The Last Pantheon: of hammers and storms

by Jason Jones

  Codaius slashed another rider from his horse, broke off the lance through his own ribs, and heard the thundering from the east. He smiled, blood dripping out the corners of his mouth, and another Armondi lance drove through him. He fell to a knee, looking up at Prince Rohne, and then lunged with his greatsword high at the noble’s horse.

  Three scimitar cuts went into his flesh, then five, then another spear through his chest, yet he startled the royal steed and it reared up. Codaius marched back to where Rohne had fallen, intent on taking the Prince of Armondeen with him to the afterlife, but another enemy spear through his plate armor stopped him in his tracks. He swung wildly, cleaving infantry as they passed him into the city. Three, five, seven, then ten men felt his massive greatblade take their lives as the blood covered bear of a man defended his bridge.

  His stallion charged faster, as did the horses behind him. The people and mercenaries on foot were coming, yelling for Codaius of Norninne, yet Jardayne knew it was not going to be in time. The last thing Sir Jardayne saw was the flash of Rohne’s scimitar, as it drove through the chest of his closest friend and ally, Sir Codaius.

  “No!”

  Jardayne shuddered, and watched Codaius fall to the trench.

  “Evermont and exiled company, show no mercy!” Jardayne raised his blade high and charged with aboandon toward Prince Rohne.

  The remaining cavalry of Evermont raced into the city, charging an angry war cry of vengeance, mercenaries and refugees running behind them. They met the legions of Prince Rohne, and fought with a fury none could deny.

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  “Left side stand hard, let them come to us!” Cristoff planted his boot on an enemy neck and drove his longsword through the chest of the man at his feet.

  “Right side withdraw to the city!”

  His blade slashed high, off an enemy shield, then low into the ribs and up, spraying the blood across his own men as the soldier fell.

  “Sir Karai, right flank, now!” Cristoff placed two hands on the hilt, parried high, then low, then lunged ahead and speared a halberdier through the chest.

  “Queen Shinayne, get out!”

  She had twenty elves with her, the wood elf hunter, and a cyclops, but she was surrounded by two hundred men as she crossed blades with their commanding noble. Cristoff could not reach her, he was pinned against the trench wall and outnumbered.

  Two of his men fell beside him, then a third was speared through the stomach and screamed an ear piercing wail, and then Sir Karai took a scimitar cut across his shoulder. The knight of Harlaheim stepped ahead, regardless, and slashed a man down with a flash of his steel rapier. He turned left and dove its point through the ribs of another. Karai spun low, dodging enemy weapons, then rose and slashed two men across their necks.

  “I have them, m’lord!” Karai yelled, driving with his few remaining men, and keeping the Armondi bottlenecked near the rubble of broken bodies from the north bridge. They had but fifty men left, facing a neverending wave of Armondi forces, but the Harlians kept fighting.

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  Lavress cut left with his kukri, right with his forward edged blade, then blood showered him from behind. He glanced, killing Armondi soldiers as fast as they came, and saw Ihros Seeing-owl fall to the ground covered in crimson. Though injured, the kithian hunter regained his footing, and fought on with a spear through his abdomen. Arylius killed the soldiers responsible, Lavress was back to back with the elven priests of Siril, and they had nowhere to move as hundreds whittled them slowly. Armondi soldiers charged, met elven blades, and died quickly. Yet, their numbers were endless.

  Shinayne parried the scimitar with Carice, Loestiri met the shield of Sir Yaelsh, and they pushed off one another again. Her feet danced in circles around him, and he stalked to match. The Smiling Knight slashed high, blocked, low, parried, then dove ahead with a lunge. Shinayne sidestepped, double cut, and met his shield again with her blades. She continued to spin her shoulders, weaving arcing vertical cuts, up and down, backing him up.

  Yaelsh blocked, parried, faster and faster, then kicked his boot into her stomach. She took the blow, yet sliced his thigh wide open with her left, parried high with her right, and blocked his savage chop toward her head. He struck out with his shield, she spun under it, double parried the scimitar again, and then her blades slashed across his chest in a riposte too fast for human eyes.

