyre that stood in his way.
He knew not for how long the battle lasted or how many he had killed. When he felt a touch on his shoulder he whipped around and only at the last moment managed to stop his knife from slicing Ender’s throat. Aghast, he took a step back and bumped into the broken gate of the city, blood, and death all around him.
“My Lord,” Ender said bravely, but his body was shaking in fear. “It is done.”
Horrified Blaid looked around at the dead Vampyres and Elves in the courtyard. Some warriors stood at the edges of his vision, too afraid to show themselves. He knew he could fight anything; he had mastered the skill; but when he was fighting overwhelming odds, the Prime within him took over and it would kill indiscriminately anything that stood in his way. He had no control over it. It was his weakness.
“How many?” he whispered, but hoping Ender would not answer.
“The Vampyres are all dead. They have been defeated. Our Scouts tracked the ones in the mountains and they have dealt with them too.”
“How many?” Blaid repeated, anger colouring his voice.
“My Lord, we did not take a tally.” Ender looked down at his shaking hands.
“Do not lie to me, Ender.”
“Twenty-four, My Lord.”
Blaid was silent for a long time then. Maybe he was the monster they all feared him to be after all. Twenty-four Elves he had killed in his rage. He had come here to save them, not help the Vampyres slaughter them. He remembered the power he had when he had fought with Maia. It had been different then. When they were together, nothing could stop them. They had power and control and such energy as he had never felt before. This black rage of his might be just as deadly, but not just for the enemy. He hated himself for it. He needed to leave. Now.