“What about Kian and Endra?”
“They will get the idea when they see the rest of us falling back.”
“To hell with that, Captain, I will go fetch them. I’m not going to leave them out in this madness.” Without another word, Cromwell headed in the direction of the breach.
“Damn you,” K’xarr yelled after him. There was nothing he could do but head for the docks and hope everyone would do the same.
The fighting was heavy and Achillus’s men were doing what they could, but there was no holding back the tide of soldiers attacking from inside the city. The wall had been abandoned, and the men that had been defending it fell back towards the sea. The Quintarans swarmed over the battlements and charged them from behind.
K’xarr and the men from the wall ran into a flood of enemy troops that had come in from the fallen barricades. A large battle erupted as they blocked the Masarian’s path to the docks. Crimson Wave cut the arm from a papal soldier. K’xarr turned and the red sword sliced the throat of a Quintaran infantryman. Cutting his way through the press, he saw the dock ahead.
With renewed vigor, he slashed his way to the planked walkway, getting there just before his men were hit from behind. There, drifting through the smoke like giant sea monsters, were the Masarian warships. They dropped anchor about a hundred and fifty yards from the docks. K’xarr watched as the first thirty flaming barrels flew over his head and into the thousands of doomed soldiers. “May the gods have mercy,” he whispered.
Explosions rocked the entire district as the Dragonfire rained down on the men of both armies, some of the barrels flying far enough to nearly reach the wall. Men died by the hundreds as the fire blew them apart or set them ablaze. Rufio was directing the fire and his accuracy was lethal.
Some of the Wardogs had managed to get to the dock area, perhaps a thousand of them had ventured in to his view. Another volley from the ships roared overhead as he tried to organize the shaken men into some kind of formation.
The entire army should have been down on the waterfront when the ships let loose. That’s the way he had planned it, but there hadn’t been time. The attack had been too fast and he hadn’t counted on the Church’s magic being so formidable. Now the cruel bombardment he had planned for the enemy was killing men indiscriminately. It would be a bloodbath and only half his reckless strategy had commenced.
***
Cromwell had joined them in the breach just before the first explosions hit. Looking to the rear, all Endra could see behind them was flames. Kian stood in the breach surrounded by the dead and the dying. Stubbornly he fought on, oblivious to the destruction all around him. She had tried to call him back, but the monster would not relent.
“We need to get to the dock or we're going to be caught out in this with nowhere to go,” Cromwell yelled over the sounds of battle.
“I can’t pull him back,” Endra said, pointing at Kian. “The fighting is too fierce inside that break to get a moment to reason with him.”
Endra and Cromwell dove to the ground as a sphere of fire flew directly into the breach from above. The Quintarans that had been facing Kian were incinerated. They both were dumbfounded as soldiers on top of the wall were blown apart or were sent plummeting to the ground, burned to ash or still writhing in pain as the magical fire consumed them.
Glancing up, Cromwell pointed. “Look there.”
Endra’s head jerked up. It was the white-haired witch Winter. The sorceress’s hands moved in a strange fashion and her voice echoed with a word of power.
Neither Cromwell nor Endra wasted any time pressing themselves against the wall as huge shards of ice fell from the ever darkening sky. Easily twenty pounds apiece, the frozen spears impaled men of both sides in a large swath behind the wall. The redheaded witch Scarlett floated past her sister, fire blasting from her hands as she maneuvered it through the huge knots of combatants fighting along the northern perimeter of the district.
Mayhem ensued as soldiers fled from the witch’s onslaught, tripping over themselves and their enemy in an attempt to get clear of the deadly barrage.
Kian came out of the fissure, his chainmail still hot to the touch. The swordsman bled from a score of wounds and his chest heaved with eagerness.
Endra grabbed his face with both hands, fixing his golden eyes on hers. “We need to get to the docks.”
“Go. I will follow later,” he growled.
“Damn it, Kian, you need to come now. Endra and I can’t shrug off this magic like you can. K’xarr wants us down at the water. I don’t know what he has planned, but my guess, this nightmare is his doing and he said the dock was where we should go,” Cromwell said, shaking Kian by the shoulder.
