Gauntlet of Iniquity (The Azuleah Trilogy Book 2)

by Daniel Adorno

  Her brothers couldn’t be that callous…could they?

  When all of Aldron’s troops and horses were assembled at the courtyard, Lucius saw three knights riding to the front of the group. The leader of the trio was Lord Blaise. He rode on a black stallion and wore plate-mail that covered him from the neck down. The familiar eagle symbol of Aldron was emblazoned on his chest armor, and he held his steel helm tucked under one arm. His steely gaze scanned the thousands of men at his command.

  “Men of Aldron, hear my voice,” Blaise shouted over the throng. “Today we face a peril that threatens not only our city but our very way of life. Many of you expected a different enemy on this battlefield: Draknoir or dragons. That fight may yet be upon us, but our enemies this day are rogues who wish to usurp the sovereign authority of our king. We will not allow such rebellion and tyranny to overtake our proud country. So let us ride to the north and beat back these insufferable elves from our land in the name of our King!”

  Blaise raised his sword high and let out a loud battle cry. Every warrior, including Lucius, mimicked the action and yelled as one.

  The Aldron host marched out of the courtyard toward the north. Citizens of Aldron lined the streets to watch them go. Many somber faces filled the crowd, but Lucius also saw many families cheering and chanting, “Aldron reigns forever!” as they left the city.

  A month ago, the prospect of riding out into a major battle would have terrified Lucius. But having died in combat and seen the heavenly realm beyond this life, fear no longer gripped him as before. He felt secure and confident that he’d see this dark time through. However, anxiety about his friends—specifically Siegfried and Avani—filled his mind. He still hadn’t heard any word about Siegfried or Ulric’s foray into the woods north of Neroterra. And the scouts assigned to report on the rebels’ movements hadn’t seen Avani anywhere. He prayed—for the hundredth time this day—that both Siegfried and Avani were still alive.

  The march to the southern swath of the Golden Plains was slow-going. Fresh snow had covered the grasslands, making the horses’ progress slow. Lucius’ own horse, Penna, could hardly tolerate the knee-deep snow embankments they had to cross over. The last he’d ridden the bay mare was in Neroterra moments before he made the mistake of wearing the Gauntlet of Iniquity. Though they had only been acquainted for a little while, Penna remembered Lucius and quickly nuzzled his hand on his first visit to the stables. It was a small comfort that the animal was affectionate toward him, an average rider at best. Her haunches shivered once more as they trudged through another snow bank.

  “Easy, girl. I don’t like the snow either,” Lucius said, patting the horse’s neck.

  Penna shook her head as though she agreed with Lucius.

  They plodded through a glen, then stopped for a momentary rest. Despite the wintry conditions they faced, the sun shining overhead helped keep the troops warm. The Drachengarde seemed ready for the fight, many shifting anxiously on their saddles, awaiting the order to continue. When Blaise gave the order, Dudley relayed it immediately and Lucius fell in line with the rest.

  After cresting a hill leading out of the glen, Blaise called for his officers to order a halt and for the disparate lines to assemble. Those soldiers on foot ran to their positions at the front lines while cavalry divisions split up behind them and guarded the flanks. Dudley moved the Drachengarde near the right flank. Lucius reasoned their position would make it easy to break away from the main force when their time to attack came.

  From the hill, Lucius saw a thin black line across the plains slowly advancing toward them. Dudley pulled out a spyglass from a pouch on his saddle and surveyed the incoming enemy. He passed the spyglass to his second-in-command, Darius, a dark-skinned Talij warrior who emigrated to Aldron many years ago. The Talij were a nomadic people who lived in the Kroshen Wastes just south of the Maguna Mountains. Lucius had learned they were strong, hearty warriors who valued their independence and freedom in the desert above anything else.

  “They will be upon us in less than an hour,” Darius said, still staring through the spyglass.

  “Yes. Pointy-eared devils will probably sent out a dozen volleys before we’re in close quarters,” Dudley said. He tugged on his reins and steered his horse toward Blaise’s position at the center of the battlelines. “I’ll go remind Blaise to assign defenders to our archers. I’m sure the twins will aim the volleys at them first.”

