A spear, a needle, a pin prick.
A scratch at his ribs. A sword cut, blood. His own. Skin flapping at his side.
You’ll have to do better than that.
Little man holding up a shield but it was made as if from twigs and offered no resistance, sword smashing through, taking off the arm below.
Charging forward smashing the little men out of the way. Those that can’t falling to the floor, trampled.
Stamping down on one on the ground, chest giving with a satisfying crunch and causing bits of him to burst from his mouth.
Hacking up with the sword, tracing a line up the body starting from the groin that got progressively deeper and redder as it went.
The little men started to run and their backs gave no more resistance to his weapons than their fronts.
Will no one stand and fight me?
A familiar roar from off to one side. He was not alone.
*****
Marlen couldn't halt the surge of pride as his creations entered the battle and started chewing through the imperial soldiers like a saw through rotten wood. Privately he had raged at Storn drawing battle with the imperials so soon but he'd not managed to get the man under proper control yet. Still, the few war-altered that he had managed to ready were an astounding success.
The damage they were doing sickened a part of him inside but he tried to bury that as deeply as he could. This was war. And a necessary one. He was serving the greater good and there was endless satisfaction to be had in watching things do the job he'd designed them for.
Oh, they weren't perfect. Most of them had started attacking before they had reached the imperial line, chopping down many of their own side before they could wreak the havoc they were designed for on the enemy. All but one had been pointed in the right direction though and had quickly started taking down far more foe than friend. The battle was all but won. Still, the one that hadn't made it to the enemy had started to run amok and Marlen had to put him down. He needed a better control mechanism.
Despite that though it was hard not to conclude that his life's work so far was a success. War-altered batch two were a success. Batch three would be even better...
Marlen allowed himself a quiet guilty chuckle as he watched a severed arm fly high through the air. Imperial judging by the look of the armour. The extra muscle he'd grafted into his men was working well. Their strength was impressive. That and their endurance. One had been stuck with many spears but had carried on largely as if nothing had happened, blood clotting and wounds closing rapidly as the weapons were pulled clear. That was something he was particularly proud of. Soldiers that could heal themselves effectively on the battlefield. That is what made them unstoppable. Except by him of course. But that is what took all the effort, the magic required to make them that good was colossal and why he had so few ready.
Still as soon as the imperials were sent running back to their emperor, regional independence forcibly declared and point well proven, he would have the leisure to do things uninterrupted and at his own rate. He would fix everything. And everyone.
He barely suppressed his glee at the thought.
“Doctor, we need you,” came a voice from behind him.
Marlen looked back at the medical tent and the stream of men and women being carried in on stretchers.
“I'll be right there,” he said before turning back to the battle for one last look and smiling.
*****
Storn watched as the abominations smashed the imperial line. There was no doubt how effective they were but he was disgusted that it had gone this far and he'd been forced to use them. He looked grimly at the trails of blood leading to the frontlines. Blood of his own soldiers. The men were berserk, attacking friend and foe alike. It had taken every ounce of authority and persuasion he and his few remaining veterans had to stop even his own side routing from what he had unleashed.
What was Marlen thinking of? Oh they were impressive. A decent squad of soldiers like that under his control and he could probably conquer the empire. But that was exactly the point. Under control. Storn hoped that there was some way of bringing the berserkers down before they ran out of imperials and started turning on their own side. Storn looked at the giant body motionless on the ground nearby. Turning on their own side again that was. Storn had been on the verge of charging the giant himself, little good that it would have done, to stop the disaster it had been creating. That it had just suddenly dropped to the ground was almost more frightening. He put that to one side. Marlen had ‘skills’. Of that there was no doubt. But he had a battle to win.
*****
“What the fuck is that?” Trimas said, staring at the blond giant smashing his way through the empire’s finest.
“Seven foot tall if he’s an inch,” Daeholf said. “If not more.”
“There’s more than one of them,” Zedek said.
“I wasn’t expecting that,” Jonas said.
“None of us were,” Alia said.
“I mean I think we know which side Marlen is on. It’s not the one we expected.”
“What is he doing?” Zedek said.
“Don’t know. But if he’s got a few of them barrelling into the imperial line … it’s going bad,” Trimas said.
“We need to do something,” Daeholf said. He watched as a soldier was lifted clear off his feet and sent flying back into his comrades by an axe blow. “Soon,” he added.
“What do we do?” Alia said.
“We’re here to stop Marlen. Marlen’s a rebel. We help the imperials,” Jonas said firmly.
“Against them?” Zedek said, incredulous, pointing at a berserker.
“How?” Trimas said helplessly. “They look ten times worse than anything we’ve faced so far.”
“If Marlen crushes the legion he’ll be unstoppable,” Jonas said.
“Can you light that hay bale with a fire arrow?” Daeholf said to Zedek.
“You saw how much luck Storn’s archers were having with that,” Trimas pointed out.
“Your bow?” Zedek said to Daeholf.
“Don’t have time to string it,” Daeholf said.