  Just as the scarred knight looked down, Shinayne dove both blades through his chest, out the other side, and came up close to his shocked face.

  “For all the elves you have killed.” She whispered. Then she pulled Carice and Loestiri free, spun, and took his smiling head clean off.

  “Arah!” Yelled the few elves left. They saw their queen toss the sacred blade to the air, it danced a deadly weave as she drew her shortblade, and rejoined her kin in their desperate battle.

  “Vuumber!”

  The elves with Shinayne and Lavress turned to their left, as did Cristoff and Karai, seeing over two hundred dwarves with Tannek Anduvann, charging to their aid. They glanced up to the west bridge, the Armondi banners had fallen, and the dwarves of Marlennak still had much fight left in them. The enemy commander, Bishop Thohne, was hog-tied on the west bridge, and his remaining forces had surrendered. Drodunn kept a foot on his neck, axe tapping the stone next to his face.

  “To Lord Cristoff and Queen Shinayne! Show em’ how it be done, boys! And let these Armondeen bastards know we ain’t done yet! By Vundren we ain’t!”

  Crossbows fired into Armondi forces, Dalliunn smashed the enemy flags down, and red bearded dwarves crashed into the mass of men in the trench with Tannek. Their shields were high, axes low, and their spirit was unstoppable.

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  Jardayne passed again, breaking the lines of poorly formed soldiers, as Julia led her mercenary brigade and the refugees into the legion under Prince Rohne. Men were pulled from horses, infantry were smothered with untrained men, and the blood and mess of it all was terrible indeed. The knight general slashed another bannerman down, then another, and set his eyes on the Prince of Armondeen.

  Rohne cleaved from his stallion, wildy, killing commoners left and right. His horse trampled more, he tried to charge and was held by ten old men and his horse stalled and reared. He cut with his scimitar, broke free, and went to flee as his field was mobbed and his men were falling fast on the east bridge. His horse collided with something, his shield sparked, and he fell to the ground hard.

  The knight of Evermont dismounted, marched for the Prince, and raised his blade. Rohne stood and slashed with his scimitar, blocked a cut with his halfshield, and was knocked back from the force of Jardayne. Again he attacked, his blade parried hard, and the Shanadorian man hammered his shield with his greatsword. His shield snapped from the blow. Rohne feinted a lunge, turned, and ran. He knew he was outmatched in battle here. Before he got three steps, he was tackled from behind by a mob of peasants. Then, a greatblade stabbed the ground, an inch from his eye.

  “You are mine, Prince Rohne.” Jardayne kicked the scimitar away and glared at the young prince with hate in his eyes.

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  Saberrak cut left and right, sending soldiers airborn with his cleaving axes. One golden miotaur with him, the other dead on the ground. Kaya was on his right, cut several times, but fighting on against the overwhelming horde of Armondeen. Liogan Andellis slashed wildly, stumbling, but keeping to Lady Kaya’s right. Azenairk Thalanaxe pounded his hammeraxe into a soldier’s face, then cut back with the axe blade into another, fighting to the left of the golden minotaur warrior. They were down to twenty men and fifty elven archers fighting now with blades, they had killed hundreds, but they could not get to Harron Vir Magaste. His soldiers were too many.

  Harron parried the shortblade of the elven captain, feinted with his scimitar, then smashed his halfshield into his enemy’s face. Just as A
ariss went to withdraw, a halberd slashed him from the side and sent him stumbling forward. He dove at Harron, his shortblade blocked, and then his neck burned cold. Then his chest felt a pinch, and then he fell at the feet of Lord Harron.

  The Lord Amirak wiped his blade on his cape, full of elf blood now, and looked east. He saw the mob approaching, saw his infantry and cavalry falling, yet he was winning here. He kept distance from the minotaurs, he knew they would tire out soon. He had four hundred to stand against the refugees with Jardayne, and he knew he had the reserve legion to finish the rest. He looked to the other side of the impaired bridge, seeing his forces heavily engaged, yet still outnumbering the Harlians and remaining elves. He could not see his brother, nor his forces, and his concern grew.

