With the others, he sped up the stairs. They soon reached the ground level, and then the corpse-strewn plaza outside. From there, Talaos ran at a full sprint toward The Waverider with her in his arms. People stared in astonishment at the pace he kept. Some greeted or saluted him, and a few, to his surprise, bowed. At the speed he maintained, it took little time. He reached the place. A pair of startled Avrosan guards opened the doors, and he raced in smooth soaring leaps up the steps.
"Demistas!" he roared.
The physician emerged from the infirmary, and followed Talaos as he carried Liriel to his room. Even as they went, Talaos told him the story. The man's face took on a cool, professional expression as he examined her.
"With enough rest, she'll be all right," he said, "though I have a few things to help."
"Thank you," Talaos replied. Then he kissed Liriel's forehead, and held her hand.
She stirred and made a faint smile.
Talaos then raced back downstairs, out the door, and across the city toward the gates. Even at a distance, he could hear voices and activity. After a short journey through the streets, he found the Madmen. They reached the plaza, where ten companies of allied and Avrosan troops formed a wide cordon around a growing, milling mass of troops in uniforms of cities from the other army.
At the gate itself, Talaos could see Kurvan and Aro on horseback with another company of troops, acting as gatekeepers to a much larger body of soldiers outside. They were allowing them to enter in ones and twos as shouted oaths were sworn.
Further into the city, past the ordered companies of troops in the cordon was a small, but growing crowd of unorganized allied troops and Avrosan civilians. Someone saw Talaos.
"The Storm Lord!" the man shouted.
Then a chorus of cheers erupted, using that name. Soldiers saluted and civilians hailed as he passed. The troops in the cordon, those nearby, made way for him with arms in salute. Beyond them were the milling soldiers that had only shortly before been enemies.
Talaos shouted to them, voice above the wind and rain, "Welcome, friends and brothers!"
There were stunned expressions, then shouts of recognition. The closest men hailed him, and raised arms in salute. Behind them, others followed, and then more. In moments, the entire mass of them, several hundred men, were turned his way with arms across their chests in salute.
They made way before him, clearing a path as he walked to where his commanders sat on horseback. With them, Talaos could now see, was his former enemy General Ilirio. He strode up to them. The officers, Ilirio included, saluted him. He returned it.
He nodded to his commanders, and then addressed Ilirio. "How many more might come? And what other commanders are with you?"
Ilirio replied, "Thousands more, possibly as much as a third of the army. Maxano of Kyras, Gavro of Imperi, and Hadrastus of the League of Five are in command. There were others, but they are dead. One was murdered by some of his own men. The three I named fight with a rearguard, covering the way for the rest, and sent me to be sure you were good for your word."
"You can see and judge my word, general," replied Talaos. "Now I go to help Maxano."
To the Madmen he said, "Help the commanders here keep order."
He turned to his commanders and the soldiers around them, "All of you will stay here. We won't risk things turning on us. Add more officers to accept oaths. I'll need a horse."
"I just so happen to have one," said a familiar voice. Talaos turned to see Adriko riding up on his brown horse, with Talaos's black horse, Honor, fully equipped at his side.
Talaos shook his head.
"It's strangely as if I know you," added Adriko. "Also note the full quiver of javelins."
Talaos stepped forward, shook Adriko's hand, and leapt astride Honor.
He rode out the gate. All around a great press of soldiers waited to get in. He raised his right hand in greeting, and shouted in a voice carrying over all else, "Swear your oath at the gate, in the old way. Swear by the honor of your souls to fight against the Living Prophet, and you will be welcome as friends and brothers!"
They hailed him and saluted as he passed through and into the wider scene beyond.
In the corridor through the outer defenses, scattered lines and companies of soldiers made their way under token of truce. Further out, beyond the reach of the city's artillery, there was battle. A large body of mostly cavalry fought against a vast mixed force that closed on three sides. All across the plain, smaller bodies of troops moved to join those retreating toward Avrosa, but they were harassed by troops of enemy cavalry.
