Stunned by the fall Malaki struggled to get his bearings. He tried to push himself up but the entire right side of his body felt numb and lifeless. He blinked and shook his head, trying to clear his vision. For a moment he thought he might have killed the demon but then a huge shadow loomed over him and he knew that he had not.
Malaki’s sight cleared and he looked up into the burning eyes of the demon. The heat of its body was greater than any blacksmith’s forge and Malaki’s face was beaded with sweat. Looking down at him the demon reached under its left arm and with a snarl of pain it drew out the foot-long tip of Malaki’s lance. The point had driven deep but had not come close to its mortal heart. The ringing in Malaki’s ears grew louder and black shapes began to swim before his eyes as he realised that he had failed. He saw the demon drop the point of his lance and look down on him in triumph and then it raised a massive hoof to kill him.
A drumming sound suddenly impeded upon Malaki’s thoughts, but he could not tell if it was the rush of blood in his ears or the sound of approaching hooves. He tried to conjure an image of Bryna in his mind but all he could see was the shape of her lips, the blue of her eyes and a stray curl of auburn hair.
‘VÉRITÉ!’
The shout was accompanied by a rush of movement and Malaki flinched as a bay coloured horse flashed before his eyes. Looking up he saw the demon rear back as a spear glanced off its black obsidian skin.
‘VÉRITÉ!’
The demon recovered quickly as a second lance bit into its shoulder before tearing free but this time it lashed out and the knight who had attacked was struck from his horse by a blow that crushed his breastplate and broke his spine.
‘VÉRITÉ!’ cried another voice but the demon avoided the attack and swung again and a second Knight of Wrath died before he hit the ground.
But then another knight cried out his challenge and Malaki had never heard such force in a human voice before.
‘EN ‘VÉRITÉ!’
Lord Cabal’s destrier was in mid air when he drove his lance into the demon’s mighty chest. Despite the fact that he had been required to leap over one of his fallen comrades, the Lord Commander’s poise and commitment to the charge were absolute as he thrust his spear-point home. The force of the attack snapped his lance and dislocated his shoulder as both horse and rider were sent tumbling to the ground.
The demon gave a great roar, part pain and part disbelief that any such attack could pierce its flesh. It looked down at the shaft of smouldering wood protruding from its chest, but then another lance speared into its belly. The great beast hunched forward and a final attack drove deep into the base of its neck. Dark mercurial blood gushed forth and the demon slumped to the ground.
Malaki thought he must be dreaming as he saw the towering figure of the demon brought down. A great weariness came over him and his vision began to fade. He felt hands lifting him and dragging him across the ground. He heard the tumultuous sound of battle and the ring of steel on steel but none of it mattered. His brothers fought beside him and there was no longer any need for him to be afraid.
On the hillside above him Falco let out a great breath as the demon was slain. He felt utterly drained but the impossible had been accomplished. Together they had killed a demon. Rising to his feet he looked down into the valley. Below him the knights were now retreating in a defensive group, dragging Malaki and two other injured comrades with them. Most of the knights-in-training were still in the saddle but they were greatly outnumbered by the black-armoured Kardakae.
To the left Falco saw the emissary’s forces pushing towards them but they would not arrive in time to save them. One additional sword might not be enough to make a difference but then again it might. Shaking off the leaden weight of fatigue Falco moved quickly to his horse. He might not have any offensive magical abilities but for now that did not matter. The time had come for him to fight.
The knights retreated slowly up the side of the hillside, fighting to prevent the Kardakae from surrounding them. In their midst they struggled to protect Malaki, Lord Cabal and another knight who was unable to defend himself. They fought with unrivalled skill but even the Knights of Wrath could not hold against so many Kardakae and it was only a matter of time before they were overcome. But then Falco entered the fray, driving between the Kardakae and the beleaguered knights.
