Andril watched him go with an air of remorse. “Oh you fool,” he said sorrowfully to his back, “if only you knew how much you meant to him.”
Before he followed after Duoreod, though, Andril glanced back at the storm of fire and ash coming upon them. He too felt afraid.
Chapter 14
Strike Swift, Strike Hard
They were on the move again before dawn came upon the land, though any beam of sunlight would have been greatly diminished by the covering of smoke that filled the sky. The fire had come at last, and it consumed all in its path. Tree, bush, and the bodies of the dead were burned away to ashes. Scouts reported that the men of the valley were preparing to retaliate at various stations along the road to the city they called Valdorin, but the captains and commanders seemed hardly concerned with any such thing, considering it a minor setback.
Tisla, captain of Neth’tek Vulzdagg’s own contingent, had repeated the discussion of the topic to Vexor Hulmir just before they were to continue their conquest of the surface world. “They seem determined the raze the city to the ground,” she had said, “But they fear that with the flight of the people to the Silver City we may be caught between the hammer and the anvil of this people, with the Adya coming upon our backs as we set Valdorin aflame. Lord General Kalliboar has issued the tenth and ninth regiments toward the Silver City, to block any attack from there.”
Vexor sniffed nonchalantly, looking away at the crimson horizon. “There will be blood on both sides, then,” he said. “Kalliboar doesn’t know what he’s doing. I doubt even you understand the full purpose of this charge. Why, I wonder, does the Urden’Dagg desire to destroy this world in open war?”
“Sometimes I believe you ask too many questions, Vexor,” said Tisla.
“And you ask too few,” Vexor said stubbornly.
She folded her arms and followed his gaze toward the horizon, wondering what he was looking upon so intently. “Vexor,” she said, “I fear for you.”
“Fear is an illusion, Tisla. It can distract you from what is right before your face.” He waited for her to give some smart response, but when she said nothing he decided to take the conversation another direction. “I spoke with the child. He is... confused.”
“Like you?” she asked. The tone of her voice was callous, even annoyed.
“Perhaps when I first was forced into the service of the Urden’Dagg, just as he was,” Vexor replied. “But you were right about one thing. He is angry, though not at the Urden’Dagg or any of his companions.”
“What has he got to be angry about, then?” said Tisla when he would not continue.
“Must there always be a reason?” Vexor answered.
Tisla sighed in annoyance. “Why must you always be so difficult, Vexor,” she said. “I almost wish you could see what I see; the necessity of what we’re doing here.”
Vexor held his breath as his mind caught hold of her words, and he weighed them carefully. Although he would openly deny it, Vexor Hulmir wished he could. “Death, destruction, torment and grief...” he said softly, repeating the words of Neth’tek from the night before, “These are the things that the boy has endured in the Shadow Realms, and he blames himself for all of it... He, well, he believes he’s here to pay restitution to the Urden’Dagg for the rebelliousness of his Branch.”
Tisla was silent as she considered his words. And then she nodded, and looked sidelong at him. “Those words carry a heavy burden, Vexor,” she said. “Be careful what you say to him. If restitution is what he believes he is here for, let him believe so no matter how false it may be. If it’s his hope, let it be his hope.”
Vexor nodded and said nothing more.
When neither of them spoke, Tisla turned and began walking back toward the camps of the ten battalions. “It is time,” she said to him as she went.
Vexor frowned, looking back at the dark sky one more time before following her.
*****
Neth’tek Vulzdagg jumped from his sleeping place when he heard the horn blast, awakening the army from the nights rest, and he snatched his satchel and slung it over his shoulder as the others of his battalion ran to where Tisla was standing upon a broad boulder, waving her scimitar over her head and calling to them. Commander Taganar road by on his basilisk, blowing the horn and then shouting to those who stood dumbfounded, confused and still half asleep.
But Neth’tek pushed through the crowd of soldiers making their way to their captains to get to his own. When he finally managed to stand before his own captain with the rest of his battalion, Neth’tek glimpsed Vexor as he slipped out of the trees to the east and fell in line with the others.
He rubbed his hands to keep them warm. Eventually the hold battalion had formed and Tisla lowered her sword, showing that she was ready. Commander Taganar road up to the base of the rock and must have gave instructions to her, for she nodded at whatever he had said and then waved her sword toward the north and jumped down from the boulder.
“It’s about time,” a soldier muttered beside Neth’tek, “Yesterday was hardly enough excitement. I can’t wait to put my blade through another one of their guts.”
“Or an arrow in an eye or two,” said another in response to the first.
They laughed as the squad turned left, moving further into the trees northward and up the road. neth’tek hadn’t bothered to learn any of their names. He figured that if any one of them was to show him kindness, prove that their names were worth remembering, he’d consider them a friend. So far, however, he only knew the name of Vexor Hulmir – besides the captain and commander, and the other leaders of the forces of the Urden’Dagg of course. But his relationship with the ranger was confusing to him. He wasn’t sure whether he liked the soldier or not.
Hearing such talk of killing these people gave him mixed emotions. As much as he wanted to fight for the Urden’Dagg and win back its favor for his namesake, he didn’t like them or the way that they spoke of murdering the creatures. It made him feel sick to his stomach.
