She Who Has No Name tlt-2

by Michael Foster

  The Garten army met the bottom of the rise and continued up it without a pause. They charged up the slope with a tumultuous war cry and threw themselves into the waiting barrier of swords and spears and shields with an earth-shattering clamour. All along the battlefront,men hacked and slashed at each other madly,and blood rained forth and sprayed high, spilling down the hill in scarlet rivers.

  ‘The Garten signals are very strange,’ Gallivan noted. ‘Their horns call for urgent attack and nothing else-attack, attack, attack. It’s puzzling, to say the least. This is not a tactic-it is suicide. They are desperate, but I cannot see the cause.’

  A bearded scout came running towards General Canard and Anthem led them over to hear the news. The scout was breathless as he ran to the bulky general’s side. ‘An army approaches from the south!’

  ‘General Warren’s men,’ Canard responded. ‘They have made good time.’ He seemed calmed by the news, and the panic of the sudden Garten charge seemed to empty from him with a great breath of relief,relief, however, that was short-lived.

  ‘I’m sorry, General. It is not General Warren. They have begun to assault the town. It is a large force.’

  ‘What!’ General Canard boomed and spun around, turning his back on the battleground below them. Smoke was already rising from the direction of Rampeny.

  ‘It’s an ambush!’ Master Crisp hissed and began looking about feverishly. ‘A trap!’ But Anthem gave the panicking man a scalding look that shut him up quickly.

  ‘How did they get so near before you spotted them?’ the General asked of the scout, looking furious.

  ‘They were dressed in Turian armour, Sir. They were almost upon us before we discovered them. If they hadn’t mistaken our signals we wouldn’t have known at all.’

  The blood drained from the gruff man’s face as he realised their predicament. He turned to old Anthem, looking pale and weak. ‘My good Grand Master Anthem, it seems as if we have been strategically overwhelmed. The Gartens have us trapped. By the gods, how did they sneak such a force behind us? We are lost.’

  ‘Don’t speak such foolishness, General!’ Anthem told him. ‘Rally your men. We must save the town.’

  Gallivan was also quick to scold. ‘Get a hold of yourself, man! You are a Turian! Ready the defence!’

  The general seemed to recover some of his wits at hearing this. ‘Yes. Of course. You are right. We must fight on!’ And he again began shouting once more to his captains and commanders.

  ‘What about General Warren’s men?’ Samuel asked of the old magician beside him. ‘We could signal them to hurry to our aid.’

  The old magician shook his head sourly. ‘We must assume from this new development that General Warren may have troubles of his own. How did they get behind us? I cannot fathom what has happened. Still, a signal should be sent.’

  Signals began blurting out from General Canard’s trumpeters and his banner-men began waving a fresh set of colours. With surprising self-control and precision, the majority of the massive Imperial host that filled the paddocks began circling their formations, revolving in place to face the town. A small remainder was left to guard the rise, but it was barely a few thousand men, hardly a fraction of their total.

  Armed figures were just coming into view around Rampeny, spilling out from the streets and from around the corners. The Turian defendersmovedforth to meet them, rushing to fill the gap before the ground was lost, scuttling along in their squads and formations, leaving in clumps,like waves of ships fleeing a harbour.

  ‘We will stay here,’ Grand Master Anthem told them. ‘We will need to hold this rise as best we can to protect General Canard’s back for as long as we can, at least. He will need to break through this second force and make our escape before wearebe pinned in completely. This second group will be the lesser of the two forces.’

  ‘How do you know that?’ Eric asked.

  ‘Sneaking a small number of men behind us would have been difficult. Sending a large number is inconceivable. The townsfolk or local guardsmen would surely have noticed such unusual movements-unless of course, this new force has been gathering in the hills all this time…’andhe trailed off, exploring the train of thought in his mind.

  ‘Could General Warren also be under attack?’ Goodfellow asked moments later, breaking old Anthem from his worrisome thoughts.

  ‘Only the gods know. And how the Gartens could have mobilised so many men in such a short space of time is beyond me. We thought every Garten that could hold a sword was being tracked by the Turian spy network. Somehow, they have fooled us altogether and in a manner beyond belief.’

