King Baylin yanked his blade clear of the dead boarg and briefly met Kromm’s gaze as he too dispatched another enemy. Their blood spattered chests heaved with exertion as they fought to regain their breath. They quickly glanced around trying to discern how many boargs were left, but with the fog and shadows it was hard to see more than twenty paces away. But their respite was brief, as the handful of remaining boargs came at them.
Growling ferociously they attacked with reckless abandon. King Baylin lifted his blade and intercepted two flashing claws, cutting deep slashes across the beast’s arms in the process. Then, reaching within himself for more strength, his powerful arms responded, bringing his magical blade down and across the boarg’s arm, cutting through to the bone. Then, reversing direction, he brought the keen blade up and through the boarg’s throat, splattering more blood on the rough stone.
Jonas had nearly collapsed from the pain, but he knew he had only a few moments before the Banthra attacked again. He turned to intercept the attack that he knew must be coming, futilely lifting a blade to block the deadly spiked ball descending toward him. He knew it was a useless gesture, and in a flash he could picture his head caved in by the mace. But the end never came, and instead he heard the grunt of a dwarf and the crash of weapons coming together.
Jonas stumbled away and saw that Tolvar had intercepted the Banthra’s attack and the two combatants were now in a deadly fight. Jonas gritted his teeth from the pain and stood up, hoping to join the dwarf. A new bolt of pain shot through him, and he keeled over. The demon must have shattered a rib, or damaged an organ, for the pain was excruciating.
The mace struck the dwarf in the shoulder as he spun away, trying to deflect some of the power. He continued the momentum of his spin back toward the demon, and stepped in low, bringing his deadly axe blade across the demon’s thighs. Sparks flew as the magical dwarven blade sliced through its armor and into its flesh. The Banthra stumbled back, lifting its empty hand and bringing forth a bolt of crackling blue energy. The bolt struck Tolvar in the chest, but two heart beats later it vanished and Jonas saw the Banthra pitch sideways, a hand axe buried in its chest.
“Moredin!” Cade had roared as he had charged the Banthra, swinging his giant axe down and into the chest of the stunned demon. The dark knight howled as the axe bit deep, bringing the demon to its knees. Cade then ripped the axe from its chest and went for the demon’s head. The powerful dwarf was thwarted, however, thrown back by a powerful red wave of energy that pulsed from the demon's chest, blasting outward in a ten pace diameter.
The wave hit Jonas, knocking him to the rough stones. Tolvar, who was squirming on the ground from the electrical attack, was pushed hard against the landing wall behind him. Cade, who was the closest, was launched off his feet, landing fifteen paces away on his back. He grunted from the impact and struggled to get up.
And so did the Banthra. The demon’s legs were wobbly but it managed to grab its mace and regain its footing.
Jonas was holding his side growling in frustration. He had no chance of fighting the beast one on one now, not with his injuries. Still, he instinctively reached for his sword, but as he glanced at the blade, a determined smile spread across his face. Fiercely concentrating, he summoned his cognivant energy one last time. Grimacing with pain he struggled slowly to his feet and aimed his sword at the Banthra. “Shyann!” he screamed as he used his cognivant energy to shoot the sword straight into the demon’s helm. Soaring like an arrow, the blade found its mark, sliding right between the black slits in its helm. The Banthra dropped its mace again, emitting an eerie scream. The sound made Jonas cringe, and everyone nearby turned their faces away, holding their ears, trying to shut out the auditory onslaught.
The sound suddenly ceased when the Banthra fell on its back, literally imploding into a destroyed heap of bent metal.
The flames were still roaring around the Ekahal when he heard the awful screeching. Suddenly the flames subsided and Lor-telliam looked at his enemy, who was now looking over him to the fighting beyond. Wasting no time he quickly activated the power of his staff causing the blue blade to extend to the length of a sword. With lightning speed, the agile elf hurled the staff like a javelin at the distracted Banthra. It flew true and struck the demon in the chest, skewering it with devastating effect, the power of the throw forcing the Banthra backwards where it stumbled to its knees.
