Every dark dream, hidden fear, and unvoiced terror was encompassed in those feelings, and the being was aware.
It turned its attention to the orb and it reached out.
Then it reached past the orb and the four magic-users felt it coming out of the pit, along the lines of consciousness that linked them to the orb, coming outside the ruby dome, right at them.
Ruffio was talking to Tanderae and Janil when he heard a cry of anguish. All three turned to see the four magic-users who had been employing the orb lying on the ground, their eyes rolled back in their heads, thrashing in paroxysms of pain.
He hurried over and knelt next to Magnus, put his hand on the thrashing magician’s chest, then shouted, ‘Get healing priests! Get them now!’
• CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN •
War
BRENDAN SWUNG HIS SWORD.
A Keshian mercenary dodged away before the blow landed and Brendan kept moving forward. He had enough training to know that to be standing still in a melee while on horseback was an invitation to be pulled from the saddle. He knew his mount was his best weapon at the moment, and he intended to take advantage of that.
They were hugely outnumbered, only thirty horsemen – twenty trained guardsmen and not quite a dozen minor nobles like Brendan – against at least five hundred foot soldiers. The best they could hope for was to distract the infantry while Prince Edward rode to safer ground. The captain of the palace guard was rallying some of Edward’s foot soldiers to him, to stem the attempted sweep from the right flank.
Brendan moved as fast as he could, knocking down attackers and causing as much confusion as he could, but keeping away from the heart of the force. His horse was calm and well trained, but even the stoutest warhorse would balk if faced with too many bodies packed tightly together.
Hacking and charging, Brendan managed to turn a half-dozen soldiers away from the line of march, but dozens more were flooding toward the top of the ridge, behind which lay the prince’s pavilion and the tents of the other nobles. He spurred his horse away from the fight and circled around, trying to get his bearings.
Brendan saw that Edward had been spirited away by some of the nobles around him, while his bodyguard was being pushed back and overwhelmed. He knew he could do nothing more, for the Keshian mercenaries were pouring in unchecked. Kicking hard, he drove his horse forward.
He looped around to join with three other palace guardsmen who had been driven back and teamed up with a squad of infantry wearing tabards from different duchies.
He looked around and could not see the captain he had seen earlier who had rallied the soldiers. Seeing no other noble or officer close by, Brendan waved his sword aloft, shouted, ‘Follow me!’ and led a charge into the gap at the top of the ridge where the Keshians were swarming.
As they moved forward, he heard the clash of arms on the other side of the ridge and saw smoke. ‘They’re firing the tents!’ someone shouted.
Brendan kicked hard and drove his horse up the hill, leaving the infantry behind. He rode through the gap at the top of the hill as fast as he could, striking down Keshians who were foolish enough to get in his way.
He felt a chill of near-panic as he saw that a squad of Keshian riders had circled even farther to the west and had come up behind the camp while the infantry had distracted the prince’s attention. It had been a double-pronged assault, and Brendan now feared for Edward.
He looked around for the distinctive markings of the prince’s horse’s bard and saw a flash of deep blue through the smoke and chaos. He urged his horse toward it and found a knot of defenders protecting Edward. The remaining palace guards, a few surviving noble nephews and cousins, and a ragged collection of infantry who had wandered or fled this way were now rallying to guard the Prince of Krondor. They were overmatched, but fighting as bravely as men could fight, and Brendan was overcome with admiration as he pointed his horse’s nose at the prince’s standard and spurred it on.
Brendan weighed into the fight, slashing and hacking and driving a wedge between attacking Keshians, while the infantry coming up the hill intercepted the Keshian foot soldiers. This was a desperate attack, for it would not turn the overall battle tactically, but it was designed to do one thing: kill the Prince of Krondor, thereby ending the battle in Oliver’s favour.
Brendan clubbed a soldier with the hilt of his sword and smashed another with the flat of his blade. He pulled tight on the reins of his horse, and urged it forward, deeper into the press.
Hal saw the smoke in the distance and motioned to four guards who were escorting the Duke of Ran and his companions. ‘Keep them under close watch,’ he ordered. ‘If they try to escape,’ he added, looking directly at Chadwick of Ran, ‘cut them down.’
