by James Dale
Behind the cavalry came forty thousand soldiers under the Dragon Banner of Brydium with armored knights at their front led, by King Theros Th’nar and Dragonslayer. With them were six thousand warriors from Caladin and Amorhad, led by King Rhor’dal and King Haerold. Five thousand Ailfar broke right and left of the formation, launching arrows into the grim’Hiru as soon as they came within range. The grim’Hiru answered with return volleys of their own, but the bows of the Ailfar had greater range by at least one hundred paces and the grim’Hiru steel tipped shafts fell harmlessly short.
Somewhere to the south, concealed by the rolling hills, waited the 8th Highland Red Wolves, Captain Braegil his Rangers, and the 7th Longbow, ready to attack the enemy flank. The Whesguard reserve consisted of almost twenty-five thousand Doridanian infantry and nearly seven thousand Ailfar under the command of Duke Morgan and General Meridion, prepared to respond if they were needed. Jack and Anna were in the center of the reserves, surrounded by the High King’s Hammer, the Golden Lions and Horsemaidens.
Jack stood in the stirrups of Eaudrueil’s saddle, straining to see. Red fire erupted suddenly from the front of the grim’Hiru army, hurtling like dragon’s breath toward the Knights of the White Horse. An instant before it could incinerate the pride of Doridan, a blue wall sprang up to meet the red fire and the magik of the Sorcerers of Sa’tan met the power of the Staffclave with a concussion that shook the ground. But there were more Lords than sorcerers on the field and their arcane fire was hurled back at the grim’Hiru army, burning the leading ranks where they stood. Following close behind with lances lowered, the White Horse and the Doridanian cavalry crashed into the grim’Hiru army with a sound both sickening and magnificent in its savagery.
This was the face of warfare in Aralon, Jack realized with a horror only his grip on Yhswyndyr, and the strength of Sunheart filling him prevented from becoming despair. He had lain hidden in the mountains of Afghanistan and directed laser guided bombs on Taliban strong holds. He had parachuted in the dead of night from thirty thousand feet to land on the roof of Houthi warlords and roamed the deadly streets of Iraq and Syria armed with an M-4 carbine, looking for death around every corner. It was nothing compared to the fortitude and courage displayed by the warriors of the Whesguard as they charged into this maelstrom of fire and blood.
God help him, his heart ached to join them. Sensing his longing, Eaudrueil pawed the ground and took a step forward. “No Jack,” Anna said sharply, urging Iraesh forward as well. “You are not meant for this slaughter.”
Even as she spoke, a tremendous roar split the air. Looking up, Jack spotted a dragon, its wings tucked against its sides as it appeared from the clouds, hurtling straight for King Haerold and the men of Amorhad. Here was a fly even Ara’fael could not deny him. Eaudrueil reared and leapt forward at a run.
“Jack! No!” Anna cried.
“Follow the king!” Borg Cassaban shouted behind him.
From half a mile away, Eaudrueil at full gallop, Jack watch in anguish as the dragon swept into the ranks of Amorhad, rising with men clutched in both claws. He hurled a bolt of white flame at the dragon, who whirled to the side, avoiding the blast by only a few feet. Before he could summon another blast, the dragon swooped low and a figure hidden in darkness vaulted from his back. The na’Hhoul landed among the men of Amorhad and chaos ensued. With a cry of horror, he fired another blast from Yhswyndyr, but from Eaudrueil’s back, he missed again. The dragon roared, and knocking men aside with a blast of wind from wings. It rose swiftly and flew east over the grim’Hiru to a chorus of guttural cheers.
Even mounted on Val’anna of their own, the Lions, Horsemaidens, and High King’s Hammer could not keep pace with Eaudrueil, the fastest of his kind. They covered the distance quickly, but even though it had only been a space of a minute, the warriors of Amorhad had already turned on each other. Jack wept as he crashed into them, tears flowing down his cheeks as he was forced to defend himself against the enraged axe men he’d shared drinks with only days ago. He had to reach the na’Hhoul quickly or they would slaughter each other under the spell of his dark rage.
