Immediately, Esk ran off, twenty-five Protectors moving seamlessly to join him. The remainder closed ranks around Yron and Erys, the cavalry forming a wedge ahead, the mages scattered through the foot soldiers and cavalry, half holding their HardShields as they rode, the others with offensive spells part formed for quick casting. It was a drain but it wouldn’t be for much longer.
Yron nodded, watching the Protectors sprint away to assault the rear of the Dordovan lines. It was oddly comforting to see them and he knew without any question that they’d achieve their aim. Still he carried on watching until long after they were completely out of sight. He turned his head to speak to Erys and the plain came alive all around them.
Shadows surged from the grass on both sides and crossed the path in front of them. An instant later, bows hummed and jaqrui howled through the darkening dusk. HardShields flared to deflect the incoming missiles, FlameOrbs arced into the sky, HotRain began to fall.
‘Oh dear Gods,’ muttered Yron, then shouted, ‘I told you, I told you!’
The cavalry charged, riding down the elves ahead, swords thumping into the Al-Arynaar, who had no experience of fighting mounted swordsmen. At the end of the charge, the cavalry turned and split to sweep back along the flanks. The Protectors unsnapped weapons and stormed away to meet their attackers, the foot soldiers trailing in their wake. Yron dragged his sword from its scabbard, kicked his horse to escape the HotRain that poured from the sky and headed for the mêlée.
‘No!’ shouted Erys. ‘No!’
‘What?’ Yron turned and saw Erys leaning out of his saddle, grabbing at his reins to pull him round. FlameOrbs splashed down close by, smearing across helpless foot soldiers.
‘We’ve got to go!’ yelled Erys.
‘I will not run, boy.’
‘Leave the Protectors. We have to get our cargo to Xetesk. Now.’
Yron knew he was right but recoiled from running and leaving others to die. TaiGethen and Al-Arynaar were closing in, hundreds of them streaming across the grass. How had they got here so quickly? More arrows bounced from the HardShield covering Yron. Somewhere nearby a panther roared, its voice picked up by others all around him.
‘ClawBound too,’ he whispered.
What in hell was going on? Surely this was a totally disproportionate response to the theft of a few crumbling parchments? But even as his blood chilled at the numbers suddenly against them, his horse moving nervously, skittish at the sound of the big cat, he could only marvel at how these elves had got so close.
‘Now!’ screamed Erys, as more HotRain appeared above them.
Yron nodded, put his heels to his horse’s flanks, called the research mages and his cavalry guard to him and forged ahead, the sounds of death echoing in his ears.
Auum made a quick analysis as he ran in, blade in his right hand, jaqrui in his left. The spells had served to scatter the foot soldiers and the tight knot of horsemen at the centre of the enemy but now answering spells were coming. Five elves at least were ablaze and dying, their bodies torches to light the gloom, their cries invitations to Shorth to take them.
To his left, well-ordered horsemen had carved through the ambush and were circling round to sweep along their flanks. Ahead, a line of Protectors spread in perfect order to wield the dual weapons they all carried and moved towards them. Behind them, spearmen moved nervously and, at the hub of it all, were the strangers he wanted, unsure and scared.
With Duele left and Evunn right, he sprinted in on a slight arc, other TaiGethen running counter arcs designed to confuse the enemy. Panthers roared and growled. He saw black shapes next to tall bound-elves running in from at least six points, one pair very close to him.
Auum flicked out his jaqrui. It flew straight and fast, wailing in the air. As he ran into the fight, he tracked it. The masked man hadn’t seen it. Auum had mentally noted the kill when the man’s blade came from nowhere to block it away in a shower of sparks. His gaze settled on Auum an instant later.
The TaiGethen joined battle, the enemy spacing allowing them two to a target. Auum flicked in a slash to the stomach which was blocked away, Duele carving towards the mask only to see the flat blade of an axe clatter against his sword, the sheer force knocking him momentarily off balance. Auum leapt, drop-kicking the enemy in the chest with both legs, forcing him to step back, but already the heavy axe was up and ready, the sword crashing down. Auum swayed right, deflecting the heavy blow, then skipped back a pace, narrowly avoiding a blow from the next Protector right. Duele mimicked Auum’s movement, an axe grazing his arm, tearing the leather.
