Kelven's Riddle Book Five

by Daniel Hylton

  Pivoting toward the front, gazing with widened eyes, he saw his lines buckle and recoil before the force of the enemy’s assault.

  Because of the disorder in the enemy ranks, caused by the rough ground over which they had made their final charge, the sudden pressure being exerted upon Berezan’s front was uneven, in places concentrated, in others utterly lacking. In response, the line held in places and bent inward in others, taking on the sinuous configuration of a serpent.

  For just a moment, as the line to his immediate front buckled toward him, Kavnaugh was tempted to employ his pike and get into that line, but almost instantly realized that his role as commander negated any such thoughts. For the next several minutes, his energies were entirely directed toward moving reserves forward, both to plug gaps that appeared when the line buckled and to try to reverse the pressure upon the concave aspects of his front.

  “Forward, men!” He yelled again and again, sprinting back and forth along the straining line of men, at times pushing the third rank forward physically with his hands. “Drive them back! Hold the line!”

  Men began to die, but the enemy was taking casualties as well. Screams of pain and roars of fury, often indicating the violent hand of death at work, rose up here and there above the general cacophony. These individual sounds seemed apart from the general noise of the battle, as if the souls of the dying felt compelled to give a separate and significant voice to their violent departure from earthly bounds.

  But it was the unrelenting groan of thousands of men, gray men, and beasts, pushing, slashing, and heaving that swelled beyond the ability of human ears to bear, until it seemed to Berezan that all sound ceased and a strange, unearthly silence overlaid the roiling scenes of carnage before him.

  Enveloped in the calming shroud of this bizarre cone of quiet, he moved like an automaton, directing wide-eyed and frightened reserves toward the front, exhorting them to, “get up – help your comrades – hold this line!”

  Strangely, even the sound of his own voice failed to register, though every enunciation was delivered with great force, compelled by the deadly urgency of battle.

  Finding a rare moment of calm in the enveloping storm of the conflict, Berezan raced to the top of a small knoll and peered both ways along his lines, looking for signs from any of his commanders that they were being pressed beyond endurance.

  To the west, the ground in front of his troops was steep and rough, and the enemy was making little, if any, headway anywhere to the left of where he now stood. But to the east, toward the center of the army, the slope became gentler, and there, in several places, his lines had been pushed backward, up the slope. Every one of his commanders in that direction was screaming for reserves, and as they were fed into the lines, the slope above the front became ever more bare, deserted of friendly troops.

  Kavnaugh Berezan was running out of pieces to put into play.

  He turned and examined the front immediately before him. He still felt encased in an odd zone of silence, seemingly insulated from the noisome fury that raged yards away from him.

  He could hear nothing, but his eyes told him that his troops, by and large, were fighting well, standing firm, while grappling hand-to-hand with the foe.

  And his eyes told another surprising thing.

  Behind the front lines of the enemy, the ranks of the large beasts known as lashers seemed to have thinned appreciably. He frowned at this abrupt comprehension. True – the archers of Seneca behind him and to the right had wreaked havoc among the numbers of those beasts, but surely not to the extent that was visible to him now. Now, there were only a few of those great beasts, scattered along the rearward ranks of the enemy. More were missing, surely, than had been brought down by the missiles of the warriors from the eastern woodlands.

  He turned his head and looked eastward.

  And there they were – the missing beasts.

  The great monsters had moved to Kavnaugh’s right and were concentrating their numbers upon the brow of a wide-topped ridge that ran out from his front a ways before tipping over and falling away toward the valley. There was no doubt of their intention.

  They meant to pierce him there.

  Instantly, he was sprinting toward the right of his lines, yelling at his few remaining reserves to – “get up, get up – bolster the line! Those monsters are coming!”

  Before he could arrive at the scene of impending disaster, howls of pain and rage erupted from the massed company of beasts upon the ridge. Finding another high point in the ground, fearing the worst, Berezan halted and looked.

  And there were far fewer of those beasts now.

  The sharp eye of Andar, the young prince of Seneca had seen them as well, and had discerned their intent. A storm of deadly missiles had found that cohort of Manon’s monsters. And with the death that rained down from the sky, confusion found them as well. That which they had planned was in ruins. The beasts that remained upon their feet were milling about and beginning to disperse, fearing more of the deadly rain of arrows.

  Berezan turned to shout his thanks up to the Senecan prince, and found himself face-to-face with that very same young man.

  Andar grinned at him. “We’re out of arrows now, general – but we have swords. Where do you need us?”

  Berezan reached out gratefully and grasped the blonde-haired young prince’s hand.

  “Thank you, Your Worthiness – you saved us from disaster there!”

  Andar’s grin turned rueful. “Well, the day is young – where do you want us?” He asked once again.

  Berezan turned and examined the field. To the west, above the rougher ground, his troops were holding the line well. Here, though, on the east end of his lines, in places, the line had thinned, battered to the point that splintered and shattered pikes had been abandoned, and men fought on savagely, with swords.

  Kavnaugh looked at Andar and swept one hand toward the front. “I will leave your deployment to you, Your Worthiness – but it appears as if we need you right here.”