As he reached the centre of their line he leapt from the saddle to land in front of the huge dark warriors. With sword and shield in hand he settled into a fighting stance and the Kardakae paused as if they sensed something of the entity that now stood before them. The brief respite gave the knights the chance to rally before the Kardakae surged forward once more, but then a hail of arrows rained down into their midst, followed quickly by another and another. And then came the sound of approaching horses.
Falco glanced across to the left, to where the emissary’s cavalry was now charging towards them. A little further up the slope the Dalwhinnies stopped shooting, but they had achieved their goal in stalling the Kardakae’s advance. As the sound of approaching horses grew louder Falco turned back to the dark warriors facing him. The battle was far from over, but finally he was fighting the enemy, and he was content. He remembered the first time he had faced a warrior of the Possessed. Then he had been unable to defeat a single injured Sciritae, now he traded blows with Kardakae and what he lacked in physical strength he more than made up for with the fortification of his mind.
In a matter of moments Falco killed his first Kardakae but he was surprised by the lack of satisfaction that it gave him. He felled the powerful warrior with a blow to the knee and finished it with a thrust to the neck. But as the armoured body collapsed before him he felt only sadness. This warrior had once been a man, probably a knight like those who fought alongside Falco. He had not chosen to turn against humanity, he had been appropriated, corrupted, possessed.
As Falco engaged the next armour clad warrior he was suddenly struck by the tragedy that had befallen humankind, a tragedy that required him to kill.
For a while the battle continued to rage but once again the tide had turned against the Possessed and there was nothing now to turn it back. Time passed and Falco’s limbs were trembling with exhaustion but the Kardakae had been broken and the main body of the Possessed army was now being corralled at the centre of the valley. The battle was won and as the danger lessened Falco dropped out of the line and went in search of Malaki. Further up the slopes he could see where the injured knights had gathered, finally able to rest in safety. Falco came upon Lord Cabal first and immediately went to see what he could do to help, but the Lord Commander just waved him away.
‘Go and see to your friend,’ he said as two of the knights prepared to reset his dislocated shoulder.
The great knight was bleeding and pale, but his eyes were resolute as he prepared for the pain of what was about to happen. Falco would come back to treat him later but for now he raced across the slope where Quirren had just laid Malaki back against a bank of grass after the agonising process of removing his armour. The young llician’s face and neck were covered with blood from a shallow head wound but all his concern was focussed on Malaki.
‘It’s his arm and shoulder,’ said Quirren. ‘And ribs too, I think.’
Falco dropped down beside his friend who was hovering on the edge of consciousness. Closing his eyes he placed his hands on Malaki’s arm and shoulder, trying to assess the damage the way Meredith had shown him. His main fear was of internal injury and the possibility that Malaki might slip into shock, but the first sense of his strongly beating heart dispelled that particular concern.
‘I could feel you with me,’ said Malaki, opening his eyes. His face was pale and beaded with sweat. ‘Right to the end. I knew you were there.’
‘Never could trust you to do anything by yourself,’ said Falco and Malaki smiled.
Falco smiled too but then he opened his mind to the damage in Malaki’s body. His upper arm and collar bone were broken but fortunately his
shoulder blade was intact. He had four cracked ribs and a decent concussion but apart from that it was mostly bruising and strained ligaments. Nothing snapped or badly torn, thank the stars. Opening his eyes Falco turned to Quirren.
‘Take his arm like this and lean back with a steady pressure until I tell you to stop.’
Quirren nodded and Malaki gasped through gritted teeth as the two pieces of bone in his upper arm ground against each other. As Falco felt them come back into alignment he sent a wave of healing energy into Malaki’s body. The power was perhaps more intense than he had intended and Malaki swore as his injured arm burned with a tingling fire.
‘All right. You can let go,’ said Falco and Quirren gingerly relaxed the pressure on Malaki’s arm.
Malaki let out a deep sigh and settled back against the damp grass, but Falco would not let him rest just yet. For another ten minutes he bent over Malaki’s injuries, suffusing them with all the healing power he could until he was confident that they would quickly heal.