Eaudrueil burst through the ranks of the Amorhadi and Jack spotted the source of their madness standing calmly as battle raging around him. Though wrapped it a cloak of darkness, he saw the black sword in the na’Hhoul’s hand. Black blade with black fire spilling from it like vitriol to scorch the earthe. Jack leapt from Eaudreuil’s back and landed only feet from the ancient sorcerer. “Go!” Jack roared. Powered by Sunheart, the force of his command sent the Val’anna away at a gallop before it could be infected by the sorcerer’s madness.
“My master bids thee welcome, Son of Bra ‘Adan,” the na’Hhoul smiled. “I am to take thee to him.”
“The one who cowers behind his walls?” Jack snarled, bringing Yhswyndyr to low guard. “Or the one I sealed in his cell?”
“I am Strymag Souleater,” the dark form snarled, revealing itself to be more than na’Hhoul, but one of those foul creatures possessed by one of the Seven Dukes of Hell, Gol’gar’s ancient and most powerful minions. “Thou art a fool to think thy blade is the only power with might enough to destroy! Gra’rak oc Enoach! Rok gra’rak!” The black blade vomited black fire as the demon unleashed his fury at Braedan.
Braedan raised Yhswyndyr to meet it, white fire answering black with a concussion which knocked the Amorhadi surrounding them from their feet. Twice before he had encountered one of the Seven. Urioch, ancient slayer of Tars Aernin before the gates of Tanaevar, he had shot from a distance with the magic of technology, blowing off the top of its head with a .338 caliber hollow point bullet traveling at supersonic speed. Morgamaal he had faced while he held the Talon of the Hawk in the heart of Agash Thugar. Those two demons were a mere shadow of darkness compared to the Souleater. The demon was filled with a rage that rivaled Hae’adan Leviathan. Inhabiting the flesh of the na’Hhoul only fueled the Souleater’s hatred.
“Gra’rak oc Enoach! Gra’rak oc Enoach!” the demon roared, raining blow after blow at Braedan with a swiftness and fury no normal human eye could have followed.
Jack was not defenseless. Sunheart flowed through him, filling in him almost to the point of bursting. He met each attack without conscious thought. Jack shouted Ailfar words of power to counter the demon’s spells, Yhswyndyr flaring with the brightness of a star, and the demon was driven back. Jack leapt to the offensive. Wind beneath the Branch. Flowing Winter Stream. The Lion Wakes. The demon roared and cursed, but could find no opening to strike and finish his adversary. With each passing second however, the rage sickness he carried with him spread to more of the Amorhadi. If Souleater was not defeated soon, his madness would engulf the entire army and the West would be lost in an orgy of slaughter.
“Yhaires! Sinalda! Enne’Eyloyas! Daeon! Cythora.” Braedan shouted in desperation, and swept aside Strymag’s blade, thrusting Yhswyndyr into demon’s heart. His eyes widened in shock as the black blade fell from his hands.
Much the same way his mind had melded with Hae’adan when he had driven Grimrorr into the demon’s flesh, Jack felt the mind of Strymag Souleater through Yhswyndyr. Though forged with powerful Ailfar spells, Grimrorr had still only been but a sword. Yhswyndyr however, had been forged by the Word of Yh’Adan, and contained the power of creation. A power to both create and destroy. Strymag knew this as well, and his mind was filled with sudden terror Braedan would wink him from existence with a thought. The thought was fleeting, and he banished it instantly.
But it was too late to save him.
“No cell in Ul’gogrond for you,” Jack snarled. He drove Yhswyndyr to the hilt in Strymag’s chest. The demon was right. With a thought Sunheart could erase all trace of the Fallen Angel from the universe. But not before he burned. “Fire!” he whispered, and instantly the Souleater was engulfed in white flames. Jack pulled the Highsword out of the demon, and it collapsed to the ground, wailing in agony as it was consumed by the righteous fire of creation.
As he s
tood over the Souleater and watched the demon’s body and soul char to dust, Jack became dimly aware of pain filled cries around him. He turned from the dying demon and surveyed the damage it had done. One of the Amorhadi lay only feet away, burned by black fire during their struggle. His cooked flesh hung on him in tatters, his breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps as he struggled to breathe through seared lungs. Jack knelt beside him quickly and placed a hand on his ruined face. “Heal,” he said softly.
The Amorhadi was instantly whole again.
He went to the next man laying nearby. One of his comrades, consumed by sorcerous rage, had driven an axe into his chest. He was dead. Jack pulled the axe free, tossing it aside and placed a hand on the hideous wound. The gaping hole closed. His eyes fluttered open. He lived again.
