A Rite of Swords (Book #7 in the Sorcerer's Ring) (20 page)

Kendrick, leading thousands of
men, paused atop the highest peak of the Highlands, as thousands of horses came
to a halt behind him. He looked down at the rolling valleys below, on the
Eastern side of the Ring, saw Andronicus’ half-million men stretched out in
companies as far as the eye could see, glistening in the sun, and knew, as a
warrior, that their chances were slim. But they had no choice. Thor needed
them, and the Ring needed Thor. With Thor and Mycoples and the Destiny Sword
back, they would stand a chance again. If not, all would be lost. More
importantly, Kendrick felt that Thor was like a brother to him, and whatever
the odds, Kendrick’s honor forbade him from turning an eye to his capture.

Kendrick huddled together with
Erec, Godfrey, and Tirus, the four division commanders, unlikely bedfellows,
convening before their masses of men. Kendrick was elated to be back in battle
with Erec, the champion of the Silver, the greatest warrior the Ring had ever
known; with him by his side, he felt that anything was possible.

Erec, a natural leader, raised a
finger and pointed.

“Between here and Andronicus’
camp lie those two valleys,” Erec said. “At the easternmost point, they all
converge to a chokepoint. In an area so narrow, we will have the advantage.
There are two roads before us. Kendrick, you and I can lead the bulk of the
attack straight down the middle, while Godfrey, you join us, and Tirus you can
flank to the right. We will divide the frontline of Andronicus’ men. Then we
can converge beyond the valleys and attack as a unified force, aiming for the
most narrow point of his eastern flank. If we hit them all together, we can
create a funnel effect, and enough of us will be able to slip beyond them to find
Thor.”

Kendrick nodded.

“I agree,” Kendrick said. “Our
driving goal is to hit them fast and quick, not to get embroiled in battle, and
to get a small group moving forward, deep into their camp.”

“Then we waste time talking
here,” Tirus yelled out. He screamed and kicked his horse, and he forked off to
the right, and his men of the Upper Isles, distinct in their scarlet and blue
armor, obediently followed on his heels.

Kendrick and Erec kicked their
horses and charged, too, taking the mountain roads before them, forking left,
their forces charging after them with a shout.

But Godfrey merely sat on his
horse, watching it all.

“Sire, shall we not follow them?”
came the surprised voice of Godfrey’s general, his horse prancing beside him.

Godfrey sat there and watched the
horizon, other plans in mind. He turned and nodded to Akorth and Fulton, who
each raised a horn. They blew them in alternating fashion, in staccato notes.

After waiting ten seconds, the
sound of their horns was repeated back to them, echoing from somewhere in the
distant valley, off to the left.

“What was that, my Liege?” his
general asked, confused.

Godfrey smiled wide, satisfied.

“You’ll see,” he answered.

Kendrick and Erec had their
strengths, and Godfrey had his. He might not be as great a warrior as they, but
he had cunning. And he had made contingency plans of his own.

Godfrey screamed and kicked his
horse, and his men followed as they all turned away from the other divisions
and charged down the left side of the mountain.

As they followed him blindly,
Godfrey only prayed that his scheme would work.

*

Erec held his sword high, nearly
standing on his horse as he galloped, his face fierce, in battle mode. He
gained more and more speed and was closing in on the large group of Empire men
waiting to greet them at the base of the lower valley. Between he and Kendrick
they had perhaps five thousand men at their disposal, all hardened warriors,
all of whom he would trust with their lives.

But waiting to greet them there
appeared to be twice as many men, fierce warriors each. Still, Erec was
undeterred. As was Kendrick, who rode valiantly by his side, leading his own
division of men. Erec took comfort knowing that Kendrick would fight to the
death, just as he was prepared to do himself.

Erec heard the passing screech of
an eagle high overhead and he looked up and saw Estopheles, circling. Erec
raised his sword high and met his cry. It was days like this that he had been
born for. He had not been born to merely survive. He had been born to live. To
truly
live.

Erec raced forward, wanting to be
the first to engage in battle, and brought his silver sword down on the lead
empire soldier, slashing the soldier’s sword in half, then spinning around in
the same motion and slashing the soldier across his back, knocking him
face-first off his horse.

The soldier landed on the ground
in a great clang of plate armor, the first casualty of the day. The battle had
begun.

Erec was a one-man fighting
machine, darting like a fish through a lake filled with slow-moving creatures.
Ever since Alistair had healed him, he felt filled with energy, more than he’d
ever had, and at the top of his fighting game. He attacked left and right,
going blow for blow as he cut through the ranks of Empire soldiers, never
pausing, receiving some blows, but most of them bouncing harmlessly off his
plate armor, merely bruising or scratching him. He, on the other hand,
inflicted deadly force, killing a wide swath of soldiers to his left and to his
right, striking with lethal precision and moving faster than any of them could
react. There was a reason he was the Silver’s champion—nobody fought quicker
than he. While Empire soldiers raised their swords, Erec had already punctured
their armor. He was a thing of beauty to watch, and it was clear this is what
he had been born to do.

Nearby, Kendrick fought just as
brilliantly, forking his men off to attack the other contingent of Empire men,
going blow for blow with a host of them, taking down nearly as many as Erec. He
was a fearless leader, and his men rallied around him, charging into the thick
of the fight.

Men began to fall on both sides,
as the Empire warriors were fierce in their own right, well-rested and
well-trained. The clang of metal rose up, reverberated in Kendrick’s ears, as
men fought for their lives in both directions. The battle grew thick, horses
bumping into each other, nowhere left to move. Both sides swayed, giving to and
fro, and it reminded Kendrick of the waves of the sea, pushing back and forth,
breathing in and out. At some moments, Kendrick and Erec’s men were gaining
momentum, pushing forward; at other times, they were being pushed back.

