The Hidden Relic (The Evermen Saga, Book Two) (38 page)

Something moved to Tiesto's right, and a colossal foot planted itself down next to the prince.

Tiesto looked up at the enormous foot. His gaze continued upwards, higher, until, at a height taller than the avenger's body, the lower leg developed a knee joint.

Higher still, taller than the tops of the two-storied buildings, the leg forked where it met the other leg. A hand came down from above, plucking the avenger from the ground as easily as a child picking a flower.

Tiesto stared open-mouthed at the colossus, at the great limbs made of wood and bone, and the matrices of runes, glowing gold and bright, covering its skin. It was a strange design, almost… old-fashioned…

But it was big.

High above, the hand holding the avenger squeezed and bright-red blood gushed from the red slit of the avenger's eyes. The colossus dropped the avenger and then, as the remaining two turned to face this new threat, the colossus lunged forward, and for an instant Tiesto saw the controller cage atop the construct's gigantic head.

The prince picked himself up off the ground as the next avenger was picked up and then thrown hard to the ground before being stamped on by the huge foot. The last creature leapt up, the length of the flail lashing in the direction of the controller cage, but the animator easily moved the colossus's head back out of the way. As the animator again moved the colossus's hand forward, the avenger swung its enhanced sword, taking off one of the fingers. The animator curled the remaining fingers into a fist, swinging at the avenger's head. Two blows at the avenger's head knocked it to its knees. The colossus's second hand came down, shoving the avenger's torso and then pinning it to the ground on its back. The animator pushed down on top of its head with the heavy fist, and with a terrible squelching sound flattened its skull. The avenger's legs kicked, and then it was still.

Tiesto finally remembered where he'd seen the colossus. He saw Marcus approaching, his sword dripping red. "It's from the museum!" Marcus cried, laughing. "It must be a hundred years old!"

Looking up, Tiesto saw High Animator Salvatore Domingo sitting in the controller cage. As dour as ever, the High Animator pulled the colossus back to allow Tiesto's men to regroup.

"What about them?" Marcus said, pointing.

The legionnaires and those of the pikemen still remaining were fleeing, scattering to the streets. Tiesto looked at the twin towers of the eastern gate. His objective was just ahead, and with no prearranged signal there was no way to tell if he was early or late. Marshal Rogan could be just outside, his small force being slaughtered by the enemy.

"Leave them," Tiesto said. "We need to get the gate open."

He waved his arms to get the High Animator's attention. The colossus tilted its head forward, until Prince Tiesto was nearly eye-to-eye with the animator. He wanted to shake the stern High Animator's hand, or pound him on the back. Instead Prince Tiesto pointed at the gate.

"We need that open!"

High Animator Salvatore nodded, turning the colossus towards the gate.

Marcus and the prince regrouped their forces, neither commenting on the fact that barely half of their five-hundred men were still standing.

"Men!" Prince Tiesto cried. "Your countrymen are on the other side of that gate!"

With a resurgence in strength they ran forward, those alive realising they had survived their first engagement, and their goal lay ahead.

The High Animator led the way, eating up the distance with ground-eating strides. Orbs flew at the colossus from the two towers, but the animator looked eye-to-eye with the soldiers manning the towers, before smashing the construct's fists into first one, then the other.

Then Tiesto saw the colossus's left arm suddenly drop as the runes went dark. The right arm followed. The symbols on the construct's back, feet and legs began to fade.

As the ancient colossus reached the gate to stand towering over it, the animator brought back the construct's right leg, but before the High Animator could bring the leg smashing into the gate, the limb went limp.

Black-clad soldiers started to pour out of the doors at the base of the towers.

"Lord of the Earth, please," Prince Tiesto prayed.

Prince Tiesto had been told the High Animator was skilled, more skilled even than his predecessor. He didn't know how Salvatore Domingo did it, but in one final burst the symbols on the colossus flared red. The colossus began to rock, and then tilt, and finally Tiesto realised what the High Animator was doing.

The colossus leaned forward, tipped over, and crashed its great mass through Ralanast's eastern gate. Stone flew in all directions as the gate was flattened, the colossus leaning at an awkward angle, the controller cage torn open.

