“My King, our scouts were unable to ascertain their exact numbers,” Kivalla replied, attempting to answer the question posed by King Enden, who had hoped his longtime advisor would have more information on the strength of the Saricon forces. “But we know that the Saricons have now split their forces, leaving a small contingent of men behind to attack the garrison. The majority of their army has nearly reached Eltus and will be storming their walls shortly.” Kivalla was thin and unassuming, his hair as dark as night and showing no signs of his forty seven years. His clean shaven face and smooth skin belied his age, perhaps due to the many hours spent inside, sheltered from the harsh elements outside the king’s quarters. Kivalla was from Rygar to the north and had been recruited by King Enden many years ago, when he was just twenty six.
“They have split their forces, holding enough men behind to keep our troops from helping the Kaelians,” Veros stated, his voice deep and commanding.
“That seems to be the case,” Kivalla added, “and the letter from Daricon mentioned that Prince Jarak was the one who had surmised this possibility. By all accounts, your son is doing well,” Kivalla added.
Queen Irstan looked at her husband, but said nothing. If Kivalla were not mistaken her look suggested she was not happy with the king. Perhaps she was angry that he had sent Jarak to Lyone. After all, the garrison was always a dangerous place, now more than ever.
“That is good. What is Daricon’s plan?”
Kivalla looked to the queen and back to King Enden, not eager to share the next bit of information. “It seems, my King, that Daricon and Prince Jarak have decided to hold out at the garrison as long as they can, keeping their losses to a minimum. They want to hurt the enemy as much as possible before abandoning the garrison.”
“And will my son be present during the attack?” the queen asked, her voice soft but carrying the keen edge of a Kul-brite sword. She was a beautiful woman, with long dark hair and skin the color of honey, smooth and soft, repudiating her age of fifty five years. Many people whispered that she had found a spell that countered the negative effects of age. And despite her lithe petite form, she was a powerful Aura Mage in her own right.
Kivalla coughed, clearing his throat. “He chose to stay behind…to take part in the fighting.”
King Enden looked at his wife, her face a mixture of anger and sadness. Despite her frustration with him for sending Jarak away, King Enden was proud of his son’s progress, and equally proud to hear that he had agreed to stay behind to fight with his men when he could have easily run back to Cythera, something he probably would have done a year ago. The decision to send his son away had not been easy, knowing the danger he may have put his son in, as well as having to deal with the wrath of his wife. But by all accounts Jarak was becoming a man, a prince that his people could follow and respect. He just hoped that Argon saw fit to protect him so he could see him again. “That is good,” the king said, avoiding the icy glare of his wife. “He will learn a lot, and besides, my brother Daricon will protect him.” Everyone knew he had mentioned that last part for his wife, and perhaps to convince himself as well. “What of Kulvar? Have we heard from him?”
This time Tul’gon spoke. “Word came in yesterday. The nobles you sent in response to Chief Byn’ok’s request have returned. But Kulvar Rand was not with them.”
“Where is he?” the king asked.
“It turns out there was a problem at the fight. The two fighters that were supposed to face off in the final bout, both of whom were Ull Therm, escaped the night before. I guess there was a confrontation between Tangar and Kulvar soon after.”
“About what?” This time it was the queen who asked the question, clearly interested.
“Tangar, the chief’s son, accused Kulvar Rand of helping the prisoner escape. Master Kulvar left early that morning and has not returned. We do not know where he went.”
King Enden sighed. The Schulg were a volatile race, prone to violence and rash behaviors. He didn’t like anything that could potentially cause political strife between Dy’ain and the nomads. He hoped that Kulvar hadn’t done anything that could potentially break the precarious truce he had worked so hard to procure with Chief Byn’ok.
“Do we have any news on any troop movements entering Dy’ainian lands?”
Everyone looked to General Veros. “Other than the imminent attack on the Garrison, we have not had any reports of any Saricon troops entering our lands.”