Lor-telliam then brought both of his hands together and chanted the words of yet another spell, this one bringing forth the power of the Ru’ Ach to quickly form a small ball of energy. By the time the demon had ripped the spear from its chest and slowly regained its feet, the energy ball had grown to the size of the Ekahal’s head. “Fihr Sirthose!” Lor-telliam yelled, pushing his hands out and shooting the blue orb into the Banthra’s chest. The elf jumped backwards as the ball hit the demon and exploded. In a brilliant flash of blue, a wave of energy struck everyone on the landing, causing them to stumble, but otherwise doing no damage.
But the Banthra was not so lucky. When the light receded the only thing remaining of the demon was a pile of charcoal gray ash.
“Lor-telliam, quickly!” Allindrian said.
The elf regained his footing and stood on wobbly legs. The spell had taken a lot out of him, but a few deep breaths soon infused him with new energy. The landing had been cleared of enemies and his exhausted companions stood about looking dazed and nearly unrecognizable, covered as they were in so much blood, sweat, and the grime of battle. They were panting heavily, exhausted from the intense fighting, and some held and nursed wounds.
The elf found Allindrian kneeling next to Tolvar. Cade was there supporting his brother's head. Lor-telliam masked his obvious shock and concern when he saw the Dakeen warrior. He had been severely burned by the demon's lightning. Nearly all of his face had been charred and his beard was burned to stubble and ash. His entire body was smoking, and the elf was sure that he had suffered even more wounds internally.
“What happened?” Lor-telliam asked, although he was pretty sure he knew the answer.
“The Banthra’s lightning,” Allindrian replied.
“And he lives?” It was obviously a rhetorical question. Lor-telliam was just voicing his shock that anyone could survive a direct hit from a Banthra’s spell.
“He is Dakeen,” Cade said, his voice strained. “Can you help him?”
Tolvar, barely conscious, whispered hoarsely to his brother, “Did ya get em'?” His voice was so weak they could hardly hear him.
“Aye, we did.”
“Half my kill,” Tolvar sputtered.
“He saved my life,” Jonas said, standing awkwardly from the pain.
“I have a healing draught and I can risk some magical healing. But I am weak too, and I fear our fighting is not yet done,” Lor-telliam said.
“What are you saying?” Cade growled.
“I can ease his pain and he will live, but I do not know if I can restore his face or get him ready to fight. Is anyone else hurt?”
Almost everyone had cuts, bruises, and nasty wounds, but the only other person with a debilitating injury was Jonas. “I took a severe blow to the side from the Banthra's gauntlet. I don't know the extent of my injuries, but I taste blood and I can barely move. I am bloated and my insides burn with a constant pain.”
“Show me where you were struck,” Lor-telliam said. Jonas, holding his side, lifted his hand and showed the elf the black and swollen area where he had been hit. Lor-telliam looked worried. “Jonas, the Banthra probably damaged your internal organs. You are tasting blood because you are bleeding from the inside. You will die if it is not treated.”
“Heal him, wizard,” Cade said, “Tolvar needs nothing more than the potion. He is already ugly and scars are of no concern to him. He will wear them with honor.”
Tolvar chuckled weakly and everyone looked at him with amazement. Tolvar had just battled a Banthra and seemed to be near death, and yet the brothers joked, making light of Tolvar’s grievous wound
s. It was strange to see, but it seemed to lighten the intensity of everyone’s mood and they welcomed the change.
“Very well, then,” Lor-telliam said, “We must keep moving. The sword is within our reach.”
