The shade rearing up behind Maloric struck, and Calard threw himself forwards to intervene. Even as insubstantial, shadow-talons stabbed dow n tow ards the Sangasse earl's helmet, Calard thrust his gleaming sword over Maloric's shoulder, impaling the daemon.
For a second he saw its blind, skinless face spitted on his sword tip before it disappeared.
Maloric's sw ord w as just inches from Calard's throat, his eyes were wide in shock.
Calard sw ung aw ay from him to engage the other darting shadows surrounding them both.
Laudethaire lifted a curving, silver horn to his lips and blasted a long note upon it, before turning to face the onslaught of Norscans closing in on them. More of his companions had been overw helmed now, for their weapons were useless against the daemons. Clusters of the shadow y daemons still lingered over their twitching bodies, heads low ered over them in fascination, cluttering excitedly.
Reolus w as continuing to battle against a veritable flood of daemons. They had completely surrounded him, stabbing and slashing. It was impossible to discern how many of them there w ere, for their forms blurred together into one, nightmarish tw isting fury, spinning around the grail knight and almost completely obscuring him from sight.
Calard dragged his gaze aw ay as again he heard the roar of enemies made of flesh and blood. A tide of Norscans w as racing tow ards them, axes and spears raised. At their fore w as a massive beast of a man w hom he recognised as their war leader, a seven foot tall giant w ith grey-streaked hair and beard. He wielded an axe in each hand and his face was a mask of rage.
A pair of giant w arhounds raced out in front, outpacing their master as they headed directly for Calard, but the w arlord barked a command, pointing tow ards the witch.
They changed direction instantly, heading towards the heavily pregnant noblewoman, w ho w as still backing aw ay tow ards the edge of the headland.
Laudethaire blew another note on his silver horn, and cutting through the shadowy body of another daemon, he sw ung to face the onslaught of Norscans.
Anara w as shouting words that Calard could not understand. He realised that she had been incanting for some time, and as she reached a crescendo she slammed her staff into the ground again. A blast of light and wind radiated out around her, exploding outw ards with colossal force.
Calard w as throw n to the ground, half blinded, but as he blinked his eyes and struggled to his knees, he saw that the last of the daemons were gone.
The w itch too seemed to have been stunned by the sheer power that Anara had unleashed, but she recovered quickly. Calard felt sick to the pit of his stomach as he saw the features of his Elisabet tw isted by hatred and evil as she stared at Anara, and he felt the w itch gathering her power.
Lightning crackled in her black eyes, but before she had a chance to unleash it, one of the giant Norscan w arhounds struck her, bow ling her over and jaw s clamping around one of her arms. There was the sickening sound of bones crunching as the beast bit dow n hard, and the witch screamed in agony, her concentration shattered.
The second hound leaped on her, biting into her thigh and shaking its head from side to side, throwing her to the ground like a rag doll.
Then the Norscans were upon them. The giant enemy w ar leader claimed the first kill, cleaving his axe through the body of one of the Parravonians, the huge weapon shearing through plate armour, flesh, ribs and spinal column, and blood splattered everyone nearby. The knight fell, hacked completely in two through the chest.
An axe arced for Calard's head, and he managed to turn it aside w ith a frantic swipe of his blade, though the force of the blow jarred his arm. A spear-tip screeched a line across his helmet, and he lashed out w ith his sword blindly. A solid boot slammed into his chest, knocking him backw ards to the ground.
A w ild-haired Norscan leapt on his chest, straddling him. This one was not nearly as large as the others, and his hair and eyes were dark w here the others were generally flaxen-haired and pale-eyed. Still, for all that he seemed possibly even more savage than his comrades, w ith a crazed look in his eyes that w as somehow akin to the unnatural light he sometimes saw in Anara's eye, and he w ondered if this could be some feral Norscan sorcerer or priest. His tautly muscled chest was covered in tattoos, and he w ore thick, matted furs over his shoulders. Calard's eyes focused on the serpentine dagger the Norscan lifted up in both hands, blade angled downwards, ready to be plunged into his neck. He fought him, struggling to throw the manic Norscan off him, but to no avail.
