When The Gods War_Book 2_Chronicles of Meldinar

by Samuel Stokes

  Songrilah moved to interpose his own regiment between the charging Kairon and Suleimon’s exposed warriors. The Kashel hastened to obey their Shah’s command. Forming tight ranks, the elite guard positioned themselves so that no matter which angle the Kairon approached from, they would be met by a wall of steel-tipped spears. The innermost warriors slung their spears over their shoulders and drew their bows.

  The tactic was brutal and effective. The Kashel would rain arrows upon their foe, forcing them to approach and engage the savage spears of their comrades. Songrilah simply hoped these savages could be baited away from the softer target presented by Suleimon’s regiment.

  “Draw!” commanded Songrilah, eying the approaching beasts. The creatures were swifter than the Shah had thought possible. “Loose!” At his word the sky was darkened by a veritable cloud of arrows. The Kashel began nocking their next arrows as the cloud descended on the Kairon. While a single arrow was unlikely to do much more than enrage a Kairon, the hail of arrows slew scores of the beasts. As the immense creatures collapsed and struck the ground, their fellow Kairon simply leaped over the fallen as they sought their foe.

  In the traditions of the Kairon only the strong survive. There was no room for lamenting the fallen. They, along with the fallen foe, would be fed to the Herd, strengthening those that survived.

  The Kairon charged on, unfazed by the casualties inflicted on the Herd. Without concern for their safety the Kairon hurled themselves at the Kashel. The lethal spears of the Kashel moved swiftly thrusting at the softer underbellies of the beasts. More of the Kairon were felled but the Herd surged forwards—the scent of blood was in the air and the Kairon could not be deterred.

  The powerful beasts fought back with spears of their own, the momentum of their charge throwing the desert warriors into disarray as the Kairon impaled the Kashel and cast them aside.

  Seeing the Kairon juggernaut slam into his ranks, Songrilah unleashed the Sajal. The hunting beasts needed no further command—they bounded toward the battlefront, eagerly seeking the Shah’s enemies.

  The beasts of prey disappeared from view, moving stealthily between the ranks of the Kashel. The next time Songrilah caught sight of them was as they launched themselves at the unsuspecting Kairon. One Sajal would draw the Kairon’s attention as the other struck from the opposing quarter. The two hunting cats worked in perfect unison as they brought down beast after beast.

  *****

  Syrion floated above Suleimon’s unit as it did battle with the forces of Vitaem. The lightly-armored desert warriors were on top of their foes now, forcing them to discard their pikes in favor of short swords but the Khashishian soldiers clearly had an edge. As the soldiers struggled below him, Syrion put his mystic arts to great use.

  In the time since the battle at King’s Court Syrion had honed his arts considerably, and he focused his will on the earth beneath his enemy. At his command the earth split asunder, the rend beginning in the midst of Vitaem’s forces and continuing outwards away from the young Astarii, effectively isolating a section of the enemy army and preventing them from effectively reinforcing their position. Those standing too near were swallowed by the earth as the ground they stood on split apart beneath their feet.

  So focused was he on his spell that Syrion did not notice the clouds gathering overhead. The strange weather change should have alerted him to Jonas’s presence as he strode purposefully through the ranks of soldiers below. Jonas fixed his eyes on the wizard hovering overhead, and while Syrion concentrated on the earth-splitting incantation, Jonas launched his own assault.

  A bolt of lightning split the air as it sought out his airborne nemesis.

  Syrion felt rather than saw the attack coming, sensing the magic infused bolt of energy as it descended upon him. He abandoned his own spell and sought to shield himself from the attack with an arcane barrier, but the lightning bolt struck the shield before Syrion had the chance to finish.

  The sudden shock of the attack sent Syrion reeling and he realized he was plummeting towards the earth and soldiers beneath. The young Astarii summoned his powers to arrest his descent.

  But it was too late—Syrion slammed into the ground, knocking the wind from his lungs. As he struggled to regain his breath he glanced around frantically. Instead of the familiar colors of Suleimon’s regiment he could make out only the plate-clad pike men of Vitaem, one of whom was bearing down on the now-grounded mystic in their midst.

