Haven: A Trial of Blood and Steel Book Four

by Shepherd, Joel

  A horse was struck, and reared, flailing. A knight saw the archers and came charging toward the broad stone steps. Jaryd pushed past to the top step, sword drawn, and dared the knight to come. He did, his horse bounding uncertainly on the steps, the knight's sword readied for a right-handed swing…and Jaryd leaped quickly across the horse's path and half-severed its head with a huge swing.

  The animal collapsed, gushing blood, its rider crashing on the stairs. Nasi-Keth were on him before he could rise, pinning his armoured bulk, stabbing with knives into the gaps between armourplate. Jaryd spun his sword several times in challenge, beckoning the other knights who'd watched to try the same.

  They did, three at once, and this time rearing their horses on the steps, hooves lashing at head height, forcing the defenders back. Jaryd retreated within the doors, but those were large enough to admit even mounted riders, and now there were knights coming into the Justiciary itself, shod hooves sliding on the smooth pavings as they galloped in circles, spreading chaos.

  Stupid fools, Jaryd thought, slipping outside once more through a further door—they were massively outnumbered, and the archers were now shooting at them from the walls, peppering their horses. They'd retreat or die soon enough, and weren't worth his trouble.

  He retrieved his horse and galloped back toward the Tol'rhen, where Sofy was surely headed next. Those knights her husband had assigned to protect her were half of them Larosan, and loyal to their lord's lawfully wedded wife. But the other half were sworn only by word, not by blood. In the Bacosh, words beside blood were nothing.

  Sofy was halfway back to the Tol'rhen when a knight fell from his horse. She heard the huge crash of metal and spun in her saddle to look. That was when she sensed rather than saw the movement to her left, a knight suddenly riding much closer than he should, and she ducked by some instinct she had not known she possessed. A large sword whistled where her head had been, and then there were yells of alarm from her Larosan guards, blades drawn, steel clashing and horses rearing and colliding all around.

  She could not even scream. Having no breath in her lungs, she merely grasped her reins with her face pressed to her horse's mane and kicked with her heels in blind panic, hoping the animal would find a way through the flying bodies and blades.

  Someone grasped her reins, and she fought to drag them back, but it was Asym, leading her through the mess. He lashed at one knight, and abandoned Sofy momentarily as another required both his hands. Sofy reclaimed control and found space, galloping into open road. A narrow alley appeared on the right and she skidded into it, nearly hitting the wall, barely ducking beneath an overhanging inn's signpost.

  She heard pursuit behind and risked a look over her shoulder to find two knights pursuing…but both wore Larosan colours and the leader waved at her to keep going. She did, weaving through tight corners and across small courtyards. Then she slowed to allow the Larosans to catch up—with no armour she weighed barely a third what they did, to the benefit of her horse.

  She stopped in a small courtyard by a fountain, so her horse could drink. The horse was too frightened, blowing hard, ears pricked and swivelling. The two Larosans pushed up their visors, looking anxiously behind.

  “Your Highness,” said one, gasping. “I do not know what happened…”

  “I do,” said Sofy, and her voice was not nearly as unsteady as she'd feared. “My husband's dear allies have decided to end our marriage. Nothing like some more Tracatan unrest to cover their crime, they could claim anyone did it.”

  Then came the sound of more hooves, echoing at some uncertain distance. The Larosans readied their swords. Asym cantered into view down the alley, his blade raised again at the sight of two more knights flanking Sofy.

  “Asym!” Sofy shouted above the racket of hooves, her hands raised. “No!” Asym stopped opposite the fountain. “Larosan knights, Asym. Balthaar's allies, sworn by blood.”

  Asym spoke only a little Lenay, but he knew the Larosan colours, and knew who had and had not betrayed them. He nodded, narrow eyes grim.

  “Five Larosan dead,” he said brokenly, showing five fingers to be sure. “More go, run. We go Tol'rhen?”

  Sofy nodded. “We have to. We must tell them what's coming.”

  The Tol'rhen courtyard when they reached it was filled with Elissian knights and soldiers.

