Death Rises

by Brian Murray

  “Sailor,” called Reedie to the nearest man. “Take a hook and find out what is hitting the ship.”

  “Aye, aye admiral,” replied the sailor who rushed off to be instantly engulfed in the white fog. With two men holding his waist, the sailor leaned over the side with a large hook on a long pole. Nothing for a moment . . . then more objects thudded and bumped against the ship’s hull.

  “Got one!” called the sailor. “Pull me up.”

  Reedie started walking towards the sounds of the sailors while they fished the unknown object from the waters.

  “Oh my god!” cried one of the sailors. At the sound of the cry, Reedie and his captain rushed to the outer rail. Lying on the deck was a bloated body. From the uniform the man wore, he could be identified as a Royal Lancer.

  “How?” asked one of the sailors, looking down at the body.

  Reedie did not answer, but looked out into the fog. How many of his ships had survived the storm? The admiral knew his ship had been lucky. He would be surprised if half of his fleet was still floating the right way up. He sighed.

  “Put weights on the man and bury him at sea.” It was a small token, for there was constant thumping on the hull. The horror of the number of dull thuds, the number of bodies, would stay with the admiral always.

  For the next few days, the fog remained, engulfing the ship. The admiral managed to contact two other ships and they sailed closely behind the Gliding Falcon. This one fact helped raise the sailors’ and the admiral’s morale. Then as suddenly as the fog had shrouded the ships, one morning it evaporated. Now all was clear. The sky could be seen and also the ships following. The admiral ordered a man into the crow’s nest at the top of the main mast to spot other ships. Within several hours of the first clear day, three more ships were spotted. One of these was the Floating Lancer that had a company of Royal Lancers and their mounts on board.

  That night Reedie looked up at the stars to help navigate. The problem was, the admiral did not recognise any of these star formations. He frantically searched through his charts, but none showed the sky he looked at. Panic grew inside the man, but he quelled it down. As dawn broke, he knew the sun rose in the east. Holding the rising sun to port, he set full sails and headed north. On this course the fleet grew as more and more ships were found. Within five days, all but two ships followed the Gliding Falcon, sailing north. After another couple of days, the admiral ordered his ship to zigzag but maintain a northerly heading. Men permanently manned the crow’s nest, keeping a look out for land.

  That night the admiral strolled up to the deck and looked up at the sky. Something in the sky jolted a memory. He stared at the star patterns in the sky. Lying down on the deck, Reedie stared upwards. A smile grew on his old face and he rushed down to his cabin. He pulled out one of his lesser-used charts. He looked at the chart and turned it upside down. He saw a matching pattern and whooped. With this one pattern, the old sea dog could navigate the fleet to land. He sat at his desk and calculated their position. He rechecked his sums and frowned. The storm had thrown the fleet hundreds of miles south. But now the admiral knew where they were and he walked with purpose up to the wheel. Setting a course, he ordered full sails. Signalling to the fleet, they all raised full sails and the fleet glided northwest at top speed, their hulls slicing effortlessly through the calm sea.

  A month and a half after leaving Teldor, the fleet spotted land. If Admiral Rendel had calculated correctly, the fleet should be just west of Calcalion. He sent one of the ships out to the east and it returned later that day to signal that they were indeed west of Calcalion. The Gliding Falcon sailed into a small shallow cove and the soldiers disembarked. Most of the men kissed the shore when they reached land and swore never to travel by sea again. In turn, the ships sailed into the cove and the men disembarked. Surprisingly, most of the horses had survived the storm. Some looked a little the worse for wear, having lost a good deal of weight, but they were all sound.

  When all of the men were ashore, the admiral was informed of the ships that had been lost at sea, causing a major problem. One of the ships that had sunk had been carrying the senior officers who had planned the march. Reedie cursed his luck, for now he was the senior man in charge. The first problem he faced was the lack of supplies stowed on the other sunken vessel, a cargo ship. He ordered the men to camp north of the town of Calcalion. Reedie and a squad of Royal Lancers rode to the seaport to see if they could purchase some supplies.