“We should attack now while they're confused and retreating,” Kian said, his eyes wild.
Endra looked at Cromwell. The Toran shook his head. “Damn it, I will try and find some men that still have their wits. Stay here till I get back.” The Toran ran off, leaving the two warriors alone at the wall.
***
Ashlyn saw the shed's rotten wall catch fire. The shack would go up in minutes. She headed for the door, knife in hand. She didn’t want to go out, but if she stayed in the shed, there was no doubt she would burn to death.
“Wait, please.” Upton looked up at her, the murderer had regained consciousness. His face was black and blue and his lips were swollen from Beck’s beating. “I’m so sorry, Ashlyn,” he blubbered. “I never meant to hurt you, but if I hadn’t killed Lucan, Ursula would have murdered you.”
“You don’t have a sister, Upton, you’re mad,” she said with disgust.
He looked at her as if she was the one who was mad. “Don’t be stupid. She is lying right over there.” He moved his head in the direction of the shack's back wall. “It's all her fault.”
Ashlyn looked at the empty space. “Goodbye, Upton.”
“Please, you can’t leave me to burn… I love you.”
Ashlyn looked down on the pitiful man lying at her feet.
“You killed my heart, Upton. Any mercy or compassion I had is gone. You and your bitch sister can burn.” She shut the door behind her as Upton began to scream.
***
“For God’s sake, Cullen, you have to pull the men back,” Clovis commanded as he tried to control his horse. The ferocity of the battle had spooked the animal. Almost their entire force was inside the walls of the raging inferno. They had recalled the Masarian ships and bombarded the harbor with Dragonfire. How Malric’s navy had gotten hold of the Dragitan Empire’s deadly concoction was anyone’s guess, and how anyone could fire that horrible mixture into their own men defied explanation.
The prince rode out in front of the reserves and signaled for the infantry he had held back to move forward.
Clovis could not imagine what was happening behind those shattered walls, but he could hear the screams of the dying even from his distant position.
There was a group of sorceresses inside the walls now. They had watched as the evil women join in the destruction, their deadly spells killing men by the hundreds.
First there had been five and then Clovis saw at least double that number. Some were on the wall and others floated through the oily smoke, out of arrow range. Unseen by the poor devils on the ground, they dropped their ruinous spells over the center of the district. The Beast’s own magic rained down on the soldiers that fought in the smoky hell of the harbor. Far more powerful than any of the pope’s monks, the hellish sorceresses destroyed the pope’s magical priests one after another.
Clovis had kept one of the monks by his side in case such an unforeseen situation occurred. He was also flanked by two Knights of Deliverance acting as his body guard. Neither the monk nor the two knights made him feel safe now. There was a chance to salvage things if the prince could rally some of their forces and counter-attack.
He watched as the two thousand infantrymen marched hesitantly behind the oldest son of their king. Cullen’s intention was to try and cover the retr
eat of the men that struggled to get out of the gaps in the wall. Several sections of the fortifications had collapsed and the Quintarns were trying to escape the harbor’s fire by falling back through them. If Cullen could save enough of them, they could wait for the fire to die down and assault the Masarians again.
The grand inquisitor nervously watched as Cullen and his infantry neared the wall close to the original breach. The prince’s trumpeter sounded the recall, trying to bring the confused soldiers in their direction.
Four of the sorceresses appeared on the wall above the prince and his reserves. A single warrior stood with them. Clovis’s breath caught in his chest as the warrior launched himself from the battlements, back arched and sword held with both hands like a huge dagger. Time slowed as the dark-haired killer glided through the air. The priest’s lips formed the words without sound: the Slayer.
The demon warrior’s sword went through the prince’s chest and into the warhorse’s back. Clovis thought the blade must have severed the animal’s spine for horse and rider fell dead as the monster leaped clear. The women on the wall in their black gowns were framed by the firestorm behind. They opened up a devastating array of magic on the Quintaran troops. Spells of fire and ice blasted into the stunned soldiers, slaughtering them without pause.