  “What are they doing?” Sofy muttered, peering past Asym's shoulder. They stood, dismounted, at the corner of a narrow lane, watching the activity. There were carts arriving, and men unloading from the back. It was too far away to see properly. Elsewhere in the city, Sofy could hear shouting, and the distant clash of weapons. Somewhere near, smoke rose thick into a cloudy sky. On the wind, she smelled smoke.

  Asym said something in his native Telochi that Sofy didn't understand. Behind them, the two Larosan knights stood mounted, guarding the lane to their rear.

  Suddenly Asym pointed. Men in the courtyard were shouting, hands waving. On the far side near grand buildings, two had fallen. Another followed, and arrows skipped on stone. Now with a massed yell, armed men were running from the cover of buildings, swinging at those closest Elissians. The Elissians stopped what they were doing and charged. Mounted knights plunged into the attackers, striking out, scattering them. One knight was pulled down, but now Elissian foot soldiers were in amongst it, and the clashes and screams of battle echoed loudly off the surrounding buildings.

  Hooves clattered behind and the Larosan knights called warning, but it was Jaryd who appeared on horseback. Sofy ran back to him, away from the conspicuousness of the lane mouth.

  “I thought you'd be here,” Jaryd said down to her. “They're all over—they came into the city from several directions, very well planned. Local folk are trying to organise defence, but they're outmuscled. They're going after the big buildings, the institutions. I saw that big library four streets down on fire on the way here.”

  “Jaryd, we have to stop them!” Sofy felt utterly desperate. “These Elissians are unloading carts into the Tol'rhen, I don't know what they're doing but now the locals are attacking them….”

  “Maybe you could negotiate them into liking each other,” Jaryd said sourly. Sofy stared up at him. “Sofy, this city's done. Finished, understand?”

  “It's not finished! We can still…”

  “Fight them? This is the Elissian Army, Sofy, the locals are militia at best. I'll fight them if you order it, but I'll be dead well before sundown, as will we all. Is that what you want?”

  Sofy put hands to her head in despair.

  “You thought you could make peace with it, didn't you?” Jaryd looked exasperated. “You can't make peace with this, Sofy. This is power. You kill it, or it kills you. Now if you're not going to command us all to suicide, we should move, and see you out of this alive.” From the Tol'rhen courtyard came the screams of the dying.

  Sofy mounted, and Jaryd led them away. A panicked local stopped running long enough to tell of many more Elissians coming from the west, so Jaryd turned them back through the heart of the city, hoping to emerge south, where he thought the attackers would be fewest.

  Several times they passed recently dead bodies, some Elissian, some local, and the sound of fighting. Surely, Sofy wondered, the honourable thing would be to stay, and help fight? No sooner had she thought it than a group of terrified Tracatans came running down the lane, pursued by Elissian horsemen. Jaryd charged them, with one of the Larosan knights. Sofy watched in horror as Jaryd simply swayed aside the initial stroke of an Elissian cavalryman, spurring past the horse and smashing the other man's skull with his own blade. That riderless horse made a blockage, and Jaryd used it to isolate another man, jostling his horse, taking a blow on his shield and using it to force the Elissian's weapon wide, Jaryd's own blow taking the other man's arm.

  For several more moments he and the Larosan knight hacked and fought, and then the Elissians were galloping off, leaving three dead on the ground. Jaryd indicated for them to take another way, hard-breathing
and streaked with blood, but none of it his. Sofy had never seen Jaryd kill anyone before. His brutality shocked her.

  The next lane brought them to a road where the air was thick with smoke. On the pavings lay the remains of recent battle, men dead and dying, most of them Tracatans, with good weapons but little armour. Jaryd urged his nervous horse into the road, searching for another back lane to take. To the right, Sofy could see the dome of the Tol'rhen, emerging above city rooftops.

  “This way,” said Sofy, pointing in the opposite direction. “I think we'd better…”

  There came a blinding flash. Sofy stared about in alarm, and saw the Tol'rhen dome was on fire. It was a strange and awful fire, orange and blue, and it seemed to twirl in little, spinning whirlwinds where it licked the old building's huge stone walls. Tracatans in the street attending the wounded stopped and stared. Some cried out in anguish, as though the sight of their lovely dome on fire hurt them worse than any sword.