Finally satisfied, he was about to turn to Quirren’s injuries when a shadow fell across them and he looked up to see Lord Cabal standing over them. His right arm was strapped across his chest and his pale skin contrasted sharply against his dark beard and blood-matted hair. Even injured he remained a grim and imposing figure. Beside him Sir Garnier held the Lord Commander’s great-helm.
Lord Cabal looked down at Falco who, after a moment’s pause, moved aside to let him approach Malaki. The great knight dropped to one knee, wincing from the pain in his damaged shoulder. For a moment he looked down at Malaki, taking in the extent of his injuries, then he raised his gaze to look him in the eye. Pale and exhausted Malaki stared back and for a while the two just looked at each other.
From his bearing Falco could tell nothing of the Lord Commander’s mood. All he knew was there was not the least trace of contrition in Malaki’s eyes. He had disobeyed the most senior member of his order and his entire future as a knight hung in the balance. But given the choice he would do the same thing again.
Finally Lord Cabal spoke.
‘How did you know your friend could protect us?’ he asked.
‘I didn’t,’ said Malaki. ‘But I believed he could.’
For a moment the Lord Commander held Malaki’s gaze then he nodded slowly and a fierce smile sharpened his gaze.
‘Strength, honour and faith,’ he said. ‘But the greatest of these is faith.’
With these words the Lord Commander turned to take his great-helm from Sir Garnier. Still down on one knee he placed the helm on the ground and looked again at Malaki.
‘This was your victory,’ he said. ‘It was you who led the charge for lesser knights to follow.’
Malaki tried to protest but the Lord Commander waved him to silence. With his one good hand he reached out and gently turned Malaki’s face to better see the bright red birthmark which stood out vividly against his pallid skin.
‘Did they tease you as a child?’ he asked.
Malaki lowered his eyes in embarrassment.
‘No one will ever tease you again.’
With that the Lord Commander reached up to his own injured head. He pushed aside the dressing and opened the wound until his hand was slick with blood then he looked down and spread the crimson vitality over the left ‘cheek’ of his great-helm. Studying the effect he looked back at Malaki’s face and nodded in satisfaction. Then taking a sword from Sir Garnier he laid it first on Malaki’s right shoulder and then on his left. The sword was returned and in its place Lord Cabal held a horse-head pendant on a pale blue ribbon which he now slipped over Malaki’s head.
‘Welcome to the Knights of Wrath, Sir Malaki.’
69
A Grievous Wound
It was early evening before the last of the Possessed were dispatched and the emissary went in search of Falco. He found him in the field hospital that had now been set up a little further along the valley. Falco was helping the physicians as they moved from one injured soldier to the next. He looked tired but he refused to rest while so many people groaned in pain.
‘That will do for now,’ the emissary told the physician as he appeared before them. ‘You will have to manage without Master Danté for a while.’
The physicians were clearly reluctant to let Falco go, but there were hundreds of wounded and there was no way that Falco could see to them all. He had done enough and it was time for him to rest. With a bow they continued on their way and the emissary turned to Falco.
‘By the stars but it’s good to see you,’ he said, placing a hand on Falco’s shoulder.
Falco lowered his eyes self-consciously.
‘I’m sorry I took so long,’ he said. ‘I was in Daston.’
For a moment the emissary just looked at him as if he was joking, but then he shook his head and laughed. Falco looked more uncomfortable than ever but the emissary smiled and held his eye.
‘Simeon would have been proud of you today,’ he said and this time Falco dipped his head to hide a sudden swell of tears. ‘Come. Let’s go and find your friends.’
