The God of War looked to the sky and raised his arms. “It is time, Daughter of Death. Behold the power of war.” Thunder crashed and blood began to flow from his out stretched hands. It spread out all across the ground. The red stain didn’t stop until it had covered all the ground around Braxton Bluff. The land itself seemed to bleed. Fane had always chosen to manifest his power in the form of blood.
Syann was glad the humans could not see the river of gore that flowed towards them or hear the pompous War God’s cries.
“Let this battle honor the immortals,” Fane shouted. “Let the swords sing and the blood flow like wine, I, Fane, God of War, shall watch this battle, who among you shall win the right to come with me to Vinteytium and have their name carved into the wall of heroes.”
So overdone, Syann thought. Even though the humans could not truly hear him or see his power, she watch as Fane’s influence began to incite bloodlust in those who would do battle this day. The power was subtle, but it would affect the warriors on both sides. There would be no mercy shown this today, the War God would see to that. Fane was no different than her mother, they just couldn’t stop. When would they realize their time was over?
***
“Do you think this is a good idea, Kian? If we attack, we’ll lose the shelter of the gatehouse and the Abberdonians will come at us from all sides. I don’t think these Bandarans are ready for that kind of fight, too many of them have seen very little action.”
Kian slid Malice from the scabbard at his side. “It’s a chance I must take, when I move forward try to cover my back if you can, and, Cromwell, be careful. I have too few friends to lose one.”
The two men took their positions in the archway, flanked by the remaining Bandarans that had been assigned to hold the gate.
“Did you tell K’xarr what you were planning?” Cromwell asked.
Kian looked over his shoulder at the Toran. Cromwell knew then that K’xarr had no idea what was about to happen.
***
King Havalon felt comfortable in his armor sitting astride his huge black warhorse. This was how he was meant to live. A conqueror, a ruler of nations, a warrior King. After Bandara fell, he would have the beginnings of an empire. He could die happy, knowing he had left his sons a legacy they could build on. The Abberdonian Empire, it had a nice ring to it.
He had decided to take what remained of his body guard out with Donovan and help the lad get rid of that impertinent half-breed. The swordsman’s skill did not frighten the King of Abberdon. The thing could die just like any man. Today he would show his son how to slay that beast.
Thunder crashed and the King looked to the sky. It was going to be a wet battle. He hopped the rain would not affect his archers aim too much.
The Abberdonians marched through the city. The people of Braxton Bluff had given them little trouble. King Havalon had ordered his men to treat the people well and leave their women alone. It would not help their cause to have the populace any angrier about their city being occupied by foreign troops than they already were.
The streets were muddy from the rain and the Abberdonian’s boots were heavy with it by the time they got to the castle. The rain was coming down harder, but it hadn’t stopped the crows from picking at the dead bodies that littered the killing ground in front of the castle walls.
Prince Griffyn had begun the attack by assaulting the walls. The twin siege towers were rolled forward and butted against the castle. Individual ladders rose from the ground and men began to make their way to the top of the battlements. The attack was timid, his father had told Griffyn he need only keep the defenders on the wall busy, so K’xarr could not send men to reinforce his soldiers at the gate. Griffyn did his job well, his men were giving the Bandarans a hard way to go on the blood-stained wall. Now the men in the gatehouse would get no help from their upstart general.
King Havalon ordered the attack to commence on the gate. Pikes were used first, the Abberdonians hoped to draw out the half-breed and his men, so his archers could do their work.
The plan however did not seem to be working. The Bandarans stayed huddled behind their shields inside the archway like a pack of wolfs, and they were using crossbows to fend off the pike men. The wily old King decided to change his tactics. “Donovan, take the archers up, have them fire into the archway.”
“Father, I have tried that, they just get behind their shield wall until we stop firing.”
“Just do what I say, boy, get up there with the archers, fire five volleys to drive them back, and then I will signal a full attack, they won’t have time to change position for the assault.”
