‘It’s the Chevalier,’ said Alex as the cadets moved closer to the centre of discussion. ‘He’s leading a Possessed army away from Hoffen and he needs our help?’
‘Why does he need our help?’ asked Huthgarl as several of the knights in training joined them.
‘There’s a demon moving up from the south. He needs to destroy the Possessed army before the demon arrives.’
‘Is the Possessed army so large?’ asked Quirren.
‘Large enough,’ said the commander. ‘But Battle Mage Saigal has still not returned from the south. If the Chevalier cannot defeat the Possessed quickly then the Fourth could be destroyed when the demon arrives.’
‘Great heavens!’ breathed Bryna.
She could not decide which prospect was harder to contemplate, losing the entire Fourth Army or losing the emissary.
The commanders led them over to a field table where a large map had been laid out.
‘The Chevalier is retreating along this valley with the Possessed army in pursuit.’ He traced the line of the valley with his finger. ‘The demon army is closing from the south, somewhere around here.’
Bryna could clearly see that the emissary was in danger of being cut off and attacked on both sides.
‘The Chevalier wants us to join him as quickly as possible. As soon as we arrive he will turn and together we can destroy the Possessed army quickly.’
‘Why doesn’t he just retreat to Hoffen?’ asked Jarek, who had now joined them.
‘The garrison has been called away and there are no battle mages to support them,’ said the commander. ‘He cannot lead a demon army to a city full of people.’
‘And what about the demon?’ asked Huthgarl. ‘How are we supposed to stop it without a battle mage?’
The commanders exchanged another nervous look.
‘Where is Master Danté?’
‘He’s in Daston,’ said Bryna. ‘With Malaki.’
The commanders looked stricken by the news.
‘You said he could go,’ said Bryna. ‘They left yesterday.’
‘How far is Daston?’ asked one of the commanders.
‘About twenty miles.’
‘Then we must send for Master Danté, with all speed.’
‘But he’s not a battle mage!’ objected Jarek. ‘He can’t even summon a magical attack.’
‘But his presence might allow us to fight,’ said the commander. ‘Without a battle mage we would crumble before the demon.’
Jarek looked less than convinced. He had not yet experienced the debilitating fear that a demon cast over a battlefield.
‘They won’t know where to go!’ said Bryna, thinking of Malaki and Falco.
‘We will wait for them,’ said Huthgarl, speaking for the rest of the knights in training.
‘We’ll send a rider to bring them back,’ added Quirren. ‘And then we’ll join you at the point of attack.’ He stabbed a finger at the location where the emissary was hoping to engage the Possessed.
‘So be it,’ said the commander. ‘Send for Master Danté. But the army marches within the hour.’
64
Master Danté
After the joyous meeting of the previous night the morning brought with it a more sobering mood and Falco knew this visit to Daston was only a temporary diversion. So it was with a distinct sense of impending sadness that he enjoyed their time together. They ate breakfast and went for a walk in the woods before returning to the inn for the tea and cheese scones that Madam Beaujon had laid out for them.
‘Bryna should be here later,’ said Malaki. ‘She was hoping to come with a couple of the local scouts.’
‘That’ll be lovely,’ said Fossetta. ‘She was always such a spirited young thing. I’m not surprised she got the measure of those Dalminnies.’
Falco and Malaki just grinned. They had given up trying to correct Fossetta on the name of Bryna’s unit. As the morning wore on the two Toulwarian officers became more involved in the conversation. They were keenly interested in everything Falco and Malaki could tell them about the world. Toulwar had seemed a long way from the war and the two men had been eager to do something that made a difference. It was only during these conversations that Falco learned that it was they who had found the message from Caer Dour and sent the battle mage Dominic Ginola to find them in the mountains. Once again he found it strange how the threads of people’s lives became intertwined.
After lunch Falco agreed to accompany Heçamede and Fossetta on a visit to a man who had broken his ribs in a tree felling accident.