A company of Wardogs poured through the breach led by a huge warrior and a dark-haired woman. They drove headlong into the frantic Quintaran troops. Cullen’s men tried to retreat, only to be cut down by the Slayer and his unholy allies.
Clovis realized he was sweating and he pulled at his ear with a shaky hand. Cullen was dead and he wasn’t sure what to do. He hadn’t thought that the Masarian leaders were mad enough to bombard their own men and no one at the Church had even mentioned the sorceresses.
Unable to tear his eyes from the devastation, he saw two of the monks had gained the wall. They threw their spells against the sorceresses, but it was in vain. The demonic women turned their dark magic on the priests, blowing one apart while the other looked to have been turned to stone.
Lighting crashed down from the dark sky, striking among the fleeing soldiers and causing his horse to rear up. He heard a roar from the closing melee. The Slayer was coming for him.
Clovis scanned the harbor. Flames licked at the sky and all he could see was death and destruction. The Holy Father would be furious, but there was nothing left for him to do here. He dismounted his horse and touched the magical priest beside him on the shoulder. Clovis gestured with a trembling hand. “Take us back to Asqutania.” The monk nodded and they were gone.
***
A blast to Strom’s headquarters had freed him. Kago thought he was going to burn to death inside the dilapidated building before he got his chains off. Arming himself with the sword of the dead man who had been guarding him, Kago stepped out into a scene from hell. Thousands of men fought each other in a jumble of murder and fire. The air was like a furnace and black smoke obscured his distance vision. Never in all his dreams of savage violence had he ever imagined a battle like the one he now looked upon. He smiled grimly and then plunged headlong into it.
He cut the head from a soldier that came screaming at him, hair on fire, and gutted another who tried to kill him with an ax. Heading to the east, he killed anyone who tried to stop him. The former general quickly saw there was little chance of getting out of this maelstrom of death. At least he would die in battle, the killer thought.
He whirled the sword through the air like it was an extension of his body, and men went down before his blade like ripe wheat. He was drenched in sweat from the heat and his heart pounded hard in his chest.
The smoke began to choke him. After another man went down, Kago slowed for a moment to catch his breath. Ahead of him in the smoke, the warrior noticed a wounded man dragging his comrade. The man still on his feet wasn’t armed and wore no armor. The burden he pulled along was clad just the opposite. Full plate covered him from head to toe and the poor bastard had a spear through his guts.
Kago watch as the unarmed fool tugged and pulled at his dying companion. A Quintaran swordsman rushed at the pair. Kago instinctively stepped to meet the wild-eyed swordsman. He blocked the man’s attack and plunged his sword through the Quintaran’s throat. “Keep going, you stupid bastard. I’ll watch your back,” he yelled, trying to make himself heard above the battle. The man glanced up at him, his face covered with ash and exhaustion. He nodded and continued to struggle with the downed warrior. Kago had an objective now. He thought it good to die with a purpose.
***
Inside the harbor district of Gallio, a fire of legendary proportions was born. Thousands fought within the manmade hell with nothing left to lose, they knew they would die here. The resignation of their lives brought on unbelievable savagery from the soldiers of both sides, and they cut each other to pieces in a storm of steel and flame.
The warships had run out of the flammable mixture and now pelted the shore with large stones and huge flaming bolts from their ballista. Smoke and ash was so heavy in places that men died from breathing the smoldering air. And to the dread of the Masarians, the fire had spread to the rest of the city. Like a monster from a bard's tale, the fire tore through Gallio with merciless fury. Thousands would die consumed by the flames of war.
K’xarr and the men at the waterfront held their ground as panicked and dying men stormed the docks, looking for sanctuary from the heat and fire. Men toppled into the water with their hands around each other’s throats, fighting one another until the bitter end. In the shallow waters of the harbor, men tore each other apart until the shoreline turned red with blood, determined to take their enemy into hell with them.
He felt a hand grab him from behind and K’xarr spun, almost cleaving Achillus’s head with the red blade. The Dragitan was missing part of his hand, his hair had burned away, and horrible blisters covered his face. “What madness have you brought down on us? Those ships killed as many of my men as they did the enemy.”