A shield smashed into the Norscan's face, breaking his nose and knocking him off Calard's chest, and Bertelis stepped in front of his brother, defending him as he scrambled back to his feet.
Another of the Parravonians was hacked down by the Norse warlord, split from crown to sternum, and another had his head shorn from his shoulders by the thick-bladed sw ord of a black-armoured bear of a man w ho looked incredibly drunk.
The enraged gaze of the w arlord was fixed behind the knights desperately forming a defensive circle against the Norscans surrounding them, and Calard risked a glance behind him to see w hat w as happening. Only feet from the edge of the headland, he saw Reolus kick one of the warhounds aw ay from Elisabet. The animal scrabbled frantically, but w ent over the edge, yelping as it fell a hundred feet onto the rocks below . The grail knight impaled the other beast w ith a dow nward strike of his blade, plunging it down with both hands like a huge dagger. The sword w as driven through the w arhound's thickly muscled neck, pinning it to the ground as it died, thrashing and snarling, hot blood pooling beneath it.
Calard heard the Norse chieftain roar in fury as he launched himself towards the grail knight, barging his ow n warriors out of the w ay in his haste.
The w itch-Elisabet, one hand clutching her distended belly, was trying to regain her feet. One arm w as a floppy, blood-smeared ruin, but there w as still power in her, and she inhaled sharply, electricity crackling in her eyes.
Again Laudethaire blew a note on his silver horn, and the air behind the witch was suddenly filled with beating w ings and flailing hooves as a w hite, equine shape soared up from the edge of the cliff, a knight in its saddle. The witch spun around and extended one hand tow ards the pegasus, and arcs of contorting energy leapt from her fingertips to strike the beast in the chest.
It screamed as its flesh withered and atrophied beneath the coruscating dark energy, as if all the moisture in its body w as suddenly drawn out. It muscles shrivelled and its skin shrank. In a heartbeat its ribs w ere protruding like those of a month old corpse, and its head w as little more than a skull covered in a taut layer of dried skin, shrivelled eyes lolling in empty sockets.
Bones snapped like dry twigs, unable to hold the pegasus's own bodyweight, and the noble beast toppled out of the air as its w ings snapped with audible cracks. It hit the ground and all four legs w ere instantly broken. Desiccated, but somehow still alive, the pegasus toppled backw ards over the cliffs edge, taking its rider with it.
The w itch spun back tow ards Anara, but the damsel thrust the point of her staff forw ard, striking her squarely betw een the eyes. The blow felled the witch instantly, and she slumped to the ground, unconscious.
More pegasus rose up from over the edge of the headland, and they swooped down into the frantic melee. They buffeted the Norscans with their pow erful w ings, breaking arms and knocking men back, their hooves caving in skulls. Only one of the beasts had a rider in the saddle, and that knight drove his lance through the body of a Norscan, impaling him.
'Mount! Mount!' shouted Laudethaire, leaping into the saddle of his own steed, which had cleared a space around its master. A hurled spear struck him in the shoulder, driving up underneath his pauldron and embedding deep in his body, and he rocked backw ards, gasping in agony.
Bertelis took a heavy blow on his shield that bent it out of shape, though his lightning riposte slashed open his attacker's throat, and blood fountained from the fatal w ound. He spun, and grabbing the saddle horn of a pegasus, he
hauled himself up.
There was a rearing pegasus before Calard, keeping the Norscan temporarily at bay w ith its flashing hooves.
'What about Reolus and Anara?' shouted Calard, trying to see through the press of pegasus and men.
'They're fine,' shouted Laudethaire, wrenching the spear from his shoulder and hurling it aw ay from him. 'Get in the saddle, Garamont!'
Calard stepped into the stirrups and w as up in the saddle in an instant. A blade arced tow ards him and he met it w ith a blow of his ow n, the sound of steel on steel ringing out loudly. He hacked the blade dow n as the pegasus reared and flapped its w ings, carving through a Norscan's helmet and skull.
Guiding his steed with his knees, Calard turned around, casting a w ary eye around him.