He looked through the faces of the soldiers in front of him as they moved along, searching for Vexor Hulmir. It took a moment to pick him out of the many similar faces of The Followers. Vexor walked at the front rank of the battalion, holding his short black bow with an arrow already knocked to the string. His face was firmly set on the road before them.
Neth’tek nearly tripped, though, when he kicked the heel of the person in front of him.
“Watch where you’re stepping, fool!” The Follower said harshly from over his shoulder, scowling in annoyance.
“Sorry,” Neth’tek muttered, and he watched where he was stepping from that time until Tisla called for them to halt.
Captain Tisla motioned to Vexor and nodded at the trees to their right, saying something that those behind the front rank could not hear, and Vexor Hulmir turned and waved at the other archers before trotting off into the shadows of the trees with his bow held at the ready. A score of archers followed soon after he had gone, each drawing arrows and knocking them to the tight strings of their dark bows.
Neth’tek watched them go until they were out of sight. “I wonder what that was for,” he said just loud enough for The Follower at his side to hear.
“Ambush maybe,” the other replied, “A friend of mine overheard the scouts saying that the creatures had built a barricade and are prepared for our coming.”
Neth’tek nodded. “Ambush them where they’re planning to ambush us,” he said. “That’s brilliant.”
Tisla did not give them the command to move until a good five minutes after the archers had gone into the woods. She turned from the trees and faced the ranks of soldiers awaiting her orders, and it seemed to Neth’tek that she hesitated before them, as if considering herself before giving any command. But then she raised her sword up and called out in a much louder voice than Neth’tek thought was safe in this part of the countryside. “Draw your swords, Followers of the all great and the all powerful Urden’Dagg! Draw your swords and let us
cleanse this land of the demons that have taken it from us!”
She turned and dashed up the road, and those in the foremost ranks charged after her with a cry of battle. Neth’tek found himself falling in behind them with his own scimitars in his hands.
They went round a bend in the road, the trees blocking that which was in front of them, and came upon a short stone wall guarded by several score of armed men in bronze armor. They hefted shields and brandished swords when The Followers came into view, and there were some upon the wall that drew arrows to their heads. Neth’tek was afraid when he saw them, and for a moment began to slow down almost as if he were going to stop.
And then from the trees a volley of arrows came raining down upon the guardsmen and they fell to the earth, clutching at the shafts protruding from their bodies. Some screamed and even ran away, while others raised their shields to block from further attacks and rushed at the front line of The Followers.
Several arrows were fired from archers who had not been struck by Vexor’s hidden troupe, and they came down upon The Followers both in the front and in the rear of the charge. However, none came close to striking Neth’tek.
The men of Heinsfar were run down and driven away from the security of the wall, allowing The Followers of the Urden’Dagg to leap over and continue on their charge toward the more settled parts of the forested valley. Tisla was the first over the wall, the agile Followers easily scaling it with a single leap, and Neth’tek watched her combat an opponent as he leapt after her. The man did not last long against the agile fighter, and before long she had cut him across the throat with her scimitar.
He dropped to the ground on the other side of the wall and looked about as his troupe slaughtered whatever warrior of the enemy that dared to stand their ground and fight back.
“Forward!” Tisla screamed as she raised her bloodied blade into the air, the warm liquid shining on the end of her cold adamant scimitar. “Forward, warriors of the Urden’Dagg, and conquer!”
Neth’tek brandished his own scimitars, feeling a pulse of energy rush through his limps as he heard the words of his captain, and charged on up the way they had been going. Men were fleeing from before them, though their going was slow and Neth’tek outran them much faster than he could have imagined he could go, and swinging with his left scimitar he cut the thigh of the first one that he passed.
The creature bellowed a cry and fell to one knee, holding his leg as blood oozed from the wound. He looked up even as Neth’tek turned back round and came toward him again, and prying off a bronze mask the man reached for the sword that had fallen from his hand. However, powered by the thrill of battle, Neth’tek moved much quicker than the stunned creature, and kicked the sword from his fingers even as they touched its hilt, and then drove his scimitar into his chest.
The man grunted as the blade slipped through his armor and pierced his heart, blood already seeping out of the crack that Neth’tek made in his breastplate. He watched as the mans eyes rolled back in his head and his entire body stiffened and then went limp, slipping off his sword to fall with a clank of armor plates to the damp earth.
Neth’tek continued to stand there for a moment, both of his weapons now dripping blood, and stared the thing he had killed. It was the first time he had ever engaged a real enemy, more than just a spar with his brother in training, or even with another classmate, but someone that actually wanted him dead. And, surprisingly, he had won without even a scratch. It was an amazing feeling that came over him... although, as much as amazed as he was, Neth’tek couldn’t help but feel a strange pit in his stomach.
Dril’ead taught me to do this, said he’d be truly pleased to see me win against a real enemy, he thought as he looked at the dead creature. Well, Dril’ead, are you pleased?
Of the soldier rushing passed him one stopped and nudged him with the end of his sword. “Come on!” he said, “There’s more work that needs doing!”
Neth’tek looked up as if out of a trance and at the face of the young fighter.
