The Longsword Chronicles: Book 01 - King of Ashes

by GJ Kelly

  Sure enough, as the mounted force drew nearer, they could count them, and see their strength. Three Black Riders, flanked on each side by six black-clad warriors, thundering relentlessly towards them.

  oOo

  42. Elve's Blood

  "Can we take so many?" Elayeen asked grimly, unslinging her bow.

  "We must." Gawain scowled, loosening his blade and swinging his quiver around to hang at his right hip.

  "Then while there is time enough," Allazar said hurriedly, "I say with all my heart, I have loved you both, and it is my honour to have served you."

  "We're not dead yet, Allazar, remember that old woman and the wisdom you preached on leaving Tarn."

  "There are too many." Allazar sighed.

  "Elayeen, yours are the Morlochmen. I shall take the Black Riders. Allazar, if we fall, ride like the wind for the trees. You at least may be welcome there."

  "Mithroth." Elayeen said, her voice filled with a fierce passion.

  Gawain turned to look at her, and she leaned from the saddle to kiss him hard upon the lips. "Eem ithroth, ihoth, ifrith."

  "Miheth iheth." Gawain said, and then strung an arrow, placed three more in his left hand, and urged Gwyn forward at the gallop, Elayeen charging forward scarcely a heartbeat later.

  Allazar choked, and wiped his eyes, looking longingly at Gawain and Elayeen as they charged forward, and then at the trees in the distance to his right. Then he kicked his heels, and drove his horse forward.

  The air was filled with the rumbling thunder of hooves, stilling birdsong and sending rabbits and hares skittering for their burrows. Wind made Gawain's eyes stream, and his heart began to pound as a familiar heat burned in his stomach. He grinned wickedly. The Morlochmen were armed with crossbows, and though doubtless the Black Riders' bolts were tipped with poison, perhaps the more mortal warriors' were not. They would not risk accidental contact with the stuff when loading in the haste of combat.

  As soon as the enemy were in range, Gawain let fly his arrow, and was restringing and preparing to throw his second when the whizz of a shaft from Elayeen's bow zipped past his right side. He didn't watch to see it strike its mark, for he was already hurling his second and making ready for a third. Up ahead he heard the screeching death-blast from the Black Rider struck by his first arrow, and then a horrendous whinny and a great crashing. When he flung his third arrow, he saw that his second had struck not the Black Rider, but the horse on which the foul creature had been mounted, and the stricken animal had gone down.

  Bolts flew from crossbows towards them, but they fell short. The next ones, though, if the enemy had time to reload, would not be so harmless.

  Gawain saw a brief flickering of light, like horizontal lightning, thread its way down his left side to strike one of the Morlochmen's horses in the head. The animal stumbled, and crashed into its companion, and both fell, throwing their startled riders. Another crash, and Gawain watched as the third Black Rider, pierced through the right shoulder by the stone-tipped shaft, fell from his charging horse and slammed into the ground, the grotesque painted mask ripped from the hideous visage moments before the dazzling black blast of liberated aquamire shot skyward.

  Another arrow whistled past him, and struck its mark square in the chest, and then Gawain's longsword was in his hand, and he swung Gwyn to the right, cutting across Elayeen and putting himself between her and the three remaining Morlochmen on his blade's side. There were still four on Allazar's side, but they had shot their bolts, and Allazar would have to fend for himself.

  They were through the enemy in an instant, and the reach that Gawain's blade gave him caught the Morlochman completely by surprise when Gawain cut him from the saddle.

  Gawain swung Gwyn further around to the west, heading straight for Elvendere, intending to circle around to bring Elayeen's bow and his own arrows to bear before the enemy could reload their crossbows. He heard Elayeen's horse whinny, but a quick glance over his shoulder showed that she was still close behind him, already nocking another shaft to the string. But that glance revealed more than the relief of her presence. For in the distance, from the east, another group of dark-clad riders were approaching...

  There was no time to try and identify them though. The enemy had turned, and Gawain let loose an arrow almost simultaneously with the thrum of Elayeen's bow. Two more Morlochmen fell. Then he heard Elayeen's horse screech, and the dreadful sound of the animal crashing to the soft Jurian earth. A crossbow bolt sailed harmlessly overhead and he flicked a glance behind him. Elayeen was down, but staggering to her feet, and Allazar was reining in beside her.