Donovan saluted and marched the archers forward. Havalon, still on his horse, led the heavy infantry to take position behind his archers. It would take a little time for the heavily armored troops to form ranks for the assault. If he timed it right, they would be ready the moment the archers fired their fifth volley. This time he would have that gate.
“They’re pulling the pike men back, and the Prince is bringing up his archers,” Cromwell said.
Kian looked over the battlefield, apprising distances.
“Shield wall,” Cromwell shouted.
“No, we attack before the bowmen have time to fire in unison, ready the men.”
“Are you mad, Kian, we have less than two hundred men! There are thousands of Abberdonian heavy infantry coming up. What purpose will it serve to attack the archers?”
Kian grabbed Cromwell by the arm. “We must be fast, hit them then back to the gate. I need just a little time; they won’t be ready for us to attack. Their archers will be vulnerable and unprepared. I will not get a better chance.”
“Chance to do what?” Cromwell said flustered. Kian did not answer, he took a deep breath and prepared himself.
Three hundred archers began to form lines in front of the gate as the Abberdonian’s heavy infantry still marched forward from the rear to reinforce them. “I can wait no longer, Cromwell, it must be now.” Kian burst from the cover of the gatehouse’s archway.
“Damn it, come on you dogs, attack.” With a Toran battle cry, Cromwell and the Bandarans charged out behind the Half Elf.
The swordsman’s speed was too much for them to keep pace, Kian was among the archers before Cromwell and the others were halfway there.
Kian made Malice whirl as he moved through the archer’s lightly armored ranks. They hadn’t time to even nock their first arrow when the swordsman came among them. The bowmen were still trying to draw their short swords and hand axes moments later when the Bandarans hit their ranks. Confused by the sudden attack, they were cut down by the dozens.
Neither Prince Donovan nor his father was ready for such a foolhardy move. The King ordered the heavy infantry to charge forward. They trudged ahead as fast as they could, but there were so many of them that their numbers and the weather worked against their advance. Greatly slowed by the mud and rain, the Abberdonian heavy infantry could only watch as their archers were slaughtered. His infantry was useless at the moment. Their heavy armor caused them to stumble and stagger as they tried to run through the encumbering muck. Havalon could see he would not get to the archers in time.
Prince Donovan could see his father’s strategy had failed. No one had even entertained the idea that the Bandarans would break from the safety of the gatehouse.
Donovan drew his sword as he moved back. There was nothing to do but try to join his father and the infantry. The two companies of archers were all but lost. He gave one final look in the bowmen’s direction, then he turned to go find his father. What he found was the half-breed standing right in front of him. The young Prince was startled by the savage warrior and slipped in the mud. He quickly regained his footing and raised his sword for a great cut at the Half Elf’s head. He was dead before his arm could even swing forward, pierced through the throat by the half-breed’s blade. The Prince’s sword fell from his hand as he went down face-first into the cold mud.
King Havalon’s scream of anguish
could be heard over the thunder.
“Back to the gate, back to the gate,” Cromwell bellowed. The Toran now understood that Kian had intended to kill the Prince the entire time.
Kian struck the head from the dead Prince’s body. He reached down and picked it up by its hair and dashed back towards the gatehouse.
The few remaining Abberdonian archers began to fire arrows at the fleeing soldiers. Some of the Bandarans were hit, the wet ground making it too hard for them to fall back with much speed.
By the time they reached the gatehouse, a third of the Bandarans that followed Kian out of the gatehouse were dead. “Prepare for an attack.” Kian yelled, holding the Prince’s bloody head in his hand.
“I don’t know how this will break the siege,” Cromwell said shaking his head. “Havalon will be in a rage, he will throw everything he has against us now.”
“Just hold the gate, Cromwell, as long as you can. You must not let them break you,” Kian commanded
Cromwell looked around at the muddy men surrounding him. Most were still trying to catch their breath from the sprint back. “I have just over a hundred men left. I won’t be able to hold long, whatever you’re going to do, be quick about it.”