  The men arrived and were surprised by the warm greeting they received. The town was quite large and all of the buildings were made from stone. It was a working town with many inns and taverns and a large market square. Next to the market square were two large buildings standing opposite each other. One was the Council Hall where the town elders and Priests of the Chosen administered the town. This included the courts and in the cellars, the dungeons. It was a large grey structure with wide steps leading to large hardwood doors. The other building that was just as grand was the arena. Here men fought in combat to please baying crowds and also where visiting circuses performed.

  The admiral and his men were escorted to the Council Hall. Armed clansmen came and took the men’s horses. Admiral Rendel and Captain Shepar of the Royal Lancers were shown into the Council Hall, where two men ushered them into a small windowless room and told they would be summoned soon. They two men waited in the claustrophobic room for about half an hour before a tall, pale-skinned robed man entered.

  “Please follow me,” said the man, his voice squeakily high.

  “Where are you taking us?” asked Captain Shepar.

  “You will meet the town elders and the Priests of the Chosen.” The robed man led the two Rhaurns along several corridors, before they reached the main hall. The man bowed and beckoned the two men through the double doors. The admiral and captain entered the hall.

  They passed through the doors and in front of them were banks of seats, like a theatre house. At the front, on a small stage, sat several men and women staring down at the two men. A man standing behind the door ushered the two men forward. They walked down the carpeted steps and stood before the men and women.

  “Greetings!” called a clansman at the table, in Rhaurien tongue. “My name is Tumblra and I am one of the Town Elders here in Calcalion and also a Priest of the Chosen. I will act as interpreter during these discussions. Please make yourselves comfortable in the chairs behind you.”

  Reedie looked round where two cushioned chairs had been placed out for them. They sat.

  “You men have arrived with a force at a time of much trouble. Our emperor, the Chosen, bless his soul, is currently held siege in his own city. We understand that the foulest beasts roam around the city waiting to attack. And now we have the Rhaurns landing a large force west of our town and we ask ourselves, why?”

  Admiral Rendel rose from his chair and bowed to the members of the town elders. “My name is Admiral Rendel of Rhaurien. I have indeed landed a large force of men to the west of your city. We have come to do battle, but not with the Phadrine. We have come to aid the Chosen in his time of need. A further force of Rhaurns should be travelling across the Steppes also to aid your emperor.”

  “You say you have come in aid, but we have not had prior warning of your coming,” replied Tumblra, astonished.

  “I assure the members before me that we have come in friendship.” The man named Tumblra translated again. Many of the men and women gestured towards the two men, some frowning and others listening in silence. Tumblra turned his attention to the two Rhaurns.

  “We understand the Rhaurns came to the Chosen’s assistance when his son took his throne.”

  “That’s correct. There were new treaties signed between our king and your emperor. Even though our king died in your lands, his son holds those treaties dearly. Furthermore, he sees himself as a friend of the Chosen and often speaks fondly of him. I recently sailed into your port with your emperor’s daughter and received a warm greeting.”

 
The priest nodded knowingly. “So, your king is marching to the Chosen’s aid?”

  “Yes,” replied Reedie. Again, Tumblra turned to the other members and translated the conversation thus far.

  “What do you require from us?”

  “We need supplies to travel north to Kal-Pharina. And possibly a guide.”

  Tumblra conferred with his colleagues. Some shook their heads, but the majority were nodding. Voices rose then quietened.

  “As you are going to aid our emperor, the Chosen, bless his soul, we will assist you however we can.”

  “Thank you, sir,” said Reedie, bowing to the members. The admiral gave a list of the supplies he required.

  The priest told him he should return to his men and the supplies would be delivered. True to his word, the supplies arrived around noon the following day together with a guide who could speak broken Rhaurien.

