Shadow of the Knight (The Orb Book 3)

by Matt Heppe

  “Three cheers for His Majesty, King Handrin of Salador,” Rayne shouted. “Hurrah!” The voices in the hall joined him, echoing from the ceiling. “Hurrah! Hurrah!”

  For a moment Telea wondered what would have happened if Rayne hadn’t called for the cheer. The mood in the room was odd, torn—the men and women filled with doubt and fear.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Telea tucked herself against the side of the Great Keep, trying to avoid being trampled by the horses and men marshaling in the bailey. She heard Handrin’s voice, and Rayne’s as well, calling out orders and trying to bring order to chaos.

  There were no women besides Telea, and the men were either soldiers or servants. She felt very alone and tried to remain unseen. Handrin and Rayne had found their place and their purpose, but hers was still unfulfilled. The end of her journey was a long way away, and she had no idea what it would bring.

  If Handrin lost the city and Salador fell, could she still go on? Orlos was out there somewhere with Forsvar. She had no way of finding him though. She knew what happened in a city after a defeat. The sack of a city was a horrible event—surviving would be a feat in itself.

  Finally, the soldiers seemed to have found some organization. It was nothing like the drilled precision she’d seen in the Imperial Belenese Army, but it was better than the chaotic mass it had been a short time before.

  Most of the men, maybe three hundred in total, were on foot. All were armored in mail. Half carried crossbows, while the other half bore poleaxes or spears and shields. Another twenty were mounted. These men wore heavier armor—coats of plates with plate covered arms and legs. Handrin sat on a horse at the head of these men, Rayne at his side. Both had been brought arms and armor.

  A horn sounded, and it appeared they were about to move out. Telea ran from her hiding place and approached Rayne. “I want to come with you,” she said. “I want to be there.”

  He looked down at her from atop his horse. His visor was up and his face looked pale. He had deep black circles under his eyes. The healing had taken a lot from him. Too much for him to be riding into battle.

  For a moment it seemed he might say, no, but then he reached his hand down to her and hauled her up on the horse behind him, although she thought the effort might unhorse him. “Will you sing for us?” he asked.

  “I’ll sing, but I don’t know how well.”

  “It will be beautiful.”

  “I’m hoping for inspirational.”

  “It will be that as well.”

  At a command from Handrin the soldiers rode from the bailey. There were more soldiers outside the gate. These men wore tabards of different colors but were armed much as the men from the keep. “Who are these men?” Telea asked.

  “Guild companies and city militia,” Rayne said. “Good soldiers. The guilds keep their men well trained.”

  “And the mounted men?”

  “Knights of Salador and a few men-at-arms. Not as many as there once were. Queen Ilana preferred paid soldiers.”

  They rode down through the city. Women and children cheered them from open windows high above the street. They cheered the soldiers, but Telea saw the fear as well. Nobody had expected war. And nobody had dreamt that the city walls would be breached in the middle of the night.

  The moonlit river soon came into sight. Beyond it, flames rose from several quarters of the East Bank. Bells still tolled here, and now she heard the strident call of horns as well.

  They passed a few armed men running up the street, back towards the Great Keep. Not a good sign. Telea looked over her shoulder and saw the mass of footmen following them. At least most of the Saladoran soldiers were moving the right direction.

  A huge tower loomed ahead. It took a moment for her to realize it guarded the bridge across the river. Men milled about in front of the tower gate. A loud boom echoed up the street, and one of the milling men dropped his poleaxe and ran. The others backed from the gate.

  Handrin and his knights rode close and dismounted. Rayne let Telea down before dismounting himself. She jumped as another boom sounded. The gates shuddered under the blow. Telea saw now that the gate was barricaded from outside. Stout posts were jammed against it, keeping it closed. A heavy cart had been toppled against it as well. They are right there—in the tower. The enemy is just strides away.

  “Who’s in charge here?” Handrin demanded. “What’s the situation?”

  “There’s no one in charge,” a soldier said, and then added, “Your Majesty.”