Martin, Ty, and Hokada rode up from their positions along the line. ‘Looks as if the fight’s started without us!’ shouted Hal. The remounts had proved to be a wise choice: able to ride longer and farther, they had reached the Prince of Krondor’s camp a day early.
He turned and motioned for the rest of his command to form up. ‘Drop remounts! Double column!’
The four riders at the rear, who had the responsibility of herding the remounts, left their positions to catch up with the other riders, all of whom fell into place as ordered. Once they formed up, Hal motioned them forward. After a few yards at a trot, he ordered a canter. As they reached the edge of the woods, he saw in the distance the struggle at the prince’s pavilion.
What looked to be an army of mercenaries on both horse and foot had a core of defenders surrounded, and at their heart he could see Edward. Hal drew his sword and took his shield off his back. Ignoring the Keshians moving to intercept him, he charged straight in the direction of the Prince of Krondor, shouting, ‘Charge!’
Chopping his way through as if he were cutting wheat with a scythe, he rode, desperate to reach Edward before his defences collapsed. A pair of what appeared to be Keshian mercenaries hopped on a baggage wagon, crossbows at the ready. Hal shouted a warning as he drew closer, but it went unheard in the din.
Both men shot at Edward, one missing entirely, but the other taking his horse in the neck. The animal went down with a cry, and Edward vanished from sight in the press of horses and riders trying to defend him.
Hal saw Brendan and both brothers brandished their swords overhead in greeting, as Martin and Ty caught up. Hokada took his bowmen around to the right and began raining death on the attacking Keshians. Within moments, they were turning to flee, dropping to their knees with their swords reversed, or lying dead on the ground.
Hal took charge and quickly moved away the Keshians who had surrendered, directing a handful of infantry to take charge and guard them, while Hokada and his horse archers harried those fleeing. Hal and his brothers dismounted and shoved and pulled people out of the way to reach the prince.
Edward lay on the ground, blood staining his lips and nose. He motioned for Hal to come close when he saw him and Hal knelt. Despite the pain, Edward chuckled. ‘Not a blade or arrow,’ he said, then coughed blood, ‘but my own damned horse falling on me.’ He looked into the younger man’s face. ‘You are all we have left.’ Then his eyes rolled up and he lost consciousness.
Hal ordered two nearby palace guards to get him to his tent.
‘I’m sorry, your grace,’ said one of the guards, ‘but the tent’s been burned to the ground.’
‘Find a place for him and make him comfortable, then send for the chirurgeon and a healing priest!’
Four guards bent to carry the prince, and another said, ‘I’ll get the chirurgeon, but we have no priests, my lord.’
‘No priests?’
‘They all … left, two days ago.’
‘Where did they go?’ asked Hal, frustration rising up.
‘They just left. No one knows where. There were a dozen of them, from all the different orders, then … they were gone!’
‘What in the name of the gods is going on?’ asked Hal.
‘No one knows, y
our grace,’ said the soldier.
Hal looked around and didn’t see another ranking noble. He grabbed Brendan and said, ‘See to the prince’s safety.’ To Ty and Martin, he said, ‘Follow me.’
They remounted and rode over the crest and Hal reined in to watch the battle’s progress. At first glance, all was in chaos, but after a moment he could see Edward’s forces were holding a slight advantage, with heavy Krondorian cavalry pressing hard against Oliver’s right flank. On Hal’s right things were in flux, as the fleeing Keshians had found haven behind Oliver’s lines. Taking in the situation, Hal turned to Ty and said, ‘See if you can find Hokada and get him to stop chasing Keshians. Have him move back to that rise over there and get ready to hit the main body of Oliver’s left as hard as he can.’ He pointed to a tiny rise at the foot of the wooded knoll that originally had been held by Edward’s forces. Ty nodded and hurried off.
To Martin, Hal said, ‘Go back and get as many of our lads as you can find, all the Crydee boys and anyone up there not still guarding the prince or captives, then ride to that knoll and dismount. I need you to get up and clear it of any of Oliver’s men, so Hokada can safely ride over it, and slam into Oliver’s left flank down there when I give him the order.’ He glanced again at the ebb and flow of battle and said, ‘Tell Hokada if he can turn that flank and force those men back into Oliver’s centre, we shall have the day.’