  Gawain turned, and hurled another arrow with such rage that it nearly blasted clean through the Morlochman's chest when it struck, knocking the warrior from the saddle. Three remained, and while one fired a bolt in his direction, the other two were riding straight for Elayeen and Allazar.

  Gawain had no time to string another arrow, and drew his blade. The Morlochman was leaning out of the saddle, swinging his curved sword at Gawain, and when the steel clashed, it was the curved blade that shattered, and the force of the blow knocked the warrior out of his saddle. Gwyn came to a thundering halt, turned, and Gawain killed the downed rider with a looping swing of his blade as he charged back towards Elayeen and Allazar.

  What he saw made his stomach lurch as a fresh explosion of adrenalin flooded through him. Elayeen stood, casting aside the broken remains of her bow and drawing her long knife, blood streaming from a gash in her thigh as she stared furiously at the two riders bearing down on her.

  Allazar pushed her to the ground, and stood above her, his arms held forwards, pointing at the Morlochmen while he chanted. Streamers of dazzling white light shot from his fingers into the enemies' faces, blinding them, and bolts flew wide of the mark as horses reared and charged harmlessly past the wizard and the wounded elfin.

  Gwyn screamed in rage and lurched forward with fresh urgency, and Gawain saw the briefest flicker of pain in Elayeen's eyes as he charged past her. The world suddenly took on a black tint, and Gawain felt a new strength flood through him. With aquamire clarity he knew what had happened even as he leaned from the saddle to cut down the first of the dazed Morlochmen. The downed Black Rider was on his feet, striding relentlessly towards Elayeen and Allazar even now. It had been the poisoned shaft from its crossbow that had struck Elayeen's horse after the first clash of arms and their wheel towards Elvendere.

  The last Morlochman waved his sword vainly, aware that someone was closing on him, but to no avail. Gawain slashed him almost in two, and then charged back to where Elayeen lay on the ground by her dead horse, Allazar frantically tearing strips from his robe to bind the wound in her leg.

  Gawain leapt from the saddle and was by her side in an instant.

  "Bad?" he asked.

  "Bad enough." Allazar mumbled, his hands red with Elayeen's blood.

  "An arrow from my quiver raked my leg when the horse went down," she gasped. "Mithroth..."

  He followed her gaze, towards the Black Rider clumping towards them.

  "There is worse to follow." Gawain scowled, nodding to the east, where the second party of riders were coming on, relentlessly.

  "Dwarfspit." Elayeen spat. "Is there no end to the blackhearted bastards?"

  "There is to one of them at least." Gawain announced, and loped off, blade in hand, running towards the grotesque figure in charmed armour.

  The creature raised its crossbow, and fired, when Gawain was twenty paces from it. He didn't care, and simply swung a fold of his arrowsilk cloak in front of him, and felt the harmless impact. Then he was swinging the blade, screaming abuse at the monster with every smashing impact of the sword upon the black armour. Rage boiled through him as he hammered the creature with blow after blow, smashing the mask clear of the Rider's head and staring malevolently into the black eyes that stared coldly back at him. Then with a crackle of aquamire, he swung the blade again, and took its head clean off.

  This time, there was n
o jolt of something when Gawain struck, and the death-blast that exploded all around him was like a welcome wind on a hot day. The shattered remains of charmed armour clattered to the ground, and Gawain glanced up at the approaching force, identical in strength and numbers to the first.

  He turned on his heel, and ran back to Elayeen and Allazar. The wizard had bound her leg as best he could, and had succeeded at least in stemming the flow of blood from the wound.

  "It probably makes no difference." Allazar sighed.

  "At least, mithroth," Elayeen grimaced as with Gawain's help she stood, "We shall greet the yonderlife together."

  "We're not dead yet." Gawain glowered darkly. "Take Gwyn, ride for Elvendere. She has the wind for it."

  "I shall not leave you. You are mithroth..."

  "Someone must greet Callodon and Juria at Ferdan." Gawain urged.

  "I shall not suffer athroth again!" Elayeen cried through Gawain's strange aquamire, and for the briefest moment he felt a wave of remembered agony flow from her as she clutched his arm. It was terrifying, and humbling.