  The warrior of Vitaem had cast aside his pike and now loomed over the young Astarii, raising his short sword as he prepared to deliver the coup de grâce. Realizing that there was another magic user bearing down on him, too, Syrion settled on an alternative approach to his dilemma.

  Drawing on his Astarii birthright, Syrion transformed. Golden light radiated from the mage, temporarily blinding the nearby soldiers as the form of a mighty golden Dragon displaced the soldiers around him. Men were thrown like ragdolls as Syrion thrashed about, the razor-sharp talons on each of his legs shearing through armor and soldier alike. Spreading his wings, Syrion leveled a dozen other soldiers. He was mindful of the length of the pikes the soldiers bore and leaped into the sky before the surrounding men could recover from the surprise of his appearance.

  As Syrion soared above the battlefield he saw for the first time the tide of beasts stampeding around Songrilah’s embattled position. Somehow the creatures had managed to get behind the Shah’s forces and now had them encircled. The Kashel fought furiously but the savage beasts fought with the strength of many men.

  Soaring towards the embattled Shah, Syrion saw the portal shimmering at the valley’s head. The gateway resembled the portal Kalifae had used to escape the battle at King’s Court, albeit on a much grander scale. Syrion made for the gateway, curious to learn how such a construct functioned.

  Flying over the Shah’s position, Syrion let out a guttural roar and bathed the surging Kairon in flames. The beasts howled in outrage as the Dragon fire enveloped them. Concerned for the Shah’s survival, Syrion dove into the ranks of the Kairon.

  The Kairon were fearless and emboldened by their lust for battle. In rage the beasts turned on the majestic golden creature in their midst. Syrion moved swiftly, making it difficult for the creatures to bring their numbers to bear. Talons slashed through the unarmored Kairon with ease as Syrion sent others sprawling into the dirt with a sweeping arc of his tail. It was clear the Kairon were used to being at the top of their food chain—the presence of the formidable predator in their midst was causing considerable confusion.

  A flash of motion drew Syrion’s attention. As he turned a projectile struck him in the head, but the arrow clattered uselessly off his thick-plated skull near his eye, one of the few places such simple weapons could harm him in his draconic form.

  Syrion searched the ranks of the Kairon as they swarmed about and soon spotted his prey. To his right a Kairon stood still, bow in hand, staring down the shaft of the arrow he had nocked and pointed directly at Syrion’s head. Not willing to tempt fate a second time, Syrion took a bounding leap toward the Kairon.

  The creature let fly, surprised by the sudden motion, but the arrow sailed harmlessly below Syrion as his flight-assisted leap carried him over the arrow and on top of his foe. The creature was covered in war paint, the symbols more detailed and intricate than those he had previously seen. Syrion supposed the markings might signify rank or status among the barbaric culture of the beasts.

  The surrounding warriors seemed caught between their concern for their leader and anxiety at engaging the Dragon before them. Syrion thundered into the bow-armed beast. With one taloned foot he splintered the bow as the rest of his body bowled over the burly Kairon.

  Skaros flailed as the dazzling golden creature knocked him to the ground. He tried to get up but with the creature’s weight atop him it was impossible. Drawing a knife from a sheath on his belt, Skaros plunged it into the creature’s claw.

  Syrion let out a pained roar as the knife sank into the soft
flesh of one claw. Enraged, he clutched the stubborn warrior between his talons and leaped into the sky. The Kairon warrior withdrew the knife and thrust it back into the Dragon’s claw. Syrion clenched hard enough to crush every bone in a lesser being’s body, and Skaros howled in rage as Syrion continued to rise through the air. Judging his altitude sufficient, Syrion turned and dove towards the ground, the angry Kairon in his clutches howling all the way down.

  With the ground rushing up to meet them Syrion hurled the Kairon at his kin before snapping his wings to arrest his descent. Skaros gave a bestial scream as he crashed into the Kairon Herd beneath. The impact killed the Warchief instantly, along with a dozen of the warriors he barreled through before coming to a grinding halt.