  The hour before the conflict began was gut-wrenching. The men all around Lucius tried to ease the tension by rolling dice or talking about the warm food they’d eat when they returned to Aldron.

  A commotion in the front lines caught Lucius’ attention. A few men were pointing toward the enemy lines where a group of riders had broken away from the main force. White flags were carried by the riders, signifying their desire to parley.

  “Well, that’s interesting,” Dudley said, watching the approaching riders with his spyglass. “Looks like it’s that traitor Brandewulf and the Rubiwinds coming for a talk.”

  Lucius’ gaze moved to Lord Blaise, who made his way to the front of lines with Duke Weifar and a handful of knights to meet the enemy party. They assembled at the midpoint between both of the opposing forces.

  “Can you make out what they’re saying, sir?” Lucius asked Dudley. He stood behind the Drachengarde leader and Darius, sitting atop Penna.

  Dudley turned to him quizzically. “Unfortunately, I can’t read lips, Lucius,” he replied then turned back to the scene ahead. “But I can tell you that Brandewulf is boasting about something based on his body language alone.” Dudley’s eyebrows came together suddenly in a deep frown.

  “What is it?” Darius prompted.

  “Brandewulf just unsheathed his sword and he’s waving it for Blaise to see. It’s…a peculiar-looking weapon. Looks elvish—”

  “It’s the Requiem Sword,” Lucius cut in. His heart raced at the prospect of that vile man brandishing the legendary sword.

  Dudley shook his head. “Blaise isn’t impressed. The elves are chatting now—looks like this is just a bragging fest, gents. We’ll be getting no parley here.”

  As the words escaped Dudley’s mouth, the enemy party wheeled their horses around and quickly let their steeds kick up snow in their wake. Blaise returned to his post, then the war trumpets sounded across the field. “Here we are,” Dudley said with a smirk. Aldron’s own horns blasted, and the battle was now underway.

  The first volley of arrows from the elves came swiftly. Lucius spotted the dark cloud immediately above them. Cries of pain among both soldiers and horses rung out amid the mass. Two arrows narrowly missed Lucius’ head and four more struck the round buckler he raised to defend himself. Aldron’s volley responded to the attack, but it was less coordinated and awe-inspiring than the elves’. It was clear who had mastery of the bow in this fight.

  The order for a charge came next. The front lines trudged through the snow with pikes and swords firmly in hand. Their fierce battle cry wasn’t enough to save them from the barrage of arrows that splintered the line.

  Dudley waved the Drachengarde forward, and Lucius followed closely behind him and Darius, not really knowing his place among their group of thirty.

  In minutes, the infantry divisions made contact with the Numan rebels’ front line a hundred feet from Lucius’ position. An explosion of crashing metal and ferocious shouts echoed on the battlefield. Arrows from each side flew by like barn swallows on a summer’s eve. The air around him fogged from the ragged breaths of horses struggling to enter the fray.

  The fear Lucius thought he’d left behind suddenly welled up in his chest as he realized this was large-scale war.

  The next attack on Aldron came suddenly and quite unexpectedly. A line of a dozen ballistae at the rear of Brandewulf’s forces shot a synchronized volley at the cavalry division. The results were catastrophic. Large arrows were the main projectiles used, and they cut down both men and horses in an instant. Aldron’s left flank was severely redu
ced in a matter of seconds. The grotesque tangle of bodies hindered the progress of the soldiers behind it and the effectiveness of Aldron’s charge.

  Blaise, noting the casualties, called his page to wave the flag signaling the Drachengarde’s attack. Dudley clenched his jaw tight. “That’s us. Let’s move out!”

  Lucius followed the unit’s diverted path from the main force. At the same time, what cavalry remained from Aldron’s left flank moved into position to attack the enemy’s opposing flank. Though their numbers had lessened, the cavalry divisions still had an advantage over the insurgents. Most of the elves were on foot with only two dozen or less on horseback. But elves were quick on their feet, and few of their race cared for riding on beasts of burden. Lucius sensed their task would be much harder than anyone anticipated.

