The Dread King: Book One of The Larken Chronicles

by R. L. Poston

  “Let’s ride,” said Tragen. “The Elven scouts say that the main body hasn’t filled up the gap yet. Let’s hit them hard with everything we have. Remind your men to burn all the wagons and kill the oxen and horses. We want to slow them down as well as reduce their ranks.”

  Later that evening, as the three leaders and their lieutenants sat around a small campfire, their mood was even more exuberant.

  “I have to say, Thaddeus,” said Tragen, “that final maneuver was sheer genius. They’ll be teaching that to the new recruits as required tactics.”

  “I second that,” said Doron, raising a mug of ale in salute to Thaddeus. “It was sheer genius. It will be a couple of days before they recover enough to move. We were told to slow them down a week; your plan bought us a couple of days at least.”

  “I accept your esteemed judgment,” said Thaddeus, standing to wave his mug around unsteadily. “I am never one to argue against the experts.” Sitting down heavily in a spate of giggles, he continued, “Got to admit, however, that I never had the opportunity to do anything like that. Gentlemen”—he paused with raised mug to wait for their raised mugs in response—“here’s to that young whippersnapper, Larken, who’s rewriting the book on warfare.”

  “Here, here,” the others chorused.

  “But tell me, Thaddeus,” said Tragen, “what gave you the idea to peel off our two wings and hit them again after we cut through?”

  “Sheer exuberance,” admitted Thaddeus. “It probably was the dumbest decision I ever made. But when I saw them running to fill the gap behind us, I knew that we couldn’t leave without hitting their flanks again. Dumb! Dumb! Dumb! But, by all the powers, it worked thanks to the fact that they couldn’t see us until we were already there.” He again hoisted his mug to the group.

  The next day, they were back in the saddle, hitting the weakest points of the enemy’s lines. Hidden by the Healers’ shields, they seemingly appeared out of nowhere to wreak havoc and then disappear. Any force sent after them simply did not come back. By the end of their second day, they calculated that they had removed a thousand men from the enemy’s lines and had temporarily stopped the progress of the army.

  “Reports from Tragen are wonderful!” enthused Melona.

  “More than wonderful,” responded Larken as he nursed a cup of hot coffee in their tent. Larken had been offered the use of a house at Strollie, but he had declined. He didn’t feel right about assuming privileges when, by his own estimation, he hadn’t earned them yet. Melona supported him in this decision.

  “They have already bought us at least ten days,” Larken added. By the time we have to fight, we will have added another thousand men to our forces.”

  “So, when will the fighting start?”

  “Probably in three or four weeks, unless Tragen can come up with some more miracles.”

  * * * * *

  But Tragen was out of miracles.

  “I think,” said Thaddeus, “that they are on to us.”

  “Unfortunately, you’re probably right,” said Tragen as they met with Doron on the ridge to look back over their tracks. “They aren’t pursuing us anymore, and did you notice how tight their formations are now? There’s not much opportunity for us anymore.”

  “Then, do we go home?” asked Thaddeus.

  “That’s my vote, although Norland isn’t home to us,” said Doron. “It’s been a good three weeks. We’ve eliminated more than a thousand of their force, at least two hundred of them were Warders, and lost one hundred of ours. We’ve ruined supplies for twice that number. We’ve done our share.”

  “I agree,” said Tragen. “Plus, we’ve delayed them a good two weeks. What say you, Thaddeus?”

  “Let’s go home,” said Thaddeus. “We’ve lost our advantage here, and there’s plenty of fighting left there.”

  “Home then,” said Tragen. “And, hopefully, victory.”

  Chapter 22: The Final Battle: The Beginning

  Larken had arranged his primary defensive line north and east of Strollie along a line of low hills running north to south. West of these hills, toward Strollie, was a river valley with only one ford. On the western side of the valley, a steep slope rose to the plateau on which the high walls of Strollie sat. To the north and west of Strollie’s plateau were rocky cliffs that were practically impassable. To the south of Strollie’s plateau was a lake that stretched for miles to end in an even larger swamp. It was common opinion that Strollie was well defended by its geography from invasion from the north, south, and west. Larken was trying to take advantage of that natural defense. It was one of the few advantages they had.