‘I’ve given him some drafts to help with the pain but with an injury like this there’s always the risk of infection. If there’s any way you could help...’
After so many years of being in the healer’s care it felt odd that she should be asking for his help, but he was more than happy to do what he could. So, leaving Tobias at the inn, they followed a small track up into the hills. They’d only been gone an hour when a rider came racing into town. He pulled up sharply outside the Oak Leaf and leaping from the saddle he marched inside.
‘I’m looking for a man by the name of Danté!’ he gasped to a startled Madam Beaujon.
*
The emissary waited until the latest rearguard detachment reappeared in the valley. As the force of four hundred cavalry came into view he was reminded of the flight from the town of Caer Dour. All his life he had been giving ground to the Possessed. His own town of birth lay more than two hundred miles to the east, now deep within the Forsaken Lands, a distant memory of a life that no longer seemed real.
As the cavalry came closer he gave a slow nod of satisfaction. Only a handful of the saddles were empty.
‘How far?’ he asked as the captain of the detachment approached.
‘Still about two miles, my Lord,’ said the exhausted man. ‘I don’t think we can hope for anything more.’
The emissary narrowed his eyes. The Possessed were close but at least they weren’t gaining. If the Fourth maintained their current pace they should be able to reach the place where the cadet army could join them. It would mean marching through the night but come tomorrow they would turn and fight.
As the next rearguard force prepared to depart the emissary found his gaze turning to the sky, desperately hoping to see the distinctive shape of Nathalie’s dragon descending through the clouds, but no. All he saw was the occasional glimpse of a dark angel shadowing their movements from above. The demon was steadily closing from the south and the timing of this battle would be crucial.
He suddenly felt the full weight of the responsibility on his shoulders. The lives of twenty thousand men and women depended on the decisions he had made. He was risking everything on the strength of a young man he had known for less than a year.
Was it right of him to do so?
Was it fair?
The answer to both questions was, no. But the truth was he had no other choice.
*
Ten miles east of Le Matres the cadet army was crossing a series of shallow rivers with the city’s garrison struggling to match their pace. As they climbed back onto the heath covered moor Bryna could not resist another look back in the direction of the city. She knew the rider would only now be reaching Daston, but she could not help looking for some sign that Falco and Malaki were following on behind them. She tried to calculate when they might arrive and realised with a wrench that it would not be before nightfall. Falco and Malaki would need to travel the twenty miles back to Le Matres before setting out to follow them.
Bryna looked out over the plain. There was no change in the scenery but she knew that in crossing these rivers they had just passed into the Kingdom of Illicia. From here it was about eighteen miles to the valley where they hoped to meet the emissary, but the road was little more than a rough track in the peaty soil, quickly turned to black mud by the passage of the army. Their progress was slow and the commanders had decided that they would rest for several hours during the darkest hours of the night. Co
me the morning they would travel the final few miles to the battle site.
Looking back Bryna could see the muddy trail of their passing, snaking over the hills towards Le Matres. At least Falco and Malaki would have no trouble following their path.
*
Falco sensed the urgency of the rider’s thoughts even before they heard the sound of hooves scrabbling up the stony track.
They had just emerged from the forester’s cottage where Falco had been able to help the man who was now breathing deeply rather than wincing at every shallow breath.
‘Amazing,’ said Heçamede. ‘And I thought Master le Roy had a gift for healing.’
Malaki was suitably impressed and Fossetta smiled with pride but Falco was not paying attention. He was staring down the track as the rider came into view.
‘Something’s wrong,’ he said as the rider urged his horse up the last turn of the path.
‘Danté!’ cried the breathless man. ‘Are you Falco Danté?’
‘I am.’
‘You must come at once,’ gasped the man. ‘The Commander of the Fourth Army has sent for you.’
65
Into The Night
It was getting dark by the time Falco and Malaki came within sight of Le Matres. They both felt the need for haste but Malaki insisted that they keep to campaign pace.