He did not know how many he healed or resurrected again before Cassy found him trying to restore a missing limb. Apparently, that task was beyond even Yhswyndyr, but the stump ending at his elbow had new flesh. Jack erased the pain, as he helped the man sit up. The warrior of Amorhad looked around with confusion for a moment, then he stood. Picking up a shield, he fixed it to his stump. He reached down and grabbed a bloody axe, his own or the one that had lopped off his arm, who could say. The Amorhadi nodded at Jack with a wicked grin, then ran off to battle.
“Come my King,” Cassaban said, “You have done enough for today.”
“They need my help,” Jack pleaded. At least a score of the Amorhadi still lay wounded or dead on the field.
“We will send for Ailfar healers to attend to the rest,” Borg argued. “Let’s get you back where you belong.”
“I belong here!” Jack barked.
“You belong in a box,” Ara’fael countered as she and Anna joined them.
“The battle is still in doubt, and forty thousand Kadinar approach from the north!” his queen said, climbing down from Iraesh to embrace him. She could scold him for riding off alone if they survived the day. “We must get you secured as we turn to face them.”
“That pile of ash was Strymag Souleater,” Jack countered, releasing her to point at the blackened spot of earth which marked all that remained of the ancient demon. “I can deal with a few Kadinar.” He whistled for Eaudreuil and the Val’anna came galloping to him.
“Do not send me away again, Horse-brother,” the roan insisted.
“Not this time,” Jack replied, patting the stallion’s neck, then re-mounting. “I need to you be your arrogant, prideful self and frighten those desert ponies back to the March of Peril.”
“I can do that,” the Val’anna assured him.
“Come, my queen,” Jack said, turning to Anna. “Let’s go meet Mullah Khan.”
As soon as Annawyn swung back onto her saddle, they headed north, followed by the Anna’s Horsemaidens. Right behind them were Cassy and the Lions and d’Kenna with the High King’s Hammer.
“Oh, go with them,” the Lady Ara’fael said to Dorad an Ailicia with an exasperated sign. “You are safer with Jack facing the entirety of Kadin than in the midst of this slaughter. Fetch Lord Farra and some healers for the Amorhadi,” she finished, turning to an Ailfar escorting her. “We will need every one of these bearded ruffians if the Kadinar break through.”
Jack and Anna found Duke Morgan forming the Doridanian reserve to march north to meet the Kadinar threat. Twenty-five thousand infantry and a few thousand Ailfar to meet almost twice their number of hardened desert warriors. To the east, perhaps half of the grim’Hiru army remained, surrounded now by the men of Brydium but still fighting. It would be some time before they were finished mopping up the beast-men and could reform to confront the Kadinar.
“Can we hold them until Theros is finished with the grim’Hiru?” Jack asked Morgan as he joined the Duke and General Meridion. The leading edge of the Kadinar army was still some distance away, not at full gallop but bearing down on them at a steady pace. The dust cloud from their thousands of horses threatened to blot out the sun.
“We are fresh and unbloodied,” Morgan nodded. “The Kadinar will not reach us for half an hour at least.”
“It will be close.” Meridion replied, gauging the distance separating the two armies. “Spread out your men on a wide front so they cannot bypass us? I will take the Ailfar to meet them and draw their focus.”
“We will ride with you,” Jack informed the Ailfar general. “Borg, Ardel, Einnael, time for everyone to earn their pay. Anna…”
“I will be at your side,” she said, drawing Siegebreaker. “If you mean to do this, my love, another Highsword may turn the day.”
Jack started to protest, but…he had given her back the sword for a reason. Perhaps not this one, yet still her words were true. Yhswyndyr agreed with him. It was little comfort. Two Lords had remained behind with the Doridanian reserves; Laek Hallon of Sornshea Woodrhine and a stocky Lord from Dorihil whose name he could not recall at the moment. “Will you ride with me, Lords?” he asked the pair. “Two Highswords and two of the Staffclave may give Mullah ad’Jhen pause.”
“I will give him more than pause,” the stocky Doridanian promised. Ergann, Jack suddenly remembered. His name was Ergann Drunhad.
“Good,” Jack nodded, drawing Yhswyndyr. “Morgan spread them out as Meridion said. Not too thin, we still need to hold the line for Theros.”