The commanders ahead had believed his words and trusted his honor. In doing so, they had taken a terrible risk. The men who followed them now put their lives on the line. They had chosen to stand for what was theirs, and they had aligned themselves with him. They stood and died to help their own escape to his side.
Now they were his own, and he would not let them stand alone.
He rode on. He drew his long blade in his right hand, held high.
Talaos focused his will and his power. He rode Honor into the face of the enemy.
Power gathered in his sword. It arced, blue-white, from the blade.
Soldiers parted, wide-eyed, at the sight of him. Ahead was the front line of battle. He could see Gavro shouting orders and wielding a spear from horseback. The general ran an enemy through, withdrew, wheeled his horse, and fended off another foe at spear point.
Some distance away, Maxano directed squads of cavalry. He had a bandage on his arm. Further off, a giant of a man in bronze and gilt armor wielded twin long swords, laying waste to foes around him. He wore an unusual cylindrical helm with a conical top, crowned by a red horsehair plume. His cloak was blood red, and much blood splashed his armor.
Advancing against them was another commander— a tall, thin general in blue-green cloak and gear, wearing an ornate chain shirt. Talaos recognized him as one of those who had smiled at the approach of the Hand of the Prophet. The enemy leader was drawing and hurling javelins even as he shouted commands, and with each throw, a soldier died.
Gavro was closest of his new allies. Talaos hailed him, voice booming deep. "Gavro! I am here! Rally the others and retreat!"
The latter turned his helmed face toward him, shook it in amazement, and then nodded. Talaos made for the enemy. He roared, and power crackled along his blade. Most horses would have panicked at the terror of it, but not this one, not Honor.
The front ranks of the enemy here were light horsemen in a thin line, with heavy infantry behind. Talaos gripped his horse with his knees, let go the reins, and drew a javelin with his left hand. He focused his will on it, and it flared to life with blue-white energy. He hurled it. There was a crack in the air, and it struck the nearest foe like a thunderbolt. The enemy horsemen toppled with a blasted, burnt hole in his chest.
Now he had their attention.
He drew another javelin and did the same. Focus, flare, throw. Another horseman died, hurled backward from the saddle and dead before he hit the ground.
The footmen behind were not braced for a charge. He crashed into them with his long blade scything. Electricity crackled and power trailed glowing behind the sword as it moved. A man fell, cleaved diagonally from neck to lower ribs, and fell in two pieces. Another foe advanced on his left side, raising blade against his horse. He leaned in the saddle and aimed a kick full in the man's face that sent him toppling backwards in a spray of blood.
Talaos then wheeled and cleaved a foe's helm in half, and his head with it. Blue-white power sprayed outward from the wound along with the man's red blood. Then he wheeled again and drew another javelin his left hand.
Ahead of him was the enemy commander, the javelin-wielder. Talaos drew back, focused power on his own javelin, then hurled it. The commander raised his left hand, and there bound to it was a disc of copper. It flickered with green light. The enemy deflected the javelin in mid air as power flashed around the disc, and then hurled his own at Tala
os with superhuman force.
Talaos wheeled and dodged, but it made no difference. The javelin aimed true and struck him anyway. He roared in pain as it pierced his breastplate, then pulled it back out with a flash of power and cast it aside. He charged the general at full gallop. As he went, he considered that if not for his armor, that javelin would have run him through.
To his right, another officer moved to block his path, equipped as one of high rank and probably a tribune. The man had a long sword and round shield with a blue lion on white. Talaos brought his long blade, arcing with his power, down on that shield, and with a flash it split in half. The sword cleaved into the foe's chest and he fell back, dead.
The enemy commander made to draw another javelin. Faint green light flickered in his right hand. After the last, Talaos had no illusions of dodging it. Talaos focused his mind. He knew what he had to do. The distance was not far, but his horse would be too slow. A few times before the world had seemed to slow down around him in battle. He knew in fact it was he who sped up. It drained him, but he would have to do so now. Unlike before, he would have to try to do so consciously.