Next to them, Evunn had the help of a ClawBound pair. He ducked a cross-swing from an axe, his blade licking up into his opponent’s body. Simultaneously, the panther leapt, clamping onto the sword arm in mid-swing and bearing it backwards. The Clawbound elf went for the man’s face, hardened nails clawing at the mask’s sides and teeth ripping at the eye slits. The Protector fell back, trying to push the elf away. His defence compromised, Evunn pierced his chest.
Auum checked in again, rolling under a sword thrust and whipping his blade up into the enemy’s thigh as he rose, his head crashing into the point of the man’s chin, snapping his head back. Duele saw his opportunity and roundhoused a kick to the Protector’s head. Auum slashed his throat, turning as the body dropped.
Across the line it was slow going. He saw one of the masked men decapitate an elf in front of him, and with the follow-up with his sword, thrash it through the chest of another. The Protector moved forward, another beside him deflecting a blow he had no right to reach, allowing him to carve his axe into the body of a third Al-Arynaar. There was no sound from them and they worked closely in concert, just like Rebraal had said. They would be overwhelmed but it would take time.
In the centre of the enemy, their key targets kicked at their horses and sprang away. Auum heard shouts and some of the horsemen broke off, turned and followed.
Auum called his Tai and raced off, gathering others to him. He whipped out another jaqrui, this one finding a gap in the shield net and thudding into the back of one of the rider’s heads. The cavalryman pitched from his horse.
‘Get the runners! Get the runners!’
Ahead of him arrows flew and elves sprinted on the chase. ClawBound joined them, the panthers snapping at the heels of cavalry horses, one cat leaping to snatch a trooper from his saddle and bear him screaming to the ground. But the key men were getting away.
The surviving Protectors curved in more sharply, blocking the elves’ route to the escaping Xeteskians, and around their flanks came the remains of the cavalry, swords held high, yelling war cries, their mounts thundering across the plain.
‘Arrows!’ yelled Auum, and he pulled another jaqrui from his belt pouch and flung it, seeing it miss its target as the rider ducked reflexively at the sound, hunching close over his saddle. ‘Tai, be sure.’
The horses were on them, eight riders crashing into the line of TaiGethen, the elves dodging, waiting for an opportunity to strike. From the sides, arrows came in, thudding into three of the horses, which grunted in pain but ran on. One rider was downed, tumbling forward and under the hooves of his mount.
Auum could all but feel the breath of the animal on him when he skipped right and slashed his sword high, taking his opponent in the leg. He turned to watch them halt and turn. Auum took off at a sprint, racing past battling elves and men and hearing the scream of a dying TaiGethen cut off abruptly. The rider had pointed his horse and was kicking it back into motion, holding his sword low this time and to his left, defending his wounded leg.
But Auum wasn’t interested in dodging this time. Going full tilt at the horse, he gauged the closing distance, leapt high, rolled in the air and arrowed in straight-legged, his feet catching the rider on the top of his head and catapulting him from the saddle. Auum landed rolling, coming up fast to finish the job, but there was no need. The broken angle of the still body told him everything.
He swung back to begin the chase
after their main targets but could see immediately he was too late. Yelling in frustration, he turned to look for his Tai in the closing moments of the battle only to see a Protector impossibly close to him. He caught a glimpse of slashed mask and bloodied face behind it and an axe blade flashing towards him. He dived reflexively right, looking up to see the weapon coming at him again, head height. He raised his blade to block but knew it wouldn’t be enough.
A black shadow crossed his vision and a panther took the Protector at the neck. The axe came through, catching the animal’s hindquarters, shearing off a leg. It dropped to the ground dead, its ClawBound partner howling anguish. The bound-elf dived onto the prone enemy and stabbed straight-fingered again and again into his throat until it was nothing but bloody gore.
Auum placed a hand on the elf’s shoulder. Elsewhere, the fight was done, the Xeteskians disengaging and running; some escaping, others being cut down as they went, victims of sword, spell and arrow. The ClawBound’s howls split the air, his cries taken up by his brothers and their animals. The elf hugged his panther to him, smoothing its bloodied fur as ClawBound ran in from across the plain to mourn his loss.