  Others turned at his words, clearly shocked at Handrin’s arrival. A smaller side door to the tower opened and a man appeared there. “We need help! They’ve breached the tower.”

  “Captain Rayne,” Handrin called out. “Hold this gate. Don’t let the enemy break your lines.” He spoke to Rayne, but his voice made it clear that he wanted everyone to hear his words. “The Knights of the House and the House Guards will follow me into the tower. We must retake it or Sal-Oras will fall. With me!” Handrin drew his sword and ran for the tower door. The knights drew their swords and followed.

  The gate shuddered under another blow.

  “Form up!” Rayne shouted. His face was pale in the darkness. Telea feared he might fall at any moment. “I want a shield wall twenty strides from the gate. Spearmen in the center. Poleaxes to either side. Crossbows to the flanks!”

  There was a crack behind them as one of the posts was dislodged and fell to the street. The cart slid a half pace as some great force pushed the gate open. “We should move,” Telea said to Rayne. They stood with their backs to the gate, closer to the enemy than any of the soldiers.

  “Move!” Rayne shouted. He gestured to the soldiers on one end of the ragged line. There were only fifty of them there, if that many. More were pouring down the street, though. Not fast enough.

  The cart shifted further. Rayne took Telea by the elbow and led her towards the spear wall, shouting orders all the while. “Crossbows ready! Shoot as they appear!”

  Two spearmen moved aside and let Rayne and Telea through the line. The men wavered in their ranks. Rayne had them organized, but their fear was palpable.

  Telea cleared her throat and began to sing.

  The Song of Hope rose from her, and she gathered the magic of the music close around her while she found her voice. It had been too long since she had sung, and her fatigue hung heavy on her. The men nearby turned and looked at her, clearly confused at the sudden female voice in their midst. Heads further down the line swiveled, searching for the source of the sound.

  Telea turned to face the gate. She’d been in this position before, standing with a line of soldiers, waiting for the enemy to appear. The fear was worst before the fight, when the mind made things as bad as they could be imagined.

  When she was ready, she cast her magic out over the soldiers, bringing the full strength of the Song of Hope to bear. The effect was immediate. Men stood taller at the touch of the first notes, and their arms steadied. They faced the gate with renewed strength.

  It wasn’t a moment too soon. The gate crashed open, the cart tumbling aside, and giants poured from the tunnel. It was all Telea could do to keep her place in her song. She’d faced demons before, often giant in size and terrifying in form, but never had she seen men of such huge stature.

  The men around Telea wavered at the sight of the giants. There was a lot to fear. The giants were nearly twice as tall as a man and much more heavily built. Scale armor covered them from head to toe, and they wielded great two-handed mauls.

  Telea poured everything she had into her song and the men steadied. Rayne shouted encouragement, but she was too lost in her song to hear the words. A flurry of crossbow bolts struck the giants, but they ignored the hail of missiles and drove forward. Behind them came silver-eyed warriors with axes and spears.

  The first giant strode up to the defenders, raised his maul, and then crushed a spearman. Telea heard the blow above her song—the shattering of the man’s shield and the splinte
ring of his bones. Still she sang on.

  Spear thrusts struck the giant, but his armor turned every blow. A few crossbow bolts had penetrated his armor, though, wounding him. The giant slew another spearman before Rayne stepped up and stabbed the giant under the armpit, where his armor was weaker. The sword sank deep and the giant bellowed with pain. A spear penetrated its leg armor and the giant fell, crushing a man under his weight.

  The remaining giants struck the spear wall, and it nearly buckled under the pressure. With each swing the giants crushed men or flung them aside. Men gave way but kept fighting. But for how long?

  Telea glanced over her shoulder, hoping the reinforcements were near, but they were still well up the street. The enemy would break through before the line could be steadied.

  Rayne was suddenly beside her. “Can you do something?” he shouted. He was wounded—blood covered his right arm and ran out from under his armor.

