Indomitus Sum (The Fovean Chronicles Book 4)

by Robert Brady

  Geeguh nodded. “I’ll circle north,” he said. “Flank them—even if they see us coming, they won’t be able to do anything about us with no horse.”

  Karl put his right index and middle finger to his temple, and he thought about his woman.

  “Yes,” she answered him in his mind.

  “Ready?”

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” Raven informed him. “Bunch of ‘Chi up here and a Dorkan think they can boss me around.”

  Karl smiled despite himself. “Well, you’ll straighten them out,” he informed her.

  “Where did you pick up that expression?”

  Karl shrugged, then realized she couldn’t see it. “Probably from you,” he said. “You never say what you mean.”

  He sensed her breaking the connection. He lowered his hand and looked around him.

  All eyes found him. He remembered a time when he hated that. Now he just didn’t care.

  He spat on the ground. “Let’s march in on ‘em,” he said, finally. “See what they got.”

  * * *

  “Here they come,” Vulpe’s senior Colonel informed him.

  As if he couldn’t see that.

  “Form ranks!” he commanded. The order spread out through his troops. No different from Wolf Soldiers, the Eldadorian Regulars fell into formation. Shields fell into place along their lines—huge steel rectangles that covered the warriors from eyebrows to toes.

  “Archers to the ready,” he commanded. “Wait for my order.”

  “Horse moving to the north,” grandfather informed him, sitting Little Storm. “Probably plan to flank us.”

  Vulpe nodded. “Special forces to the north then,” he said. “Hold for my order.”

  “Those forces aren’t tested,” the Colonel asked. “I don’t want to rely on them with no back up. Why aren’t we marching out to meet them?”

  Vulpe shook his head. “We let them, they’ll come all the way,” he said. His father had taught him that.

  “I’m more worried about their magic,” Karel said. “That’s Angron Aurelias’ banner flying over there.”

  “His Majesty will not fight,” Ancenon informed them. “Although my other brethren will engage.”

  Dilvesh added, “They won’t be expecting much resistance.”

  Ancenon had arrived during the night, and Dilvesh this morning. Karel of Stone had brought with him, among other things, a beacon for the two of them to home in on.

  “You know about Raven,” Jack asked them.

  “We have studied the phenomenon of this female,” Dilvesh said. “We know better than to attack her directly.”

  “It will suffice if we simply neutralize them,” Ancenon said. “That alone will greatly frustrate their efforts.”

  “Do that,” Vulpe said, “and my warriors can handle theirs.”

  Ancenon smiled, and turned his face to Karel of Stone. “So much like his father,” he said.

  Karel smiled that wide, happy smile that he had. “He’s a hand full,” he said. “But we’ll know today if he’s brilliant like his father.”

  “If one can call his father brilliant,” Dilvesh said. “The Trinity speaks more about his luck.”

  Vulpe shook his head. They thought this was funny. His father had told him about this—how they relieved their tension and their fear by poking fun at each other. It wouldn’t work for him. Vulpe needed his tension. He needed his fear.

  They were crediting him with the fall of Volkha, now Lupha. He’d barely engaged and he knew it. Daggonin had won that battle and been named the governor of the city in reward for it.

  Vulpe held tension and fear both close as the enemy marched in. The Wolf Soldier training was unmistakable. Karl Henekhson had been at them. His father had warned them of this, too.

  He’d been anticipating it since Thera. He knew he wasn’t supposed to swear, but by War’s Whiskers, his father better be right about his so-called Special Forces, or this was going to be a real short battle and a lot of people were going to blame an eleven-year-old-prince for it.

  * * *

  “It is not seemly we are kept waiting,” Hectar complained, from Central Communications in the imperial palace of Galnesh Eldador. He’d dressed in his best blue doublet and light grey hose—even bought new shoes for this occasion.

  Light brown with bright red bows and trailing ribbons, and high, thick heels. His rapier, belted rather than sheathed, shone to blinding.