“But we must assume that their attack on Eltus is just a precursor to their invasion of Dy’ain,” Kivalla added. “My guess is they want to occupy Eltus so they can control the Dynel Strait. They must also defeat the Kaelian navy before they venture into the Dark Sea and attack Cythera. They want control of our Kul-brite trade.”
“I agree,” General Veros said. “That is the tactic that I would employ if I were in their position.”
“Can they defeat the Kaelian navy?” the queen asked skeptically. Everyone knew that the Kaelian navy was all but invincible.
“They do not have the ships or the skill to do so,” General Veros replied.
But Kivalla was shaking his head. “Do not underestimate the Saricons. Many people have done so and suffered for it. They have huge transport ships, each capable of carrying nearly five hundred men. And their navy, although smaller than the Kaelian’s, includes ships from the conquered island kingdoms of YaLara and Argos, and as you know those seafarers know their way around a ship. I agree that a naval confrontation with Kael would not end well for them, but they are an intelligent and resourceful enemy, and if there is a way to win they will find it. I suggest we make our plans based on a possible Kaelian defeat. That way there will be no surprises.”
King Enden leaned forward in his chair, resting his strong forearms on the table. “Let us assume then that they defeat the Kaelians. My guess is that after they take the garrison, which we know they eventually will, that they will take that force into Dy’ain and make their way here. But what of their main army? The shortest route would be to ship men and supplies from Eltus to our shores. What are your thoughts on this?”
Everyone leaned forward and looked more closely at the map spread across the table. Kivalla spoke first. “They have few options. If we use our navy to protect our coast, including the Bitlis Straight, then they only have one path before them. They must land along our coast and unload their army.”
Queen Irstan looked carefully at the map. Then she pointed along the eastern shores of the Dark Sea. “Can they land their forces here?”
“They could,” the king answered. “But we would know of it. Besides, that would mean they would have to travel across the Sil Desert and then find a way to cross the Bitlis Sea to attack us from the North. I do not see that happening.”
“I agree,” General Veros said. “We will have the advantage of knowing where they will attack.”
“One more thing,” the king said. “I would like runners sent out alerting all Legionnaires that war is coming. If the Kaelians are defeated, we will order most of our troops from all garrisons and outposts. I want everyone ready.”
“What of our troops in Kreb and Tanwen?” Kivalla asked.
“Send word and have half of each contingent return to Cythera,” the king ordered.
“That will weaken our northern and western borders,” General Veros cautioned.
“True, but holding those borders will be inconsequential if we cannot repel the Saricon horde,” King Enden added somberly. “Now, prepare the orders and get some rest.” With that, the king stood, ending the meeting. Queen Irstan stood with him, and together they left, heading for their quarters.
***
Jarak crouched next to Serix, nervously watching the Saricons through a screen of brush on the far side of the river. Daricon had been right. The small army of Saricons had been assaulting the garrison wall from the far side of the river for two days, using catapults of a strange design to fling round clay balls that exploded with fiery flames when they landed.
They had never before encountered incendiary projectiles such as these. Luckily they had plenty of water and most of the garrison structure had been constructed of stone, and with a quick relentless effort they were able to put the flames out before they did significant damage. At least for now.
But he had warned them that they would try to cross the river in small groups, hoping to assault the garrison on the Dy’ainian side so the defenders would have to split their defense to protect both the eastern and western walls. So scouts had patrolled the river’s edge religiously, looking for any signs of enemy movement preparing to cross the river. Today, just three hours ago, a scout had returned proving Daricon’s hunch to be correct.
Captain Hagen and Jarak led five hundred men to the river’s edge, slowly creeping forward under the cover of dense brush and low lying trees that grew thickly along the river’s edge. The Saricons had picked a good spot to cross, one the Dy’ainian scouts figured would be a likely crossing point. The river bent before them, narrowing and then opening up to a wide slow current. The immediate ground before and after the bend was mostly sandy, but interspersed with fields of smooth river rock, and littered with fallen trees and debris that had been washed down the river over the years. It would be a good spot to cross and regroup on the near side.