  “That's what they were loading from the carts,” Jaryd said grimly. “They captured some of that demon fire the artillery use.”

  Sofy stared in shock. She could not believe the Archbishop had ordered such a thing. What sort of a man would order a crime against all civilisation, in the name of his gods? And what sort of men would obey him?

  “Come on,” said Jaryd, pulling her horse away down the street. They had not gone far when they came to a small courtyard before a grand building, its roof on fire. Sofy suddenly recognised the courtyard, and the building. It was the School of Arts and Music, perhaps her favourite in all Tracato, maybe lacking the importance of the grand institutions, but with more of the beauty.

  Before she knew what she was doing, she spurred her horse toward the steps and carved stone columns, as Jaryd yelled at her to stop. She dismounted at the foot of the steps and ran up, fire now blistering the golden filigree inlays of the great wall panels beside the doors.

  There was much wood used inside the main hall, with floorboards and wall panels, and lovely old furnishings. Sofy covered her mouth and squinted through the smoke as she ran, hoping only that what remained of the musical wonders had been shifted, and that some of her favourite masters had had the sense to leave before the Elissians had come.

  She pushed through the doors of the grand chamber where she had heard a wonderful recital just two days before. The panelled walls about the central stage were aflame, stacked with furnishings and soaked with what she suspected from the acrid smell was oil. Black smoke gathered at the ceiling, now beginning to hide the chandelier, and burning shavings and cinders were falling about like rain.

  Upon the stage sat three old men, instruments in hand. They played now, a sweet sound that rose to challenge the crackling of the flames. Burning embers fell about them, and the heat flared hotter still, yet the men played on, oblivious to all but the soaring emotion of their tune, their faces entranced with that wonder alone.

  Sofy wanted to scream at them to run, to grab them from the stage and haul them bodily out the doors and into the safety of the courtyard. Yet this terrifying, mesmerising scene was the first thing she'd seen all day that made sense to her. Standing helplessly, tears flowed down her cheeks that had nothing to do with the smoke.

  Jaryd burst into the room behind her. He too stopped and stared at the scene. The tune reached a crescendo, and the musicians all beamed in ecstasy. Above, the flaming ceiling groaned ominously.

  “Sofy, we have to go!”

  She turned and ran, grasping Jaryd's hand. As they reemerged into the courtyard, several floors of the building gave way behind, an eruption of blazing debris that burst forth from the windows and doors. A billion sparks rose skyward, glorious like the last note of a song, rising up to heaven.

  Errollyn sat on his horse and watched the Kazeri come. The wild plains horsemen were skirting the hills to the north, as Kessligh had said they would. Kazeri moved in a large, singular force, and relied upon speed and surprise. Thanks to talmaad scouts, they'd lost the latter. Now they'd selected the most open path across fields and foothills to close upon the rear of the retreating armies of Rhodaan, Enora, and Lenayin.

  Were it not for the cavalry, it would have been trouble. Yet now confronting the Kazeri were thousands of talmaad, and thousands more Rhodaani, Enoran, and Lenay horsemen. The foot soldiers continued their march toward Jahnd. Kessligh had been unwilling to countenance an extended delay to face the Kazeri whilst the Army of the Bacosh resumed its pursuit from the north. The cavalry would hold back the Kazeri and hope that they could stop them here. If not, the footsoldiers would be next, forming hasty lines of defence upon whatever terrain was available. It reduced the Steel's defensive strengths greatly. Errollyn hoped it would not come to that.

  He held his bow in hand, resting lengthwise on his saddle horn. Across this field, all were serrin. Behind, by several hundreds of paces, were human cavalry. He had been discussing this formation with fellow cavalrymen now for weeks—first with immediate comrades and then with Kessligh, once his ideas had fully formed. Kessligh had liked it. Now came the actual test of battle.

  The Kazeri broke into a full charge, a roar of thousands of voices and even more hooves. Weapons glinted in summer sunshine, a thousand sparkles of sunlight on steel. The serrin said nothing. When the Kazeri reached a certain point on the field, they raised their bows, drew, and fired. Errollyn placed his first arrow very high, then drew quickly and fired a second on a lower angle. Then he yanked his reins and galloped away from the charging Kazeri.