‘Very good,’ said Martin. ‘Where will you be?’
‘Down there in the mess,’ said Hal, and he spurred his horse and rode straight down to where the fighting was thickest.
Hal arrived as a surge of Oliver’s Maladon infantry was trying to push back a beleaguered troop of Krondorians, and he hit them in their right flank, trying to turn it. A dozen more riders were a second behind him and that disrupted Oliver’s soldiers just enough for the Krondorians to disengage and reform in an orderly defence. Hal slashed and clubbed any enemy soldier who got too close to his horse and found his way cleared by retreating men.
Suddenly the Krondorians charged in counterattack and the rout was underway. Hal pulled up his tired horse and took a moment to see how the rest of the battle was proceeding. He saw Martin leading his squad up the knoll to clear it. He hoped Ty had found Hokada and that he could organize archers quickly and give Martin support.
Hal saw another half-dozen Crydee horsemen approaching and beckoned them to join with the five already at his side. He hurried behind the line, moving from Edward’s right to left flank, south to north, and came in behind the heavy Krondorian lancers who had started to roll up Oliver’s right flank. He stood in his stirrups and shouted, ‘To me!’ Then he rode like a madman straight at the infantry, hastily trying to stand against the lancers. To the commander of the lancers, Hal shouted, ‘Reform and charge again!’
The commander recognized the ducal insignia above the golden gull of Crydee and acknowledged the order. He withdrew his lancers while Hal and his men harried the now-retreating men from Simrick. In less than a minute, Hal felt and heard the charging lancers before he turned and saw them, and he signalled his own men to withdraw. He cleared the knot of defenders just as the lancers smashed into those attempting to stand and fight, and rolled over them.
Now Hal could see that Oliver’s entire right flank was collapsing. He stood again and saw that Ty and his archers were picking off targets and inflicting damage on the other side of the line. Hal shouted, ‘At them! We have them!’
He saw a group of mounted men on a small rise to the rear of the battle, at the centre of which sat Prince Oliver. His banners waved bravely in the wind, but his advantage in the field was slipping away by the second. His right flank had collapsed, his left was being harried by Hokada’s archers and the cavalry riding with Ty and Martin. The centre was in flux, with neither side prevailing, and it could tip either way in minutes. The Dukes of Yabon, Bas-Tyra, and other nobles were concentrating on Oliver’s main force, and there was murderous work being done, but no advantage seized.
Hal waved to the captain of the Krondorian lancers. ‘Regroup your men, drop your lances, and draw your swords!’ Then he signalled to his own men and when they were with him, shouted, ‘Follow me!’
The right flank of Oliver’s army was in full retreat, rapidly escalating to a rout. Hal led his company, now numbering about thirty men, and circled around the retreating infantry, through a grassy depression strewn with the bodies of the fallen, and came into line with where Oliver and his cadre waited. ‘Let’s see what this prince is made of!’ he shouted, attempting to hit Oliver’s centre as Martin, Ty, and Hokada hit him from the other side.
When Oliver saw Hal leading a company in his direction, he drew his sword, then turned and fled, along with two of his guards, while his officers stood their ground.
Hal signalled the Krondorian captain to take the rear guard, while he rode after Oliver. A half-dozen of his Crydee soldiers followed, while the rest overran the defenders on the rise.
Hal urged his horse to overtake the fleeing prince, and the gap closed slowly. One of the two guards turned and charged at Hal. Hal ducked under a sword blow and kept going, letting the soldiers behind him dispose of the delaying guard. The second guard glanced over his shoulder and saw Hal overtaking them. He also turned and charged. This time Hal knew there was no one immediately behind him, so he braced himself for the attack. He brought his sword up to meet the blow offered by the guard, then reined in his horse so fast that the animal squatted; then he wheeled, so that he was suddenly behind the guard as he was trying to turn his own horse. Hal took the guard out of his saddle with one vicious slash, blood fountaining into the air.
Hal urged his mount on, seeking sight of Oliver. He saw a flash of white vanish into trees at the edge of the woodlands to the north-east of the battlefield. He turned his horse in that direction and hurried after.