  Andar’s grin widened. “Well, then – it’s a good thing that here is where we are, is it not?”

  Berezan looked at him curiously. “You seem strangely glad to be here, sir.”

  It was then, when the young man turned and gazed straight into his eyes, that Berezan saw the flinty hardness behind the blue eyes in the friendly, open face of the young prince.

  “I assure you, general, that glad is not the proper word. But I will tell you this – today, I would wish to be nowhere else in the world.”

  With that, Andar drew his sword and shouted at his troops. “To the front, men, with me!”

  As the troop of Senecans went down the slope toward the fighting, Berezan glanced toward the east – and his heart froze in his chest.

  Without turning away from that which had captured his attention, he shouted at Andar. “Are you certain you’ve no more arrows, sir?”

  Andar glanced back as he sprinted toward the front, his grin still in place. “Sorry, general – but we’ve no more to give you. I’m afraid it’s all sword work for us now.”

  But it wasn’t his own lines that concerned Berezan at the moment. A few hundred yards to the east, on the broad shelf of smooth rock that extended in front of General Donnick’s position, it looked as if the world of men was about to come to an end.

  33.

  Before the onrushing enemy closed upon his front, after the triple volley of arrows had come and gone and the wounded had been removed, Donnick stepped out in front of his lines, at the point where Elam and Duridia came together, and looked at the men that stood on either side of that line of demarcation. Fixing his gaze on the young man from Elam that stood in the foremost rank, Donnick asked him, “What is your name, son?”

  “My name is Kevan, sir,” the soldier replied shakily, his eyes flicking back and forth between Donnick and the charging gray host.

  The general then looked at the man standing next to him, a stocky fair-haired soldier who hailed from the southe
rn plains of far-off Duridia.

  “And your name?”

  “I am called Durayne, sir.”

  Donnick looked back and forth from Kevan to Durayne and then he spoke. “Alright, boys,” he said, “today you two are not from different lands, with different princes. Today, you are brothers, men born alike of free earth and free parentage.” He leaned toward them and his voice went low. “I want you to fight like brothers today. Shake hands and pledge your honor to one another.”

  After the two men had complied to this, gazing at each other, each swearing solemnly to defend the other, Donnick nodded and then inquired as to the identification of each man in the rank behind and then the rank behind that.

  He looked from one side to the other, slowly, from Elam to Duridia. “Say it,” he commanded. “Say it with me – today we are brothers!”

  Inspired by his words and their meaning, soldiers from very widely separated lands raised their fists and declared, “Today we are brothers!”

  Satisfied, Donnick went back through the lines, turned to look down the hill and deliberately raised his voice once more, but kept his tone calm. “Steady, boys. Ready spikes. Hold the line – here they come.”

  As he waited for the enemy to reach him, Donnick looked each way along his lines once more. To his right, Duridia seemed stoic, tense, but solid – they had been in this position before, and knew what to expect. To Donnick’s left, the men of Elam seemed much less sure of themselves, white-faced and skittish as the dark line of the enemy came on.

  Still, though their knuckles seemed ready to burst from their straining hands, and their eyes were wide with fear, they remained at their post. They had not been in this situation before; nonetheless, each of them knew why he was here.

  The enemy charged hard for the last thirty yards or so, lowering their pikes and rushing at the lines of waiting men. Except for the occasional roar of command from a lasher, however, that dark mass was silent. Donnick waited until the leading elements of that onrushing host were within twenty yards, then –

  “Spikes!”

  The short oddly-weighted spears sailed forth and into the ranks of the enemy. Because of the tight formation of the gray men, for nearly every one of those deadly spikes, a gray man went down, in places their bodies tripping up those that came behind.

  “Now!” Donnick yelled. “Ready pikes – hold fast!”

  Just over to his left, upon the level shelf that extended out from his lines, the enemy was coming on hard, the dark line forming a convex bulge as it approached him. He turned and found Sub-general Jonders with his company of reserves.

  Pointing to his left, Donnick barked the command. “Get up, and get behind Dewit and his regiment!”

  The sub-general immediately moved his company down the slope to get into position behind the place where the leading elements of the enemy would arrive within moments.

  Donnick also moved leftward. Duridia, he knew would be alright. Not only were they experienced in battle, but the ground to their front was steep, rough, and broken. It was in front of Elam that things would rapidly get dicey, especially if the enemy commanders recognized the advantage that the level ground deferred upon them.

  Donnick had little doubt that they already knew.

  Coming up next to Jonders, he put a hand on the young sub-general’s shoulder. Pointing toward the front with the other, he stated with as much calmness as he could muster, “I will need you right here, sub-general. Spread your men out, and plug any gaps that appear to your front. Do that and we’ll be alright.”

  Jonders stared to the front, swallowed and nodded, “Right, sir.”

  The enemy smashed into the lines. At the point where the dark line of gray men had developed a convex shape as they crossed the level ground, Elam buckled and began to give way as pikes pierced flesh and men died.

  Donnick put his hand once again on Jonders’ shoulder and pushed him forward. “Now, general – now!”