‘We’ve a long way to go,’ he said. ‘And this way is quicker in the long run.’
Despite his anxiety Falco trusted Malaki’s knowledge. The knights had been extensively trained in cavalry speed and endurance. They could drive harder and get a change of horses in Le Matres, but there was no way Malaki was going to ride into battle on a horse other than Fidelis. The two of them had become extremely close and such a relationship with a trained war horse was a powerful combination. So they literally had to rein in their desire for haste and hope that they could reach the site of the battle in time. Malaki could not bear the thought of not being there to support Bryna and the others, but Falco knew why the emissary had asked for him to come.
‘He’s hoping I can shield them from the effects of the demon,’ he had explained as they said a hurried farewell to Fossetta and Heçamede.
‘And can you?’ asked Fossetta, clearly terrified by the very notion of such a thing.
‘I don’t know,’ said Falco. ‘But if I can the army might still be able to fight.’
‘I thought Nathalie was supposed to be with them,’ whispered Malaki as they readied the horses.
‘Something must have happened,’ said Falco and his blood ran cold at the thought. It must have been something truly desperate for Nathalie to leave the Fourth Army unprotected.
As he turned to say goodbye he feared the effect that such a desperate summons might have on Fossetta, but he had forgotten the redoubtable strength of Simeon’s housekeeper.
‘Go and help your friends,’ was all she said and with a final kiss Falco and Malaki swung into the saddle.
‘Apologise to Tobias for us,’ said Falco.
‘He’ll understand,’ said Fossetta. ‘Now go!’
As they rode towards Le Matres the meeting in Daston began to feel like a dream. But if it was a dream then it had been a good one and whatever lay ahead Falco would draw strength from it. He tried to keep the images in his mind as they continued along the winding forest path. Emerging into the valley of Le Matres they were met by Huthgarl and the other knights-in-training, all dressed in campaign mail with their battle armour carefully stowed in the bags behind their saddles.
‘We’ve been waiting for you,’ said Quirren as they fell in beside Falco and Malaki.
They handed them food and water, and Quirren had brought the rest of Malaki’s armour in two large saddle bags. Falco had worn his armour out of habit, but Malaki had ridden to Daston wearing only his mail shirt and armoured boots. Eating as they rode, they skirted the city while the knights gave them a brief summary of events.
‘The cadet army marched out this morning,’ said Huthgarl. ‘If we ride through the night we should be able to catch them up before the battle begins.’
Falco and Malaki nodded but then their attention was drawn ahead where the road to Illicia cut off across the moors. Gathered at the intersection was another group of mounted figures, five knights dressed in mail, each accompanied by two squires with more than a dozen riderless horses shifting nervously beside them.
‘That’s Sir Garnier,’ said Malaki as he recognised the knight they had met on their journey to Le Matres.
‘And that’s Lord Cabal,’ said Quirren, his tone filled with surprise and awe.
‘Well met,’ said Sir Garnier as the knights-in-training approached.
‘My Lord,’ said Huthgarl, and the others bowed in deference to the Knights of Wrath.
Malaki bowed too but his face was burning with mortification. By now Lord Cabal would have heard about the skirmish in the forest and he could not imagine that his actions would have improved the Lord Commander’s opinion of him.
‘We were heading south when we heard news of the Chevalier’s plight,’ said Sir Garnier. ‘We would like to ride with you.’
Falco glanced up at the imposing figure of Sebastien Cabal. He remembered the tension between the emissary and the Lord Commander.
‘We’d be honoured,’ said Quirren and Sir Garnier bowed but Falco noticed the way Lord Cabal’s gaze lingered on Malaki. He had considered Malaki too young to be formally accepted into the Knights of Wrath and his expression made it clear that he had not change his mind.
‘We’ve brought spare horses,’ said Sir Garnier. ‘It will make it easier for our own mounts as we ride through the night.’