  Telea shook her head as she continued singing.

  “Do what you did in the jail cell. Or what you did when Duke Braxus had you tortured. You did magic. Powerful magic.”

  He wants you to summon a demon.

  Telea shook her head. Who would she use? She certainly wouldn’t use one of the defenders.

  Use the giant, her demon said. It isn’t dead. It will make a powerful servant.

  Telea looked down at the giant. Some soldiers had rolled it from the men it had fallen on. It was still alive. She saw it take a breath and turn its head. In the fury of the battle, no one had taken the time to finish off the dying creature.

  Do it now. You have little time.

  She didn’t know if the demon meant little time before the giant died or little time before the battle overtook them. It didn’t matter. The battle was lost if she didn’t do something.

  Telea stopped her song and ran to the giant. She knelt by its head. The giant wasn’t a monster. It looked like a man… a huge man. The man’s eyes fluttered open. It tried to speak, but failed.

  Do it.

  I can’t, she thought. I can’t do this to him.

  Use the power that is in you or perish. You’ll let all others perish as well. The Dromost Gate will open and your world will die.

  Telea glanced up at the desperate fighting surrounding her. Why don’t you want that? The world will be flooded with your kind.

  I am nothing, the demon replied, desperation creeping into its voice. Just a worm. I am only something with you. Do the ritual before it’s too late.

  The fighting was only a few paces away. The silver-eyed barbarians had entered the fight, and the men of Salador were overmatched. She had to do it now. The giant had a cut on its head. She drew a breath to start her chant.

  No. Not a possession. The giant is too weak to be useful. We must do a greater summoning. The giant must be transformed.

  Telea recoiled from the giant even as she continued her chant. I can’t! That’s how my father died.

  The giant’s life will save hundreds. Thousands. More.

  Telea touched the blood on the face of the giant. It didn’t move. Its eyes didn’t flicker. But there was life there yet.

  Protect yourself. Draw an unlus sign on your head and a merus on your heart.

  She knew what the demon meant. Draw it in blood.

  Telea dabbed her fingers in the giant’s blood and drew the sign on her forehead. She took more, and putting her hand down her shirt, drew another sign over her own heart. She nearly choked at the action. Telea had seen blood-smeared summoners in battle. Now she was one of them.

  The moment she began her chant, the giant convulsed and writhed in agony. The signs she had drawn on herself burned, but she fought through the pain. A demon was in the giant in the blink of an eye, and before she could react, it went for her. Shadowy tendrils of its power reached for her, wrapping themselves around her arms and neck.

  Telea’s voice caught for a moment as she fumbled the words. Her blood sigils flared as the wards she’d drawn on herself fought the demon’s attack.

  The Chant of Shields! her own demon called out. It fed the words to her, and without a thought, she called them out. The shadows recoiled for a heartbeat and then assailed her once more, but now she had the rhythm of the chant, and the demon fled back into the giant.

  Telea kept chanting, trapping the demon within the body of the giant, not letting it free to possess another. It had to stay in this body in order for her to command it. If it left, she would have no control at all.

  With a hideous, terrifying scream, the demon giant lurched to its feet. Its skin stretched and blackened as if on fire. Blood and smoke oozed from a thousand cuts as its back twisted, bringing its arms almost to the ground. Telea stepped back in horror as spines erupted from its skin.

  All around her, soldiers recoiled in horror, none even thinking to strike the monstrosity.

  Command it. Simple commands! Do it now!

  Telea’s voice caught in her throat. “Kill them!” she muttered, pointing towards the silver-eyed warriors pouring through the gate tunnel. The monster turned its red eyes on her but didn’t react.

  She pointed again. “Kill them! All of them! Kill the silver eyes! Kill the giants!”

  The monster roared a tremendous roar. Terror filled Telea. The beast was as terrible as any she’d ever seen in Belen. It was a beast like this the summoners had called on the East Pass where her master had died.