“Don’t pat your back just yet,” the soldier said with a grin, and then took off after the others.
Neth’tek spun round and took off with the rest of his battalion. He could hear horns echoing up the forest road from ahead, alarms and signals to soldiers, and again felt the thrill of the battle come over him again. This was what he had been born for, after all. This is what all of his endless hours of studying in the mansion of his family’s estate had been for. Now he could finally prove how great of a warrior he was to the Urden’Dagg, and perhaps none would doubt him.
They battled long into the morning. Fire consumed the land behind them. The darkness of the smoke filled the sky above them, and Neth’tek’s swords were deep in the blood of these people before long.
Outposts were ransacked and burned to the ground at Tisla’s command. She laid about with her scimitar at all those who belonged to the countryside, spilling warm blood on patches of pure white snow. Neth’tek and the others followed her example and slaughtered whatever came into their paths, whether it was a fleeing man or woman, or a warrior who swung a heavy sword or axe at them.
It seemed as if the harder The Followers of the Urden’Dagg fought, the more swiftly the flames of their fires burned up the land, and the deeper the blackness of the smoke was about them. For as they came to a village and threw down its gate and set fire to its settlements, slaying its inhabitants in the streets with no heed to their pleas for mercy, the fire burned even the trees beyond the borders of the towns and homesteads, waiting for them to pass on before cleansing it of the blood of the people.
All fell into blackness, the world seeming to only be lit by the glow of the fires.
Neth’tek followed his captain, staying with a band of warriors who laughed and mocked the dead and the dying. They watched Tisla carelessly slaw a man after he had been drug from his house and thrown in the street; her blade cutting his head from his shoulders to roll in the mud now turned to crimson. They then threw brands of fire into the windows and doorway of the house afterwards, burning it down with whatever and whoever left inside.
Eventually the people quite resisting and either fled or begged for their lives to be spared, and Neth’tek watched as Tisla gave command after command for them all to be killed. He went in with a group of other warriors and found a small family hiding in the back room, and moving with the others he grabbed one and dragged her screaming out of the house and into the street, where they were executed and left to fester in the smoke and fire.
“It is glorious!” cried one of the soldiers, throwing up his hands toward the smoky heavens, flames roaring all around him.
Neth’tek moved on, however, and only gave a passing glance at this soldier praising the work of the Urden’Dagg. He kept his scimitars out as he searched for a wandering creature that hadn’t been dealt with, or a house that hadn’t been set aflame yet, and from between two burning homesteads he saw a man come stumbling out and fall in the mud. No one else seemed to notice him, so Neth’tek strode forward with his bloodied scimitars ready to slay him.
The man put up his hands, however, and climbed to his knees as if to plead for his life. “Please!” he said weakly, blood caked on the side of his face where there was a horrendous gash. “Don’t kill me, I beg you!”
“Beg the Urden’Dagg,” Neth’tek said as he put out his scimitar and pressed it against the man’s throat. He no longer cared to take another’s life. He had seen it done by his comrades and captain without a second’s hesitation.
The man just grabbed Neth’tek’s cloak and tugged on him. “Don’t kill me!” he cried, tears on his face.
Neth’tek looked at him for a moment, as if his mind had stopped working for a moment, but as he blinked away whatever thought was about to pass through his mind he rammed his sword through the creatures neck.
The corpse fell over sideways in the mud, twitching, and Neth’tek stepped back and looked about him. “Glory to the Urden’Dagg!” he bellowed like the s
oldier he had seen, “Victory to the Urden’Dagg!”
He ran after the others with renewed vigor and determination to do the work of his deity, forgetting all about Dril’ead and Vaknorbond, forgetting about the words of Vexor Hulmir. The archer seemed to have vanished during the initial assault, but no one seemed to care.
They were all too busy killing and burning, and the land was filled with darkness and the sound of the screams of dying souls.
Chapter 15
Oath of Fire, Promise of Ash
Four beings of the purest white appeared in the midst of the storm of fire and ash that consumed the Hilled Valley of Heinsfar. They held their arms up to the fire, palms forward, and were chanting in the dialect of The Followers of the Urden’Dagg. The flames parted before their command, and a huge shadow stepped through, armor clanking with each step, a magnificent sword shining from its straps on his back.
The four priests of the Urden’Dagg bowed, keeping their palms lifted toward him. “Glory is thine, mighty one!” they said in unison. “Your armies have spread to the four corners of this world, leaving the way before thee open, so that thine vengeance may be quenched.”
Diamoad the Urden’Dagg looked about the world that had once been his home. This, however, looked nothing how he remembered it. This was a barren wasteland, charred and rotting with the decay of a thousand corpses already. But he smiled, and reaching over his shoulder he withdrew the mighty sword from its scabbard. “Let it be done,” he said as he spread his arms out to either side, the sword glowing in his right.
The priests stood in obedience and began their chant once again, though the tempo picked up and their voices sounded fierce and forbidding. They put their palms toward the earth and then raised them up, a cloud of ash and smoke swirling around the Urden’Dagg until he could no longer be seen.
War of Shadow and Light: Part Three of the Redemption Cycle Page 8