They found Malaki at the far edge of the field hospital, sitting with Bryna, Alex, Quirren and Huthgarl. All the young knights sported some kind of injury but none of them were as bad as Malaki. His broken arm had now been bound and splinted to protect it until it was properly healed. Despite Falco’s healing it was still painful and Malaki gave a stifled gasp as Bryna leaned in to kiss him for what must have been the hundredth time. When she had first found him she had been unable to speak. She had simply buried her face against his chest and cried while Patrick Feckler and several of the other Dalwhinnies looked on. They had all seen Malaki and the other cadet knights charging the demon.
Paddy said nothing, only giving Malaki a nod that somehow managed to convey respect.
‘By the shades but you’ve got some balls,’ said one of the others.
‘He’d need ‘em, goin’ out with her,’ muttered Dedric, earning himself a swift elbow in the stomach from Paddy.
As ever, the Dalwhinnies managed to ease the tension and everyone laughed as Paddy and the others took their leave. Now the friends sat up straight as Falco and the emissary came over to join them. A short distance away they saw Lord Cabal speaking to one of the Knights of Wrath who had been injured. The knight’s great helm sat at the end of his makeshift bed and they could all see that the left hand side of the helm had been smeared with blood.
‘I see the Knights of Wrath are now wearing colour on their great-helms,’ said the emissary and Malaki blushed. It seemed that the other Knights of Wrath had followed Lord Cabal’s example and bloodied the left cheek of their helms. In this way the order would honour Malaki’s part in bringing down a demon.
‘Twenty years a knight and I have never seen the like,’ said the emissary. He might have said more but one of the scouts came riding towards them and there was a sense of urgency in the way he drove his horse.
‘My Lord!’ said the man as the emissary moved out of the field hospital to speak with him. ‘Someone approaches from the south.’
Weary as he was the emissary was suddenly tense and alert.
‘Friend or foe?’ he asked, looking in the direction that the scout was pointing.
‘My Lord,’ said the man as if he could not quite believe what he was saying. ‘It is Battle Mage Saigal.’
‘Thank the stars!’ said the emissary, his voice flooded with relief, for he honestly thought that she was dead. ‘Show me!’
The others had also come forward and now they went with the emissary as he followed the scout.
‘There, my Lord,’ said the man and now they could see Nathalie working her way towards them with Ciel beside her.
‘Ciel’s injured,’ said Falco and the emissary nodded. They could all see the dragon’s limping gait and the unnatural way she was holding one of her wings.
The emissary began to hurry forward and Falco went with him. He was clearly elated, but Falco was suddenly filled with a d
ark premonition of danger. He sensed Nathalie’s anxiety before they heard the tension in her voice.
‘What are you doing here?’ she exclaimed. ‘You cannot stay here. You have to leave!’
The emissary’s relief turned to concern as they saw the state of Nathalie and Ciel. Both were exhausted and covered in dirt and grime.
‘You have to go!’ said Nathalie as she reached them.
‘It’s all right,’ said the emissary. ‘The demon was defeated, the Possessed have been destroyed.’
But Nathalie shook her head. ‘No!’ she said. ‘You must leave!’ Here she turned to look back the way she had come as if she expected to see another Possessed army emerging into the valley. ‘You must divide the army into smaller forces. Send them by different routes back to Hoffen and Le Matres. Send for more battle mages...’
The emissary cast Falco a look of deep concern. Nathalie seemed almost delirious and appeared to be making no sense. He turned to look at the scout.
‘Could we have overlooked another force?’
‘I do not believe so, my Lord,’ said the scout but his conviction was suddenly tinged with doubt. It was a bold scout who would contest the assertion of a battle mage.
They began to escort Nathalie back towards the camp, but both she and Ciel kept looking backwards and Falco felt a bead of fear trickle down his spine. What could possibly instil such anxiety in a battle mage and her dragon?
They were still some way from the field hospital when Ciel stopped. The great amber dragon turned and lowered her head, an ominous growl rising in her chest. Nathalie had turned too and now Falco could also sense the presence of something approaching. The three of them were staring at the same point on the hillside as if they could see something that was invisible to normal eyes.
Battle Mage Page 55