“One of these days…” Zedek said.
“The first soldiers are starting to run,” Alia said.
“I’ll smash the barrels with my axe,” Trimas said. “Someone go find a fire arrow stub and get it going to light it.” He climbed down from the roof and drew his axe.
“On it,” Daeholf said.
“Horses?” Jonas asked.
“We running?” Zedek asked.
“If this works we’ll need to get to the fighting to help out. If it doesn’t…” Daeholf said, scanning the ground for a lit ember.
“Can’t say I like this but I don’t see we have much alternative,” Jonas said.
Trimas began walking, and after a few paces broke into a run. The hay bale came ever closer as he tried to decide on an approach. It was tempting to just go crazy, but that rarely ended well.
Soon he’d arrived, and was pulling the straw back, the disguise falling away to reveal a neatly stacked pile of barrels. Trimas turned, looked back at his friends now arriving on horseback, and turned to the pile.
It didn’t feel the right time for a glib comment, so he used his axe to swing as hard as he could right where this barrel curved out.
There was a thunk, and as the axe was pulled out a black liquid began to pour out. Trimas pulled the axe back behind him to swing again, when Daeholf called out.
“That’ll do. The oil is already flowing out. If we light it the fire will go in all directions, including back to those barrels. And at that point we should be some distance away…”
“Point taken,” and Trimas mounted his horse.
Daeholf took the arrow, end burning still, and dropped it into the flowing slick. Then they rode at speed.
There was a whoosh, a column of flame and movement, followed by an explosion. The battle almost seemed to pause for a moment, rebels and imperials alike trying to
assess the new threat. Even the berserkers could not fail to notice the spectacular eruption.
The barrels burst, spilling their burning oil which rolled along the surface of the water flowing across the battlefield, slowly drawing a curtain between the lines. There were a number of secondary explosions and eruptions of fire as clearly further containers of oil had been buried along the waterline across the battlefield.
“I guess it worked,” Alia said from the back of her horse, looking at the sheet of smoke flowing up from the battlefield.
“Storn’s plan,” Daeholf said. “We were just in the right place and fortunate he didn’t manage to set it off himself.”
They directed their horses and rode as hard as they could for the battle, hoping they were not too late.
*****
The battle was lost. The huge crazed men were striding amongst his soldiers and chopping them down like children on the right flank. The soldiers had no choice but to run. He didn’t blame them. The left was holding but for how long? It was only a matter of time before giants attacked there too. Or the ones currently mincing his soldiers on the right ran out of men to kill and moved across.
The battle was lost. Garrow had never seen anything like it in his many years of campaigning. Seasoned soldiers taken apart like toys. He’d been in some bad situations, but nothing like this. So few men to take down so many.
After the initial setbacks it had been going so well. The main force had engaged and on the right, his veterans in particular, were pushing the rebels back. They must have been close to breaking them. But who could have predicted this?
Why wasn’t this in the letter?
He’d been manipulated.
Manipulated into attacking an unexpectedly superior force with a green legion. Manipulated into losing one of the imperial armies. Manipulated into losing the empire face.
If the giants didn’t have his head, the Emperor would.
But what to do? The battle was lost and he needed to extract as many of his men as possible. Maybe they could fight some sort of retreat until they could be reinforced by another legion. Surely news of this rebellion had got out by now. Reinforced or replaced, that was. Though that didn’t matter now. He must do his duty as best he could.
His eyes registered the erupting column of fire before his conscious mind, and the sub conscious part made him cringe back at the light and the fury.
What the hell was that? Some new weapon? Would it never end?
But … if they had fire, why did they need the berserkers? And why hadn’t they used it before?
Garrow watched as a sheet of flame moved across the battlefield, tracing the line of the stream. Of course. Clever. Meant to divide his men or cover a retreat. That it had not been used before was lucky and he had no idea who had set it off now but it was working to his advantage. Most of the fleeing survivors were on this side of the flames and those on the left flank where the fire was headed may have time for an orderly retreat.
Maybe this wasn’t completely lost after all.
“Sound the rally!” Garrow shouted. Why wouldn’t someone sound the rally?
*****
Trimas blew the bugle as hard as he could as they closed on the fighting. High-low-high. High-low-high. The imperial rally.
“Where did you get that?” Daeholf shouted over the thunder of their horses.
“Off a corpse, I thought it might be useful,” Trimas shouted back before blowing again. They were almost at the fighting.
Daeholf noticed something in the mud ahead of them and pulled his horse up sharply.
“Keep going along the line,” he shouted to Trimas. “Try to get as many as you can to stand.”
“What are you going to do?”
Daeholf leaped from his horse and picked up the fallen legion standard. He raised it aloft.
“Stay alive,” Trimas said.
“You too.”
Trimas rode on, sounding the bugle.
“Arrows,” Daeholf said to Zedek and Alia as they reined in. “As many as you can into the berserkers further down. Slow them down, give Trimas a chance to rally them.”
Alia looked doubtful.