Prince Tiesto waved his men forward. High Animator Salvatore was still in the controller cage, dazed and unarmed, with the soldiers in black swarming forward to man the breach in the gate.

Tiesto ran as hard as he could, but the enemy reached the High Animator first, two legionnaires climbing up to the torn cage. One raised his sword above his head, preparing for the death stroke that would end the High Animator's life.

Then a blazing shadow shot through the breach, moving so fast it was like trying to focus on a ray of light. The legionnaire standing over the High Animator exploded in a wave of blood and gore; the second followed straight after. Tiesto caught a flash of green as the newcomer leapt down from a block of stone to launch himself into the place where the enemy were thickest.

It must be a bladesinger. Tiesto had never seen one in combat, but watching this one fight, he knew the stories were true: they were the world's finest swordsmen, each worth a thousand men in battle. The bladesinger pirouetted and thrust at a legionnaire, taking out the warrior's throat, before ducking a swing and cutting another swordsman in two. A blow was deflected by the bladesinger's armoursilk, and now Tiesto and his men were close enough that the prince could hear the deep baritone of the man's singing, an eerie sound that sent a chill up his spine.

Tiesto's men cheered. "Blademaster!"

Prince Tiesto blinked. His men were telling the truth — it was Rogan!

More men in brown joined the bladesinger, coming in from the other side of the gate, and soon the black-clad soldiers were under heavy attack. When Prince Tiesto's men joined the fray, it was too much for the enemy, and they were swiftly overwhelmed, most choosing to die by the sword.

More people were pouring through the gate all the time: soldiers in brown, thin but determined former prisoners holding swords, and even a few women with clubs. They kept coming, and Tiesto gasped when he saw how many prisoners had been freed.

"Well met, Your Highness," a hoarse voice said, panting and wheezing.

Tiesto turned to Rogan as the symbols on the man's armoursilk dimmed with the halting of his song. He saw the hollowed pits under Rogan's eyes, the drawn skin and heaving chest.

"You came at an opportune time," Rogan said.

"As did you." Tiesto gripped Rogan's shoulder.

"You must be Prince Tiesto," a woman's voice said.

A young woman, battered and bruised, with auburn hair that curled at the ends, stood looking at Rogan with concern before turning back to Tiesto.

"I am," Tiesto nodded.

"There is an army outside that needs us," she said.

Tiesto glanced up at the sky. Morning was well underway.

"Marcus?" Tiesto looked around. "Marcus?"

A Halrana soldier came forward. "I'm sorry, Your Grace," the soldier said, shaking his head. "A sword took him in the thigh. Unlucky hit; he bled out. He didn't say a word, just kept fighting until he fell."

Tiesto looked into the distance, and the grief came to him all at once. Surely the soldier must be wrong. He looked at his men, expecting to see Marcus's face among theirs.

Tiesto hadn't even known the young palace guard when Marcus had spirited the Halrana heir out of Ralanast's Rialan Palace. For a long time it was just the two of them, and then a small network of defiant townsfolk, before Rogan came. Marcus had been the rock by Tiesto's side. The prince realised he hadn't even given the man a title. What did you call the soldier who was simply there when you needed him to be? Captain? Marshal? Lord? Friend?

Tiesto felt a hand grip his shoulder. "We need to move on," Rogan said. "He was a good man, and we will mourn him later. Your men in the city need you. Until a plume of green smoke rises from Terra Cathedral, Miro won't attack."

Tiesto nodded.

Rogan called out to the men. "I need fifty men to escort the prisoners who can't fight to safety. They've had a long journey. Spread the word, the prisoners have been freed. I want every Halrana to know it. You hear me?"

"Yes, Marshal." Men leapt in response to Rogan's orders.

"I want these two groups combined, and formed up into order. We're the only sizeable force inside the city, and the army outside is relying on us to open the main gate. When we encounter the Black Army — which we will — and when you take on imperial avengers, hold fast. Do you hear me, men? Hold fast."

"Yes, Blademaster."

Tiesto felt a hand clap his shoulder as Rogan met his eyes. Tiesto knew they were red. He expected Rogan to say something about how he must fight on, or Marcus's sacrifice would have been in vain.