  Larken, Estron, and Gahen stood at the edge of the plateau overlooking the valley.

  “I don’t see how we can improve our placements,” said Gahen. “I think we’ve done the best that we can.”

  “I agree, Gahen,” added Estron. “We’re as well prepared as we can be.”

  Larken continued to frown at the scene below. Finally, he softly said, “Maybe it’s just general irritation, but I still feel that something’s wrong. Where did the latest recruits go?”

  Sighing loudly, Gahen answered, “They went to reinforce the third line. Remember that we agreed that the least experienced should go to the third line. That’s been our plan all along.”

  “I know,” said Larken. “I’m probably just anxious, but I can’t shake the feeling that we’re overlooking something.”

  “Something other than an army of twenty thousand will be here in two days and we’re only a little better half that size? Something other than we’re fighting against a legend that we were all frightened by when we were children? Something other—”

  Larken cut him off. “All right, all right. I get the message. I guess I’m looking for a perfect solution when there isn’t one.”

  Estron softly said, “Larken, it’s not even going to be close to perfect. You’ve done great things with the stuff that we have, but, if we win, and that’s not a sure thing, there’s going to be a lot fewer of us left to celebrate. It’s going to be bloody, messy, and brutal.”

  “We’ll win,” said Gahen. “We have to. Especially since Amanda and Jaris finally developed a mind lance of our own.”

  “I’m not still sure that was a good thing,” admitted Larken. “We might be known later as the ones that loosed a real calamity on the world.”

  “It was already out,” argued Gahen. “Did you forget that our enemies are going to use it on us?”

  “No, but I still have doubts,” said Larken.

  “Having doubts is sometimes a good thing,” said Gahen. “It marks us as the good guys, and the good guys always win.”

  “I hope so,” said Larken, turning back to their camp. “I really hope so.”

  * * * * *

  Two days later, Estron, Soran, Gahen, and Larken were viewing the enemy’s placements from the front lines atop the eastern range of hills.

  “Pretty typical, if you ask me,” said Soran. “I think that they’re just going to grind this one out.”

  “And not as bad as I had feared,” answered Estron.

  “How’s that?” asked Gahen.

  “They’ve only got twenty thousand. We’ve been able to field eleven thousand. They’ve got maybe three thousand Warders. We’ve got at least a thousand, probably more. Plus, our Healers have taken that mind thing out of the picture. We’ve got a superior position by far. Not bad at all.”

  “On the other hand,” Soran said, “they’re all trained veterans. Half of our men haven’t seen any action at all.”

  “And I don’t think the mind lance is out of the picture,” said Larken. “Remember that it’s like any other Talent; the stronger Talent will defeat the weaker.”

  “But defending is easier,” returned Estron, “so we shouldn’t lose that many in an even matchup.”

  “But it isn’t going to be even,” snapped Larken. “That’s what you aren’t considering. Look, pretend you’ve got that Talent. You try it against Gahe
n and he’s too strong. What do you do?”

  There was a long moment of silence. Then Estron hesitantly said, “I see what you mean. I would try the next Warder. I would sit on my butt away from the action and try the next one, and then the next one after that. So, the weak Talents will go first; then their stronger Talents will cut down our strong Talents. It will only stop when all of our Talents are stronger than their strongest Talent.”

  “That’s why we have to strike back first,” growled Soran. “Just like we planned. After the first attack is turned back by our front line, our second line will attack them as they retreat. But the Warders-Healer pairs won’t be close to the front lines. That’s why we won’t reach them. Only the blasted Elves will be able to get to them. As much as I hate to admit it, the Elves will be what win this battle. Every arrow in a Healer will get us closer to a victory.”