Huthgarl nodded and they quickly transferred to the spare horses. Then, with each of them trailing their own horse on a tether they headed off across the moors. The light began to fade and the night closed in around them until they seemed to be riding in a grey world of unchanging shadow. There were no landmarks by which to gauge their progress but the cadet army had left a wide trail in the dark earth and it was this that they followed into the gathering night.
66
Haste
Nathalie tumbled into the heather as Ciel came to ground once more. Dawn was breaking over the rugged moors of Illicia but the grey light did little to raise her spirits. Regaining her feet she walked back to Ciel and tried to comfort her dragon as best she could.
‘It’s all right,’ she said, placing her hands on the leading edge of Ciel’s wing. ‘We’re almost there.’
Closing her eyes Nathalie did what she could to ease the pain and mend the damaged bone. Given time it would heal quickly but time was the one thing they did not have. Even now she kept glancing back, looking for any sign of the Slayer’s pursuit. Ciel could manage no more than a mile or two of flight before the pain in her wing became too great. If she tried to push it further the fractured bone could break and then they would never be able to warn their friends about the terrible demon that came after them.
Even now she knew that at some point she would have to turn and face the Slayer. She put some weight on her damaged leg and cursed in frustration. Even at full strength the Slayer had managed to defeat her, but then she had been taken unawares. Now she knew the lethal power of her adversary and she would raise the pitch of her own attack to meet it.
With a nudge of her great horned head Ciel indicated that she was ready to try again. They climbed a low crag and turned into the light wind for extra lift then Nathalie climbed into the riding harness as Ciel spread her flame coloured wings. The dragon’s body trembled with the pain as she flapped her wings to gain them some height and Nathalie almost wept at the effort of will such a feat required. But they were flying again and the morning mist was cold against her face as they flew north to warn the emissary.
*
The Slayer let out a growl of annoyance as it felt the Defiant rise into the air and slip away once more. The demon knew the dragon was injured and it was surprised by the wyrm’s speed. It should h
ave cut more deeply and severed the wing completely but the wyrm’s scales were as strong as steel, protecting it even from the blades of the Enlightened. But no matter. The Slayer could feel their exhaustion and pain. The chase would not go on for long. And now it could feel one of the Faithful moving ahead of it, a duke of moderate power. It could feel the demon’s appetite and anticipation. Just like The Slayer, it was moving in for the kill.
*
Standing in the early morning mist the emissary tried not to show his concern as he dismissed the exhausted scout. She was one of several scouts keeping track of the demon that was moving up from the south and the news she delivered was grim. The demon had increased its pace and now he would be forced to engage the Possessed before the reinforcements from Le Matres arrived to help them.
‘Maybe we should have retreated to Hoffen after all,’ said General Renucci.
‘No,’ said the emissary. ‘We would have found ourselves holed up in the city with a demon army at the gates. At least this way we buy them time to bring a battle mage down from the north.’
‘And still no word from Nathalie?’
‘None,’ said the emissary. ‘We must proceed on the basis that she will not be here to help us.’
General Renucci’s face was pale in the early morning light. Like the emissary he had learned to cope with the fear of fighting the Possessed, but the fear of a demon was not something that a normal man could learn to overcome.
‘Have the scouts found us a new place to fight?’
General Renucci gave a sigh of resignation.
‘Five miles along the valley,’ he said. ‘There’s a rise in the ground that we could use to our advantage.
‘Good,’ said the emissary. ‘Then we will make our stand there.’
*
Bryna felt sick with fatigue as they pushed on further into Illicia. As an officer she was entitled to ride but her mount was tired and she needed to know how the Dalwhinnies were feeling and so she led her horse by the reins. The army had rested during the darkest part of the night, but no one slept and the anxiety of waiting was every bit as exhausting as tramping through the boggy ground. Doing her best not to let her tiredness show Bryna looked up as Paddy returned from speaking to one of the scouts.
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