He focused his will, his intent, and his power.
The wind picked up again, and the rain grew stronger.
The commander drew back his arm. All around, the world became sluggish. Talaos rose to his feet in the stirrups. The commander threw, and the javelin soared across the plain. Faster than anything on that plain but Talaos himself, it flew true and deadly. Talaos climbed to the back of his horse atop the saddle, drew his short blade to join the long, stood for a moment, and leapt.
Talaos flew through the air at the oncoming javelin. He turned, whirling with his long blade arcing around and down. Power crackled around it as it went. He twisted and cut the javelin in half a moment before it could pierce him. The pieces flew apart with a slow radiance of green and tumbled harmlessly sideways against him.
He flew at the enemy commander with both blades whirling. Green light flashed in answer, but his arc-lit blades cut through the shielding power. He scythed the enemy general from the saddle and sent him flying back from his horse in two pieces. Then Talaos whirled onward, leaping and spinning with his blades in motion. To the left, a slain foe, to the right, another. He sheared heads from shoulders and legs from bodies.
Confusion and chaos spread all around, unfolding so very slowly.
Talaos called to the sky, and lightning struck among the enemy troops on the plain.
He moved down the line of enemies. They were slow, weak, confused, yet presumed to strike at him and his own. He cut them down as they tried. One, then two, then more in a line. Cutting them apart from his fleeing friends. They began to move a bit faster. This time he sensed the change as it approached. He withdrew back toward his waiting horse.
An enemy horsemen wheeled, slowly, to block his way with leveled spear. He ran. He leapt. The horsemen sped up, step by step. Talaos flew behind his guard, short blade sweeping horizontally, and cut the man's head from his shoulders. Then he spun, landed, flipped, and vaulted into the saddle of his own horse.
All around him, both friends and enemies were speeding up. Things had changed. The enemy reacted with fear and confusion. They pulled back, trying to form ranks. His new allies wheeled and spurred their horses away, galloping toward Avrosa.
Far away, other enemy commanders were shouting amid the confusion, trying to organize their milling troops. Talaos called lightning down to the ground between his friends and his foes. The enemy recoiled.
Then Talaos felt it. The beginning of exhaustion. The first hint of darkness.
He wheeled and rode his horse at speed along the gap between the confused enemy and his fleeing allies. Power crackled in his hands and on his brow. Light shone in his eyes, and he roared in primal fury at the hundreds of men facing him.
All today had faced choices. He chose to stand and protect those who fled.
He howled to the sky, pointed his right hand and his sword toward a place in front of the enemy line. Lightning struck from above. Men flew, blasted in all directions.
The darkness rose.
The enemy at last rallied. Arrows came flying his way, and a moment after, javelins. He cut one apart in mid air. Another struck his leg. Soon, one would strike his horse.
That wouldn't be right. The beast hadn't chosen. It obeyed, but it didn't understand.
He looked behind him. Maxano, Gavro, and the bronze-armored giant he presumed was Hadrastus had the rearguard in good order and riding at speed. Thousands more were already far ahead, in the sheltering reach of the artillery, and on their way to Avrosa.
In the sky, the storm directly above him was dense, roiling, and black, but toward the horizon in all directions, it had frayed, vanished, and stars sparkled in the sable sky.
Javelins and arrows. He wheeled and dodged, keeping his horse out of harm.
In wrath he called down another strike to his left. Thunder and flying corpses.
Then another before him. Smoke and charred bodies.
Then a last, to his right. Death and ruin.
Black exhaustion loomed within him.
The enemy near were in chaos, but behind and on either side, they were rallying in their thousands.
He wheeled his horse and galloped away. The enemy followed, slowed by the confused mix of infantry and cavalry, of wounded and healthy at its front. Yet still, they followed. Ahead of him, his allies were at the gates. There was a great press of men there, waiting to get in. The men he'd left in charge would now have a choice of their own. He trusted them to make the right one.