  Larken continued to stare off at the enemy lines. Finally, he sighed and turned around to face his allies. “Even if I live through this, I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for convincing Algar to target the Healers with poisoned arrows.”

  “But each Healer that goes down eliminates one mind lance,” answered Gahen. “I hate it too, but they’ve got more Warders than Healers. We could kill a hundred Warders, and they’ll just replace them. If we kill one Healer, we take out one mind lance.”

  “Look, Larken,” said Soran in a frustrated tone, “you can’t fight this war and worry about being nice. If they’re going to fight with Healers, we have to kill Healers. Forget the niceties. We have to win this war.”

  “You’re right,” said Larken. “I just dread what’s coming.”

  “We all do,” said Estron. “But our jitters will be over tomorrow. My guess is that they will attack in the morning—about midmorning if I’m right.”

  “How can you tell that?” asked Gahen.

  “Look at the preparation level over there,” answered Estron. “It’s high, but not too high. If they were going to attack at first light, a lot more last-minute preparation would be happening. Too many soldiers are making preparation now for it not to be tomorrow, but they’re not in any hurry, so they believe that they will have some time tomorrow.”

  “Then why not tomorrow afternoon?” asked Gahen.

  “Because it doesn’t make any sense to have your men stand around and burn up nervous energy all day.”

  “OK. Then tomorrow morning it is. I’ll spread the word,” said Gahen.

  “OK,” answered Larken. “I’m off to my nightly Healing. I suggest that we all get a good night’s sleep.”

  “How are the Healings working?” asked Estron. “I heard of your problem.”

  “They’re working fine,” said Larken. “I’m at my best right after the Healings, and at my worst right before them. They seem to keep me level at least.”

  Estron nodded. “This is a very strange time. I suppose someone will write a book about it when this is all over.”

  “If there’s anyone left to write,” said Soron.

  “There’s always someone left,” said Estron. “We just don’t know yet which side they’ll be on.”

  * * * * *

  Estron was correct about the timing of the attack. At midmorning, the infantry ranks of the Dark Forces began surging up the hills. The Elven archers nit their targets with inerrant accuracy, but had very little effect. Although they were unerring archers, there were few targets that were exposed. Most carried their shields high enough to effectively fend against the archers.

  From atop the central hill, Larken and Gahen watched the enemy come up the slopes. Larken fought the urge to signal a counterattack. He knew that the best strategy was to let the slopes exhaust the enemy as much as possible. Also, with each passing second, more arrows found their mark. While the hits weren’t that many, Larken was willing to take any advantage he could get. However, the main reason he waited was that the mass of the enemy forces still waited at the bottom of the hills. To commit his forces to a counterattack now would be to condemn them to struggling back up the hills once the main forces of the enemy turned the counterattack into a rout. Plus, the further the enemy came up the slopes, the more exposed they were to boulders that would be rolled down upon them.

  When the infantry had come two-thirds up the slopes, the cavalry came charging up from the bottom. The strategy was simple, but awesome. The charge allowed both the infantry and the cavalry to arrive at the fortified top simultaneously.

  The use of the mind lance was still partly effective. The weaker Alliance Warders were still falling to the lance. The defense given to the Warders by the Healers was holding for the stronger Warders, but those weaker in Talent or less practiced with the defense were falling. Even the strongest felt the attack, and it lessened their efficiency since they had to spend a considerable amount of energy and concentration in Warding off the mind lance attacks.

  When the Dark Forces reached the crest of the hills, the attacking and defensive lines became a confused mass of bodies. Reinforcements were called up on both sides, and the line of hills quickly became filled with fighting bodies. Those Warders who had the strength of Talent and will to hold their forces together fared comparatively well. Where the Alliance forces fell apart, the fighting became a mixed brawl. Larken lent his will to those around him, and his hill became an island of Alliance forces. No Dark Warder was able to gain purchase in this area.

