However, they’re learning.
Each man he faced seemed to show the whites of his eyes more.
His sword slid down the blade of the man in front of him with such force it snapped the blade at the shoulder, severing the warrior’s fingers. The man wailed while Kaz’s backstroke bit into his opponent’s visor, ripping it and part of the man’s face off.
The next warrior, a large man, led with his shield. Kaz met him, leaning forward and driving his own shield upward, metal scraping against metal. The edge of the disc slipped under the man’s chin and into his throat. The force bent his gorget, and he dropped his shield to claw at the crumpled piece of metal cutting off his air. Kaz ended him quickly with a thrust under the armpit.
He braced for the next attack, but saw many began to ignore the ramp in favor of trying their hands at scaling the walls. He swore. Yanasi and Jeldor’s men had received more abuse than he thought they would by this point.
He quickly scanned the outer wall’s activity where glimpses of blue and gray began grouping together.
I can’t leave now. I have to be here when the Kifzo come.
“Kroke!”
The assassin’s opponent fell with multiple stab wounds. He turned to Kaz’s voice.
“I need you on the wall. Grab a couple of squads from the back and go.”
Kroke just stared, and Kaz wondered if the man heard anything.
“Move!” he yelled. “Yanasi needs help.”
The captain’s name seemed to snap Kroke out of his trance. One minute he stood facing Kaz, the next he climbed over their back ranks, singling out those to take with him.
Kaz never saw anyone move so fast in his life.
* * *
“Yanasi needs help.”
Most everyone needed help in war, but those three words did something to Kroke. They shook him from his crazed stupor of killing and wrapped tightly around his chest.
An image of him burying another of his friends came to mind. He thought of her and Rygar’s plans to leave the Hell Patrol and the life they both wanted.
She has too much to live for. They both do.
He followed Kaz’s line of sight. Yanasi’s position had grown drastically worse since he last looked in that direction. He couldn’t see her any longer, and had no way of knowing her location.
Or whether she still lives.
He spun, pushing his boot off the thigh of the man to his right. He sheathed his blades as he climbed above the lines of his men, running atop the shoulders, helms, and raised shields of the ranks behind him until he made his way to the outer battlements.
He called out names during his maneuvering, barking orders for them to follow and aid Yanasi’s unit. They shoved their ways toward him, unable to follow his example.
He skirted along the crenellated merlons lining the ramp until it ended and merged with the wall. Kroke jumped to cover the distance between the top of the ramp to the wall’s battlements. Soldiers from both sides paused at his sudden appearance. He took advantage of the moment, pulling his blades free again, and carving a path toward Yanasi. He did not have the strength or the time to throw back the men clamoring over the ladders and onto the stone, but he did have the skill to slow them down. He made sure that each man he stabbed or sliced, fell backward, slowing the ascent of the enemy behind them.
Kroke thought he heard a shift in the fighting, and hoped those he singled out had not drifted too far to his rear.
Strides away from the center of the middle wall, the enemy had managed to divide Yanasi’s forces from Jeldor’s. The two units fought to reunite their lines without success.
The glint of a sword and a flash of blonde hair rose above the crowd. Both fell, lost again in the tangled mass of fighting.
Rygar. Yanasi must be nearby.
Kroke leapt off the battlements toward a small gap in the fighting. He killed two men as he landed. Two more followed. And then he lost count. His limbs moved without thinking, his body shifted and dodged before he realized it needed to.
Despite his state, he remembered his goal. He would not allow himself to forget that. His body glided toward Rygar’s earlier position.
I need to go faster.
His body responded. Sprays of blood clouded his vision as he moved. A whipping red ponytail managed to pierce through the crimson haze. Rygar stood next to her.
They’re alive.
Two throwing knives flew from his hands, killing enemy soldiers his friends did not see attacking. He pushed toward Yanasi and Rygar, killing half a dozen men in the process, only to realize he had barely closed the distance separating them. Blade after blade sailed from one hand, killing the enemy spearman targeting his friends. The other hand he used to fend off those attacking him.
His hand reached for another throwing knife and found the sheath empty. Only his two favorite blades remained, the one Jonrell had given him and the other he won off a sailor on Estul Island. Neither was good for throwing, but he was still too far away to handle Yanasi and Rygar’s immediate threats.
He grit his teeth and fell into a trance, moving faster than he ever had before. Each stab and slice sent gouts of blood and screams of death into the air. Kroke struggled to see or hear anything else. Bodies fell by the score in his wake as he glided in a blur toward his friends.
He was so close to reaching them when time slowed to a level Kroke had never experienced before. At first he thought he might be dreaming. A warrior from Thurum attacked Yanasi with a mace. Another of the enemy swept the air with his sword toward Rygar. Both of his friends reacted. He knew each would successfully fend off the attacks, but neither saw the two spearmen coming up from behind.
A flash of the life he imagined for Rygar and Yanasi passed before his eyes. He saw Rygar teaching his children to ride a horse and Yanasi showing them how to hunt. It wasn’t what most might consider a traditional family.
But it would be a happy one. Something I never had.
Calculating his options, he determined only one would ensure his friends’ survival.
