Crossbowmen stepped forward, now having targets in range, and released bolts at the ladders. Many men and kheshlars worked together to try and shove the ladders off the wall, but each top was set with hooks to overlap the edge. Axes were found to chop off the hooks, and ladders finally started to fall. As each ladder fell, three more took its place.
Karceoles raised his zylek, channeling his power through it with a few muttered words. A line of orange fire escaped the tip, burning an approaching nacropis, causing it to leap from the wall and collapse to the ground.
All around him men and kheshlars died as draeyks and nacropi reached the top to create havoc. Draeyks were slowed, but the nacropi destroyed crowds, knocking most from the wall to drop hundreds of feet. The wizard drew his blade to fight the creatures overrunning the wall.
The sound of shattered wood echoed, followed by cheers from draeyks and daerions alike. They swarmed like locust through the obliterated gate and into the city of Sudegam.
“We’ve lost the gate!” Karceoles bellowed.
Vil’ek’s face paled. “Fall back! Fall back to the city!”
Chapter 48
Andron stared in horror as attackers burst through the gate, tossing nearly half a dozen men who held it. Draeyks and daerions stormed through the broken entrance. Andron stood in the stretch of clear space between the gate and defenders in front of an army of crossbowmen, archers, and spearmen.
“Loose!” Andron called.
Arrows, spears, and bolts littered the air in a mist. Some harmlessly bounced off the hardened scales of draeyks or horns of daerions, but others found soft spots, and dozens of creatures fell. Andron raised his sword high in the air. Surrounding him, men and kheshlars alike drew weapons.
“Charge!” he yelled.
Archers and crossbowmen retreated through the ranks of pikemen, who moved forward with the spearmen to form several rows of defenders with their weapons lowered in a slant as they awaited the charge. The creatures swarmed into the city like lizards and rams leading a stampede. Many fell victim to the long shafts of pikes and spears, but plenty broke through to meet the blunt force of humans wielding maces and axes.
Ranged took the high ground—either in the trees of the city or atop the many buildings of nature. Arrows and bolts continued to soar through the sky toward enemy forces. The lesser skilled archers aimed at the gate to keep from harming their own, but ones with higher accuracy were able to penetrate foes on the front ranks with ease.
Andron stood ready to fight on the west side of the southern gate. He peered toward the east and saw Etherond leading his own force. The center ranks stayed back, creating a triangle pinch point where each creature had no choice but to face multiple foes.
Horns bellowed in the distance, and Andron noticed the wall defense had fallen. The kheshlars reorganized their defenses to the bottom on the stairs leading up to wall, where they lay in wait to strike from uphill. Vil’ek appeared with Karceoles by his side to organize the kheshlars.
A nacropis appeared in front of Andron, sweeping humans away with a few swift swipes of its claws. Andron gulped as he took a few steps back, shivers penetrating through his spine. He hadn’t forgotten the day he faced one alone and barely survived to tell the tale. There weren’t many irrational fears following Andron, but scorpions were one. At his home, he had been stung by many of the creatures, enough to make him despise them. Then the nacropi, scorpions twice as large as he, were born. They’d killed his friend, and fear clouded his mind until he pushed his hatred of the creatures in front.
Andron snarled through clenched teeth and raised his sword before rushing forward to meet the creature. Sword clashed with claw, scattering sparks across the ground. He changed his rhythm to deflect the other claw, before moving closer with a side two-step. His form dragonfly mist proved effective until the nacropis repositioned itself, hardened claws extended to strike.
Two claws sprung at him simultaneously, forcing him to dodge to his right and slash each blow down. Making such a move left him helpless when one claw grabbed him tightly and lifted him into the air. Andron’s sword fell helplessly to the ground as the creature’s other claw opened inches from his neck. Andron closed his eyes, muttering a prayer to the creator.