  “Men of Armondeen, finish the rest, and take the city in the name of Queen Andora!”

  “Rah, rah, hoona rah!”

  His remaining four hundred here, the three hundred on the field, and the three hundred on the other side of the north bridge all chanted in acknowledgement of his orders. He still had over a legion here, scattered, but against the three hundred remaining intruders and their peasant mob, and with a legion in reserve, the experienced warlord smelled his moment of victory.

  Harron marched back out of the trench to send in the rest, and take his city. His injured were withdrawing from the east, massing near the camp. His eyes went wide with disbelief, seeing that the reserve army was not there. His heart raced, his brow furrowed, and he gritted his teeth as he tried to find the fifth legion.

  “Son, what have you done?” He whispered.

  Something, to his left, a charging blade and a feathered cross was all he saw. At the last moment, Harron raised his shield.

  Clang!

  “You are a deadman, knight of Chazzrynn.” Harron met the salute of James Andellis, and returned it.

  “We shall see.”

  James lunged with his broadsword, parried by Harron. He ducked the scimitar, blocked the riposte with his shield, and slashed into the Armondi lord’s halfshield. Blade to blade, sparks flying in the air, James Andellis marched Harron back away from the city with furious strokes of his sword.

  Two retreating soldiers charged him, one he slashed low and cut wide open as he ducked the halberd. The other James blocked with the shield, crosscut the scimitar, and struck his blade up through. Both fell dead. Then his shoulder burned as Harron took a dishonorable slice with his scimitar.

  Still James pushed on, cutting down interfering Armondi soldiers, blocking Harron’s scimitar, and all the while blue flames licked his broadsword from his glowing hand. The pace increased, Harron was running backwards, James slashing and parrying forwards, and men were falling in behind, unable to keep pace nor rescue their Lord Amirak.

  A slash from Harron took some hair from James’ head, but the follow up attack was blocked. Harron blocked a swordslash, then another, his shield arm tiring. Never had he fought so vigorous a knight. Near the outpost now, passing injured soldiers, James Andellis pressed him further back. The clash of weapons was constant, and now hundreds of injured Armondi were standing up behind the battle, ready to kill the knight that dared attack their lord, limping after him.

  Harron feinted to stop, backed up two steps, then lunged. James parried with his blade, spun with his shield, and roared as he followed with his sword across Harron’s chest. The scimitar countered, blocked by James, and then he took Harron’s right arm clean off.

  James did not look, did not stop to see that he was soon to be surrounded, and he stared straight ahead. His griffon hilted broadsword drove right between the sceptre and talons, dead center through Harron’s chest, and James looked him right in his painted blue face as blood poured out his enemy’s mouth. He whispered as the Lord Amirak of Armondeen slid off of his sword.

  “That was for Gwenneth, now go meet your masters in hell!”

  James stepped back, saw the hundreds of soldiers charging up the hill toward him, seconds away. He stepped past Harron’s body and saluted the coming mob of Armondeen. He cared not to run, he stepped over to the Armondi flags, cutting them down, one, then two, then picked up the last one and yelled to the ruined city.

  “Long live Mooncrest!”

  James threw down the enemy flag, hearing some faint cheers go up from the trenches, and he raised his blade high. He dove ahead, fighting between the pillars in the outer ruins, slashing while surrounded. James looked out from his vantage, the field was red, the bodies uncountable, yet on he fought as hundreds came for revenge.

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  Gwenneth hovered over the black throne, her lightning ripping holes into Imoch, her fury was endless, and the dead wizards inside chanted her name. They had to, for the thousand foot statue now resembled her.

  “Gwenneth, Gwenneth, Gwenneth!”

  Imoch was reeling back, absorbing what he could, defending with all his might, and hurling balls of flame at her the size of small cities. Gwenne countered with walls of ice that stretched as mountains, summoned acidic clouds that dissolved him to just a sliver of a skeleton, and as he reformed she cracked the very stillness with arcane force theat crushed his eternal soul.

  Her eyes turned white, just like his, and she spoke in the draconic tongue.

  “Heliax duthartes ex duarmest!”