Captain Endler Ral had joined them as well, and being the only Channeler they had, he made sure he was near Jarak and Serix. Jarak looked at the captain, then at Serix, hoping to gain some confidence from them and help calm his nerves. Endler felt his gaze, and sensing his unease gently squeezed his forearm. “Stay close to me,” he whispered. “I should be able to hold enough energy for you both. But remember…”
“Don’t rely on it,” Jarak finished his sentence, giving him a weak smile.
“Exactly. You will do fine. Argon and Felina will watch over us. Just remember your training and stay close to Serix and me.”
Jarak nodded and looked down the line. He was looking for Cat but he could not see her. She would be near her father, and despite the fact that Captain Hagen was the best swordsman there, he was still concerned about her.
They had silently watched the Saricons as they slowly moved their men across the river in large barges, each hastily built raft carrying twenty men. There were very few places along the Pelm River that offered any spot for a sizable force to cross. This was one of them, along with several others further west of the garrison where the river was narrower.
Jarak counted a total of two hundred men, and once the last barge had crossed they fanned out in groups of ten, slowly moving towards them, alert and ready. They were smart. He was hoping they would stay grouped together in a tight formation, but they did not, knowing that they were in the open and susceptible to attack. The Saricon warriors were huge, wearing banded mail, animal furs, and carrying long swords, axes, and war hammers. About half carried shields while the other half wore a strange quiver on their broad backs, the tips of short spears rising above their heads. Jarak had never seen weapons such as those.
The plan was simple and Jarak was glad they held the element of surprise. He and Serix would attack with fire, signaling for their archers to release their arrows. At that point, it would turn into a melee and their larger force should prevail.
Jarak’s heart was pounding. He had never faced anything like this before. True, he had fought valiantly when they were attacked on the road, but that was the extent of his experience. Before, he had been ambushed by surprise. He didn’t have time to think about the consequences. But now, waiting silently in the brush, watching the hulking warriors advance towards them, his mind went through every possible scenario, the negative outcomes pounding down his resolve. He came to the conclusion that he was not fond of having to wait before engaging in battle.
“They are close enough,” Captain Ral whispered. Reaching out, he began to task aura energy from the enemy, slowly building it up, holding it in his chest. Jarak was impressed. They were still too far away for him to task, but by the looks of it Channelers were able to draw energy from a more substantial distance. Or maybe Captain Ral was just more skilled than most.
Serix, who was on Jarak’s left side, leaned in close. “Pull energy from Endler until your towd is full. Then follow my lead. You know the spell. Just concentrate. When we move forward be cautious of their throwing spears. I’ve heard they are incredibly accurate and they can throw them much farther than expected. Remember, do not accidently draw energy from them. Their auras will be angry and filled with malice. Draw from Endler, he will filter it for you.”
Jarak was too nervous to respond, so he merely nodded in agreement, then slowly began to draw the energy from Endler, dragging it from his aura and storing it in his towd. Endler’s aura was a brilliant white, the filtered energy building with power as he pulled it from the advancing army. Jarak and Serix were able to continuously draw energy from him as Endler drew more of it from the approaching men.
Once Jarak’s towd was full, he sat up on his knees, the screen of brush concealing him from the approaching enemy. Using both hands he concentrated on forming a ball of fire between them. It took only a few moments before energy surged from his hands, coming together in a swirling ball of intense red orange heat. Focusing on the task, Jarak pushed more energy into the sphere, condensing it into a tight ball, encasing it by weaving strands around it, until the ball could hold no more power. It was a tough spell to perform, but one Serix had forced him to practice on many occasions. And now he was thankful, silently berating himself for any disparaging words he had mentally slung at Serix for making him work so hard.
Serix had already finished. In his right hand he held a large glowing ball, flickering flames dancing all around it, eager to explode in destructive power. “Ready?”
The soldiers surrounding them gripped their weapons tighter, knowing that battle was upon them. The bowmen readied their weapons, arrows nocked, with several more stuck into the ground beside them for fast deployment.
