41
The ram
King Merkaris Tion made certain to surround himself with enough of his white-cloaks that the foul Darkakin couldn't even be seen from his tent. Since the siege towers had been brought down, the savages had become restless and unpredictable. They needed something to fight or they were prone to attacking the nearest person. Only Thallan and Samandriel dared to wander about the battlefield with confidence, though the albino Darkakin, Overlord Kett, remained at their side, and he appeared to be enough to disway most from acting out.
The king had found little sleep after the sun had set. The catapults pounded the elven shield relentlessly.
“Can you not destroy it?” he had asked Thallan.
“I forget this is your first real battle,” the elf had replied.
“His actions continue to remind us, however…” Samandriel had added dryly.
“The shield would require our touch to undo the magic,” Thallan had explained. “That would put is within range of their archers, not to mention the oil. The catapults will suffice.”
Merkaris had been used to the Hand speaking to him in this manner, but never in front of his men. To spare himself any more humiliation, the king had taken himself off to his tent, where he now sat in meditation with his wand laid out in front of him. By the edges of the pools of Naius, Merkaris had learned to focus his magic under the tutelage of Valanis.
A monstrous roar only a few feet beyond the tent disturbed his concentration, irritating the king to the point of rage. Merkaris collected his wand and strode outside to find a troll going berserk, flinging Darkakin and Namdhorian soldiers into the air. Its chains hung loosely at its wrists and those around its feet had already snapped. The two pointed tusks, protruding from hits jaw, impaled one savage and threw him into the mob, who quickly descended on the body in a hungry frenzy. They were all animals as far as Merkaris was concerned.
The troll rampaged through the Darkakin until it found the edge of the Namdhorian line, surrounding the king’s tent. His knights raised their spears and prepared to repel the troll. Casually, Merkaris raised his wand and cast a binding spell. A thin, glowing line stretched from the end of his wand to the troll’s neck, where it looped around and constricted to his will. The beast choked and sputtered as it fell to its hands and knees. It attempted to roar at Merkaris as he approached, but the king simply tightened the noose until the troll went silent.
“This what happens when you put animals in charge of other animals!” he yelled. The men of Namdhor laughed, as expected.
It was in that moment that Merkaris failed to see Samandriel Zathya emerge from the shadows of the night. Her double-ended spear cut through his magical tether like a blade through water. The troll roared with unbridled rage, only a few feet away from the king, but the destructive spell on the edge of Merkaris’ lips never formed. A force beyond his control kept his mouth shut, though it was not the only feat of magic being displayed. The troll’s attempt to attack and flatten them had been halted as Samandriel held out her hand and stopped the monster in its tracks. There was no visible evidence that any magic was being used to calm and subdue the troll, but Merkaris could feel it, a palpable force between Samandriel and the beast.
“Animals work better when they’re submissive,” Samandriel purred. “They just need someone to dominate them.” Her eyes flashed brilliant gold under the shadow of her hood. “You are needed at the front, Merkaris.”
The king hated it when they addressed him in front of his knights with such… dominance. “The front?” he asked.
“The shield is almost down,” Samandriel explained. “The rams are in place and await your instruction. The men of Namdhor will be the first to enter Velia’s gates,” she said a little louder.
“An honour,” Merkaris lied through his smile.
“Your warriors are to secure the gate and take the first tier of the city. After that, the trolls and giants will be let loose and the rest of the horde will run wild.”
Merkaris knew that if he questioned the orders or cast any doubt on the plan, Samandriel would punish him in front of his men. All he could do was give the order to make for the gates and ignore the confusion on his warriors’ faces. They had all expected, as Merkaris had, to be the last ones in, allowing the Darkakin to take the heaviest losses.
Samandriel gripped his arm on the way past. “Prove yourself worthy of Valanis,” she whispered, “and you won't die with the rest of them.”