A shock pulsed through him when the pincer released him. He flew through the air with an unseen force, before tumbling to the ground. His eyes opened and he stared at his arm, which was spider-webbed in green. He lay on the ground, turning his head to see Sh’on blasting fireballs at the nacropis. Each in turn was dodged by the creature, or deflected with the pincers, except one; the fireball managed to tear the creature’s left pincer from its body.
The creature’s high-pitched shriek filled the air, louder than anything Andron had ever heard. He covered his ears, his face scrunched up from the pain. When the noise subsided, the nacropis lunged for the mage. Sh’on had no time for another spell, and so, he withdrew his sword and braced himself. The sheer vigor of the blows caused the mage to slide on the dirt with each block.
Andron crawled to his feet, grasping the hand of a fellow warrior for support. His entire body ached and seemed to vibrate. He grabbed his sword and stumbled toward the creature with two warriors at his side. The three of them struck simultaneously, causing it to turn around. Even though it wasn’t human and didn’t have facial expressions, somehow it appeared furious.
Six eyes stared at Andron, and none blinked. He continued using his sword against the creature, thrusting left and right. Some of the strikes bounced off its exoskeleton, but others hit true, causing black ooze to gush out. A pincer sprang toward him. Andron ducked, clenching his teeth as one of the warriors cried out in pain before falling silent as the claw closed over his throat. The young warrior’s head tumbled from its helm and rolled by Andron’s feet.
Andron clenched his fists and stood, eyes hardening as he took a step. His sword shot forward, twisting in midair toward the creature’s face. He cringed as a burning pain shot through his twisted arm. The sword’s point lodged into the nacropis’ face. A green ice appeared at the creature’s feet to swell up its body. Andron withdrew his sword, waiting until it stood completely frozen before slamming his blade into its abdomen, shattering the creature into a thousand ice particles.
Sh’on nodded to Andron before directing his magic elsewhere. Andron barely caught a breath before being swarmed by draeyks. He barely kept his defenses against the creatures. Many of the men fell. Defenses began to break everywhere. Andron studied the chaos before admitting to himself they couldn’t hold.
“Fall back!” Andron screamed.
The calls echoed through the battlefield until accepted by Etherond on the west side. Everyone fled deeper into the city, giving up on securing the gate. Instead, they would use the trees and buildings as coverage to fight. At first the plan appeared brilliant: men and kheshlars alike held in alleys in ranks. Warriors switched places often to give others breaks.
For hours unmeasured they held, piling up draeyks and daerions at three times the number from the gate flood. And then Daerions began to throw their lives away by charging like rams into front franks. Armor was no protection against the velocity of their hardened heads, and men began flying into the crowd. Draeyks began climbing, using their sharp claws to sink into trees and homes.
Men and kheshlars became surrounded in every alley in less than an hour. They began falling in greater numbers than anyone could imagine. Andron held as well as he could manage, directing archers to loose at draeyks climbing walls. He knew they couldn’t last long; their numbers were still outmatched three to one.
Two draeyks rushed Andron, one wielding an axe, while the other held a spiked mace. Andron blocked the initial attack easily, but stumbled when he backed away. Dirt clouded around him. When he inhaled, the dirt caused him to cough harshly.
“Bloody snakes with legs,” Andron cursed under his breath.
He found a better grasp of his weapon before trying to get to his feet. A mace separated th
e air, rushing toward his face. His eyes bulged as he used all his speed to lift his sword in time. The mace crushed into his pommel, causing his weapon to dart through the air out of his reach. His hand throbbed to numbness from the impact.
A draeyk ran toward him, snarling through razor-sharp teeth. Andron closed his eyes, anticipating death. Instead he heard a growl slowly becoming silent. He opened one eye, amazed to see a crimson blade pierced through the lizard’s chest. The draeyk collapsed, and Searon stood tall, grin forming on his face behind his T-shaped helm.
“I should think we are even now.” Searon grinned.
Chapter 49
Searon scanned the chaos around them and almost thought his eyes deceived him. His grin faded as he stepped forward to clasp Andron in a half hug. The warrior appeared haggard, his eyes were sunken—making him look like a raccoon.