Instead, Rogan squeezed his arm. "You did well, High Lord. You did well."

41

M
IRO
paced back and forth, doing his best to ignore Marshal Beorn. From below their vantage, the city of Ralanast appeared tranquil and calm in the morning light. The allied army waited on the broad hillside in rigid formation, any protest or wavering met with instant discipline, as Miro waited for the signal that would herald the start of the battle to liberate Ralanast.

"We should attack now," Marshal Beorn said again.

"No," Miro said shortly. He had rarely had such a contest of wills with the veteran commander before.

"Something has gone wrong. Look at the city — does it look like a city in revolt to you?"

"We can't see the whole city from here," Miro said.

"You know they'll be sending reinforcements from the east. We can't afford to wait here like this, so close to the city, with our flanks and rear vulnerable to attack."

"I've told you my reasons," Miro said. "How many lives do you think will be lost if we attack with the gate closed, compared to with it open?"

"How many lives will be lost if we're attacked here? We're like a hunter who has moved so close to his prey that he can no longer guard his back."

"We wait for the signal," Miro said.

"For how long?"

"As long as it takes."

Beorn took Miro roughly by the arm. "You trust your old teacher, I respect that. But Rogan Jarvish is just a man like any of us; he is no miracle worker. If the uprising has been crushed, then the best thing we can do is attack now, while the enemy is distracted. If the Halrana come through and open the gate while our attack is underway, even better."

"Beorn, you've seen how well-defended that gate is. Even our colossi can't touch it. Without siege weapons, we'd be dashed against the gate like a wave on the rocks. The wave breaks, but at the end of it all the rocks are still there. I won't be responsible for losing that many of our men. This war doesn't stop in Ralanast. You know as well as I do that it won't be over until our army marches into Seranthia."

Marshal Beorn opened his mouth to reply when a soldier spoke.

"Lord Marshal, look!"

From the four spires of the Terra Cathedral, four plumes of green smoke rose into the air. The city may appear peaceful, but inside those walls Miro knew people were dying.

"Launch the counter-signal!" Miro called.

The command was passed down the line, and a signalling flag unfurled, where it could be seen high, high above. The dirigible far above the city released its massive banners, and both the sword and flower on green and the open hand on brown were flown high above the city of Ralanast.

Miro heard it then, a sound, carried on the air, rolling up from the occupied city below.

The sound of hundreds of thousands of voices all raised in unison.

"It's not so quiet now," Miro said to Beorn. He grinned. "You can buy me a drink in Ralanast tonight."

"With pleasure." Beorn smiled back.

"Lord Marshal!" an Alturan soldier called. "The dirigible has raised a new signal flag. Red and gold on a blue field."

Miro could never remember the signalling system. "Don't tell me what it looks like! What does it mean?"

"Some of the enemy are fleeing the city through the northern gate!"

Miro and Beorn exchanged glances.

Another soldier called out. "The southern gate is open, Lord Marshal!"

Miro drew his zenblade and raised it high for all to see. He spoke the words that made his armoursilk blaze like the sun, the zenblade red with deadly intent.

The time for speeches was past. Miro opened his mouth and shouted one word with all of the strength he could muster.

"Ralanast!"

The army of Halrana, Alturans, Dunfolk, colossi, and ironmen flew down the hillside, gathering momentum as they ran. A contingent of Tingaran legionnaires awaited them, vainly attempting to close the southern gate.

On one flank, hundreds of massed ironmen strode forward, lacking in grace, but more than making up for it in indomitable strength. The other flank was led by the three colossi, with Luca Angelo, the animator who broke the enemy's defences at the Sarsen, in the lead.

Never one to hang back, Miro led the charge, the foremost of a wedge of bladesingers, with two of them running on his left and two on his right. The lightness of their armoursilk, their peak fitness, and their agility, meant the bladesingers swiftly outdistanced the heavily armoured infantry and the columns of pikemen.

Miro and the four other bladesingers crashed into the massed defenders, penetrating deep into their ranks. Ahead and above him, Miro saw arrows flying through the air to come raining down on the legionnaires' unprotected heads, wiping out hundreds of men at a time.