The king bowed his head and kept his mouth shut. When all of this was over, he thought, all of Illian would bow to him as the steward of man, under Valanis, and he would forge a new army from the ashes. He just had to survive the war.
It took some time, even on horseback, to reach Velia’s colossal walls. Behind him marched every Namdhorian soldier, cutting a white line through the Darkakin forces. Between the king and the main gates sat the lower city, a collection of small buildings and farmland. Down the centre, he could see the fireballs exploding against the elven shield.
“They are ready, Your Grace,” the captain of his guard announced, gesturing to the row of sharpened logs lying in the road.
Merkaris jumped down from his horse and gripped his wand tightly. The entire army was watching him now and waiting for those gates to be obliterated. One final, flaming ball lit up the night’s sky before punching through the shield, shattering it to pieces, and striking the gates. The Darkakin cheered and began batting their weapons against their armour.
Now it was his turn.
The king of Namdhor waved his wand through the air and lifted the first log, a length of wood that required thirty men to carry it. It was naught but a stick to him, a plaything to be wielded as he saw fit. The main gates had caught fire in the distance, their glow highlighting the faces of the Velians standing watch on the wall.
Merkaris snapped his arm at the gates and the first battering ram launched forwards with more speed than any normal ram could travel, covering the distance in a couple of seconds. The wooden gates imploded and the log splintered into a thousand pieces, but still, it held, attached by its great hinges. The king waved his wand again and lifted the second log. He thrust his wand with all his might and launched the next ram into the gates. The impact was devastating to its integrity, as it was pushed further back into Velia’s domain.
The king had hoped to hear cries from beyond the walls, but the monotonous chanting engulfed him. Most of the second log had penetrated the gates and continued on into the city. The Velians had no doubt created a barricade to support the gates. Merkaris lifted another. The third ram hit the left gate higher up and blew the top corner off, exposing the buildings within. The fourth ram hammered the right gate, creating a gap between the two just large enough to fit a single man through. The fifth and last ram reduced the remains of the gates to slabs of wood and broken debris.
“SHIELDS!” his captain bellowed.
The tight row of Namdhorian warriors lifted their shields to cover their heads and sides, encapsulating them inside a steel shell. Merkaris cast a simple spell to erect a shield over himself, allowing him to lead his men through the lower city. The Velians were running frantically around the shattered gates, forming rows of archers and spearmen. None of it would make a difference. The city was theirs now.
42
breach
Asher opened his eyes, aware that it had been a loud noise that had woken him. Faylen was already strapping her sword to her belt and heading for the door, calling for Reyna. Instinctively, Asher reached for the hilt on his belt and groaned when he found nothing but an empty scabbard. The broadsword was beyond reclaiming now, impaled in the skull of a dead giant.
The sound of feet thundering on floorboards had the ranger up and following Faylen out the door a moment later. The Graycoats, at least those who could stand, were running about the sector house gathering weapons and supplies. Somewhere in the distance, Ned Fennick and Lord Marshal Horvarth were barking orders to prepare for battle.
/> “What’s going on?” Tauren burst out of his room with one hand resting on his hilt.
“We heard an explosion,” Glaide said. The ranger’s arm was in a sling now, supporting his broken wrist and damaged fingers.
“It was the gates,” Ezeric explained, leaving Nalmar with Tai’garn. “The shield has been broken.”
“Can he fight?” Asher asked the elf.
“Elder Tai’garn cannot stand, let alone fight.”
Asher had really hoped the elf would be back on at least one foot and ready to unleash some serious elven magic. Hadavad emerged from their room and gave the ranger some hope that magic would be on their side.
“I’ll stay with him,” Glaide said. “Neither of us would be good in a fight right now, but I can keep an eye on him.”
Ezeric looked to argue but the sound of Velian horns blared across the city. Silhouettes ran past the windows in every direction. Those wearing armour ran west, for the gates, everyone else ran to the east, towards the palace.
“It’s the gates!” Reyna yelled as she came running down the corridor with Nathaniel and Faylen.