  The green world inside the emerald flashed, her statue turned toward Imoch, her powers had not faded in here, they had grown to god-like power. He cowered, the statue of Gwenneth Lazlette formed wings, a tail, and was covered in scales. It breathed a gout of green flame all over him, incinerating him, his powers could not contend. He knelt, as his spirit burned to but black bones.

  “I submit, I submit!”

  “Say my name and call me master!” Gwenneth looked up as she spoke, white light, the only color besides green and black and every shade in between, blasted her from above.

  “I submit mistress Gwenneth, I submit! Please, do not destroy my eternal----“

  “Aaaaahhhh!”

  Gwenneth gasped for air, her eyes saw nothing but bright light and white energy. Her body burned in pain all over, then it faded to just her back, and then that faded too. She held up her hand, trying to grasp something, and someone held it, then another hand as well.

  “By Alden, it’s a miracle.”

  Tubrey sobbed, the feather was gone, just white speckles now floated through the air. He had been praying for her, with the feather, watching the staff flash green like a rapid heartbeat.

  “Easy now, Lady Lazlette, rest easy. You are alive.” Angeline held her hand tight with Tubrey as she winced and gasped for more air.

  “Who is there, who are you? Where am I?”

  Gwenne tried to stand, got to one foot, then the other, shielding her eyes. Her hand rested on someone short. She heard the sounds of battle, of war, and many screaming men and the clash of their steel. Everything hurt, yet it was a pain fading fast, and her body was beginning to feel alive again.

  “It is me Tubrey, m’lady, and Angeline of the Knights Soujan, and we are in Mooncrest.” Tubrey looked to the battle, a terrible sight, and then to Angeline. “I cannot believe you are alive and---”

  “Where is James? I need James.” She was weak, her strength and vision returning, but she needed help to walk.

  “Angeline from Vallakazz? What are you doing here?”

  “No time for questions. James is in the battle, Gwenneth, I will try and find him for you. Rest now. We will talk later, you and I. Tubrey, keep her safe.”

  Angeline had prayed as well, not just to Alden, but to all the Caricians she was sworn to protect. Now, she raced into the field of war, to find James, the man that Gwenneth loved. Her body ripped into the earth, and Angeline was gone.

  “Here, sit here my lady, rest.” Tubrey sobbed as he held her, watched her eyes return to normal green, and saw her smile to him.

  “No, I have much to do, my little friend.”

  Gwenneth started to chant, rose up just a
foot or so, and stared at her staff. Her body fell slowly back down to the ground, and she squinted in weariness, then whispered softly.

  “I said, I have much to do.”

  The staff glowed, first the emerald on top, then the first three runes on the shaft flashed orange.

  “My lady, be careful, run!” Tubrey backed up in front of Gwenneth, knife in hand, protecting her from four Armondi soldiers that had made it through to the inner ruins.

  Gwenneth stood, stared, and flicked her fingers with a graceful wave of her hand. Two of the men screamed and were hurled through the air by unseen forces, landing over one hundred feet away.

  “More.” She whispered again, walking toward the two charging soldiers that remained.

  The fourth rune hummed and illuminated like fire.

  Gwenneth nodded her head up, and the two Armondi men tore through the sky and vanished over half a mile beyond the Kaki Mountains.

  “More, or I destroy this staff, and spend my life erasing your name from known existence, Imoch. You will answer to me now.”

  The fifth rune glowed white on the staff, sparked with energy, and her body trembled from even holding it. She felt power course through her, much like inside the emerald prison, power that few mortals could even explain in words. She looked to the fields of battle, every direction she saw blood and death, and yet she started to walk very slowly, to the north.

  “Better.”

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  Saberrak was cut, several times now, and he looked across to a limping Kaya and the young bleeding knight beside her, then to Zen. He snorted, flared his nostrils, and heaved a great breath as the soldiers surrounded them.

  “No surrender! If we die, we die together.” They all nodded in silence and fatigue to Saberrak. There were two hundred men around them, and but twenty were their own. The minotaur spun his axes, blue flames flickering from his eyes, and he lowered his horns.