Kroke slid on his feet across the blood slick stone, just as Yanasi and Rygar finished their opponents. He stepped into the charging path of the spearmen, throwing his arms forward. His blades might not be ideal for throwing, but at such a short distance, even a boy could find the marks. Both blades struck the closing enemy. However, momentum carried the attackers forward.
Spear points entered his belly.
Kroke’s eyes bulged at impact. His body bent in half at the force of the dual thrusts. The spearmen fell, but their weight on the spear shafts dragged Kroke down with them.
In any other situation, the pain might be too unbearable for him to focus. However, his name shouted by two familiar voices brought a warm smile to his face.
They’re alive. I did it.
A coldness washed over him.
* * *
Nareash watched the defenders repel those that had managed a foothold on the middle wall. He opened and closed his fists slowly in anger.
With Kaz dead, I thought they would be defeated by now.
Once Guwan finished moving the Kifzo into position, he knew their skill and discipline would overwhelm the defenders. He had kept them out of the battle, worried their involvement might entice Krytien to escalate matters before he had a better feel of the mage’s power. Though he had tens of thousands of men at his disposal, Nareash did not want to throw away the lives of his best assets.
Nareash reached Colan just as a ballista impaled one of the lesser mages some forty feet from his apprentice’s position.
Blasted engineers.
“Are you going to just let them take down all our mages?”
“I need more time to work the spells I had in mind to challenge Krytien. I’ve been too busy coordinating the others and—”
“What were your orders?”
“To take Krytien down.”
“Then let the others fend for themselves.”
Colan swallowed. “Yes, Maste
r.”
He turned away from Nareash, drawing in a substantial amount of power.
He’s grown much stronger. Good. Coupled with the Kifzo’s added pressure, I should be able to finally gauge what Krytien is capable of.
* * *
Krytien sighed in relief as the wall’s defenders regained control of the battlements. Kroke had dived into the worst of it with dozens of other soldiers following at his heels. A maelstrom of death followed.
Though Krytien lost the assassin amidst the chaos, he knew Kroke would keep Yanasi and Jeldor’s lines from breaking again.
And if he can’t then it’s likely no one can.
With his worries eased, Krytien focused all his attention on the enemy mages. He felt a change in the air. Others felt it too, for he heard their exclamations. Several fireballs arced from both his left and right to where the welling of power originated. The attacks of the mages under his command ran into an invisible barrier and dissipated. Enemy mages countered, putting his people on the defensive.
Leaving me alone to contend with what’s building.
His stomach dropped. The moment he dreaded most had finally arrived. Worried that Nareash had finally entered the battle, he braced himself.
Lightning-like projectiles raced over the killing ground toward him. His defenses bent inward from the attack, yet he suffered no damage. Though the strike held more power in its ferocity than what he had faced since the start of the siege, he recognized its familiarity.
He tracked the spell, finally locating the unknown mage who had been giving him trouble for so long. Apparently the mage had grown tired of hiding.
Sorcerous attacks from either side continued. However, both sides left Krytien and his opponent alone.
A bug bit into his neck. Another on his cheek. Then dozens more. A swarm of insects appeared, buzzing before his face, sweeping in like raindrops. He canted a quick spell disintegrating the nuisances.
Two boulders appeared from nowhere, slamming into his defenses. The impact flung him to his back. His head hit the rough stone, and he winced at the resulting throbbing in his head. He swore at falling for the mage’s distraction.
He used those blasted insects before, you idiot.
Another boulder appeared above his head and fell from the sky. His hand snapped out. Imaginary fingers wrapped themselves around the stone. The boulder paused in mid-air under Krytien’s control. He swung his arm, flinging the boulder back at his opponent.
He ignored the pounding in his head and climbed to his feet. Anger burned through his veins as he gathered himself.
What’s the matter with you?
He realized his fear of the High Mage had distracted him from his efforts against the one he fought now.
He has skill, no doubt. But I’ve beaten mages like him before.
The sounds of battle rung in his ears—groans of agony, wails of despair, and cries of anger.
Get your act together, and quit playing around.
Another boulder sailed toward him, much larger than what had been thrown before. Before it reached the halfway point Krytien turned it back against its wielder with everything he had.
* * *
“I actually felt the ground shake when that one struck,” said Senald.
“That had to hurt. That sucker must have gotten under Krytien’s skin good,” said Raker.
“That’s it? No swearing?”
Raker spat. “Why would I be swearing? That’s one less mage. And actually, I think that one was one of the stronger ones. Look at the way the others are suddenly looking around. Quick, get another ballista ready. We might have to start releasing shots without waiting for Krytien to mark them.”
Raker started working on the equipment.
Senald jumped in to give him a hand. “I can see you being happy the mage is dead, I just figured you’d want to do the killing yourself. I know you’re running that bet with Drake.”
Raker tugged on some rope with a grunt. “True. But how often have you ever seen anything like that? I mean the splatter from the impact had to have gone close to twenty feet. Don’t you think?”
“At least.”
Raker grinned. “Sometimes, the little things in life are worth far more than a coin or two.”