‘I am sorry,’ said Auum. ‘That blade was meant for me.’
The elf looked up at him, paint streaked with his tears, eyes red and glistening. ‘It was vital you lived,’ he said, then he let his head drop in prayer. He would be buried with his panther.
Auum backed away and rejoined his Tai. The war was not yet won.
Tendjorn had been moved to command the Dordovan forces south of Xetesk and took it as a rebuke for his failure to lure the Xeteskians into an incursion across the River Dord. It had been a one-sided affair, he had lost far too many men and perhaps he was right to be shamed. The thought, though, did not improve his mood.
It was early evening, and in the camp between the south and north lines he was debating what to have for supper. He was bored with thick soups and stews and wondered if he could persuade some of the men to go out hunting deer. It was against regulations to leave the front but a forest two miles to the east was said to be home to a few. It could hardly hurt.
He was in charge of two hundred foot soldiers and mages spread thinly against an attack he didn’t believe would come; not now Lystern had joined the blockade. And they had been effective in reducing supply to Xetesk to a trickle at best. The Lysternan leader, Heryst, was engaged in diplomacy which Vuldaroq was determined would fail. And though part of Tendjorn wanted it to fail too, so he could avenge his earlier poor showing, most of him wanted to go home, put his feet up and continue his research.
Tendjorn ambled out of his command tent and wandered over to one of the perimeter guards to the south of the camp. The majority of his men were north, well dug in against a Protector force he knew was out there. But he had stationed as many as he could spare in his south-facing line because command said Xeteskian researchers were heading home and would try to break the blockade. He didn’t believe that either.
‘Anything to report?’
The guard saluted then smiled and shook his head. ‘Still nothing, sir.’
‘Have they checked in?’
‘A couple of hours ago, nothing to—’
FlameOrbs appeared in the sky perhaps three miles south, maybe less, quickly followed by the unmistakable sparkle of HotRain.
‘What on earth?’ he said. ‘Have we got anyone that far south?’
‘No, sir.’
‘The Lysternans?’
‘Not as far as I’m aware, sir,’ said the guard.
They watched for a while, seeing spell after spell crack across the sky, getting no nearer.
‘Get out to the first watcher,’ ordered Tendjorn. ‘Get me some information.’
‘No need,’ said the guard, pointing.
Someone was running towards them, arms flailing for balance, legs pumping hard at the coarse scrub-covered ground. He was shouting something unintelligible and seemed to be waving them away. Tendjorn stood where he was, a hand cupped to his ear.
‘I can’t hear you!’ he shouted, and beckoned him on. ‘Get closer.’
The man was screaming his words out. Tendjorn frowned. Someone else was shouting too, but from behind. The watcher got within earshot.
‘Protectors!’ he gasped. ‘Twenty-five, running this way. Bring in the defence.’
Tendjorn nodded and turned, running back towards the centre of the camp.
‘Captain, I need a defence south. Protector force coming this way. Twenty-five. Mages, FlameOrbs and DeathHail. Now move!’
But there was something else. While some ran to do the Captain’s bidding, more were running the other way, grabbing weapons from stands, other officers screaming orders, faces white with fear.
‘Gods, what is happening?’
Tendjorn hurried up to his north line, cresting a rise that looked out across a long plain. They had chosen this position as an ideal battlefield. Coming across it were more Protectors. A hundred more at least. They would have their battle.
‘Shit,’ he rasped. ‘Keep them back as long as you can. Beware our south! More coming from the south.’
He turned and ran back towards his tent. From the south line, the ring of steel and the crump of spells had begun. Tendjorn slipped inside the tent and lay back on his cot, trying desperately to calm himself enough for a Communion. Vuldaroq had better be receptive. Tendjorn didn’t have long to live.
Chapter 40
Hirad saw the bloom of spells above the treeline back to his right and urged his horse to greater speed, The Raven hard in his wake. Echoes of voices rose above the sporadic detonations, the battle itself hidden by forest and hill.