They all met one another’s eyes and nodded. The next battle awaited them, another chance to lose a friend or a loved one in combat, another chance to face death. Asher could think of no others he would rather die beside.
“Okay,” the ranger said. “Watch each other’s backs. Alidyr is still out there somewhere.” Asher paused hearing a familiar snore. “Somebody wake up Doran, it’s going to be a long night…”
The companions fell in behind the Graycoats, though the knights capable of fighting only numbered in the dozens now. Asher noted Ezeric and Nalmar keeping close to Reyna, as well as Faylen. The princess was a demon in battle, but the warriors saw her as royalty and Faylen saw her as a daughter. In some way, so did Asher. The ranger naturally felt like protecting her, as they all did, but he knew better than to get in her way in the middle of a fight.
Doran rode alongside them atop his warhog. The dwarf had been a ranger for as long as Asher had known him, fighting monsters of every kind. Over the years, he had heard tales from the son of Dorain about large battles in Dhenaheim, when the dwarven clans came to blows over territory or mines. Doran was perhaps the only one among them who had seen war on this scale before, and Asher was glad to have him by his side.
More Velians funnelled out of side streets and alleys, joining them on their charge to the gates. Some of the battalions were led by generals on horseback, though Asher couldn't name any of them. All ‘men of war’ who had yet to fight in one, he thought. King Rengar was absent, as expected.
Asher removed the folded bow from his back and held it out to Nathaniel. “Here, take this. You’re a better shot than me.”
Nathaniel ran along, amazed at the bow in his hand. “I can't take this -”
“You can,” Asher argued. “It’s more powerful than yours and a better weapon in your hands. Go with Reyna and find a good vantage point. Pick your targets. Don't let the trolls and giants through.” The ranger turned to Faylen, aware that she had heard him. They exchanged a nod and the elves broke away from the group.
“You’re not allowed to die, Outlander,” Faylen called as she guided them down another street.
Nathaniel turned to Tauren and Doran before running off. “Don't let him do anything stupid.”
Doran laughed. “It’s too late for that, laddy!”
A streak of light lit up the sky, slowing them all in their tracks. The fireball struck the city a few streets over, jarring the ground under their feet. The explosion sent fire into the night with an echo of screams and destruction. A moment later, the city was hit with three more fireballs, each raining a fiery death over innocent Velians.
“We need to meet them at the gate,” Asher shouted over to Horvarth. “Their numbers will be fewer as they pass through. It’s the only chance we’ve got -” The ranger held his tongue when they rounded the final corner and found the ruin waiting for them. They were too late.
Namdhorian knights were already marching through the gates and over the debris. Their golden armour spoke of honour and glory, their white cloaks of purity and valour. In the service of Valanis, they could claim none of it.
Leading them was a man Asher had only ever seen from afar; Merkaris Tion, the king of the north. His breastplate was emblazoned with a golden lion, the Sigil of his family. Surprisingly, the king possessed no weapon. Or at least no weapon they had expected to see. With one hand, Merkaris whipped his arm up and waved a wand across the frontline of Velians. At least ten men flew into the air in a bright flash of light. His destructive spells gave his men just enough time to claim territory and meet the Velians inside the walls.
There was no time to form up and execute manoeuvres as the two sides ran at each other, colliding in a cacophony of steel and war cries. The Namdhorians’ front row of spearmen made short work of the attacking Velians, impaling them mid-charge. The spearmen quickly fell back and several rows of swordsmen advanced, meeting the Velians and Graycoats on a bloody pitch.
“Hadavad!” Asher called. When he had the mage’s attention, he looked from her to the king of Namdhor. Hadavad nodded and ran around the Graycoats, looking to find a better way into the melee.