Senald gave him a confused look. “Seriously?”
Raker punched him in the arm with his good hand. “No. I’m just trying not to dwell on the fact that I could end up losing twenty gold. I mean Krytien could have put that boulder on his leg or something and let me finish him off.”
Senald chuckled. “That’s what I thought.”
* * *
Guwan felt the heavy thud reverberate through his feet. He turned as a gap in the forces along the middle wall appeared where Colan had been positioned. The sorcery that had hovered over the battlefield stopped.
Colan failed. Nareash will step up soon to face Krytien. It’s up to me to take the wall quickly in order to be ready for the victor.
The break in sorcery extended to the melee as he and the Kifzo poured out of the outer wall, lining up in the killing ground with little opposition.
He had expected bowfire and artillery to continue as he organized his elite units for the next assault. Yet, many defenders stared at the Kifzo standing shoulder-to-shoulder while the remaining Thurum soldiers sent in from the last wave died by sword and spear.
“They’re scared,” said Itken.
Itken had requested to fight in the front ranks. Guwan granted it. He took the spot next to him.
Why not give him the honor of being on the first line? He’s injured already from his mission. Even with his skill, it’s likely someone will kill him. Let him die with pride.
“Of course they’re scared,” said Guwan. “They’ve never seen anything like us before.” He paused. “Let’s take this wall.”
He gave the signal. A wave of blue and gray marched forward. The Kifzo continued to spill forth from the outer wall’s stairwells, falling in behind their fellow warriors as space opened in the rear.
Shield held tight in front and sword drawn, he led the way. I’ll break them myself if I have to.
The Kifzo trampled the dead littering the space without remorse. Guwan wanted to spit at their failure.
So caught up in his moment of glory, it wasn’t until he started the climb up the ramp that he realized that the defenders still had not released an arrow, thrown one spear, nor shouted any obscenities toward his men. He thought before that they might have held the Kifzo in awe, but even the most intimidated soldiers would have gathered themselves by now.
Let alone thousands.
A large man in nondescript armor separated himself from the ranks of those on the ramp. Dents and splatters of blood adorned his plate. Something about the way he moved seemed familiar.
No.
In all his life, only two people had ever moved so gracefully while carrying such size. One remained in Hesh ruling over the continent.
And the other is dead.
He wheeled toward Itken, sword sweeping toward the traitor. His blade struck only air. A short knife slammed into the slit of his visor.
* * *
Kaz’s eyes widened as Guwan’s body dropped. Itken removed the dagger from the Kifzo’s helm. Words he had prepared to say to Guwan, offering him a chance, no longer held importance.
He tensed, unsure if Itken would continue with their plan or suffer a change of heart.
Men along the walls cast nervous glances at the Kifzo as they stood ready for Kaz’s orders. The Kifzo betrayed nothing, standing patiently at attention.
Itken spat on Guwan’s body, marched toward Kaz, and stopped an arm’s length away. “I know that isn’t what we agreed on,” said the Kifzo. “But I could not bring myself to simply injure him. It’s an embarrassment how he’s being used by everyone. If I did not kill him now, someone would have killed him later.” He paused. “Punish me as you like. I know it’s your right as warleader.”
“Does that mean that you
still submit to my command?”
“Yes.”
Kaz nodded to the Kifzo. “And the others.”
“So long as you do what you promised.”
“I will.”
“Then we are yours.” He whispered. “It seems that more shared our wishes of peace and family than I imagined.”
Relief washed over Kaz. “Good. Fall back into line and see that all are positioned as we discussed.”
Itken’s eyes widened. “You allow me the honor to fight? No punishment?”
“If you haven’t noticed, I’m not the same man you once knew.”
* * *
Nareash calmly watched the Kifzo take position on the middle wall. Arrows and ballista from both sides once more took to the air after the brief exchange. However, the close quarter fighting would not continue until someone gave his army orders to renew the assault as Guwan had told them to stand aside while the Kifzo attacked.
I’d have thought him to be a traitor if not for the knife in his eye. One Above, this just keeps getting better.
“You’re taking that better than I thought you would.”
Nareash turned toward Hezen as the man strode up to him. He gestured toward the Kifzo. “Oh, I’m quite . . . disappointed.”
“Just disappointed? And what about Colan? He—”
“He served his purpose.”
Hezen nodded. “I see. So, you learned what you needed to about Krytien?”
“Yes.” All this time, he never had the scepter. Being closer to Colan when they fought, I would have sensed it. He chuckled as weeks of stress and anxiety rose off his shoulders, uncaring at how ridiculous he probably looked. A snort slipped out. Colan and Guwan dead. The Kifzo turning. In the end, none of it matters.
Granted, Krytien does have some skill, but he has no confidence in his abilities. Even against Colan, he seemed hesitant. And hesitancy against me will get him killed.
“So then what is your plan?”
“My plan,” said the High Mage, voice growing hard, “is for you to take over command of the army now that our leadership is wiped out. You will attack with everything you have. Forget about organized waves of men. I want it to be absolute chaos down there. I want the Kifzo overwhelmed.”
Trial And Glory (Book 3) Page 17