“It is good to see you again, General,” Andron said.
“I wish I never left,” Searon said.
“There won’t be reinforcements then,” Andron stated rather than asked.
“No.”
“Where is Anaela?”
“Captured. Arria took her.” Searon sighed.
“Starlyn’s sister?” Andron asked.
“Yes. How do we look here?”
“Without a miracle, we won’t last the night.”
“I see.”
“Do you have any ideas?” Andron asked.
“Nothing comes to mind.”
“Excellent, shall we get started then?”
“After you.” Searon grinned.
They stepped forward to relieve a few of the men at the front ranks. The daerions had ceased ramming into them for a time, making their lines more solid. Without the distraction of the creatures, draeyks couldn’t sneak to the walls to climb. Searon’s claymore shone with the brightest crimson, making him a target. His skill surpassed all of his foes’, and with Andron’s help, he slaughtered countless draeyks, who fell at his feet.
All the warriors fought harder when they saw Searon’s return. He was thrilled to be back with his men, but he couldn’t get his mind away from Anaela. She had been taken from him. The only thing remaining in his mind was finding Arria … and making her pay. He fully intended to get Anaela back. After the battle, he would leave in pursuit, but not yet—he could not abandon his men.
The odds were overwhelming, and there seemed little chance of making it out alive, let alone of winning the battle. He searched for anything to use as an advantage. It seemed hopeless, there were too many. He wondered how Zergiel could amass such a large force so swiftly. They seemed better coordinated than the last time. The warlock seemed to know where to hit. With the human nations separated by politics and conflicts, the largest stronghold would be the kheshlars’.
Zergiel was the key, and his necromancers. Without leadership, there would be little coordination between the draeyks and daerions. Searon knew they had to be close enough to relay the attack patterns, but far enough from the front lines to keep from being spotted.
He glanced around for anything he could use to spot them. The kheshlarn buildings surrounding them were made of bark or vines, rather than stone. They looked to be much easier to climb compared to human stone, but Searon still doubted. He was no climber.
Searon stepped back, grabbing Andron’s shoulder. The two of them squeezed back through the ranks of kheshlars and men to where they could talk. He scanned the area and noticed thick violet vines traveling upward three stories.
“We have to find a viewpoint. If we can locate Zergiel and the necromancers, we may be able to scatter their defenses,” Searon said.
Andron stepped forward to feel the vines for security. “They seem stable enough.” He glanced up and gulped. “Long way up.”
Searon nodded and hid his skepticism. Andron turned to speak to a man before starting to climb up. Searon followed. He wasn’t as fast as Andron. When Searon neared the top, his foot slipped and he almost fell. When he glanced down, he tensed, but before he could think he felt a hand grip his wrist. Andron grunted as he hauled Searon on top of the building.
Before Searon could get to his feet, two draeyks and a nacropis rushed toward Andron. He barely got his sword out in time to deflect two axe blows. He struck a draeyk in the throat, watching as it fell into the alley. Searon stepped next to him, and the two of them sliced the other draeyk to lizard meat. The nacropis flung its tail toward Searon’s face. He raised his claymore high, slicing the tip of the stinger with all his strength. It spun as it flashed toward his face, nearly hitting him. Instead, he tilted his head to the right, causing the venomous tip to sweep over his left shoulder. Green slime gushed out of the tail and into Searon’s eyes, blinding him. He stumbled back, nearly losing his balance.
Searon laid his claymore on the ground before scraping at his eyes. He couldn’t see more than a few inches ahead of him in a violet haze. He searched his pouch for the herbs Aliqua had given him, until he found leaves he remembered could help internal wounds. No water could be found, except his tears, to mix them with. He rubbed the dry leaves into his eyes. His vision cleared little by little, until he could see Andron struggling against the enraged creature.
Andron blocked from left to right against the claws swinging toward him with inconceivable speed and strength. With each hit, Andron slid back on the bark. Searon stumbled to his feet with his claymore slippery in his hand, covered in scorpion goo. He watched in horror as Andron struck and the nacropis grabbed the sword in one claw while using the other to clamp over Andron’s right wrist. When Andron saw the move, he became able to move his left hand out of the way, but he couldn’t save his right.