Jarak took a deep breath. “Do it.”
Serix stood up quickly and threw the fireball at the closest group of men. Jarak followed his lead, aiming for another group further to his right. Traces of fiery light arced through the air as the flaming spheres descended on the enemy.
The Saricons frantically threw up their shields for protection. But it mattered not; the balls exploded in intense heat, the impact unraveling the strands and releasing their power, blasting through shields, armor, and flesh. Dozens were instantly incinerated, while the spreading flames more slowly killed or injured others.
The scene turned to chaos as a rain of arrows flew from the brush from which hundreds of Dy’ainian archers had stood up to release their shafts, following the first volley quickly with two others. The battlefield exploded in pandemonium as men screamed, orders were shouted, and scores of Saricons fell, quivering arrows jutting from their flesh. But the Saricons were skilled warriors, and once they saw the attack, had closed formation, the men with shields holding the front line while the warriors that carried the spear-like projectiles stood crouched behind them. Arrows slammed into the shields, some hitting their mark and dropping the warriors to the ground. But then, with practiced familiarity, those behind the front line drew the short spears from their backs, flinging them with both expert skill and tremendous power into the Dy’ainian ranks, flying with such speed and force that they barely saw them coming. And those that managed to heft their shields up in time were nearly knocked to the ground as the heavy steel points slammed into them, busting through the shields as if they were made of thin wood. Several Legionaries suffered broken arms from the impact, and they were the lucky ones.
“Move forward!” Captain Ral yelled, drawing his sword and lifting his shield. Jarak drew his sword, as did Serix, and they pushed through the brush into the open, running alongside Endler Ral. The Legionnaires ran at their flanks, shouting Argon’s name. There was just enough time before the two forces came together for Jarak to create another spell. He hurriedly dr
ew more energy from Endler, using his free hand to wrap invisible strands of it around a large downed log before them. There was a lot of driftwood scattered around the battlefield and Jarak grabbed the log closest to the Saricons. Directing it with his hand, he lifted it, heaving it forward as he ran and hurling it lengthwise into the approaching Saricons. The power of the attack crushed six men, burying the ones behind them under the combined weight of the log and their mangled bodies. Then they were upon the invaders, slashing down with swords and axes, killing the enemy as they struggled to get to their feet. But more Saricons surged forward and the fierce fighting continued.
Farther down the line Captain Hagen withdrew his sword from the chest of a dead Saricon. He was splattered with blood and the grime of battle. He looked quickly to his right, silently thanking Argon that his daughter was still there. She was engaged and battling a massive warrior, but he had no opportunity to help her as more fighters attacked. All he could do was hope that he had trained her well, and that the men around her would protect her, as they did each other.
“Heln!” an enemy warrior bellowed, his huge axe descending towards Hagen just as a Saricon spear smashed into the warrior to his left, puncturing his armor and bursting out the other side. The force of the blow knocked his lifeless body backwards several paces. Hagen’s flank was now exposed, but he had no time to worry about that as he hastily lifted his shield to take the axe blow, which descended with such force that it nearly broke his arm.
Then he heard a scream that caused his heart to lurch in his chest. Risking a glance to his right he saw Cat knocked to the ground, a Saricon standing above her readying another blow. Growling with fury, adrenaline firing through his muscles, Captain Hagen snapped his foot out, connecting solidly with the Saricon’s chest, knocking him backwards several paces. He knew it would do no real damage, but he didn’t care, he just needed a few extra seconds. Lunging to his right, he jabbed his sword into the thigh of the Saricon that stood over his daughter. Then, with incredible speed, fueled by self-preservation and fear for his daughter, he changed direction and leaped back towards the warrior he had been fighting, lifting his shield at the last second to take the blow he knew was coming. This time, he lessened the force of the impact by angling the shield down and away from him, simultaneously stepping in closer and viciously ramming his sword into the Saricon’s chest. His sharp blade broke through the banded mail and found his heart, killing him instantly.
The Steel Lord: Book 01 - BannerFall Page 29