“It’ll do us no good to stop just one of them,” Daeholf said. “Go.”
“I’ll keep them safe,” Jonas said and the three of them followed after Trimas.
“11th to me!” Daeholf bellowed, running towards the fighting.
He saw the first giant not far ahead.
“11th to me,” he shouted again, waving the standard high before planting the butt in the ground and stepping in front of it. He picked up a discarded shield. He looked at the berserker now rushing directly towards him. “Fuck,” he muttered.
“Come on then you bastard,” he shouted. “Let’s see what you can do.”
A few soldiers ran past him but paused at the sight of the banner.
“Is that the rally?” one said.
“We can’t rally against that,” said another but they paused anyway at the sight of one man standing.
Daeholf looked at the berserker charging at him, a huge mass of anger and muscle. This suddenly seemed a very bad idea. But it was too late now. He had just seconds to assess his adversary. An axe in one hand, a sword in the other. Little armour but that didn’t seem to have been a problem so far. A mad look in his eyes and frothing at the mouth. Time seemed to roll back. He’d been here before. And he’d survived then, however barely. They’d been big too.
He sidestepped the axe blow and ducked the sword slash, flashing his sword low across his opponent’s knee, slicing tendon. The berserker growled and stumbled but righted himself quickly and came on again with barely a pause. The cut seemed to seal quickly after the sword was clear. Daeholf swore. This wasn’t like any altered they’d faced before. He may have bitten off far more than he could handle. Again, axe and sword. He’d learned from bitter experience in the past not to block directly against a much bigger opponent, instead deflecting and dodging. He angled his shield and the sword caught it a glancing blow but the force still rang through his body. He stepped back just in time as the axe whistled past his face, chopping down towards the ground. Daeholf circled, shaking his shield arm slightly. The berserker followed him but the movement seemed slightly awkward, favouring one leg.
He might not be bleeding but that didn’t mean there was no damage Daeholf thought to himself, dodging a sword thrust and ducking an axe backhand. Focussed on the fight, Daeholf could nevertheless feel a group of men starting to form nearby. Maybe, just maybe, he thought.
Daeholf ducked in quickly and lunged for the damaged knee. The berserker had been expecting it and the big sword came across to meet him, but it had merely been a feint on Daeholf’s part. He turned the duck into a roll that took him behind his opponent and arrowed his sword into the back of the man’s damaged knee. The blade stuck and the giant jerked away, dragging Daeholf’s sword with him.
Daeholf stood and circled, glancing down for a weapon as the berserker turned to face him awkwardly, now uncertain, much of the fury spent.
Daeholf heard movement at his back.
“We’re with you sir.”
*****
“We should have stayed together,” Alia shouted as she loosed another arrow into the flaming madman running towards them. “They’re not like the others.”
Jonas stepped to her side and raised his crossbow. They’d not been able to keep up with Trimas and Zedek, racing off as they had, all noise and horse archery. Their horses had been frightened by the din and panic and Jonas had been thrown, landing heavily in the mud and Alia had leaped from her horse immediately to his aid. He’d been winded but okay but now the horses were gone and they’d had to make a stand where they were.
One of the berserkers had been on the other side of the river of flame when it went up but had not stopped, charging through and getting covered in burning oil. It had not slowed him down.
Jonas aimed and loosed, bolt taking the brute in the shoulder and knocking
him off balance for a moment.
“The head,” Alia shouted, loosing again. “We must hit the head.” Her arrow skidded through the giant’s scalp.
“I tried,” Jonas said. “I can’t make it out properly through the flames.”
Alia knocked again. With the fire rushing over the giant’s body it was difficult to get a proper bead. Jonas was right. She loosed anyway. Maybe the cheek? Too close to load for another shot. Jonas dropped his crossbow, drew his sword and mace and stepped in front of Alia. This was not the way he’d expected to be going out. But there was one last thing he could do.
“Run girl,” he said.
*****
“Slow down, damn you,” Zedek said, loosing another erratic arrow from the back of his horse as he rode in pursuit of Trimas. It was no good. He was no horseman and even less a horse-archer.
If he was going to achieve anything, it’d need to be on foot.
This wasn’t what he’d expected. Dying in service of the humans. In service of the empire that had smashed his people and sent them running for the forests and mountains centuries ago. But he was an outcast and had been sent among them to die in disgrace. So maybe in the end he was honouring his people by following their wishes after all.
Trimas reined in. “We’ve gone far enough,” he said. “Those that can hear will have heard. Let’s get back to the others.”
“We’ve got troubles of our own,” Zedek said, pointing at a huge man carrying a two-handed axe who was running quickly towards them.
*****
The curtain of smoke that was enveloping the battlefield was making it impossible to determine exactly what was going on but Storn heard the rally and the fire, his own fire damnit, had badly impeded his troops. Those that had been persuaded into following after the berserkers anyway. Many of them were on the other side and were cut off from the rest of his army. But he could still save some of the men.
Dark Healer (An Empire Falls Book 1) Page 60