  Admiral Rendel did not waste time. The camp was dismantled and men began their long march, using as much of the light as possible. The guide took the men on a course to the capital, avoiding woodlands and high ground. The Rhaurns pushed hard and soon the men could see the white city. During the trek, Reedie spent a lot of time with Shepar, learning land tactics. He still was not sure who would be at the city so he hedged his bets. If the city had been taken or destroyed, then Reedie would attack the enemy and hit them hard. That was all he could do. In the meantime, he prayed that Zane and the others were still by the city or even better, had already defeated the enemy.

  “Sir, we’re southwest of Kal-Pharina,” informed a scout.

  “Where’s the enemy?” asked the small leader, shifting in his saddle.

  “They’re in front of us sir,” replied the scout, pointing to the north

  “Is there a suitable campsite between us and them?”

  “Yes sir, due north.”

  “Captain,” called Reedie.

  “Yes sir.”

  “There’s a campsite due north, by the enemy. I think it’s time to raise my banner.”

  “Yes sir,” replied the captain, smiling and saluting broadly.

  ***

  “Do you recognise the banner, Urkin?”

  “I do. But what the hell is he doing here?”

  “Well, he sent a message saying he would be sailing here and he has brought more men.”

  Urkin peered through the telescope and looked at the banner—a Rhaurien Admiral’s banner. Admiral Rendel had arrived.

  ***

  Admiral Rendel shifted again in his saddle; he did not like riding and cursed the horse. He was a born sailor and travelling on land was not comfortable for him. In fact, the old sea dog did not like to stay on land at all. If it were up to him, he would spend his entire life on the sea.

  “Admiral! There are Rhaurns to the northwest,” called a Royal Lancer scout excitedly, “and they’re flying the king’s standards.”

  “Good, we’re still in time. That’s one blessing,” said Reedie, thinking about all of the traumas he and his men had been through to get here. He looked over his shoulder and gazed at the soldiers’ grim faces. He nodded—at least they had arrived in time.

  CHAPTER 19

  THAT NIGHT DAX and Zane sneaked around the valley to visit Admiral Rendel. The two men took a lot of care travelling at night. They had a full moon shining brightly so they could see any dangers. They arrived at the camp and were immediately escorted to the admiral’s tent. The two friends entered.

  “Greetings, Reedie,” said Zane to the back of the small admiral.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” started Reedie, turning with a huge grin on his face. “Now there’s a sight for sore eyes. I was told you may not make it here but now seeing you, I feel all the better for making the trip.”

  “How was your boat ride?” asked Dax, shaking the admiral’s offered hand.

  Reedie sat down and related first his vision, then his nightmare journey to Calcalion. He told them he had lost two ships. One had definitely sunk, but he was unsure of the other. He told them of his unadventurous journey from the coast . . .

  “And here I am.”

  “Well, it’s damn good of you to have come. How many men did you bring?” enquired Dax.

  “About eight thousand. Two thousand of them are horsemen.”

  “That’s excellent,” replied Dax, nodding.

  “One thing before you go, Zane. Please walk among the men. They have been to hell and back to get here. It would be good for morale, if they saw you and you spoke to them.”

  “I promise.”

  “With that settled, what is the plan of action?”

  The three men huddled around the table, plotting and planning. Soon, General Urkin joined the men and was introduced to Reedie. Into the early hours, the men plotted, discussed, and counter-plotted until a plan was finally agreed upon. With dawn only a few hours away, Urkin retired to his own camp and thoughts.

  Dax and Zane slept in the admiral’s camp.

  The next morning the fighting would start.

  ***

  An hour before dawn, the horn sounded in the admiral’s camp. As the men rose and readied themselves, Dax and Zane talked to the men. The men’s faces lit up when their liege walked among them, welcoming them and wishing them well. Just before dawn the two friends made their way back to their own camp and got the clansmen ready—ready for battle.