  Captain Adell staggered over from beside the general, looking pale with woe. ‘Our certain victory has turned into a catastrophe. We’re stuck between these two forces and pinned between the hills. They will already have taken out our supplies and support. Our only hope is to flee and save as many as we can.’

  ‘Can we make it into the hills?’ Eric asked.

  ‘You magicians might,’ Adell returned, ‘but the Gartens would pinour menwith arrows as we climbed.’

  Samuel turned from the discussion just as the Gartens below them surged forward in another savage wave, acting as a thundering tide, throwing themselves up the shattered rise and colliding with the defenders with a resounding roar. It was then that panic truly struck as simultaneously cries of ‘missiles!’came from all around.

  ‘Defend!’ Anthem called, pointing to the peppered skies-and countless shrieking shards of death came falling down upon them.

  Samuel flinched, but the arrows above were turned aside as Anthem flung up a wall of spells. Imperial shield-bearers stepped into place and raised their heavy barriersto protectas many men as they could, butcountlesswere caught unprepared, or were too busy defending themselves from the Garten footmen, andtheyfellto the groundscreaming with shafts protruding from their flesh. The Gartens suffered many casualties also, but took the opportunity to clamber over the wounded. Several breaches formed in the Turian line. The defenders looked desperate and hacked about furiously with their blood-soaked swords.

  ‘Nowhold!’ Grand Master Anthem roared out,his voiceresounding across the field. In response,the Turians rallied, pushing back against their foe and retaking their ground with incredible resolve.

  Samuel could not believe the gore and bloodshed around him. He had seen violence before, but never on such a horrific scale. People were hacking each other to pieces like maniacal butchers. It was like a scene from hell. He had suffered from many terrible nightmares in his past, but this was much worse, and thehorrorof itovercame him with its stench and voracity. He felt some bitter juices rise in his mouth and was forced to turn his gaze straight down to his feet.

  A mighty grip seized his shoulder. ‘Have strength, young Lord Samuel,’ Adell said, and it seemed the captain had not given up entirely. ‘These are early days yet. We are Turians and we will not give up until the day is won.’

  Booms and crackles of magic sounded from behind and the party turned towards the town.

  ‘Their magicians have come into play,’ Goodfellow noted. The fields before the town were clotted with men and thissecond battle raged on to the south.

  Eric Pot, beside him, shook his fist with frustration. ‘And what about us? Why are we standing here idly? We should be doing something!’

  ‘Patience, Master Pot,’ Gallivan told him. ‘We need to tread carefully while the day is young. Many have died, but this is just the beginning. The Lions have not yet begun to roar and,when they do, the men will be sorted from the boys and all shall shudder in their breeches. Despite our situation, timing is still crucial.’

  ‘They are ignoring the town,’ Captain Adell noted, pointing back towards the south, where tides of men were pouringfromaround the buildings to join the battle.

  Anthem nodded solemnly. ‘Yes. Their priority is to wedge us in. They know they can plunder the town later,at their leisure, should they be victorious.’

  ‘What’s that?’ Go
odfellow alerted, pointing, for the plumes of smoke rising from amongst the distant buildings had grown thick and billowed towards the magicians like an unfolding shroud.

  ‘They seek to obscure the battlefield,’ Gallivan noted, ‘but it will be to their disadvantage as well as ours…unless they plan to surprise us with something. We should keep ready.’

  ‘A useful tactic against magicians,’ Anthem muttered.

  ‘Is there a spell behind it?’ Goodfellow asked the old Grand Master. ‘It’s curious how it courses straight towards us.’

  Anthem only shook his head. ‘No. I can’t sense any magic,’ to which Samuel agreed, for he would have seen any magic at this distance as clearly as if fireworks had been released. ‘I suspect it is a concocted formula, designed to make such an obscuration. It is unfortunate that the wind is precisely against us.’

  The thick cloud rolled over the buildings and fell across the battlefield to the south. The men continued fighting, but everything vanished from view as soon as the cloud reached it, devouring them all into its billowing depths. The battle raged on in all directions, while the magicians stood tight and observed with all possible calm.

  ‘I feel the time is right, Janus,’ Gallivan told the other Grand Master after a short spell.