  Tartan, ever the stoic, said nothing, leaning against one of the long, curved table, looking to the spinning orb in the middle of the room. The local wizard, a woman of the race of Men and an acolyte of Shela’s, explained, “We are at war, your Grace.”

  Lee sighed—the little girl was showing the wear. Her personal squad had come into the room with her again, Hectaro proud among them. Hectar had decided to humble himself and to admit this had been a boon to the young man, on hearing from a courtier in the throne room just yesterday, right after the meeting between Princess and Duke, the Princess had taken him into her confidences, now on the level not of an amorous young child, but as a young leader seeking council. If this be true, then Hectar’s ambitions had been exceeded despite him, and he could surely solidify the union he’d been seeking between Houses Gelgelden and Mordetur.

  The orb flickered in the middle of the room. All attention turned to it. Finally, Hectar thought to himself. There were things needed saying—on a moment he had to argue against Stowe assuming the throne and Lee, with his son’s support, sustaining it.

  “Her Imperial Majesty, Shela Mordetur, Empress of Eldador,” the wizard announced unnecessarily.

  Lee frowned and shook her head, her brown eyes searching the conduit.

  “That isn’t mother.”

  * * *

  Geeguh Digatish found the lance uncomfortable on his arm. His horse balked at it waving around his head. Behind him, around him, squads of ten horsemen, Andarans all, thundered across the plains. Ten thousand strong, blooded warriors whooped in anger to terrify their foes, screaming for vengeances, screaming for blood.

  He’d wanted to face Theran Lancers. He’d wanted to humble the infamous Tali Digatishi, who shared part of his name, who’d turned on his own people, who’d helped to found the rogue Wolf Riders clan and sided with another nation.

  As far as anyone knew, Tali Digatishi cringed behind the walls of Thera. This would be a slaughter of footmen by mounted Men, but still glorious.

  From the south, from the ranks of Eldadorian invaders, a force separated itself and ran north, right at them. For a second he dared to hope he’d meet some mounted resistance, but they were too small, too strange in their movements. Almost a daheer away, Geeguh had to force himself to admit what he was seeing.

  Dogs. He sent warriors, and Prince Vulpe Mordetur sent dogs. Geeguh’s rage burned inside him, he heard the angry screams from his warriors. A personal affront, a slap to his face from a boy half Andaran himself. Geeguh heard himself scream in anger.

  Mordetur had gone too far. This wouldn’t just be his defeat now. Geeguh would personally string the boy up naked and burn him for this. He’d wear the young man’s sack in a bag around his neck when finally he faced the father.

  Huge dogs bounded across the plain to meet him. He lowered the tilt of his lance. If he must kill dogs, he’d make it a bloody thing.

  * * *

  Karl Henekhson, Warlord of Teher, Hero of Tamara, watched the dogs take off to the north of the Eldadorian army.

  He looked from their own dog, then to the others, and his heart froze in his chest. This was what she was here to tell them. They’d known, but they’d never assumed—never imagined this was what the Emperor would do with them.

  Dogs by the hundreds, perhaps even a thousand, loped to the north, those telltale dewlaps flapping at their shoulders and jaws as they ran. Their own dog whined to see them, remaining close to him for some reason, where she’d normally stay near Raven. Drool hung from her jowls like strings. She knew what they would be doi
ng better than he did.

  And Geeguh Digatish would be caught completely unaware. He had no way to warn them.

  “You see that?” Zarshar growled.

  Their army marched in orderly squads to engage the enemy. Their own archers were firing arrows at will into the Eldadorian mass. Karl was about to order that they hold arrows—the enemy had their huge shields and were hiding behind them. Anchored to the city of Medya, they’d begun to look like a hedgehog wedged under a rock.

  “Forget our cavalry flanking them,” Karl said, and turned his head to spit. “If they get through that, then they’ll be so confused and turned around they’ll be useless to us.”

  “They don’t wear armor,” Zarshar said. “Or at least, not much. They’ll be back on their horses—”

  Karl waved him silent. It didn’t matter and he couldn’t worry about it now. He’d lost the advantage the cavalry gave him, and now he needed another.

  He put two fingers to his temple.

