Flight of the Renshai fotr-1

by Mickey Zucker Reichert

  Saviar would have liked to discuss the situation with his twin, but circumstances did not allow it. Subikahn had nothing to say, and Saviar found himself tied up trying to explain the generals' strategy well enough that the Renshai would not spoil it. It simply called for the infantrymen to pause long enough from engaging to allow the bowmen a few rounds at the enemy as they scrambled from their ships. But Ra-khir and Saviar both knew the futility of asking Renshai to hesitate in battle.

  Saviar was not sure it mattered anyway.The Renshai had no bows, no cavalry per se, though they did keep some horses. They might foil the shots of the bowmen stationed in the armies on either side, but no arrows, bolts, or quarrels should spring from directly behind them. Saviar hoped that would work well enough. Ra-khir would have no more luck restraining Renshai than he would the wind itself. And Saviar the Volcano Tamer doubted he could do much better.

  The Aeri soldier waited for the blare of horns to die to echoes before addressing Valr Magnus. The general stood at the back of his infantry, watching for Archer-Captain Sivaird to give the signal. "Sir, we found young Treysind bound hand and foot. Shall we release him?"

  Magnus had to suppress a laugh. "Tied him up, did he? That's one way to keep a small brother safe."

  "Sir?"

  "Have someone nonessential take Treysind to whoever's guarding the children in Bearn." Magnus watched the enemy pour from their ships with astounding precision. They moved in an orderly fashion, perfectly coordinated. This did not bode well. "Have them tell the women in charge to keep both eyes on him. Otherwise, he's going to run to the thickest part of the battle, swamp his brother and others around them, and get his fool self hacked to bits."

  "Yes, sir." The soldier rushed to obey.

  Valr Magnus wondered why the archers had not yet fired. He trusted Captain Sivaird to know the precise moment, yet the sooner they did so, the more rounds they could get off before the infantry engaged. The various cavalries waited, bunched just behind the beachhead, to catch any pirates who scythed their way through the soldiers on foot.

  Valr Magnus turned his attention back to the enemy, finally finding the reason for Sivaird's hesitation. From nearly every massed army on the shore, infantrymen charged the pirates, disobeying the commands of red-faced, screaming commanders. Damn! Magnus' own army held firm, aside from one man who stormed down the sand with the ferocity of a she-bear protecting cubs.

  "General!" Captain Alsmir shouted.

  Magnus did not need an explanation. He had weathered enough war to know this might happen. "I see them!" The best laid plans are more often thwarted by inexperienced allies than enemies.

  "What do you want me to do?" the archer's captain called down from the ridge.

  Captain Alsmir rode off to bunch his men, making sure that the remainder of his charges obeyed orders and did not break ranks to follow the one.

  Valr Magnus looked from the growing battles on the beaches to Sivaird. He could order them to sacrifice the one disobedient man, to pepper Calistin with the same barrage as the enemy. He dismissed the thought the instant it arose; it was a cowards' way out, ethically and strategically wrong. "Use the Strikers." Magnus referred to the most competent archers, the specialists reserved for specific targets. "Take down the ships, if you can. Leave the shore-bound for the infantry. The reservists need to switch to handheld weapons, and the designated bowmen…" He could think of no specific use for them but hated wasting their skill. "… use your judgment. If you can get a clear shot without jeopardizing any of our men, take it."

  Captain Sivaird saluted and rushed to reorganize. Flaming arrows flew toward the ships. Only three hit their targets, but all of the others crashed safely into the sea. Smoke rose from one of the ships, then burst brilliantly into flames. One down. One seemed so few.Yet, even that small triumph brought them one step nearer to victory. "Again," he said beneath his breath. And Sivaird complied. Another wave of flaming arrows flew from the ridge, accompanied by a tight barrage of quarrels over the heads of the massed infantry on the open portion of beach.

  All up and down Bearn's beaches, of ringing steel, battle cries, grunts, and screams filled the air with the familiar sounds of war.