  He nodded, and then turned to face the enemy. "I may get three, possibly four, with arrows. Allazar, you must ride for safety, and then Ferdan."

  "No!" the wizard gasped. "I have run for safety too often! I may not harm the races of Man, but these are not men!"

  "Then if there is a yonderlife, I won't mind so much if they let one whitebeard in."

  "Thank you."

  "I'd want something to torture during the dull moments."

  "Thank you."

  Gawain strung an arrow, and strode forward a pace or two, and waited. The earth beneath their feet began to tremble as the enemy thundered towards them, the sound of hooves and the snorting counterpoint of horses breathing hard shattering the peace of the warm spring afternoon. Gawain closed his eyes, remembered the Fallen, and then hurled his arrow towards the Black Rider at the centre of the enemy line.

  The earth rumbled, he could feel it beneath his boots, and he'd hurled his second arrow when he heard Elayeen cry out his name. At the same time, a sighing whoosh overhead made him look up, in time to see a swarm of arrows hurtling high overhead. He watched, stunned, as they arced downward, watched, transfixed, as they rained down upon the enemy. And then flinched as the thundering of hooves reached a deafening crescendo and a dozen mounted elves charged past him towards the enemy line, already firing a second salvo of shafts at the Morlochmen.

  Gawain, Elayeen, and Allazar stood transfixed as the two lines of opposing riders smashed into each other. Riders fell on both sides, and horses wheeled to face each other again. Except two, which continued to charge on towards the trio. Gawain sprinted forward, hurling his arrow at the Black Rider. But the shaft flew slightly wide of its mark and ripped through the charmed armour on the creature's arm, sending the crossbow it held clattering away.

  Streaks of white light shot past Gawain and struck the Morlochman warrior full in the face, and the horse veered away. But Gawain continued sprinting towards the Black Rider bearing down on them still. He saw the creature draw its sword, heard Elayeen cry out his given name, and then he hurled himself at the horse's legs, twisting his body so that the longsword slung over his shoulder took the crashing impact.

  The horse went down, of course, and Gawain tumbled like a rag doll across the soft Jurian earth. The world was pain and confusion, and the sounds of battle, but strange aquamire drove him to his feet. The Black Rider was stumbling to its feet, advancing still towards Elayeen and Allazar, the wizard chanting and firing streamers of white light into the creature's maskless face. Elayeen stood with her long knife poised, and then she flicked a glance towards her husband...

  To her, it must have seemed as though two relentless Black Riders were advancing upon her and Allazar with deadly intent. The one, clad in charmed armour, a broken arrow sticking through its arm, a red-smeared short sword poised, black eyes glazed and fixed on her. The other, taking great limping strides, a red-smeared longsword held poised, black eyes sparkling and fixed on the Black Rider...

  Allazar cried out, more streamers of light struck the creature in the eyes, and it staggered. It was enough, and brought the creature in range of Gawain's blade. A mere five paces from Elayeen and Allazare, Gawain swung the longsword in a vicious arc, and decapitated the monster. Its aquamire death-blast rocked Elayeen and the wizard off their feet, and they fell heavily as the shattered armour seemed to explode around them.

  Gawain heard a terrible scream from behind him, and he wheeled around. Morlochmen and elves fought with dreadful ferocity, some still on horse, most dismounted. They were too far for Gawain to aid them, though in spite of the pain in his back and shoulders he drew an arrow from his quiver. But the shafts were broken from the impact with the horse's foreleg when he'd flung himself under the Black Rider's mount, and he could do nothing but stand and watch.

  Morlochmen fought with tenacity, almost as careless of their own lives as Gawain himself had once been. But when elves counterattacked, the black-clad enemy defended themselves with as much vigour as they had in attacking. They were mortal after all, and valued their existence. They were not driven by aquamire, unlike those yet attacking the northern face of the Teeth, and Gawain smiled grimly.

  A gasp from behind him made him wheel, and then he limped forward to help Allazar raise Elayeen to her feet. She stared, wide-eyed, at the battle, and her eyes were locked on one elf warrior. Gawain followed her gaze, and saw Gan-thal being driven back by a Morlochman, back towards a dead horse.