  The giant demon threw itself at the invaders. Huge, spiked arms swept left and right, sending the silver-eyed warriors flying. Another of the giants took a swing at the demon, but its maul seemed to have little effect on the creature’s spiky hide. The demon grasped the giant and tore its arm from its body.

  Telea’s demon rampaged through the attackers, none of whom retreated. The silver-eyes threw themselves at the demon and were cut down in swathes. The demon strode up to another giant, and with a single blow from a spike-covered fist, slew it.

  The demon roared and charged the varcolac near the tower.

  As the demon disappeared into the tower tunnel, Rayne shouted, “Forward! Seize the tower!”

  A corpse-strewn wasteland stood between the Saladoran lines and the tower. Telea had seen it before or close to it. Without a chorus of singers to fend them off, a powerful sacrifice demon was nearly unstoppable. How long would hers continue to rampage? She heard it bellowing beyond the tower.

  Unbound to this place, the giant body would give way and the demon would return to Dromost. But how long would that take? How many people would die because of her?

  “Come! Forward!” Rayne shouted again. Only a few had joined him. The demon fear was too strong. Nobody wanted to follow where the monster had gone.

  Telea drew a breath and sang. She sang the Song of Valor. It was strongest when sung with fire singers in accompaniment but still had magic as a water piece. She strode forward, still singing, and the men came with her as if under her spell. They weren’t, not truly. The magic pushed away their fears and made them realize their duty.

  As she looked around, she was distressed to see how few had followed her, in fact. She was not at her best. The fatigue of the past day weighed heavily on her. I’m not worthy to sing this song. I’m a summoner.

  You are a powerful summoner, her demon said. You did what had to be done.

  I am vile. I’ve betrayed myself.

  You won the day. Embrace who you’ve become.

  Rayne had entered the tunnel with a small band of soldiers. Telea pushed the demon from her mind and focused on her music. She stood at the entrance and faced the faltering soldiers behind the tower. Pouring herself into her song, she let her magic reach out to them.

  Telea advanced into the tunnel with a large group of Saladoran soldiers close behind her. The tunnel was dark and stank of blood and death. She tripped over a body and fell onto a corpse—silver-eye or Saladoran, she didn’t know. She felt the man’s slick blood on her hands.

  Standing, she wiped the blood on her dress. Someone had a torch
behind her. She was only momentarily happy at the light. Then she saw the slaughter her demon had committed. Forcing herself not to look down, she stumbled to the front of the tunnel.

  Her demon was half way across the bridge. It had left a path of blood and destruction behind it as it slaughtered its way forward. Now its advance had halted. A dozen or more men in long white robes and heavy armor fought the demon. “Eternal Knights,” Rayne said. “Cragor is here.”

  Beyond the demon a brilliant gold-white flame flashed. Telea’s demon recoiled from the light, shielding its eyes with its great, spiked arms. Eternals leapt forward, striking the demon with blows far more powerful than any mortal could manage. The demon shrieked in pain and anger.

  With a sweep of its arm, the demon threw an eternal from the bridge. The knight spun like a thrown doll as it disappeared from sight. With another blow the demon crushed an eternal into the bridge, silver blood flying as the bridge shuddered under the impact.

  An eternal slammed a poleaxe into the demon giant’s head, stunning it and causing it to fall to its hands and knees. Another eternal drove his spear through the giant’s leg and the creature fell, writhing and flailing. Finally an eternal drove his sword through the demon’s back and into its heart. It shuddered and lay still.

  A man with golden armor and silver eyes stepped atop the demon. His hand glowed with a brilliant silver-gold light he raised high over his head. Telea could barely stand its piercing light.

  “The Orb of Creation!” Telea said.

  “Cragor,” Rayne said.

  “They killed my—the demon,” Telea said. “They did it without song.”

  Eternals gathered around Cragor, facing the tower.

  “Where’s Handrin?” Rayne said, his voice low. “We can’t hold them without his magic.” He turned to a nearby soldier. “Get into the tower. Find the king! We need him here!”