“We will hold,” the Duke of Dorshev nodded grimly.
“My King, allow us to ride with you,” Baranir Samil offered. “Give the men of Raashan a chance to restore their honor.”
“What order did Duke Gain give you, Sir Baranir?” Anna asked the Baron of Caer-Emn.
“To do as you bid,” Samil replied with a slight bow. “Queen Anna, I have marched with these men since Dorshev. They wish to make amends for Kiathan’s treachery. Let me lead them.”
“Then your queen bids you, protect the High King,” Annawyn informed him. “See that no Kadinar comes close enough to skewer him with a lance and Raashan’s honor will be restored.”
“We will not fail you, my queen,” Baranir Samil vowed. “Or him.”
“We are going as well,” Dorad said, joining them with Ailicia riding at his side.
“You…will stay with me,” Morgan replied. “I may not be able to stop the queen, but I will not have Anna and the Heir to the Ivory Throne together should something…go amiss.”
“You will remain here as well, my princess,” General Meridion agreed. “The Morning Flower of Ail’ithirain will not fall to a Kadinar lance.”
“Well, any who are coming, following me.” Jack nodded. “Let’s go convince the Great Khan he should have stayed at his palace in Khadda’Temar.”
With shouted orders and blast of horn, the men of Doridan arrayed themselves in a shield wall that stretched five miles across its front, to protect the rest of the army as they finished the grim’Hiru. Jack rode forward on Eaudreuil, with Anna at his side and surrounded by the Hammer, Lions and Horsemaidens. Two thousand Raashani and five thousand Ailfar were at his back to meet the forty thousand Kadinar. He hoped it would be enough to convince the Khan to turn back and sit this one out. He hoped he wouldn’t be forced to burn the Kadinar to dust with Yhswyndyr.
As they rode forward, it soon became evident a small company of the Kadinar were riding ahead of their army. Twenty or thirty riders at most, with a banner man of Kadin carrying the Black Lions head on a field of crimson at their front. The banner man and a lone Kadinar rode forward as the rest of the company halted.
“They are fearless bastards,” Borg muttered. “I’ll give them that.”
“Or arrogant,” d’Kenna spat.
“Might as well see what they have to say,” Jack replied.
“Jack…”Anna started.
“Two Kadinar are no threat us,” he assured his wife. Sunheart boiled within him, just below the surface, ready to be unleashed in an instant. “Or two thousand. My queen, my Lords, let us remind the Black Lion what happened the last time they came to this place.”
Jack, Anna and the t
wo lords rode forward to meet the Kadinar. They stopped about ten paces from the banner man and his escort. They were veiled in the manner of the desert warriors. All that could be seen of their features were dark, piercing eyes. The two parties eyed each other for a moment that seemed to stretch, then the Kadinar spoke.
“I thought your days of riding out in the wilds were behind you Dora’dai,” he said, removing his veil. It was Hamman ad'Jhen.
“And I thought, my message to the Great Khan was clear,” Jack countered. “Stay in your lands and you would have peace. Yet here you are.”
“My Khan had other…plans,” Hamman shrugged. “Is this her?” he asked.
“This is Annawyn, Queen of Doridan,” Braedan replied. “My wife.”
“At least you kept that promise,” Hamman smiled. “You were supposed to keep him on the other side of the Whesguard, my Lady.”
“My King had other…plans,” she replied, coldly.
“So the messenger he sent us said,” Hamman nodded. “Here is the Great Khan’s reply to your offer.” There was a sack tied to the pommel of his saddle. Hamman untied it and reached inside. For an instant, Jack feared it would be the head of Maadim Khalmyia and the remainder of the day would be brutal and bloody.
It was a grim’Hiru head.
“Ordac, King of Garhon.” Hamman said, holding it high before tossing the head to land at Eaudreuil’s hooves. “His army lies rotting is in the March of Peril. A feast for jackals and crows. Mullah ad’Jhen, Great Khan of all Jhen, and King of Kadin, offers Ordac’s head as a sign of peace to the man who saved the life of his son. Though he did not say it, I suppose his offer extends to the Queen of the Dora’dai and the rest of the Whesguard. Even the Dragonslayer. Will you accept his offer Great Prince?” Hamman asked.