  The wiry,old man nodded and his wispy eyebrows bobbed in time. ‘Indeed. I am not sure what the Gartens plan, but I agree. Let us strike now before they can close this noose any further, or unloose any further surprises.’

  Gallivan raised his fingers to his lips and made a shrill whistle. At that very instant, cataclysmic spells erupted from the other Grand Masters, each waiting on the wings. From their points along the hilltop, explosive magic shot out and decimated the Garten horde in bulk, leaving Samuel and the Erics shielding their eyes from the rain of debris that pelted down all around. Dust filled the air, setting them to choke,and it only served to further obscure the air.

  Their spells continued unabated, and the three magicians remained huddled next to Anthem and Gallivan, overwhelmed by the bedlam all around.

  ‘Stay close to me,’ Anthem reminded them, raising his voice above the din.

  The cloud to the south had now almost reached them and many of Canard’s men were fleeing before it in a panic. Behind them, the second army marched inwards, working to bottle them in. No one could see them coming, but Samuel could sense their presence easily through the shroud.

  Just then, a shudder in the pattern had all the magicians looking to the east along the hilltop, where the weaves of Grand Master Orien abruptly ceased.

  ‘Gods!’ Anthem swore.

  Gallivan, beside him, looked beyond belief.

  ‘What is it?’ Goodfellow asked.

  ‘Grand Master Orien is dead,’ Samuel replied.

  ‘How?’ Eric asked, keeping his head down, but Samuel only shook his head in response. He did not know.

  ‘I will go,’ Gallivan said and almost simultaneously he bound up in to the air, propelled by his Leaping spell in the manner of a huge flea. As he sailed through the air to where Orien had fallen, a dark sliver spiralled up from the ground to meet him. It found him in the air and snapped tight, like a length of rope, and all Samuel could see through the dust and haze was Gallivan falling to earth like a rock, trailing tatters of ruined magic.

  ‘Assassins!’ Anthem hissed. ‘The Lions be warned!’

  ‘What is it, Grand Master?’ Samuel asked, but the old man looked ill with dread.

  At that moment, the battle fell upon them as the Gartens breached their defences and spilled up over the hill. Samuel was bowled to the ground with the Erics atop him. A defiant roar from Anthem cleared the area of Gartens, but it took time for the three younger magicians to regain their feet. When they did, there was no sign of Captain Adell at all.

  The line on the hill had completely broken and men were now fighting all over in disorganised clumps. There was no sign of General Canard to the south, but it was clear his forces had retreated, so now the Turians were fighting back to back, with Gartens on either side of them.

  Grand Masters Jurien and Tudor then came hobbling out of the fray towards them. Jurien’s robes were torn and singed and he looked full of alarm.

  ‘We must make a channel,’ he gasped, bent over with age and lacking his stick to aid him. ‘We need to save as many of these men as we can.’

  A Turian soldier had found the old man’s staff and came hurrying with it to his side. The withered old magician had just started to reach for his trusty aid, when the soldier thrust his hand up into Jurien’s neck, stabbing him ferociously with a hidden blade.

  Samuel nearly leapt out of his skin in fright, but Anthem acted instantly, killing the assassin before he could flee.

  ‘A spy,’ Tudor said, sounding every bit as old as he looked. He shook his head forlornly at the corpse of old Jurien. Bending down, he plucked up the abandoned walking staff and rolled it over in his leathered hands. ‘Curse this day-and it is just beginning.’

  Gallivan came looming out of the haze from the opposite direction. He also looked haggard, but at least he had somehow escaped the trap meant for him. ‘We are the last three,’ he declared with woe. ‘The other Lions are dead-already overcome.’

  Anthem nodded solemnly. ‘This battle is lost,’ he told them. ‘We are pinned between two much greater armies and it is evident they came prepared to kill us Lions in particular. It seems we have been proven the fools. We have underestimated the Gartens greatly. Levin, you must get these three to safety,’ and Grand Master Tudor nodded. ‘I will stay and wreak death and ruination upon these men, and give them reason to regret they found us. They may have won the battle, but few of them will live to tell of it.’

  Gallivan stepped up to the old Grand Master proudly. ‘And I will join you, Janus.’