Eight
The Garrison
The two thousand men had traveled hard and fast, pushing the pace to the point where several refugees had collapsed from exhaustion and had to be placed either in one of the spare wagons or on one of the horses of a Free Legion soldier. Once Hadrick and the rest of his small group had evaded capture and had found the main force, they immediately broke camp and moved double speed towards the Gildren Garrison. Stephy, who had been severely wounded, would likely have died if one of the Free Legion warriors had not brought forth a healing draught. The warrior, a friend of Stephy’s, had been saving the potion for an emergency, and Stephy’s wounds definitely necessitated its use. Healing potions were rare, and hence very expensive, since most towns did not have an alchemist or wizard with the skills to produce the concoction. But it was not uncommon for career warriors to save up their hard earned coin to purchase a potion if they could find one. Even with the elixir, Stephy’s arm would be badly scarred, and it would take some time before he could fight again, and even then his arm would never be the same. But at least he could travel, which was good considering the pace they had set. They had to arrive at the garrison before the orc army or all would be lost. If the orcs arrived first, they would be blocked from crossing the bridge, with no way to get their army and the refugees across the expansive river without traveling hundreds of miles more to the Tuvell Garrison on the eastern regions of Finarthian land. Once there they would have to reach the Lindsor Bridge on the Sithgarin River and finally head west to Finarth. It would add weeks to their trip. Besides, they had to make sure that the garrison was warned and if they could help bolster its defense, they would do so.
Hagar was a problem though. Even Tuvallis and Stephy, who by all accounts were saved by him, were unnerved by the huge beast's presence. There was no way he could travel with the main group. The soldiers and the refugees would not understand who or what he was. Even so, Tuvallis had no doubt that Hagar had saved them all. Their chance of survival would have been slim, and getting Stephy out of harm's reach with his injuries would have been near impossible. Hagar had not only killed two dire wolves and their riders, but he had carried Stephy the last several miles.
It had taken Tuvallis many frustrating minutes to try and explain the situation to Hagar. Finally Tuvallis had to draw the ogrillion a picture showing himself with the main group of soldiers and refugees and Hagar traveling alone beside them. He thought the beast understood, but he wasn’t sure.
Tuvallis walked briskly with Seli all through the night. The Free Legion soldiers could travel faster, but many of the refugees were older, while others, lacking horse or cart, were forced to travel by foot. Torches had been lit along the line and everyone was tense. Tuvallis kept scanning the darkness for Hagar or enemies, knowing he would most likely see neither. The torches, a beacon for Hagar, meant that the enemy could see them just as well.
“The torches make me nervous too, but we have no choice,” Seli said, “we must travel and we must see.” They had been traveling half the night and Tuvallis had filled Seli in on what had happened in their encounter with the dire wolves. “What will we do about this ‘Hagar’ when we get to the garrison?” Seli asked.
Tuvallis shook his head uncertainly. “I know not. The beast seems to have a purpose. He wears Shyann’s armor, at least that be what it looks like, and he saved us, of this I’m certain. It must count for something.”
“Of course it does. But having a monster walk with men seems impossible,” Seli added. “They may not even allow him in the garrison.”
“We will just have to convince them otherwise,” Tuvallis said. Then he chuckled. “I’m not so sure we could stop him anyway.”
When they finally arrived at the garrison the following morning they were met by armed guards and a closed gate. Hadrick’s scout had managed to warn them, and the garrison was now on full alert. The gate opened as they approached, and several armed men came forward.
Tuvallis was at the rear of the column, but as they neared the compound he and Seli made their way to the front. He looked about them and saw no sign of the ogrillion. Perhaps he was hiding out nearby in some stand of trees watching the scene from a safe distance.
Hadrick and several other Free Legion soldiers dismounted, while Tuvallis stayed a short distance back with Seli, but he was close enough to hear the exchange.
“I assume you’re Captain Hadrick,” a tall barrel chested man said as he extended his hand. “I’m Captain Malazene, commander of this garrison.” The captain appeared to be in his forties, with a long prominent nose dominating his stern face. His dark leathery skin looked as if it had soaked up the sun for years.
“Well met, and yes, I bear that name. My scout arrived safely I take it?”
“Indeed, and thank you. We are in your debt.”
“What is your plan of defense?”
“My plan? I think maybe first you had best come in and refresh yourselves. If what your scout said is correct, then we have maybe a day before the orc scum arrive, if that,” the captain replied.