  “You see the dogs?” he asked his woman.

  He sensed her affirmative. “We’re trying to warn the Andarans now, but there isn’t a Sorceress among them.”

  “Can you attack the dogs?”

  He felt her pang of sympathy but pressed the issue of urgency in his mind. He knew Vedeen could likely open up the Earth around them, but Vedeen at the last minute couldn’t be found.

  Three balls of flame flew from their raised platform toward the dogs. They hadn’t crossed half the distance before they were extinguished. Six more arced out from the platform, and also expired.

  “They have Uman-Chi casters,” Raven informed him. “Glynn thinks it’s her brother, Ancenon.”

  “We have more,” he argued.

  He sensed her negative. “Easier to destroy than create,” she said. “If he wants to just resist us, it makes him harder to beat.”

  Karl didn’t have more time to argue. His army had come close enough to the Eldadorians where he could see faces. Warriors in front, a mix of all of the races, no different than the Wolf Soldier army, were shaking their shields and readying their swords.

  The Eldadorians were unmoving. To the north, the howls of anger from the Andarans changed to surprise as dogs leapt at their riders and knocked them from the saddle. Some managed a little damage with their lances, however the Andarans were unready, and the dogs had been trained to avoid the weapons.

  The Andaran charge stumbled. The Fovean army advanced. The first 500 squads passed onto a wide, flat battleground that circled the city. Without warning a flight of spears popped up from the Eldadorian regulars, moved back as one, and then flew forward.

  The army came to a halt on his order. Like any Wolf Soldiers, the Foveans raised their shields and crouched behind them. Karl’s runners delivered his orders to his designated colonels, they to his majors, they to his captains, and they to the lieutenants and sergeants on the field. This, he knew, was the real strength of the Wolf Soldier army. Not understanding this was why no one had been able to emulate it. It wasn’t marching that made good soldiers; it was that this immediate communication, faster than a spear could fly through the air, made his entire army an extension of his will.

  The men crouched, the spears landed and the sound of them breaking on the Fovean shields echoed across the plain.

  Less than a minute later, runners reporting to him from his sergeants on the field, claimed these spears were soft iron with wooden handles, and they bent and broke on impact, so even where they didn’t hit a man, they ruined his shield by piercing it and couldn’t be thrown back, destroyed as they were.

  He saw warriors trying to lift shields with bent spears in them. He saw a wave of motion through the enemy ranks—Eldadorian regulars seeking to rearm.

  He put two fingers to his temple.

  “Attack them, or try to protect us from the spears,” he thought.

  “I’ll try,” Raven said. She sounded desperate.

  “Try?” he couldn’t believe this. He sent the order for the front line to fall back. They peeled off smartly to the right hand side, the next five hundred squads marching in behind them. If the Eldadorians threw more spears, then he needed more shields to meet them, or his troops were going to see 5,000 warriors die with their swords still in their hands on the field.

  If the Eldadorians threw now, it was going to be mayhem.

  “What do you mean try?” Karl demanded.

  “I’m up here alone with Glynn and Krendell,” she informed him. Her concentration was so shaken she could barely communicate to him. “As soon as they realized Ancenon was on the other side, the Uman-Chi all disappeared.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Emperors and Kings

  Geeguh Digatish leapt back onto his Andaran mount ‘Free Air’ for the third time after being knocked off by these damnable dogs.

  Even as the Warlord raged at the enemy who wouldn’t fight him, the Andaran in him appreciated the good joke of it, the humor behind the cunning of Emperor Rancor Mordetur.

  They hadn’t killed more than a few score, because the dogs wouldn’t stay still and they wouldn’t fight. They seemed almost to be grinning through hideous, wide jaws big enough to swallow a man’s fist as they leapt, struck and ran.

  To one side, several of them were herding spooked and angry mares and stallions. To the other, some sat on their haunches and panted, struggling to get their wind back, their tongues lolling and their black and brown coats heaving from the effort of moving their gigantic bodies.

  In the center, Andarans tried to give chase with swords, to throw their lances like spears, to remount and to get out of the mass of dogs that, outnumbered, had stopped them cold on the plains.