As the battle grew even thicker,
soldiers began to dismount from their horses, and the fighting became
hand-to-hand. The fighting was fierce and bloody, soldiers using swords and
spears and hammers and axes, others fighting with daggers and even with their
hands. Cries of men and horses rose up all around him, and the winter ground
grew slick with men’s blood.

Kendrick, unable to maneuver,
soon found himself knocked off his horse. On foot, surrounded by hostile
troops, he raised sword and shield and met a group of Empire soldiers. A
soldier raised a halberd and brought it down for his face and Kendrick dodged,
aiming at the shaft and slashed the halberd in two. He then butted the soldier
in the face with the hilt of the sword, knocking him out.

In the same motion, Kendrick
blocked a sword blow meant for his shoulder, then reached up and kicked his
attacker in the stomach, knocking him back into the crowd, where he was
trampled by a horse.

Another soldier charged with a
spear. This blow came in too fast; Kendrick, distracted by his other attackers,
braced himself for the deadly blow.

There came the distinct clang of
a shield, and Kendrick looked over to see Erec, beside him, deflecting the
spear; Erec then wheeled around with his shield and bashed the soldier in the
face.

Another soldier came at Erec with
a flail, and in the same motion, Erec pulled back his shield and threw it: it
spun through the air, its sharpened edge slicing the soldier’s throat.

Two more Empire soldiers attacked
from behind Kendrick and Erec, ambushing them, wielding spears. It happened so
fast, there was no time to react. There came another clang of metal, and
Kendrick turned to see Atme and Brandt. They had stepped forward and blocked
the spear thrusts meant for Erec and Kendrick, Atme with his shield and Brandt
with his gauntlet. Atme stabbed the attacker with his sword, while Brandt
backhanded the other attacker, sending him to the ground.

Kendrick was inspired fighting
beside Erec, Atme and Brandt, just like old times, and he grabbed the soldier’s
flail off the ground and swung it high, creating a wide perimeter around the
four of them, and taking out a half-dozen Empire soldiers.

The fighting grew fiercer and
fiercer, thicker and thicker, going on for what felt like hours. No matter how
hard they all fought, Kendrick felt they were not gaining momentum. It was like
fighting against a never-ending tide. He was beginning to seriously doubt they
would be able to execute their plan of getting a small group through quickly
and furtively to liberate Thor in the center of the camp.

There came a blast of horns, and
Kendrick looked up to the valley’s end to see a sight which worried him:
several thousand more of Andronicus’ men were pouring into the far end of the
valley, coming to assist their fellow soldiers.

The momentum was just enough to
push the tide back. Kendrick, Erec and their men began to be pushed further and
further back by the crush of soldiers. More of their men were beginning to
fall, and Kendrick was starting to realize they were losing. The Empire men
were just too strong for them, and too many. He knew that unless something
happened soon, he and his men would be slaughtered on this field.

Kendrick spotted something out of
the corner of his eye, up high, at the side of the valley, reflecting light. He
glanced over and saw something which puzzled him. There, atop a cliff, were
several thousand soldiers mounted on horseback, dressed in the distinctive
armor and flying the banner of the McClouds. They charged down the slope,
heading for the flank of the battle.

At first Kendrick thought they
were charging to abet the Empire cause; but as he watched he realized they were
not aiming for them, but instead, were charging for the Empire. They were not
attacking his men—they were helping them.

The new fighting force opened up
a second front, causing mass confusion up and down the Empire ranks. It was
exactly what Kendrick needed. But he could not understand what was happening:
why would the McClouds, their sworn enemy, want to help them?

As Kendrick looked closely, he
saw, with shock, who was leading them, and it all made sense:

Bronson.

Bronson rode out front, before
the thousands of McCloud soldiers, and charged with all his might, right for
the Empire. They came like a thunderstorm, using their downhill momentum to
create a wave of destruction.

They impacted with a clash as
loud as thunder.

In moments, they began to cut a
path right through the terrified and confused Empire forces. In a panic, many
Empire began to turn and flee, trampling each other.

Erec and Kendrick took advantage
of the moment, redoubling their efforts, and began to gain new momentum. Empire
soldiers fell in every direction, as they pushed them back further and further.

Soon, Empire men were turning and
running, and the MacGils pushed them back, all the way out of the valley.

Finally, with a great cheer,
Erec’s and Kendrick’s men met up with Bronson’s at the valley’s end. The valley
now belonged to them. They had won.

Kendrick came over to Bronson,
who stood there breathing heavily, covered in blood, grinning.

“I told you I am a MacGil,”
Bronson said.

Kendrick and Erec shook their
heads.

“We were wrong about you,”
Kendrick said.

“You have saved our forces here
on this day,” Erec said.

Bronson’s grin widened.

“The day is not done yet,” he
replied, “and I don’t know about you, but I don’t plan on stopping until we
drive the Empire all the way back to the sea.”

*

Godfrey rode with his men,
forking down to the side of the valley, away from the main battle, Akorth and
Fulton by his side and several thousand men behind them. Godfrey kept in his
sights the huge group of Empire soldiers before them as he galloped straight ahead
fearlessly. The soldiers before them outnumbered them, at least five to one, a
massive Empire division waiting to face them.

“My Lord!”

Godfrey’s general caught up
behind, riding fast, terror in his voice.

“Where are you leading us?! We
are outnumbered and ride to instant death. Your bravery borders on
recklessness! We must turn around, go back and join the others. Surely, they do
not expect us to meet so many men here. Your plan, whatever it was, has gone
awry. We ride to our deaths. We must turn back! I am all for chivalry, but this
is suicide!”