  ‘Let us stay,’ Samuel implored them. ‘We can stand together.’

  But Anthem only scolded him. ‘Don’t be a young fool, Samuel. We’re not staying just to throw our lives away. We can do far more here without you three to worry about, and of most importance is keeping you out of harm’s way. We Lions are old and have far outlasted our golden years. You three are the future of the Order, but you will not live to see your potential if you do not live out this day.’

  Gallivan then spoke up and he was even more dramatic. Even at such a dangerous moment, it seemed the regal Lions could not abandon their grandiloquent habits. ‘The Lions have had their moment in the sun, and today will forever mark a place in history! Whether we win or lose, our foe will remember this hour, and it will strike fear into their hearts forever more!’

  Shouts of panic drew their attention, just in time, to some great shape leaping upon them. A reptilian face and a long,scaly body flashed past, crashing into Grand Master Gallivan and dragging him away with it down the hill.

  Even Grand Master Anthem was bewildered and surprised, looking utterly lost for words. Gallivan and the creature had already disappeared into the smoke and so there was nothing anyone could do. ‘We need a clear view of this situation,’ he finally stated. ‘I don’t recall the Gartens ever having such beasts as this. Something is amiss.’

  While the old man pondered further, Samuel saw the opportunity to be of use. He slipped the Argum Stone onto his finger and summoned its strength. A surge of adrenalin made his heart leap and at once he began throwing out the weaves and spells that would move the air and clear this smoke. At first, it felt as though all was going well, but the magic of the ring would not be quelled when he wished it. As he began to worry, more and more magic forced its way out and into his spells. Too much power overwhelmed him and then the magic went wild. He struggled desperately to regain some control, knowing the others were watching him, but it was already too late. A spell of enormous proportions had been released,a spell of Moving of sorts, and it gripped the air above them and shunted it away with a single,colossal heave that made the hills around the valley shiver as if stricken with fear.

  The wind that hit them felt l
ike a wall of stone and it struck with a sudden terrible violence, tearing every man on the crest from his feet and tossing them away like dried leaves, leaving only the magicians holdingfastto the ground for grim fear of death. Those on lower ground dropped to their bellies lest they share the same fate, and they were saved from the full force of the gale. The roaring noise was deafening and it blinded them and pulled at their clothes and skin as if to strip them bare. Sand and specks bit their faces and filled their lungs.

  ‘That’s enough, Samuel!’ Anthem screamed into his ear, digging his fingers into the earth to hold on, but Samuel still could not control his spell.

  He could feel the power of the ring burning its way inside him, creeping its way down his arm and towards his core. Only the hardened discipline of all his years in the School of Magic enabled him to focus his mind and he began separating himself from the Argum Stone piece by piece, closing off its power as well as he could. He had nearly met with success, when a nearby surge of magic caught his attention. A Great Spell had formed somewhere close by, for it was the only kind of magic powerful enough to distract him at this point. He felt it coalesce and gather unto the point of realisation and then, in a single gulp, it was gone.

  Despite the distraction, he had no time to ponder the cause and Samuel fought back against the oppressive power of the Argum Stone. As quickly as it had come upon him, the onslaught of magic ended and he pulled the ring from his scalded finger and threw it back into his pocket before anyone could gain their wits.

  With the spell ended, the wind died away almost at once. As Samuel shook himself off and stood, he saw that the smoke and dust and haze of the battleground had cleared; blown away with the wind. Grand Masters Anthem and Tudor were still beside him. Goodfellow was lying dazed some scant yards away, but Eric Pot was nowhere to be seen.

  The silence was eerie, for perhaps half a million men all around-a sea of humans as far as the eye could perceive-had dropped to their stomachs for cover. Slowly, they raised their heads as they realised the hell-storm had passed and those that scrambled to their feet and readied their weapons the quickest had the first chance to strike those beside them. The quiet rose back to a roar and in the space of three heartbeats the battle had returned to full intensity. By now,there was barely half of the Turian colours left, huddled together in abuncharound the magicians and along the rise. Somehow, despite the Turian losses and the fact they faced overwhelming numbers, the battle continued in all directions.