  Another ship went up in flames, then another, and a few more up and down the ocean from other units. Then, the pirates swarmed the beach, and Captain Alsmir released the infantry. Valr Magnus freed his sword and raced to join his men, reminding himself not only to watch for the familiar uniforms of his unit but for the various and sundry other continental warriors, the random clothes of volunteers and conscripted soldiers, the homespun farmers. He need not have worried. To a man, the enemy sported the same leather armor, helmets, and shields; and it became easier to target them and protect every other.

  Bodies fell around Valr Magnus, flesh yielding to his sword, steel slamming against his blocks and parries. Several of his own men had fallen amongst the enemy, each blood-splattered aqua-and-bronze uniform a painful reminder that not every man would return. He set his sights on allowing as few pirates past him as possible, easing the burden on the cavalry farther up the beach. They were the last resort for the women and children of Bearn, the city, the castle, and all the lands beyond.

  Piles of bloody bodies formed on the beach, and Magnus found himself shifting slightly southward as he cleared the area around him. At length, he found an unexpected partner behind him, a man of such skill and ferocity that the general was incapable of not trusting that his flank was safe. Without intention or planning, the two men merged their personal strategies to become a single fighting unit. The dead all but surrounded them, and they had to move together across the beach to find opponents as the pirates deliberately avoided them.

  All up and down the beach they fought without pause, no breaks for what felt like half a day or longer, their skin, clothing, and hair spattered with enemy gore.Valr Magnus felt fatigue press him, but he banished it through willpower. His arms and legs kept moving long past pain and weariness. He dared not stop, not break even for a moment, worried that doing so would allow exhaustion to finally catch him. Once stilled, he might not find the strength to move again. And, luckily, his partner remained with him.

  It did not occur to Valr Magnus to wonder who fought the battle with him. Knowing the truth would ruin everything, would force him to contemplate an intolerable situation, would shatter any illusions left from centuries of stories, legends, and history. Subconsciously, Magnus knew his benefactor was the archest of nemeses, that he threw his lot in with a Renshai sworn to kill him. Yet, he would not allow that thought to come to the fore. He could not remember the last time he had fought a battle with such an aura of faith at his back, at the side of an ally who matched or exceeded his own talent. It was a joy he would not allow something as mundane as reality to destroy.

  Ra-khir swiftly realized that it did not matter if he served as the Renshai's only cavalry. Nobody made it past the world's most skilled swordsmen. All up and down the beach, pirates slipped through the knots of infantries to the horsemen stationed beyond them. He could see the knights' white chargers plunging behind Erythane's infantry, saw one occasionally veer off to assist among the golds, browns, and grays of the other troops. He, alone, had no one to chase. It all seemed a cruel joke. A battle of this magnitude, and I'm actually bored.

  Ra-khir did wander right or left at times to catch a charging pirate or assist other horsemen, but he did so at his own risk. The Western army to his south worked as a well-rehearsed team. To the north, he discovered more leeway, but he also found himself moving in that direction to back the Renshai. As the pirates fell or tried to find easier routes up the beachhead, the Renshai had to shift as well. And, like a golden tide, they rolled casually northward.

  As Ra-khir rode the dunes for a better view of the battle, several things became clear. The abilities of the continental armies varied greatly, while those of the pirates seemed nearly identical. Early on, this favored the pirates, who could fall back on consistency and drive into the weak
er areas of the allies' defenses. But, as the weakest and least experienced fighters fell, the pirates found themselves facing a tougher defense, with a higher percentage of trained soldiers who gradually learned to exploit their enemy's unwavering style.

  Suddenly, two Renshai broke from the chaos to charge up the beach, as if fleeing the battle. Ra-khir knew better. No Renshai would ever display such cowardice. Those two had other reason for rushing toward him. Saviar and Subikahn, he assumed. And they've seen something.

  Ra-khir reined Silver Warrior into their path and nudged him into a ground-eating canter. The looseness of the sand slowed the stallion into a rolling slog, but he soon met up with the twins. They looked frightful, their arms, hair, and clothing striped with blood and spotted with bits of unidentifiable gore. Their swords dripped crimson circles into the sand. Saviar's expression appeared worried, his pale eyes crinkled and his forehead lined; but Subikahn looked positively corpselike. His eyes had sunken into pools of pained darkness, his cheeks drawn.