  ***

  The Chosen was called to the mound at dawn and he looked over the Dread. Beyond the mass of creatures, he could see the men gathering on the surrounding hills. He was handed a spyglass and looked at the various forces that were ready to attack.

  To the northwest were the clansmen on their ponies. Most of the men wore light, baked leather armour, with the exception of the gleaming armour of King Zane. They also had baked leather helms and carried their tulwar swords strapped to their backs. The Chosen could not see individual faces, but he knew his clansmen were ready to fight.

  To the west, the main Rhaurien force waited. Here he could see the heavy and light cavalry. In the front was the heavy cavalry, the Rhaurn’s battering ram that would punch holes in the enemy’s lines. The horsemen and their mounts were fully armoured in unpolished metal. The armour on the horses covered their head, front and flanks. Each rider paid for additional decoration on the horse’s head-guard for individuality. Some had horns, a single one protruding out the front, or two jutting out the sides of the horse’s head-guards. Others had demon faces embossed onto their horse’s head-guard. The horsemen’s long metal lances were held up and glinted in the morning sunlight. The riders also carried cavalry swords for close-quarter fighting. The light cavalry wore green, knee-length coats split up the back and donned their plain helms with no plume. Each rider was armed with a curved cavalry sword, a crossbow, and a small round buckler.

  To the south of the beasts stood the Rhaurn’s infamous Royal Lancers. They wore their distinctive royal blue coats split up the back and decorative silver helms with blue plumes. The lancers were armed with a curved cavalry sword, a crossbow, and a small rectangular shield. In battle dress, they had metal guards covering the outside of their legs, which joined at the waist, and discarded their blue cloaks.

  The Chosen desperately wanted to join the battle and take the fight to the beasts, but he knew this was the first encounter so he would wait and see what happened. Not seeing any foot soldiers prepared to fight, he concluded that this fight would be a series of raids to establish the enemy’s might.

  “Platos,” he called.

  The huge smithy walked over to the Chosen and bowed. “Yes sire?”

  “It appears that our friends are going to try and soften up the enemy for us. Have the catapults ready just in case any of those beasts fall within our range.”

  “We’re not going out to join them?”

  “No, Platos. This is the first attack against the enemy. There is no infantry ready. It should only be a series of raids. We will wait.”

  “Yes sire,” replied Platos, moving a
way and calling out his orders.

  The Chosen looked through the telescope again. In the north, several men held standards high. They lowered the first flag.

  ***

  Malice had been up since before dawn, watching and listening to the movement of the men who surrounded the Dread. From his keen hearing, he noted that armoured men would be attacking from the west. Lesser-armoured men prepared to attack from the northwest and south. He would position the Dread appropriately.

  The Dark One showed little interest when Malice approached him as the sun crested the horizon. “This is not the final battle. You deal with it, I do not have the inclination to be pestered by those foolish mortals,” he hissed dismissively.

  So, for the first time, Malice had full control of the Dread. He decided not to use the Caynians in the battle, as he believed this would not be a prolonged attack. To the west he positioned the Shadows, for with their exoskeletons, they were best suited to stand against the armoured cavalry. In the north and south, he had the Talon Hunters. He stood in the centre of the camp with the Caynians prepared to seal any breaches.

  Chaos and Fury moved their mounts to either side of Malice.

  The trio waited.

  ***

  Urkin looked into the Dread’s camp and saw the creatures had changed their positions. Dax explained the creatures to him and so knew the heavy cavalry faced the naturally armoured Shadows. The beasts formed a crescent, slightly bowed in the middle away from the attackers. It appeared they intended to loop behind the attackers from the flanks. Urkin smiled. He had a cunning adversary. Maybe their general did not see the light cavalry behind the heavy. He turned his gaze to the north and south. The same. Tall Talon Hunters prowled menacingly waiting for the horsemen to attack. The general would have preferred the beasts to attack up the slopes, but something told him they would wait. As a positive, that would mean more momentum for the horsemen. However, something nagged at him.