  Riding hard to avoid the arrows shot their way, the Drachengarde raced toward the ballistae and supply lines. The large, slow-moving siege weapons were being reloaded by the elves. Lucius estimated the next volley would be aimed at either the Drachengarde or the attacking cavalry on the opposite side of the field.

  “Get ready!” Dudley cried over the din of warfare.

  Lucius gripped his spear and prepared to hurl it at the fast-approaching defensive wall of elves around the ballistae. The cold had numbed his fingers and toes. He barely felt the polished wood of the shaft as he hurled it toward the first defender. The elf caught the spearhead in the chest, falling over dead as another elf took his place and fired arrows at the oncoming riders. Three Drachengarde members fell before they were close enough to confront the enemy. Lucius pushed his knees against Penna’s flank to increase the horse’s speed. He lined up with Dudley and Darius, and the three riders slashed their swords indiscriminately at the line of elves on the enemy’s right flank.

  As Lucius had suspected, the elves were not easy targets for a cavalry assault. They jumped quickly out the way of the horses while also managing to block and parry the attacks of the Drachengarde riders. One of the elf defenders even climbed onto the saddle of another rider, then quickly dispatched him with his long curved blade. Darius wheeled around to face the attacker, cutting sideways in a wide arc that severed the elf’s arm above the elbow. Lucius finished off the elf with a quick stab to his exposed neck.

  Shedding the blood of an elf was an unsettling feeling, having lived among their race for so long. But he didn’t have time to ponder the conflicting emotions.

  The rest of the Drachengarde busied themselves with the defensive line blocking their route to the ballistae. One of the biggest advantages of their attack was the distraction it caused among the ballistae corps. The corps delayed their next strike to join in the fray, but how long would the Drachengarde last entrenched in the enemy lines?

  Looking across the field, Lucius noted that Blaise’s attack on the other flank was succeeding. Brandewulf and the twins were forced to bolster their forces there against the cavalry divisions. The clever diversion allowed the front lines to make better progress.

  Blocking and parrying while on horseback was exhausting to Lucius. Twice now he managed to keep a spry elf from dismounting him. He finally chose to dismount and engage the enemy. Dudley and Darius continued their assault on horseback. Their combined effort cut a swath of elves down, allowing the rest of the unit to focus on the center of their line. Lucius found the weakest point of the elves’ defense, where only two elves stood in the gap to the ballistae.

  The defenders saw him coming. He whirled his sword at the first one on his right while blocking a strike from the elf on the left with his shield. The skirmish was quick and frantic. He recalled all of Wesley’s training on keeping light on his footwork, dancing to and fro while cutting low to drop his enemies’ guard. The tactics worked on the first elf—the bigger of the two—and he soon set up a convincing feint that ended in that warrior’s demise.

  But the second elf proved to be more agile and cunning than his fallen companion. Lucius strained to block the quick combinations the elf unleashed upon him. He faltered for a moment when the warrior cut through the mail on his shoulder. The wound was superficial, but enough to make Lucius’ second-guess his swordsmanship against his opponent. Thankfully, he never learned whether he was truly outmatched. Another Drachengarde witnessed him struggling and hurled his spear at the elf. The long projectile struck the warrior with such force that it pinned him to the snowy ground, creating a crimson red pool against the stark white terrain.

  “Thank you,” Lucius said with a quick salute to his savior.

  “Don’t thank me; just keep fighting!” the man said. He had a rugged face and bald head supported by a thick beard that made his visage ominous. Lucius searched his memory for a name—Gilroy. That was his name, he thought.

  The defensive line broke in a matter of seconds, and the first Drachengarde riders got through. Arrows pierced many of the riders as the ballistae corps standing near their siegeworks aimed their longbows at them. Lucius raced to the nearest ballistae and fought the elf operating it. The exchange did not last long since the elf could not unsheathe his sword quickly enough to block the vertical swing Lucius used against him. Once the elf fell, Lucius cut the torsion ropes on the ballista’s arms, effectively sabotaging the weapon. Down the line, he saw others doing the same after they took out the defenders. He moved on to the next ballista, then glanced toward the main battle, where Blaise led the cavalry charge.