Talaos wheeled and turned to one side, then another. Taunting the advancing enemy, always just out of reach. He heard angry shouts of command. Thousands of men pursued him, past the no-man's land of open plain between the enemy camp and the outer defenses.
He laughed a great thundering laugh at the enemy. They came on.
They passed the second line of trenches. Talaos laughed again and gave his horse a pat on the shoulder. Honor galloped, swift as lightning, toward Avrosa. Behind him, and too late, the enemy seemed to realize their danger.
Catapult stones and ballista bolts shot from the walls, towers, and keep.
A maelstrom struck behind him, sending blood-spattered corpses flying in all directions.
The enemy retreated to safety. Safety ahead awaited his thousands of new allies.
3. The Sorting
A great mass of soldiers gathered outside the gate. Thousands. Talaos could see Maxano, Gavro and Hadrastus shouting orders, forming their soldiers into orderly companies. He rode up and hailed them.
Maxano nodded and greeted him in reply, "Hail, Warlord. You asked for a choice, and we've made what many would call a mad one."
Talaos replied, "Does it seem so mad to you, after what you've seen tonight?"
The general shook his head, "No. What you said this morning rang true for me, after weeks of answering to the Prophet's emissaries without any clear reason how we'd come to do so. But, what we saw tonight… I would have thought the Prophet would have found a quieter way to kill you, and one less likely to horrify half the army."
"I think the Prophet wanted to do more than just kill me. He's tried before. There is something within me that he wants utterly destroyed."
"I'm glad he failed. I've never seen a magus of such power as you…" said Maxano. "Or as free of ritual and preparation."
"I am no magus," replied Talaos. "All that I do comes from within."
The general surveyed him in surprised silence.
"I could've told you he was no magus!" shouted Gavro, "Those are inborn gifts, just a lot more of them than we've ever seen in one man!" With that, Gavro rode up and took his arm in the military handshake, then continued, "Sorry for ordering my men to kill you at all costs, back there at the pass. I'm sorry for them too. Stupid waste of lives."
"You fulfilled your oaths as I did mine," replied Talaos, "and any reasonable man would have thought stabbing me a
hundred times would do the job."
What Talaos had meant as the humor of that fell flat, as men all around looked at him with uncomfortable expressions.
Hadrastus, nearly seven feet tall, rode up in his gilded bronze armor on a huge, armored horse. The giant removed his helmet and greeted Talaos with a salute. Under his helm, Talaos had expected to see a strong, heavy face like Vulkas. Instead his features were graceful, and his complexion was very pale for a man of Hunyos. Talaos had seen a look like that before.
Cratus's bodyguards, The Twins. Jotun.
He spoke, "General Hadrastus, I am glad you made your choice, and are with us."
The general bowed slightly in his saddle, then replied in a rich, deep voice, "There was no other choice to make. My mother was from Jotun, and told me the old tales. When I saw your eyes, and then your lightning. I knew. The line of the Summer Kings still lives on."
"The Summer Kings?"
"There were once two lines of kings in Jotun, each ruling half the year. The Winter Kings were a line of shamans and sorcerers with gifts of ice and snow. They were long-lived and patient. The Summer Kings were mightier, with powers such as you have, but their lives were usually short. Each felt when his time was upon him, fathered a single son, and then died. Though, they never died by the same means.
"After many centuries, a Winter King at last grew weary of ruling only half the year, and made ready for a war of powers. To avoid such a war, the Summer King left Jotun for the south, never to return. Though, in Jotun they wish for that return even now. It was perhaps five hundred years ago. In the end, the Winter Kings couldn't rule on their own. Their power withered, and now small feuding kings reign in Jotun."
The men nearby, generals, officers, and soldiers, stood quietly. Closer to Avrosa, the questioning and the oaths went on.
At last, Talaos spoke, "In this city of Avrosa there was a hero who, if the stone carving of him is true, was from Jotun. He stood atop a tower and defended the city with his lightning against two fire drakes. I think he was my ancestor, more than two thousand years ago."
The Storm's Own Son (Book 3) Page 3