  Seeing their leader slain before their eyes caused the Herd to devolve into chaos. Syrion left Songrilah to deal with the disorganized remnants of the Herd, while he made for the portal at the valley’s head.

  Chapter 34

  Tharadin stormed angrily into the fray. His blood boiled as he watched the beasts roll over his brethren—Dwarves were ill suited to fighting such foes. The height of the beasts made it difficult to reach vital organs and inflict mortal wounds, and the Kairon may have been unarmored but from their elevated height they had a distinct advantage against the short-statured warriors.

  The brutish beasts had hammered through the dwarven lines and were bearing down on the dwarven artillery positions. The cannons continued to sound, their thunderous discharges signaling the death of dozens of the foul beasts with each shot. Tharadin could ill afford to lose his artillery—every volley increased his chance of holding his foe here at the foothills of the Everpeak. Should the guns fall silent, his enemies would be able to bring their hordes with impunity.

  The Ironguard followed closely, hot on the heels of their lord as he charged into the melee. Ducking past a spear thrust, Tharadin stepped up to the beast and raised his axe high, slashing at the Kairon’s foreleg just above the knee. The black iron blade split bone and sinew with equal ease, and the beast gave a shrill cry as it overbalanced and teetered forward, struggling to support its weight. Before the beast could regain its footing Tharadin struck again—the enemy collapsed forwards and Tharadin buried his axe in the foul creature’s chest just below the neck. Blood flowed from the wound as the creature collapsed in a heap.

  “Strike at the legs, Ironguard,” Tharadin called over the din. “They can’t move without them—let’s bring them down to us so our blades can reach them.”

  The Ironguard set about the task with grim efficiency. The Kairon fought with berserk fury but the Dwarves’ fine splint mail preserved them from all but the surest of strikes. One of the Kairon before Tharadin struck out with his forelegs, knocking over the Ironguard at Tharadin’s right. The Dwarf hit the ground hard, his helmet clattering loudly across the ground. Before the soldier could defend himself the beast drove his spear through the Dwarf’s exposed neck.

  Tharadin drew a throwing axe from his belt and hurled it at the creature. The blade struck the beast’s ribcage just behind its foreleg. From his experience with human knights he supposed that the creature’s heart would be in a place similar to that of a horse. The Kairon crumpled as the blade struck home. Whatever the axe had hit, it had done the job.

  The Ironguard’s charge countered the Kairon’s momentum and brought the Herd to a halt between the first line of fortifications and the artillery emplacements.

  “Look out, Your Highness!” a warning shout carried over the din. Tharadin searched for the source of the voice and found a warrior gesturing furiously at the swell of Kairon before them. Then he saw it: charging toward the Ironguard was the largest Kairon he had seen yet. Unlike his kin the creature wore armor, setting him apart. In his hands he wielded an enormous warhammer which he brandished wildly as he cantered towards the Dwarves’ position.

  “Stand fast, Ironguard,” Tharadin commanded. “The mountain does not bend before the wind, and neither will we cower before this warrior.”

  The Kairon thundered into the Ironguard. The creature at their head brought his hammer down in a heavy blow that struck the first Ironguard in his head, his helmet useless as his neck broke under the blow. A second was run down as he sought to cleave the creature’s legs out from under him.

  In spite of his bulk the Kairon moved swiftly, deftly avoiding the axes of the Dwarves as he lay about with his hammer, dealing death with each swing. Tharadin’s heart fell with each lost life. The Dwarf King drew a hand axe and hurled it at the creature—nimble as a fox the creature turned, but the axe still caught him near his hind legs, lodging deep in the creature’s hide.

  Turning towards the source of his pain Arsenath saw the doughty warrior and charged straight at him. This one will be their Warchief, Arsenath thought, eying the ornate armor the warrior wore. I will eat his heart and crush their soul.

  Arsenath bellowed as he bore down on the stout warrior and brought his hammer down with all the strength he could muster. His foe was quick, deftly sidestepping the blow, so the Kairon’s hammer struck stone and shattered it, sending splinters of rock in every direction. The short warrior swiftly brought his axe around in a savage strike at the Warchief’s forelegs.