  The Kazeri yelled in triumph to see their foe running away. The first wave of arrows spattered across their forward rank, some falling from height, others coming low and flat, both flights arriving simultaneously. Horses and riders fell, others swerving to avoid sudden obstacles, yet their opponents were fleeing, and Kazeri warriors would not neglect to claim their prize.

  Errollyn put a knee across his saddle horn in a well-practised move, placed another arrow to his string while holding himself barely off the saddle. All about him the serrin were galloping, riders firing back the way they'd come. Kazeri riders pursued in howling triumph, dying and crashing to the turf in scores, yet coming no closer.

  A paddock wall emerged precisely where Errollyn had measured it when placing their formation. He took the jump, then fired twice more. All across the Kazeri front, racing horsemen were falling. Another arrow, and most of the front rank were dead, fallen, or reining up in consternation, trying to dodge and colliding with their comrades.

  Now he saw the line of human cavalry before him, divided with gaps in their ranks. These were Valhanan men of Lenayin, and as the retreating serrin poured through the gaps in their line, the Valhanans roared and charged. Errollyn wheeled his horse about, and placed another two arrows over the galloping Valhanan's heads, into the faltering front rank of Kazeri. Then he stood in the saddle and held out his arm to indicate the line the other talmaad should assume. As they dressed their line, he watched.

  All along the advancing front, Lenay, Rhodaani and Enoran cavalry ploughed into the Kazeri front. Their charge faltered; all momentum lay with the countercharge. Before him, the Valhanans spurred their horses amidst the confusion of Kazeri, some Lenay townsmen on taller horses, others on wiry dussieh. They hit Kazeri riders from high and low, and seemed to have the better of most exchanges. But more Kazeri were pouring in from the rear ranks, the huge column spreading wide as it found this route blocked. Very soon, Errollyn knew he'd be outflanked.

  He gave his signal, and a serrin trumpeter blew the retreat. With astonishing discipline for hot-blooded Lenays—who hated to retreat—the Val-hanans disengaged and came racing back toward the serrin. Those Kazeri who chased without support simply melted in a storm of serrin arrows. Errollyn saw a group of nearly thirty riders felled in several heartbeats, like a dandelion collapsing in a hailstorm. The main force regrouped, then yells and horn blasts cut the air once more, and they resumed their charge. Again the first rank met a swarm of arrows, and again the serrin turned ta
il and galloped in the other direction. It was not a retreat, and now the Kazeri were beginning to realise it. It was a moving wall of accurate archery, holding itself at precisely the correct killing range from its opponent. This stretch of fields was well chosen. If the Kazeri kept chasing until the next line of forest, half of them would be dead on the grass before they reached it.

  As Kazeri further back in the formation swung towards the hills on Errollyn's southernside, he realised he was being outflanked to the north; they were trying to pin his force against those hills. Errollyn did not think that particularly smart either—if they forced him to take the high ground, he would not mind at all. Besides which, the high ground held other surprises.

  Again the Kazeri paused in their pursuit. Again trumpets sounded, and the rear rank of human cavalry wheeled and galloped back through the serrin line. They hammered into the Kazeri line a second time, and held them. It was within two hundred paces of the spot Kessligh had told him to expect this second engagement. Well within the parameters of their plan, and he did not even need to give the second signal.

  From the trees on the leftward slope erupted a line of human cavalry—some Rhodaani and Enoran heavy horse with a forest of steel-tipped lances, and upon the far flank, to block Kazeri retreat, the one group of Lenay riders missing from the action so far: Isfayen men, plunging downhill with black hair flying, screaming like madmen as they came.

  The Kazeri flank disappeared, riders impaled by lances or knocked flying by heavier Rhodaani or Enoran horses. Once into the main body and surrounded by enemy, Rhodaanis and Enorans dropped lances, pulled swords, and began swinging. Errollyn could not see the Isfayen now, they were too far back. But already he could see the Kazeri folding, as horsemen turned and galloped in panic.