He slapped the Dragitan's hand away. “I didn’t intend this. They got inside too fast. Now fight, you damn Dragitan, we can still win this.”
Achillus shook his head. “Damn you to hell, Strom. Those were my men you burned to death.” The Dragitan raised his shortsword to strike, but K’xarr was quicker than the wounded general. He punched Crimson Wave through Achillus’s stomach before he could deliver his blow.
Achillus's eyes widened. Dropping his sword, he grabbed K’xarr by the throat. “Die, you black-blooded devil,” the general screamed, his spittle spraying into K’xarr’s face as his thumbs pressed into the mercenary’s windpipe. He worked the sword up and down in the Dragitan’s belly but the dying man’s grip only tightened. The two warriors spun in a circle and onto the dock. Its planks were slick with blood and pair plunged into the water. K’xarr battered Achillus in the face and ripped his sword free while trying to keep his head above the water. Raising the red blade, he brought it down on the general’s head. The water stifled the strike but the enchanted blade still buried itself in Achillus's head down to the bridge of his nose.
Wrenching his sword from the Dragitan’s head, K’xarr struggled in the water as his armor threatened to pull him under. He swallowed a gulp of sea water, salty and warm, heated by the fire along the shore. Dead bodies banged into him as he floundered, trying to catch hold of the dock.
A hand reached out and grabbed him by his pauldron. “You should get out of that mess, Captain.” Beck heaved him up on to the dock and steadied him until he gained his balance.
“You’re a good man, Beck,” he said, patting the mercenary on the shoulder. He saw Beck had tried to bandage his head but the filthy rag had slid up and K’xarr saw the hole where Beck’s ear had been.
“What the hell happened to your ear?”
“Long story, Captain,” Beck replied. “Last I saw it, the damn thing was on the floor of a fishing shed.”
“Try not to lose the other one or you won’t be worth a damn.”
; Beck spit on the hot dock. ”I’ll do my best.”
The two mercenaries rejoined the battle. K’xarr and the surviving members of the Sons, along with a few remnants of two Wardogs companies, fought with their backs to the sea. With aching arms and weary backs, they battled on until K’xarr thought they would all drop from sheer exhaustion. A quick glance behind him showed that the warships not on fire had cruised closer, allowing Rufio and the Masarian sailors to disembark and come ashore. The sailors were spoiling for a fight and the increase in their numbers was enough to push the Quintarans back towards the flames and the witch’s magic. A murderous melee ensued as the last of the men who had survived the inferno made a final effort to get to the sea and salvation.
Late in the day, the fighting began to subside as the mismatched Masarian warriors destroyed the last pockets of resistance inside the district. Less than five hundred men stood with him as the fires began to die, and K’xarr ordered them to stay together as a unit. The harbor was still too hot to move through. They would just have to wait awhile to see if anyone else had lived through the bloody day.
The waterfront’s fire was dying because there was nothing left to burn. Ash and smoke was still heavy in the air, but the heat was beginning to at least be tolerable. The rest of the city wasn’t so lucky. Large fires still rolled through the city with spiteful haste. Gallio’s citizens tried to stem the tide of destruction but there would be little left of their city when the huge blaze finally ended.
The men on the docks had bound their wounds and now watched those comrades mortally wounded die one by one as they waited for the area to cool. Many of the soldiers were on their hands and knees trying to cough the smoke from their lungs. They were already dead, K’xarr thought. In the coming days, some of those men would meet the Reaper.
Near evening, he saw a large group moving through the smoke. At least a company of Masarians moved towards the waterfront. Kian and Endra were on either side of Cromwell, supporting the huge warrior as he limped along. The trio led what was left of the men from the northern side of the district to the docks. K’xarr could see the nasty wound in Cromwell’s large thigh even at a distance. Their armor was blood-spattered and their faces were covered with soot. It was clear they had seen their share of the battle.
Song Of Fury (Gods Of Blood And Fire Book 2) Page 44