  "Papa," Saviar shouted as soon as they drew close enough to hear one another. "Look there." He used his sword to point toward the pirate ships.

  Ra-khir had looked there a thousand times in the past several hours, but he dutifully followed Saviar's gesture. Most of the ships still remained at anchor off the coast, bobbing gently in swells that made a strange and peaceful contrast to the raging battle on the shore. He could see some bubbling and movement in the water where sharks had discovered bodies. Otherwise, nothing appeared to have changed. "You mean the sharks?" He wondered if the boys had some strategy that involved driving the pirates into the jaws of the savage fish. "Because I don't think anyone's going to let themselves-"

  Saviar shoved the hilt of his sword against his father's fist, which startled Ra-khir. No Renshai, not even his son, ever willingly handed over his weapon to someone outside the tribe. Cautiously, he wrapped his fingers around it.

  "Look again."

  Ra-khir kept his eyes in the direction Saviar had indicated. At first, he saw nothing unusual. Then, a shimmer drew his attention slightly to the right where he discovered a ball of light that seemed to hover over the deck of the central ship. "What's that?"

  "It's an aura," Saviar explained, snatching back his sword.

  The glow disappeared, at least to Ra-khir's eyes.

  "Someone's working magic. We need to find Chymmerlee."

  Ra-khir did not fully understand, but he trusted the twins. "All right. What-?" The distant waves seemed to hesitate. Nearer the shore, the water sucked back from the edge. "The ocean… it's changing."

  Subikahn grabbed Saviar's arm, but his attention went to Ra-khir. "Can we borrow your horse, sir?"

  "What?" Ra-khir had never even allowed groomsmen to handle his steed, and he would have to bend his orders, and knightly law, to allow such a thing. Nevertheless, he dismounted. The water drew farther inward, like a string of drool sucked back into a large dog's mouth. He pointed toward his favorite vantage. "Meet me there, on that largest dune. The view is perfect."

  Saviar nodded as he swung into the saddle, and Subikahn leaped into place behind him. Silver Warrior galloped toward the castle, Ra-khir cringing at every wallowing step. Speed was dangerous in sand for a massive animal with such slender legs. He vowed to give the boys a strongly-worded lecture on the proper treatment of animals when they returned, then discarded the thought. He trusted Saviar's wisdom and ability to weigh risk. The twins clearly saw a desperate need for speed that Ra-khir did not yet understand; and, while it seemed to him that one rider should have sufficed, especially since they would add Chymmerlee on their return, the boys had a reason for fetching her together. Saviar would not risk his father's precious charger without desperate need.

  "Godspeed," he whispered beneath his breath. He could still feel the impression of the split leather hilt against his palm. It had been Kevral's sword Saviar had handed him, he realized. She had never allowed him to touch it. For Saviar to do so meant a critical situation that words and expressions couldn't explain. He looked back at the shoreline, where the water drew back farther and farther toward the anchored ships.

  Though it seemed like hours to Ra-khir, only a few moments passed before he heard the familiar hoof falls and Silver Warrior came bounding through the sand. Three figures sat astride, one nearly as heavy as himself but the other two much lighter. Subikahn dismounted before the horse drew up, but Saviar waited and gently assisted Chymmerlee to the ground.

  "It's a tidal wave," Ra-khir said in an awed whisper. "That's what he's preparing for. A massive wall of ocean that takes out all of our troops… and his as well." Ra-khir had heard about the two types of pirates, the one huge and magical, the other mortal and bound to their bidding. It made sense that the creatures that called themselves Kjempemagiska might care little for servant underlings, but the thought appalled Ra-khir. Even the greatest gods of their world did not treat humans as expendable playthings, at least not in such numbers. We're all going to die, Ra-khir realized with strangely little fear. Even those as far away as the castle might not survive.

  Saviar's mouth set into a grim line. "Chymmerlee?"

  The Myrcidian did not respond, only opened her arms wide and mumbled strings of harsh syllables. Ra-khir's attention flitted between her and the middle ship, where he had seen the glow while holding Saviar's sword. He did not bother to ask what Chymmerlee was doing. It was clearly magic, and he did not want to distract her with foolish questions. He did, however, look askance at his son.