  Looking out over the sea of battle, Larken was often able to spot the other commanders. It lifted his spirits to see that they were able to hold and repel all enemy advances. However, the Dark Forces also had good leaders, evidenced by the surging thrusts that were stopped only with massive losses or direct intervention of the Alliance commanders.

  Soon, it was evident that the three kingdoms had held their line. The Dark Forces that had been able to break through were decimated by reinforcements. Larken’s Blade had shone with a brilliant blue light and had become a beacon to his army. His Blade rarely stopped swinging or thrusting. He waded through enemies untouched and left a path of bodies behind. More effective, however, was his support of those around him. Larken didn’t know how many times he had drawn upon his Talent to rally a failing line or strengthen a weakening point. He didn’t know how many times he had lanced out to skewer a paired Healer and Warder who had attacked him with the mind lance weapon. To feel those minds being seared and their lives ended by his Talent sickened him. With each thrust, he found himself becoming more and more reluctant to try again.

  He found Gahen leaning on his Blade behind a line of defenders that, momentarily, were not under attack.

  “I think that it is time to counterattack,” Larken said. “Are the signals ready?”

  “Just say the word,” replied Gahen.

  “Then let’s do it,” said Larken.

  Gahen then took a red scarf from under his breastplate and hoisted it aloft on a spear. All over the hills, scores of similar scarves were raised. In response, a rolling wave of trumpet calls issued from the valley below, and hundreds of reserve troops began advancing up the hills from the defenders’ side. The sight of these troops caused a cheer to rise from the hilltops and a noticeable wavering of the enemy’s lines.

  The plan was simple, as all battle plans should be. The reinforcements pushed the enemy lines back down the hills. Those who had borne the worst of the fighting for the three kingdoms lagged behind the reinforcements as the rear guard of the counterattacking forces. As the slope near the top was cleared, Elven archers came to the top of the hills to shoot down at the enemy forces. This exposed them to return fire from the Dark Force Elven archers who could see through the projection of invisibility cast by the Alliance Elves.

  Healers joined the Elves and cast their own shield around them. While the Healers’ shield could not make the Elves completely invisible to the Dark Elves, it was hoped that the added shield would make it harder for Dark Elven archers to target them.

  Other Healers, teaming with specially trained Warders, woul
d attack enemy’s Healers with mind lances while Elven archers targeted the affected Healers with arrows. It was hoped that the combination would work more effectively than either alone.

  The plan seemed to be working, and working well. The reinforcements were able to clear a space of fifty yards from the hilltops. Elves, Healers, and Warders quickly set up their targets and began cutting them down. Very few Dark Healers were completely overpowered by the mind lance, but many were made to stumble or even to stand up straight as they were attacked. This made them easy targets for the Elven archers, who were soon killing the Healers within reach of their bows.

  Even as reinforcements from the Dark Forces surged from the bottom of the hills, the top of the Dark Forces’ line was beginning to sag. With the fall of each Dark Healer, a Dark Warder also fell. This had not been anticipated, but later it made sense. The mind link between a Healer and Warder that created the mind lance also made the Warder experience the death of the Healer, which often pushed the Warder into unconsciousness.

  As pairs of Dark Healers and Warders faltered and fell, portions of the Dark Forces’ line weakened and collapsed entirely. Then suddenly, the entire front line of the Dark Forces buckled across the slopes, and the counterattack became a complete rout of the enemy’s forces. The Alliance forces swept the enemy from the slopes. Scores of Dark Warders were abandoned by their supporting troops and slaughtered by the attacking forces.

  The Alliance Warders managed to keep control of their forces so that they weren’t divided or disorganized even in the face of seemingly overwhelming victory. When enemy reinforcements began stabilizing their lines, the Alliance troops began an orderly retreat back up the slopes. This avoided Larken’s greatest fear in this strategy—that his forces would have to fight their way back up the slopes.