  Arsenath sidestepped the attack and drove his hammer into the warrior. The speed of the blow caught his foe by surprise and struck him in the shoulder, knocking him off balance.

  As Tharadin teetered he saw the Kairon loom over him, hammer raised, the wicked point on its shaft glinting in the noonday sun as its rays played across the blade. Without hesitation Tharadin drew his axe overhead, and as he toppled backwards he threw it with all his might. At such close quarters there was no time for the creature to react. The black iron blade cleaved straight through the beast’s armor and buried itself in the Kairon’s human-like chest.

  Arsenath bellowed as he brought his hammer down, and the bladed shaft struck Tharadin in the stomach. The brute force of the blow was enough to send the blade deep into the Dwarf’s body. The pain was excruciating as Tharadin felt the blade’s bite, but he grabbed the hammer with both of his now-free hands, attempting to hold it firmly in place to ensure the beast could not stab him again.

  Tharadin realized he had the Kairon within reach. As the creature struggled to tear the hammer free, Tharadin drew his last hand axe from his belt and cleaved straight through the Kairon’s right foreleg. As the creature attempted to recoil Tharadin lashed out again, severing the creature’s other foreleg.

  Arsenath howled as he sank forwards, landing atop the Dwarf and clawing at him as he discarded his hammer. The weight of the beast was crushing but the resilient Tharadin reached for the axe still firmly embedded in the Kairon’s chest. With both hands the stubborn warrior held it firm and drove it deeper into the Kairon Warchief.

  Feeling his strength begin to drain from his body, Arsenath clawed at the warrior’s helm. With one hand he tore it off and cast it aside, and then with the object of his rage exposed Arsenath clutched the warrior’s head with both hands and twisted it violently.

  Tharadin’s neck snapped like a twig, and the Dwarf King went limp. Arsenath let out a defiant bellow but the sound died in his throat, for his strength was spent as his blood pooled beneath him. A cry went out from the Dwarves around him and Arsenath’s world went black.

  *****

  Syrion soared towards the portal shimmering like the reflection in the surface of a pond. He could make out the horde of Kairon stampeding toward him. The beasts were numerous, and their savagery threatened to overwhelm Songrilah entirely. The beasts seemed less organized at the loss of their leader but still posed a formidable threat. I must stem the tide, Syrion thought.

  Syrion stretched wide his jaws and let loose a torrent of dragon fire, bathing the area before the portal in flames. Content that the blaze would at least slow the beasts and knowing his thick draconic hide would protect him, Syrion soared unscathed through the flames and into the portal.

  Light swirled about the A
starii and he felt as if he were swimming in the sea—the sensation was strange but lasted only a moment before he burst through the portal and back into the sunlight. It took Syrion a moment to register where he was. He had burst into the sky above the Andaran army. I have traveled miles in mere moments. The thought fascinated him, but his reflection did not last long as the stream of Kairon before him brought his mind racing back to the present.

  Diving into their midst, Syrion lay about wildly, his talons shearing through the creatures, his massive muscled bulk bowling them over as he moved through their ranks. But for each beast he brought down another filled its place, eager to prove itself by slaying the immense Dragon before them.

  Sensing the futility of his efforts, Syrion launched himself back into the sky and surveyed the army before him. With his sharpened eyesight he scanned the valley beneath, and not far from the portal he spied a familiar shape.

  A Disciple stood, staff planted in the earth. At this distance Syrion could not make out what the Disciple was doing, but the being’s proximity to the portal and the wave of energy emanating from the position assured Syrion he had found the portal’s source.

  Syrion dove at the Disciple, jaws wide open and talons extended. Having faced Talan, Syrion was wary of the Disciple’s capabilities. He hoped to crush his foe before there was even a chance for her to react.

  His hope was in vain, though, for the Disciple turned towards him, clearly aware of his presence. Even at this distance Syrion could make out a woman’s features. The realization surprised him. Syrion had not considered that there might be female Disciples. Her presence brought memories crashing back into his mind of his duel with Kalifae.