“Exactly, so how can we aid in your preparations?”
“You misunderstand. I am not in charge at the moment. We have been reinforced by General Ruthalis and a thousand of his men. They are going to take down the bridge. They have asked me to bring you to them when you arrive. They want a full report. The captain turned on his heels. “Follow me please.”
The garrison was a simple structure but impressive nonetheless. Its walls, constructed of white granite, were twenty paces high. Two towers thirty paces high were built into the river banks on each end of the garrison. The massive walls spanned the towers, forming a partial rectangle with two more towers built at each corner. The front wall of the garrison was at least a thousand paces long with a sturdy gate built directly in the center. Two more towers that housed the gate mechanisms flanked the thick oak gate. The gate was beautifully crafted, bound by huge bands of intricate iron and protected in the middle by a steel plate that bore the Finarthian symbol, a fist above the rising sun. Inside was an expansive courtyard that funneled down to the river and the equally impressive bridge. The two thousand refugees fit easily inside the courtyard, which was walled in by various structures such as warehouses, stables, and housing for the men who guarded Finarth’s northern border. The garrison was built for defense and its appearance gave no doubt that it did its job.
“Have your men and the refugees set up camp on the other side of the river. They will be safer there. We can accommodate you here if you’d like,” Captain Malazene added as they moved further into the courtyard.
“I will stay with my men,” Hadrick said.
The captain eyed him with respect and simply nodded. “I’m sorry, Captain. I know you must be tired. But I have strict orders to take you to the general as soon as you arrive. Will you please follow me?”
“Of course. But let me give the orders to my men first.”
“Very well. See that building there?” Captain Malazene pointed to the largest building in the garrison. It was at least three stories and built from solid stone. “Go there and my men will escort you to the general.” The captain reached out and shook Hadrick’s hand one more time. “Thank you again for warning us and coming here; your reputation is well known and fifty Free Legion warriors bring us new hope.”
Hadrick nodded and gripped the man’s arm in return. “Let us hope it will be enough.”
The captain left quickly and Hadrick issued orders to his men.
Tuvallis, who was standing nearby, intercepted Hadrick. “Captain, what’s de plan?”
“They want us to camp on the other side of the river. That’s all I know, but I’m going directly to see a General Ruthalis and I will learn more,” Hadrick said.
“What of t
he ogrillion?”
“I know not. Do you think he is still out there?” Hadrick asked.
“I do. We must help him,” Tuvallis said as he gripped Hadrick’s arm.
Captain Hadrick sighed. “Tuvallis, I was there too, remember. But I have no answers for you. They will never let the beast in here.”
“Then get me a boat big enough to move him and permission to exit dis garrison. I will see him across this accursed river meself, if that be his goal!”
Hadrick looked into Tuvallis's determined eyes and knew he would not be dissuaded. “I will see what I can do.”
Tuvallis nodded and Hadrick turned on his heal, striding briskly through the throng of people who were already heading for the bridge.
He found the building easily enough, and a young garrison guard who was expecting him led him inside and up a flight of stone stairs. As Hadrick came to the top of the stairway he heard loud conversation. They entered through an open archway into a large, sparsely furnished room. A large round oak table, devoid of ornamentation, sat in the center, surrounded by a small group of men. On closer inspection he saw that one was a dwarf and another was a fair haired elf. One man was huge and looked like he was carved from stone. Another was of average stature but obviously commanded the room as he talked and gestured over the table. This must be General Ruthalis. He wore expertly made armor with the Finarthian symbol embossed on the chest plate. He had weathered skin and short dark hair with streaks of silver. He was a handsome man with a hard look. His gold cloak was splattered with dirt and dust and he obviously had recently traveled hard. Hadrick wondered if the man felt like he did, tired, dirty, and starving for a bath and some sleep. The warrior next to him was tall and wore the armor of an Annurian knight. Captain Malazene was there and he smiled when he saw Hadrick.
The Cavalier Trilogy: Book 03 - Glimmer in the Shadow Page 22