  The battle had turned ill on the enemy’s right flank. Lucius saw that the Rubiwinds and Brandewulf had successfully routed Aldron, and now Blaise retreated to rally his remaining forces. At any moment the main force would turn their attention to the diminished Drachengarde and retake the remaining ballistae. So far, the Drachengarde had only destroyed four of the siege machines.

  He ran to the next ballista, where Gilroy had dispatched two elves singlehandedly. But rather than sabotaging the siege engine, Lucius armed it with one of the long bolts.

  “What the devil are you doing?” Gilroy asked.

  “Using Numa’s weapon against them. Now help me aim it at the mounted riders near Brandewulf,” Lucius said.

  The fact that he’d practically ordered Gilroy, a senior member, to help him was worthy of a demotion in rank. But Gilroy didn’t seem bothered, and simply obliged the younger warrior. They turned the large ballista on its wheels, then leaned it back forty-five degrees.

  “That should do it,” Gilroy mused.

  Lucius nodded, then pulled back the lever controlling the torsion ropes. The drawstring snapped as the tension loosed and the projectile flew high above them. He lost sight of it for a moment, then saw it pin down three enemy riders who were close together on the field. The strike created chaos around Brandewulf’s party as the riders’ horses panicked, kicking anyone near them.

  To his far right, Lucius heard a loud thwack. Another ballista fired, this time operated by Darius and Dudley. They watched happily as more chaos erupted in the central lines of the rebel force.

  Their triumph did not last long, however. A renewed interest in their unit saw the elves rallying on the battered right flank. They released a well-coordinated volley. Gilroy was struck in the thigh and upper back by their green arrows. Lucius sought cover behind the ballista as another volley came. He glanced at Gilroy, who, despite the large shafts sticking out of his body, still held his sword firmly.

  “They’re charging,” Gilroy warned, gesturing with his chin at the closest warriors on the field.

  Lucius saw them now. Three dozen elves ran to remake the broken line the Drachengarde had cut along the siegeworks. Dudley and his men had lost ten men on this gambit. There was little chance they could hold off this many elves with twenty men.

  “Fall back!” Dudley ordered, mounting his horse alongside Darius.

  Lucius scanned the area and spotted Penna hovering close to the first ballista he’d destroyed. He turned to Gilroy, extending a hand to help the injured man to his feet.

  Gilroy offered a lopsided grin. “Go on, boy
. I’ve got elves to kill,” he said.

  He opened his mouth to argue, but the fast-approaching elves dissuaded him. Penna was happy to see his master’s return, stomping her hooves on the snow as Lucius climbed the saddle. He wheeled the horse around to find where Dudley and the others were heading, then his eyes caught something familiar in the distance.

  North of his position, he saw the supply train of Brandewulf’s rebel camp. Mules and pack horses bearing provisions and extra weapons were being led several feet behind the main force. Sitting atop one of those mules was Avani, her wrists tied to the pommel of the saddle. Next to her sat Violet on another mule, bound in the same manner. A contingent of elf archers and warriors kept guard as they watched the battle a hundred feet away. Lucius glanced to his left. The Drachengarde riders were regrouping with Blaise’s forces for a second frontal attack. In another minute, the elves would retake the six ballista that were still operational, and he would be killed.

  “Come on, girl,” Lucius said, kicking his heels against Penna’s barrel. He raced to the north as arrows flew past him—to rescue Avani and Violet.

  *

  Watching the battle between Allesmeade and Aldron, Silas sat quietly in the saddle next to his advisors and general, Sir Rainier. They were situated on a hill overlooking the south where, less than ten yards before them, two former allies had engaged in mortal combat. The most confounding part of this battle was that nobody knew why it was happening. The Draknoir had clearly promised power or riches to Brandewulf, and he in turn had promised the rebel Rubiwinds aid in winning their civil war in Numa.

  Silas couldn’t believe such promises were all it took to send two nations spiraling into civil war. He begrudgingly gave credit to Memnon for orchestrating this entire affair. Obviously sowing seeds of disunity among the Four Houses would weaken their resolve against the Draknoir’s growing threat. He wondered, when the battle was over how, weakened they’d be. Could they even face a united front from Ghadarya and Nasgothar?