  In response, Jonders shouted “Forward!” and his company of reserves showed their training, rushing headlong down the slope and into the rear ranks of their comrades, lowering their pikes into the enemy and buttressing the sagging line.

  The timely arrival of Jonders’ reserves fortified the line. Despite the horrific carnage in Elam’s front ranks, the impetus of the enemy charge stalled and the line once again held solid, even as the two opposing forces pushed and strained at each other.

  Donnick looked eastward, toward Duridia.

  Duridia was holding.

  Boman was there and he was capable, experienced, and steady. The men from the southern plains were fully engaged and taking casualties, but they were dealing death as well. Duridia would hold.

  Donnick looked long enough to be sure that he was not needed anywhere to his right and then he looked back to Elam’s front, out over the level shelf of rocky ground.

  He sucked in a breath and held it.

  A large clot of horned monsters were gathered out there.

  Seneca had devastated the lines of the lashers as they had come up the slope, killing a high percentage of those loathsome beasts. However, many had survived the aerial onslaught – and now they were gathering out upon that level, open ground, obviously with every intention of storming Donnick’s front. There were hundreds – nay, thousands, and more came from the right and left to swell their numbers by the moment.

  Even as he watched, with his heart in his throat, another storm of arrows rained down upon that gathering clot of monsters. Over to the right, near the center, Matibar had seen the imminent danger and was working to mitigate it.

  The Senecan captain sent his remaining missiles into that gathered host, killing and injuring many.

  But there were too many.

  It looked as if every lasher from across the whole of Elam’s front had been gathered there.

  And their response to the hail of deadly missiles from Seneca was to immediately turn toward the front, without waiting to form any semblance of order – and charge. As they did so, a horn sounded from among their ranks and the gray men fighting along Donnick’s front abruptly disengaged, broke into two parts and peeled away; those to his left moving toward Kavnaugh and those to the right toward Boman.

  His front was open, fully exposed to the onrushing mass of monsters.

  Desperately, Donnick looked around for any remaining reserves, but there were none. Sheathing his sword and picking up an abandoned pike, he rushed down to insert himself into the line where the lashers would come. As he moved into a gap he heard the thunder of hooves behind him. He glanced back to find Marcus, High Prince of Elam, looking down at him from Phagan’s back.

  “Hold if you can, General – I’ll get help!” The young prince shouted, and then he jerked his head to the right. “Look – here comes Wamlak with his troop!”

  Turning his head, Donnick saw his son, Wamlak, and his mounted archers driving down the slope towards him.

  As the horsemen came they released the last of their arrows into the onrushing lashers and then drew swords and lifted lances.

  “Hold, father!” Wamlak yelled. “We are coming!”

  34.

  Boman also saw the danger that gathered upon the level ground in front of Donnick, but he had sent his reserves to the right, to aid Muray at the road. His own front was taking a beating. Though there were few lashers in the host that struggled with his men, the gray men there fought with a fierceness that belied their odd silence and seeming lack of emotion.

  Desperately, he examined his lines for any men that could be relieved and sent to the left to aid Donnick.

  But there were none. Everywhere, Boman’s Duridians were fully engaged; to weaken any segment of his line would risk that which he feared would shortly befall Donnick. He looked up the slope to find Lord Aram, but the king was no longer there, in the center, where he had been shortly before. He and Thaniel could just be seen, going eastward behind the lines of Lamont beyond the road, driving rapidly away, apparently toward an im
minent danger that had been espied on the east of the army.

  A voice broke upon his ears.

  Loose!” It shouted.

  Boman looked up the slope. Matibar had his Senecans turned to the left, toward the danger that gathered in front of Donnick, and were employing their remaining missiles to mitigate it.

  Then, sweeping down the slope in front of Matibar and his archers, Wamlak’s mounted troop hove into view, charging toward Boman’s left, toward Donnick. The mounted archers loosed their remaining arrows and drew swords and lances.

  “Hold, father!” Wamlak shouted as he and his troop swept past Boman. “We are coming!”

  Thinking that perhaps by the combined actions of Captains Matibar and Wamlak, Donnick would be saved; Boman returned his undivided attention back to his own struggles. His Duridians heaved and shoved against the vigor of the gray men, parrying with their shields as they thrust the deadly sharp steels of their pikes forward into the ranks of the enemy.

  Though monstrous lashers roamed the line behind the ranks of the gray men, roaring commands, so far none of the great beasts had actually entered the fray. In fact, as Boman stopped for a moment to examine the behavior of the beasts, it abruptly occurred to him that their number had lessened beyond what he would have expected.

  Seneca had dramatically thinned their numbers as they came up the hill, still there had been more that reached his lines than he now saw roaming the slope beyond the ranks of cursing, straining combatants.

  Curious, he let his gaze rove back and forth along the front.

  Then, he saw the reason for the reduction in numbers of the beasts that directly opposed Duridia.

  Over to the right, upon the smooth pavement of the road, just out of reach of the Senecan missiles, three large groups of lashers milled about and gradually began to form into three separate and very deep lines of battle.

  What he and Muray had feared all along was about to take place – Manon’s great beasts meant to split the army of free men, right here, in the center.