‘Running out of time, Raven!’ he called over his shoulder.
But they’d travelled as fast as they could. Keeping away from settlements of any size had been difficult enough and the route they’d taken had been made even less direct by their need to keep Aeb in the dark about their direction for as long as possible. Xetesk now knew their destination - that was a given - but in the lattice of valleys, crag formations and plains that made up the lands to the immediate east of the Blackthorne Mountains, it was easy enough to lose yourself if, like The Unknown and Darrick, you knew how.
It had worked thus far but now the hiding was over. Riding at the rear of the party, Aeb could sense Protectors close by. The Unknown and Darrick were at Hirad’s shoulders with Erienne, Ilkar and Denser in a line behind. Ren and Thraun rode just in front of Aeb.
The light was fading fast, the haloes of spells bright in the sky for a long time. Hirad felt a thrill as he hunched over his horse’s neck, The Raven with him, travelling fast over Balaian ground, heading for the fight. This was why he was alive.
They galloped up a very shallow slope, rounding a stand of trees that had somehow survived the elemental devastation of two seasons before, and saw it all mapped out before them. To the right, the elven army was tackling a Protector force augmented by mages and cavalry. The elves had been halted by the positioning of the experienced Xeteskian forces, which had allowed a group of over twenty-five to get away; they were charging north at a hard gallop.
Hirad swung north to give chase, The Raven following. They were perhaps a hundred yards behind and closing quickly enough to catch them before they hit the Dordovan lines. With any luck, they would be enough to stop them.
With a mile to go, spells flared into the night directly ahead and the distant roar of voices followed soon after. Hirad pushed harder still, eating up the distance. It didn’t take much to work out was what going on ahead but The Unknown confirmed it anyway.
‘Protectors backed by mage support,’ he shouted across to Hirad as they galloped. ‘I can feel them. So can Aeb.’
‘We’ve got to catch them fast.’ Hirad turned. ‘Ready, Ilkar?’
The Julatsan nodded, the SpellShield already formed, just waiting to be cast. Either side of him, Denser and Erienne prepared in time-honoured fashion. Hirad looked forward. They’d been seen.
‘It’s got to be now! Go Raven!’
Ilkar deployed the shield as weapons were hauled from scabbards and The Raven spread to a line, charging at the rear of the fleeing Xeteskians. Wings sprouted at Denser’s back and he left his saddle, plucking Erienne from hers, the two of them shooting forward, climbing high into the dusk sky, their horses following the chase, stirrups bouncing.
Ahead a group of cavalry swung back to face them. Denser tore down for Erienne to release FlameOrbs before arcing high towards the main body. The Xeteskian cavalry scattered from the approaching spell. It splashed onto a single rider, who died instantly with his horse in a deluge of flame.
Before they could reform, The Raven were on them. Hirad veered hard left and lashed out his sword, slicing into the chest of a cavalryman. The impact slowed him and he pulled back on the reins of his horse to keep from falling, dragging his blade back and hacking down through the man’s shoulder to finish the job. He pulled his horse round. Ren was trading blows but winning her battle, her quick strikes too much for the horseman who leaned away as he defended.
Further away, Aeb’s axe took the head from a horse and the rider plunged to the ground as the animal collapsed. Thraun was riding a wide circle, followed by a pair of riders. Hirad set off after them, roaring a call. He jumped a fallen horse, saw The Unknown with Ilkar, defending the mage easily from a clumsy attack, and drove into the flanks of the pair chasing Thraun. Letting go his reins, he leaned out and smashed his fist into an enemy face, feeling the cheek crack under the force of the blow, then raised his sword. The rider saw it coming, recovered to block but fell from his horse nonetheless.
Thraun had turned. He rode in hard, blond hair flowing behind him. Raven coming from either side, the Xeteskian turned and fled.
‘Let him go!’ shouted Hirad. ‘Raven! Raven with me!’
The regrouped Raven galloped away to resume the chase. Hirad could see Denser coming in from a great height, diving incredibly fast at the knot of Xeteskians who were now two hundred yards distant. Behind the group, three horses and riders wheeled to a stop. Mages.
The Raven Collection Page 201