A pegasus nearby w ent dow n, an axe carving its legs from beneath it, splashing its pristine white body w ith blood, and another knight w as killed, dragged from the saddle by a frenzied w arrior woman and hacked apart. The Norse had encircled them now ; the brief respite that they had enjoyed with the arrival of the pegasus was now lost.
Laudethaire w as already airborne, and the other pegasus w ere eager to fly, following his lead.
Another of the noble creatures w as killed, an axe shattering its chest and it spilt its rider over its head as it ploughed into the ground, rolling on top of the knight and crushing the life from him.
Calard slashed dow n at a Norscan straining to grab his reins. He sliced the fingers from the marauder's hand, and narrowly avoided being struck from the saddle by a w ildly aimed axe-strike.
'Go! Go!' he urged, kicking the pegasus hard, and it broke into a gallop, bow ling Norscans out of the w ay, and then he was in the air. A spear sliced past his head, and he saw another of the pegasus fall screaming as it w as struck by a hurled axe, the heavy w eapon spinning end over end before breaking the beast's right wing.
As he rose into the air, he glanced around tow ards the headland. He saw Anara in the saddle of a pegasus, and Reolus climbing into the saddle of another, cradling the unconscious form of the w itch that wore Elisabet's form.
Calard saw the enemy w arlord launch himself tow ards Reolus, roaring in outrage.
Anara w as in his w ay, and her pegasus reared as the Norscan bore dow n on her, silver-shod hooves flashing as it rose into the air. The Norscan came on, undaunted by the pow er in the beast's limbs, and he grabbed it by its bridle, dragging it back dow n to earth in an inhuman display of strength. Even as he pulled the pegasus off balance, he slammed his axe into its neck, and blood sprayed.
Reolus's pegasus could not possibly carry three people, and Calard tugged frantically on the reins, dragging his steed's head around tow ards his sister. She had rolled clear of her dying mount, and w as facing the tow ering Norscan looming before her.
Calard guided his pegasus dow n towards the warlord from behind, and his blade sliced through the air as they dipped low.
The Norscan sensed the attack coming and hurled himself to the side, throwing himself into a roll.
avoiding Calard's blade by scant inches. The pegasus hit the ground running, and Calard reached tow ards Anara w ith one hand. They gripped each other's forearms, and the damsel sw ung up behind him. The powerful steed continued to gallop for a few steps before it leaped out over the edge of the cliff, and they soared into the updraft.
Calard glanced over his shoulder and saw Reolus, bearing the unconscious and pregnant body of Elisabet, launch into the air behind them. The massive Norscan chieftain standing on the cliffs edge roared in outrage, eyes blazing in fury.
Turning, Calard leant forward in the saddle and patted his pegasus mount on the neck.
BJARKI MOVED TO stand alongside Styrbjorn, w iping the blood of his broken nose from his face. The jarl stared in fury at the w hite shapes of the pegasus flying into the distance, heading eastward.
'I w ant her back, Bjarki,' Styrbjorn said. He looked dow n at the seer, his eyes blazing w ith the fire of the gods. 'If it means killing every single one of these southlander w horesons, I want her back.'
Bjarki smiled and licked his sharpened teeth in anticipation.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
INSIDE THE WALLS of Castle Lyonesse, in the shadow of the looming keep, Chlod shivered and stood as straight as his hunched back allow ed. The yeoman warden stalked up and dow n the ranks of peasants, scowling as he barked orders at them.
Chlod had been one of the lucky ones - only a tiny fraction of the population that inhabited the tow nship on the mainland had been allowed to make the crossing and take shelter within the castle walls.
The Norscans had appeared on the horizon at daw n and panic had spread like lice through a flophouse. The sails of countless longships could be seen in the distance, spread as far as the eye could see. Peasants in their tens of thousands had streamed to the docklands, desperate to board one of the barges that ferried betw een the tow n and the island fortress of the duke, just offshore.
In times of peace, those barges ran back and forth from the duke's castle half a dozen times a day, loaded w ith produce, servants and taxes. The ferry-masters had been serving their duke in such a manner for countless generations, and they knew their craft w ell. Only in the most turbulent of seas w ere they reluctant to make the crossing.