The mid-afternoon sun gave Hal a clear view and he easily saw Oliver’s tracks in the damp soil and fallen leaves. He saw the trail turn as if Oliver was trying to use the woods to lose Hal and double back toward his own lines, where he might find protection. Hal drew up and listened. In the distance he heard the sound of hooves.
He followed the trail for a little longer until he was certain of Oliver’s course, then cut through the trees on a path to intercept him. Once more he stopped and listened, and once more he adjusted his course.
A small drop-off caused Hal to change direction, and he looped around as the sound of an approaching horse grew louder. Then he let his mount jump down a few feet, and landed directly in front of Oliver’s cantering mare, causing her to rear up as the two horses collided. Hal jumped and hit the ground in a roll, coming to his feet, sword at the ready.
Oliver was on his feet, his visor down, covering his face, and his sword at the ready as both horses ran off into the woods.
Hal didn’t hesitate. He charged.
The dragons rose in a spiral, a flurry of colourful wings cracking like thunder as they tore through the sky. At their head flew the great golden dragon, Rylan, upon whose neck rode the last living Valheru, Ashen-Shugar.
‘Tell me about this threat to my world,’ demanded the Dragon Lord.
‘The Dread attack, master,’ said the dragon. ‘They seek to breach a portal created by the elves.’
‘Fools! I’ll have their heads on pikes,’ said Ashen-Shugar.
‘They are already dead,’ said the dragon. ‘They died in the making of the rift.’
‘Then take us to the Dread and I will destroy it!’
‘There’s a risk to address first, master,’ replied the dragon. ‘Do you remember the Sven-ga’ri?’
‘The singing crystal beings, yes,’ said Ashen-Shugar. ‘I ordered them protected. They are beings of … dangerous power.’
Left unsaid was the core reason for the decision made by the Valheru to leave the Sven-ga’ri alone. Their language was incomprehensible to the Valheru, but it evoked feelings that were alien to the Dragon Lords. Longings and desires at variance
to what drove his race: the need for blood and conquest, to rise supreme among the stars.
‘What you must know, master,’ said the dragon, ‘is the Sven-ga’ri were placed in the mountains of the Quor by the Dread as a means of gaining entrance to this world. They must be destroyed before you can drive the Dread back to whence they came.’
‘Then to the Peaks of the Quor!’ shouted Ashen-Shugar.
In a very dark, cold place, the mind of a man was being pulled down into a void. It struggled to stay aware.
I am Tomas. Just a little while longer.
Hal knew he was overmatched by this bigger, fresher opponent. He had been riding desperately for days after a fight while Oliver had slept soundly in a pavilion. His only advantage was that he knew he was a far better swordsman than the Prince of Maladon and Simrick. Had Hal been fresh, the contest would already have been decided, but fatigue made him slower to react, and his blows were a tiny bit off as a result, and Oliver was experienced enough to understand what he had to do, which was to wear Hal down. Oliver knew he faced a superior swordsman, but he also knew that time was on his side, so he was content to wait for Hal to move first, counter and retreat. The boles of trees were additional allies, as he manoeuvred in such a way that when he dodged, he had a trunk between himself and Hal.
Hal could not see his opponent’s face, but he knew he must be smirking. That angered him enough that he could battle back exhaustion for a while longer. Even so, his sword-arm was growing tired, and he realized that because he knew what Oliver was doing, he was falling into a predictable attack. He would start an overhand, looping blow and Oliver would deflect it with his shield, then quickly bring his shield back against a combination attack, pause a moment, and move back a step.
Hal now realized what he had to do. He began his blow and Oliver’s shield came up slightly, but Hal pulled his swing and ducked. Oliver imagined an opening that wasn’t really there and stepped forward as Hal had wished. Hal threw all his weight behind his shield as he smashed into Oliver’s shield, causing his opponent’s sword blow to slice through the air. Oliver stumbled. Trying to step back, he caught his boot heel on the root of the tree he had planned to duck behind, and fell backwards, landing hard on his rump. Reflexively he put out his hands on either side to brace his fall and for a moment was exposed.
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