Merkaris’ spells sounded above the din, slaying men left and right. None could get close to him, at least none who weren't immune to magic. Asher pushed his way between two Graycoats and pulled both short-swords free from his back. He saved the lives of the two knights when he intercepted a trio of Namdhorian soldiers. The first broke his sword against Asher’s diamond-tipped blade and the second had his throat opened by a flash of silvyr. The first looked at his broken sword in a daze before the ranger battered the third soldier’s blade into his side. A back-handed slash of both short-swords decapitated the third with barely any resistance from bone and muscle.
Asher was prepared to barge his way through the rest, but Doran cleared a path with his warhog. A few seconds in and the dwarf leaped from his mount and released the hog to run off and create havoc. The son of Dorain chopped Namdhorian knights down like withered trees, removing their legs and driving his sword home on the wounded men. Tauren’s own style wasn't far from Asher’s with his two short-swords, if anything, the younger man wielded his blades with more style and finesse, but then again, Tauren didn't have an enchanted sword in one hand and a dwarven-forged silvyr sword in the other. The ranger sacrificed style for efficiency and cut through his foes with greater ease.
A gap opened up in front of Asher and he took advantage, moving in and claiming the ground as his own. Tauren kept many from stabbing him in the back and Doran created a trip-hazard with the bodies he dropped. A flash of light orientated the ranger to Merkaris’ position, but he noticed they had all been forced back from the gate as more flooded in.
“Hadavad!” he called, hoping the mage could hear him.
The ranger twirled and slashed his short-swords in the elven style, disarming his opponents and counter-attacking with deadly precision. With his silvyr blade, Asher blocked the sword coming down on his head, and with the diamond-tipped, he thrust it into the Namdhorian’s chest, piercing his armour and beating heart. The ranger kept the knight on his blade and charged forwards, using him as cover to advance on the king. When there were only a few feet between them, Asher stopped and kicked the dead body into a knight who attempted to protect his king’s back. The Namdhorian was knocked back, giving Asher the time he needed to back-hand his blade across the man’s face, severing everything above the nose.
King Tion turned to regard the ranger with fury in his eyes. The man appeared every bit the beast the rumours claimed him to be. Asher met his gaze, making certain the king of the north knew he looked at a man who had seen real beasts. Merkaris’ wand shot up and a spell blasted into Asher’s chest like smoke against a brick wall. The king’s jaw fell and he examined his wand as if it were broken. He fired off two more spells, both of which rebounded off of the ranger and sent t
wo Namdhorians flying away. Asher smiled and took a step closer. Hadavad clubbed the knights standing between her and Merkaris, giving the mage enough space to aim her staff, and take advantage of the distraction Asher had offered. The king of the north had no time to shield himself from the mage’s spell and he was blown back into the crowd of white-cloaks behind him.
Dozens of Namdhorians were knocked down on Merkaris’ way through their ranks, but he was eventually swallowed up by their relentless flow through the gates. Every impact was powerful enough to break bones, and the king hit a lot of his men before the spell’s momentum died away. His cries were soon muffled and stamped out, a fate shared by his body. The men of the north couldn’t help but tread on their leader before stopping to pick up his broken body. The group’s quick retreat soon had them disappearing amid the throng. It was barely a victory in Asher’s eyes. There were still thousands of Darkakin to come and he had yet to see Thallan or Alidyr.
The ranger wiped the blood from his face and got stuck in.
Nathaniel couldn't climb the stairs onto Velia’s outer wall nearly as quickly as the elves, but he did take the time to fire a few arrows into the mob flooding through the gates. It was impossible to miss with so many Namdhorians crammed into the space. From his vantage, the knight could see the line where both sides clashed, with white-cloaks on one side and red on the other. Asher and the others were in there somewhere. Having seen them all in battle, Nathaniel knew better than to worry if they still lived.
The knight fired one last arrow into the sea of white, impressed with the power of Asher’s bow. The arrow flew through the air with incredible precision, though its force couldn't be compared to Reyna’s. When he at last joined the elves, all four of them were releasing arrows into the hordes on the other side of the wall.
“Aim for the trolls!” Reyna told them.
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