A grow ing, panicked mob of peasants had raced to the docks, fighting each other in desperation to get aboard the flat-bottomed vessels, but they had been met by a garrison of men-at-arms, w ho w ere determined not to let them pass. Scores were killed in the ensuing ruckus, but the crow ds had been held at bay until a contingent of knights had arrived. The duke's knights had ridden into the crowd, killing scores before the remainder had scattered.
Only those w ho were judged able to fight had been allowed to make the crossing, for there w as a finite amount of space w ithin the castle walls; there was no hope of it providing shelter for everyone. Those deemed unable to aid in the defence of the castle - including women, children, the elderly and the infirm - had been advised by the duke's men-at-arms to abandon their homes and strike westward, to seek shelter in the villages a day's ride aw ay. No escort was offered - every able man w as going to be needed in the forthcoming siege.
One loudmouth peasant merchant, fat w ith self-righteousness, had berated the men-at-arms, shouting that it w as the duke's duty to protect those w ho laboured in his service, those who paid him taxes. Chlod had backed aw ay from the merchant, as had all the other peasants nearby, knowing what w as to come. The obese man had been clubbed to the ground by the soldiers, leaving him a broken, bloody mess in the mud. No one else had voiced their displeasure after that. They knew better. They understood and accepted their lot in life, and did not voice such complaints; or at least not w ithin earshot of the men-at-arms.
Chlod had heard a rumour that the famous knight Laudethaire, Beloved of Parravon, had conducted a daring raid against the Norse two nights ago and rescued a beautiful princess from the clutches of the barbarians. He had also heard that the story w as being spread by individuals in the pay of the Parravonian knight, and while some might had said that w as mere slander, Chlod could well believe it w as true.
The story had sounded romantic and heroic in its increasingly exaggerated retellings the night before, but now that the consequences of it w ere becoming clear, Chlod dearly w ished that the noblewoman had been left where she was. The nobility had never done anything for him but make his life a constant misery; it would be just his luck to die now because of one upper-class w ench. All those who had not been allow ed to seek shelter within the walls of Castle Lyonesse had probably been condemned to death - some ten thousand peasants, all told. He found it morbidly amusing, and not at all surprising, that the nobility would happily sacrifice so many for the life of one of their ow n.
Nevertheless, Chlod happily admitted to being a selfish individual, and he was just pleased that he had managed to be amongst those deemed sturdy enough to help in the defence of Castle Lyonesse. In truth, he had no desire to fi
ght - he had been engaged in one of the noble's wars before, in Bordeleaux, and frankly it had scared the stuffing out of him - but he reckoned that he w as safer w ithin these stout w alls than outside them.
His judgement had proven sound. Only hours after the longships had been sighted, the Norse had surrounded the island fortress, and hundreds of their ships had been beached on the mainland. From atop the w alls, the Bretonnians had w atched impotently as the tow nship on the mainland w as sacked. The ash from the burning tow n still filled the air, falling from the sky like a dark mimicry of snowflakes. They had w atched as enemy outriders had galloped westward. Chlod expected few of the peasants that had abandoned the tow n w ould survive.
Several of the Norse ships had been sunk as the immense trebuchets atop the castle tow er had loosed, giant counterweights propelling the arms of the w ar machines at great speed. Chunks of rock were hurled high into the air, and while most fell short, splashing down into the ocean, some of the longships had ventured within range and w ere smashed to tinder. The Bretonnians had cheered as the waters around these w recks had turned into a bloody, churning froth as the Norscans were devoured by the sharks following in the wake of the ships, but the mood had soon turned sombre once more as the sheer scale of the Norscan force became apparent.
Just outside the range of the trebuchets, the Norscans formed an arcing blockade around the island fastness. Longships w ere lashed together, forming an impenetrable w all, and hundreds upon hundreds more w ere beached on the mainland. A few of the ships w ere unlike the others - large hulks with giant cages built into their decks, though w hat w as held in those holds Chlod could not discern. Still, the trumpeting that issued from them as hundreds of Norscans strained to drag them up the beach had threatened to make his bow els loosen.
Warhammer - Knight of the Realm Page 19