Kian started out of the gatehouse toward the interior of the castle. “I will make it as quick as I can, my friend,” the swordsman said as he disappeared into the gloom of the castle.
Cromwell looked out into the rain at the heavy Abberdonian infantry coming towards the gate. “For my honor I will hold until my last breath, but for you Arradar, if need be, I will hold a little longer.”
***
King Havalon was on his knees in the mud, the rain beading off his well-oiled armor. He crushed his son’s headless corpse to his large chest. Tears fell from his eyes, mixing with the rain. “Oh, my dear boy, it’s my fault, I should have kept you with me. Why God? I have honored you always. Why did you let that son of darkness kill my boy? Why,” the King screamed at the heavy sky. King Havalon pointed at the castle. “Attack, full attack. Bring me my son’s head and a dukedom for any man that can kill that half-breed.”
Word of Prince Donovan’s death had spread through the Abberdonians ranks rapidly. Prince Griffyn was grief stricken when he heard his brother had been killed. He called his best men to him and they began to climb one of the siege towers that had been pushed against the center of the castle wall. He would kill that creature. He had to, or he could never look his father in the face again.
“Kian, what the hell are you doing? The Abberdonians have gone mad since you killed their Prince. We can’t hold them back much longer. Even the King has joined the attack.” K’xarr pointed to where Havalon stood, just out of bow shot, brandishing his great sword, barking orders at his troops. “Why did you take the Prince’s head? Wasn’t it good enough to just kill him? Whose idea was it to attack anyway, Cromwell’s? I didn’t give that order. Are you even listening to me, you damn half-breed?”
Kian wasn’t listening. He looked at the siege tower, not far down the wall from where they stood. The Bandarans were holding strong, the Abberdonians had not gotten a foothold on the wall yet. They had brought only two siege towers with them from Turill. If they would have had a third, they might have taken the wall by now.
Kian turn and face K’xarr. “Tell your men to pull back if the other Prince comes up the wall.”
K’xarr shook his head. “No, if we pull back they will get too many men on top and then we’re finished.”
Kian grabbed K’xarr by the collar of his breastplate. “You have to trust me.”
K’xarr looked at the shorter man. He could see the determination in Kian’s eyes. The Half Elf was no strategist, but K’xarr could tell he had some kind of crazy plan in his head. “Don’t make me regret this. Rufio, tell the men, if they see Prince Griffyn to fall back, but don’t make it obvious.”
Kian patted K’xarr on the shoulder and handed Prince Donovan’s head to Rufio. “Hold this for me, please,” he told the captain as he headed towards the siege tower.
K’xarr looked at Rufio, holding the bloody head, and gave the Dragitan a grim smile. “You never know what you’ll be doing when you wake up in the morning do you, Captain?”
Rufio looked down at the head. “Not since the day I met you, General.”
Griffyn rallied his men inside the siege tower. He would make the half-breed pay for what he had done to his brother. Then he would hang the rest of the Bandarans from the walls and let the crows pick their bodies clean.
He jumped from the siege tower to the battlements of the castle, his men following right behind him. The Abberdonians began to gain ground as their Prince moved forward along the wall. The Bandarans fell back before the Abberdonian noble as he led his men forward.
Griffyn knew he was a better swordsman than Donovan. He would kill the half-breed and bring the monster’s head to his father. He would show no mercy for anyone inside Castle Blackthorn—men, women, and children. None would escape his vengeance. He would kill them all for Donovan and his father. None would be spared his wrath.
He cut a man down and watched him fall to the ground below. Snarling as the next Bandaran came on, the Abberdonian Prince’s drove his sword through the Bandaran’s chest. His rage fueled, his sword arm struck again and again with deadly accuracy, he would have his revenge and no one would stop him. Blinded by grief, the Prince continued to cut his way down the battlements of Castle Blackthorn looking for the thing that had killed his brother.