  Saviar complied softly. "She's a mage, Papa."

  Ra-khir considered. The word made sense in a fairy-tale sort of way. The only known creatures with magic living on the world of men were elves. However, Ra-khir had seen enough of the home of the gods, and of other worlds, in his time to know things existed of which men knew little or nothing. Now, he understood why both boys had insisted on fetching her; she was valuable enough to deserve two Renshai bodyguards. "Elfin blood?" he guessed.

  Saviar shook his head. "His aura just flared up," he informed those who could not see it.

  Chymmerlee tossed her head suddenly.

  The water rushed back toward shore in a large, tumbling mass that rocked the boats wildly and carried those closest to the shore into the sea. At least, the colossal behemoth of water the Kjempemagiska had apparently planned never made it to fruition.

  "He knows he lost control of his spell," Chymmerlee explained breathlessly, "but he doesn't know why. He hasn't found me yet. He's convinced by centuries of spying that we have absolutely no magic here."

  Centuries of spying? The thought astounded Ra-khir and sent a shiver stabbing through him. They've been among us that long? His mind shot instantly back to his studies, and he did manage to pull out a few oddities.There were references to mages in the distant past, and most people knew of the Cardinal Wizards in stories their parents' told. A few scattered references to giants and oversized weapons spotted the military history texts, and he remembered hearing of a detail about the Great War, hundreds of years past, where huge weapons left by a warrior from across the sea found their way into an armory. "Until the elves came to our world, that was essentially true."

  "Essentially," Subikahn muttered.

  "He's getting off the ship." Chymmerlee announced, though whether she knew from watching or feeling, Ra-khir did not know. Even he could see an enormous man stepping off a central ship and wading into the foam, apparently oblivious to the frenzy of sharks around him. Water that would have drowned a normal man came only to the middle of his chest. Although Ra-khir no longer saw the aura, he suspected that Chymmerlee and Saviar, who clutched the hilt of the magical sword, did.

  As the Kjempemagiska came to shore, he was abruptly mobbed by continental soldiers, their weapons flying and weaving. The giant seemed not to notice. He drew his own massive sword with slow deliberateness and, with a single swipe, dropped ten or twenty men.

  "Gods be damned," Ra-khir whispered.

  Saviar started runni
ng toward the shore; but, before he could take a second step, Chymmerlee snagged his arm. "Wait!"

  Saviar stopped so suddenly he had to back step to keep from falling.

  "I need you, Saviar. And Subikahn. I need people here to protect me."

  "That's what I'm trying to do," Saviar explained hurriedly. "If I keep him busy fighting, he can't harm you."

  "True," Chymmerlee admitted. "But once he knows I'm the one constraining him, he'll send his entire army after me. I can't fight them and hinder him at the same time." She sized up her adversary and shook her head. "I'm not that strong, as mages go. One against one, he'd have me. So long as he has to fight your men, however, he can't come directly after me."

  "We can't afford to lose her," Subikahn said.

  Saviar glared. Clearly, he did not even need that possibility spoken aloud. "We'll stay and protect Chymmerlee. I'm sure the others will see him as their primary target."

  Ra-khir looked worriedly at the shore. Men dove on the giant in droves, but he did not even seem to notice their blows. Every one of his strokes, however, effortlessly took down several defenders. At one point, he seemed to crackle with lightning, and warriors toppled in a piled up ring around him. The odor of ozone and charred flesh filled the air.

  "No," Chymmerlee gasped. Closing her eyes, she raised her hands and started speaking in odd gutturals. Saviar and Subikahn crouched in front of her. Ra-khir remounted Silver Warrior and circled them warily, prepared to take down any pirate who dared come too close.

  "What happened?" Saviar demanded suddenly.

  Ra-khir studied the battle on the shore. The soldiers attacking had become more cautious and hesitant, but the bigger change came from the Kjempemagiska. He held his sword in one hand, the other raised as if to do something, and he looked wildly frustrated. His head jerked in all directions, then focused suddenly and intently on the dune.