  Geeguh had hoped for some magic to save him, but none came. To the south, the Eldadorians had peppered the Fovean army with spears, and Karl had them shifting on the plains, trying to move fresh troops forward.

  Geeguh had lent his faith to the Hero of Tamara. Karl had seemed to be the answer to the Emperor.

  Apparently, Karl hadn’t been asking the right questions.

  His mount suddenly bucked up on him, doing what they called a ‘crow’s hop’, all four feet coming off the ground at once as it bent it’s back. Geeguh gripped the stallion’s barrel with his strong legs, seeing many of the other horses around him doing the same. As one, every dog on the plains raised its head, and nearly one thousand tails started wagging as they took off in droves to the hills to the north of them, the very ones he’d hidden behind less than an hour before.

  Andarans started running for their horses, happy for the respite. To the south, another flight of spears had the Fovean army scrambling for the safety of shields in the advancing second line. Karl’s carefully planned squads shuddered as warriors desperate to save their own lives dove from the first rank, behind the second. The new front line bloated and more spears found their homes.

  The Fovean army wavered. No magic seemed to support them. This day might be up to the Andarans to save—if he could get his troops turned south now, give Karl some breathing room to regroup, then work together to catch this still-outnumbered Eldadorian army between them.

  “To the north!” someone cried out. Geeguh recognized a member of the Hunters tribe. He’d assumed the rank of captain in this new army. “To the north!”

  There’d been rumors of movement to the north. Gharf Bendenson had called for reserves from Vol, Kendo and Myr, and local farmers to the north had stopped shipping them wares because someone moving a large force south was buying them.

  No invading army bought wares. They took them and killed the farmers. Geeguh got his mount under control and turned its head around, expecting to see thousands of shaggy Volkhydrans come just in time to relieve their cousins. He stood up in his stirrups and looked to the north.

  Maybe Gharf could lead that charge he wanted after all.

  But Geeguh Digatish saw the snappingpennons of a line of Eldadorians—Theran lancers cresting the hill. Thousands strong, their dogs collected befo
re them.

  At the center, the huge white stallion that could only belong to one man, the warrior astride it with a lance in his hand.

  The Andaran’s heart froze in his chest.

  * * *

  Lee’s heart froze in her chest. She stared into the orb at the center of the room called ‘Central Communications,’ and she knew before any of them what had found its way into their magix wasn’t what she had called ‘mama’ all her life.

  First of all, mama didn’t have the strength to step through the orb like a portal, from somewhere else to here, and this thing did, along with the power to bring more with it.

  Three Uman-Chi leapt out of the orb into Central Communications, a dozen heavily armed Uman warriors with them.

  Tartan Stowe, Hectar Gelgelden and her Wolf Soldier guard reacted no slower. She found her person surrounded before she could even think of calling for them.

  One of the Uman-Chi, an especially ancient looking one with white hair and an eagle on his breast, smiled like an old grandfather at her. The other two, one with scars on his face, the other shorter and mousier looking, flanked him. Their Uman guards took up a defensive perimeter.

  The Communications wizard, Releya, raised a hand white with power, but the old man dismissed her with a flick of his wrist. She fell quiet to the floor, not even a whimper from her.

  “Angron Aurelias,” Hectar spat, moving with Tartan toward the Wolf Soldier squad as he spoke. “You go too far.”

  “Too far?” the old man asked him, his voice dripping with malice.

  “Too far?” he repeated. “Your ‘Emperor’ sacks my city, sinks my ships, slaughters my allies, and this is too far?”

  Even mother wouldn’t have tried to stand toe-to-toe with the ancient power of the King of Trenbon. Lee tried to reach into the orb to find her, or Dilvesh, or anyone who might be on right then.

  Nothing. The thing didn’t even feel the same.

  Angron turned his attention to her. “I’m sorry, little daughter, but your mother cast her net too wide with this. When I sensed it years ago, I saw how easy it would be to turn it to this purpose. I have waited since then to make this day happen.”