Searon rushed forward, stabbing the nacropis through the throat before it could finish Andron. Next to him, Andron wailed a piercing grunt, making Searon’s ears ring. Andron’s hand swirled through the air, still attached to his sword, falling into the alley on the other side.
“Well I suppose we’ll have to find you another sword,” Searon said.
“Bloody scorpions. I’ve never liked them,” he said through gritted teeth as he clutched the stub at the end of his arm.
“Your wife will not be happy.”
“Nobody bloody tell her. Her wrath would tear us all apart.”
Searon grinned as he removed the containers of herbs once more to treat Andron’s bloody stump. He mixed the herbs for internal and external wounds together before pressing them onto the bleeding wrist. Andron cringed in pain, but held still. Searon grabbed a rag to tie over the bleeding. The herbs healed him, preventing most of the blood flow, but he had to keep it from infection. Searon pulled out the purple camorea weed. He dabbed a bit of the weed in his pipe with tobacco before handing it to Andron to ease the pain.
“How well have you trained with your left hand?” Searon asked.
“Seldom,” Andron said.
“It’s about time you start.”
“Where to?” Andron asked.
Searon glanced around, lost in the vast wilderness surrounding him. He peered behind him, along the building tops stretching on for a league. Only then did he realize each row of buildings was a root of the life tree of the kheshlars. The alleys were only the separation between roots. It made sense now why there were so many rows of buildings surrounding the tree of the palace. The entire capital of Sudegam was the tree.
“Sudegam,” he murmured.
The wood under his feet vibrated in acknowledgment. He felt a shiver travel through his body—followed by strobe images inside his mind. The tree was alive and communicating with him; it had a heart and he could feel it beat. He could see where it was deep inside, hidden on one of the floors where no one went. The tree told him nobody knew where her—the tree was a woman—heart was located, except Elsargast, and now he lay dead. She showed him, though, pushing forth her emotion of horror. Images of Zergiel appeared in his mind with her fear, pictures of a knife coated in fiery magic.
“Mother,” he whispered.
Somehow
the vibration under his feet felt like the nod of a head. He looked up and saw Andron’s squished expression. Searon stepped forward, putting his hand on the younger warrior’s shoulder.
“I know where Zergiel is going,” Searon said.
“Where?” Andron asked.
“Sudegam’s heart.”
Andron glanced around with an eyebrow raised. “The palace?”
“Don’t you see? Sudegam is not merely the name of the city. It is her. The mother of the kheshlars, and the tree who blankets them. Just like how the creator made us, the mother made them.”
“How is that so? Didn’t they travel here from overseas?”
“Elsargast brought the seed from overseas. The tree where he lived became very old, and so it has been reborn here in Calthoria. There may be other trees in faraway nations, but each is connected. The only way to kill a life tree is to stab a flaming dagger into its heart. If that is done, all kheshlars will become mortal. Not just here, but in all lands.”
“And Zergiel is going for the heart …” Andron gulped.
“We must hurry,” Searon said.
Without another word, Searon leaped up the root. Since they stood near the edge, it would be a long trek toward the tree. On the far side, he saw a black shape slip out of sight. It had to be Zergiel, and only Searon knew how to stop him. When they reached the end of the root, the path separated in two different directions.
“Shall we split up?” Andron asked.
Searon thought about it for a moment, but shook his head. He knew Andron couldn’t help him, and he would end up getting killed against a warlock as strong as Zergiel. Searon couldn’t live with Andron’s death on his conscience, knowing he condemned a friend to death.
“No, you should go. You are no good to me,” Searon said.
Andron’s eye grew somber. His hurt obvious, and Searon hated to be so blunt with his friend, but he knew it to be the only way he’d see understanding. Andron glanced to where his hand had been only minutes before.
The Obsidian Arrow Page 24