K’xarr sent men to try and cut the Prince’s avenue of retreat off. They went down inside the castle and came up on the other side of the siege tower. They attacked the Abberdonians that had gained the wall from behind. K’xarr hoped to cut the Prince off from the tower and any reinforcements that may come to his aid.
K’xarr watch him fighting his way down the battlements, he didn’t think Griffyn cared that he might have no retreat left to him. The young Prince was out for blood. Griffyn meant to take the walls or die.
The Queen’s general looked on as the Bandarans fell back before the Abberdonian attack. Kian had better hurry with his scheme, he thought, or they could lose the wall and their lives.
Griffyn cut another man down, he fell at his feet, the Prince took pleasure in watching the soldier die. He kicked the dead man off the wall to keep the walkway clear for the men behind him. When the Griffyn looked up to take on the next Bandaran, he saw the half-breed standing before him. His anger boiled over. “Now you die, monster,” the Prince shouted with a fury born from loss.
Griffyn brought his sword down with the speed and might of a man who was grief-stricken and in pain.
The half-breed stepped to the side and paired the blow with ease. Again the young Abberdonian noble swung, and again his blade was turned aside. It took two more attacks before the last Prince of Abberdon understood he would die this day. Griffyn was breathing hard; he stopped and looked at the beast. “Kill me then, monster. I will not be made a fool of.” Malice struck so fast the Prince never felt the blade slice through his neck.
K’xarr saw Kian coming down the wall with Griffyn’s head. The Half Elf was covered with Abberdonian blood. He had helped the Bandarans drive the Abberdonians back off the wall before returning to K’xarr. It hadn’t taken long. After their Prince was killed, the fight had went out of them and the assault had fallen apart.
“You have killed both Princes. What now?” K’xarr asked.
Kian didn’t reply, he simply went and retrieved the other head from an empty bucket where Rufio had put it.
K’xarr watched as Kian looked over the battle field until he saw Havalon standing near the gatehouse. He climbed on to the battlements where the Abberdonian King could easily see him.
K’xarr finally began to understand what the Half Elf intended to do. He ordered his battle horns sounded, everyone looked to the wall. Kian slowly raised the two Prince’s gory heads one in each hand. The battle went silent, men stopped fighting and looked at the horrible sc
ene on the top of the wall. The monster the Abberdonian’s so feared had taken the heads of both their beloved Princes.
Kian let out a roar that sounded like the great cats K’xarr had heard in the mountains of his homeland. A chill went up the young general’s spine. K’xarr knew no human throat could make that sound.
Kian hurled both heads off the wall to land at the feet of their father. The great King Havalon began to tremble and fell to his knees, a loud cry of a brokenhearted old man wrenched from his throat. It rang out over the hushed battlefield. The King collapsed into the mud rocking back and forth cradling both his son’s heads.
Kian drew Malice and pointed the ominous blade at the Abberdonian army as if warning them that their Princes would not be his last victims.
The K’xarr smiled and slapped Rufio on the back. “Now they truly have their monster and by the Gods I have mine.”
Kian dashed to the gatehouse. He found Cromwell and nine men left standing. The Toran had an arrow through the thick muscle near his neck and had several nasty cuts. “We held them, Kian, as I promised.”
Kian looked at one of the surviving soldiers. “Take him to Rhys.”
Cromwell stood up straighter. “I’m fine, I will stay.”
Kian reached up and broke the head from the arrow and pulled it out of his friend’s meaty neck. “You have done enough; go get some stitches. I will hold here.” Cromwell reluctantly nodded. It was easy to see he was weary. He looked at the inhuman swordsman through heavy-lidded eyes. “They are afraid now, Kian. You have put dread in their hearts and terror in their minds. The Abberdonians will be reluctant to come at us again, and you took what their King prized most of all. You have stilled his heart as surely as if you had put a blade through it.” He patted Kian on the shoulder and followed the soldier to the abbey.
Kian stepped out of the gatehouse in full view of the Abberdonians but none dared attack.
Gods Of Blood And Fire (Book 1) Page 55