  "An arrow!" Gawain gasped, and Allazar picked up Elayeen's quiver and emptied it...all the shafts were broken.

  "Allazar, please!" Elayeen pleaded, as Gan-thal, using his long knife to parry the blows raining down on him from the Morlochman's curved sword, stumbled on the dead horse, and fell.

  At once, Allazar raised his arms, and began chanting aloud, furiously, the words strange and foreign, blurring into one continuous stream of whitebeard mumbling. Familiar streamers flickered at his fingertips, and as Elayeen clutched Gawain's sword-arm, crackling white threads flew from the wizard's hands, streaked across the battlefield, and danced on the Morlochman's face and eyes as he stood poised, the sword held aloft for the death-blow.

  Gan lunged forward, plunging the long knife up through the Morlochman's stomach, driving the warrior back and down onto the ground. Allazar gasped, sweat pouring from his face, and his arms dropped. The battle was over. Silence, and then after a brief stillness, the twittering of a skylark.

  "Oh mithroth," Elayeen choked, "Oh miheth..."

  Gawain sheathed his blade, and slipped his arm around her waist. Six of the elven warriors lay on Jurian soil, never to rise again. Elve's blood, spilled on foreign soil, against an enemy common to all lands.

  "Ah Dwarfspit!" Allazar gasped. "Are there yet more?"

  Gawain stared out to the south-east, and saw more riders, a mere handful, approaching at the gallop. "No. No, those are Jurian cavalry."

  "Gan! Mibreth!" Elayeen sobbed, as the elf prince strode grimly towards them, blood streaking his face.

  "Elayeen..." Gan sighed through wracking breaths, "Egrith mishith...Thalin-Raheen."

  "Gan..." she sobbed again.

  "It is nothing. You are hurt?"

  "Nai..."

  "Nai?"

  Elayeen glanced down at the blood oozing through the makeshift bandages Allazar had bound around her right thigh. "Isst."

  Gan stared at Allazar, and then up at Gawain. "Thal-Gawain, Raheen," he began, and then his eyes widened in shock as he saw the black braid, and he bowed.

  "Gan." Gawain said quietly, "Jurians approach."

  "It matters not. We cannot flee. We will not leave our brothers and sisters on this field."

  oOo

  43. Aftermath

  Gawain watched as the Jurian cavalry patrol slowed to a canter, and then to a walk. Jurian eyes were wide, heads swinging this way and that, taking in the scene of battle and its aftermath. Elves that were livi
ng gently attended their dead comrades, tenderly placing the bodies over saddles, making ready to take them home, back into the shade of the distant trees. All around, dead and dying horses, slain Morlochmen and the remains of Black Riders.

  The troop came to a halt a respectful distance from the strange and battle-stained foursome, and then the troop commander dismounted, and strode over to them.

  "I am Byrne, Captain, of the Royal Jurian Cavalry." The officer announced quietly.

  "I am Gawain, son of Davyd, King of Raheen." Gawain answered, his eyes yet black with strange aquamire.

  "Honour to the Crown." Byrne gasped, and bowed. "We were told to expect you in Ferdan soon."

  "We have been delayed."

  "Aye. So I see. Though I never thought to see elves so far from the trees, on Jurian soil."

  "This is Gan-thal, royal crown of Elvendere."

  "Your highness." Byrne bowed again, and turned a sorrowful eye to the elves, and their dead.

  "You must do you duty, Captain." Gan sighed. "We have trespassed, and are your prisoners."

  The captain turned back to Gan, and Gawain saw the Jurian's eyes watering. "No, your highness. No Jurian in my command will draw steel against you this day. We will be proud, and honoured, to see you and your fallen safely back to Elvendere, at your convenience. And you, your Majesties, we shall then escort to Ferdan, in accordance with our Crown's orders."

  Gawain nodded, and the captain bowed low to them all, and then walked slowly back to his troop, and mounted solemnly. The troop formed a line, spaced wide apart, and at a signal from their officer, drew their swords, held them across their chests, and bowed their heads, and remained thus saluting the fallen and noble warriors while bemused and sorrowful elves continued with their solemn duties.

  Gawain eased Elayeen down to ground, and called Gwyn forward. From a pack on his saddle he withdrew a small leather roll, and laid it out on the ground beside her wounded leg.