Blood of the Earth (36 page)

“Of course, Lady Abigail,” Wyatt said. “If I may, who will protect you?”

“Captain Sava and his men will serve as my guard,” Abigail said.

Wyatt nodded approvingly.

“Mistress Corina, assign two Sky Knights to assist Captain Wyatt,” Abigail said. “They’ll be leaving in the morning.”

Abigail surveyed her command staff. Everyone in the tent fell silent.

“We must take those shipyards at all costs,” she said. “Many will die, but far fewer than if Zuhl is permitted to build his fleet. As soon as we’ve driven them into the ocean, we’ll secure the encampment and fortify our position. There are many innocent people working as slaves in Zuhl’s shipyard—protect them as best you can.”

Chapter 28

Abigail looked down over Kallistos’ wing. The encampment was butted up against the shore, docks linking ten enormous berths to dry ground. A berm wall, wooden spikes jutting from it at all angles, surrounded the entire camp with a deep trench running in front of it. Towers stood just inside the perimeter at odd intervals, some armed with ballistae, others armed with catapults, still others manned by lookouts.

The camp was busy. Slaves milled about fortifying the defenses, cutting timber into lumber suitable for building ships, and keeping the smith fires stoked to work iron into steel hard enough to cut the dense branches of the Iron Oak trees.

A steady stream of horses, carts, and wagons, all overseen by Zuhl’s brutish soldiers, moved to and from the edge of the forest where slaves were cutting trees, removing the limbs, and loading the wood for transport to the mills within the camp.

Most troubling were the three empty berths and the three giant ships anchored just offshore. Each boat was as big as a small town, easily capable of carrying a thousand men with horses, supplies, wagons, and weapons for them all. Worse, each of the three boats bristled with armaments. Longboats lined the sides of each hull, a hundred oars jutted from each side, and dozens of sails stretched between the seven masts rising out of the deck of each massive warship.

Abigail banked, circling high overhead, evaluating the strengths and weaknesses of their defenses. Zuhl’s men were barbarians but they were industrious, strong, and well-ordered. In just weeks, they had built a small city.

She knew from the reports of her Ranger hunting legions that this enemy eschewed bows, crossbows, and even javelins in favor of close combat. They were big men, powerful and hardy, accustomed to rule by strength. She intended to use their misguided belief in brute force against them. They would want to meet on the battlefield, facing their opponents in close-quarters combat. Abigail would deny them a direct confrontation as much as possible. She cared nothing for how the enemy died, only that they did, and sooner was better than later.

She signaled to Knight Raja. They wheeled their wyverns and headed back to her army, a day out and traveling as quickly as a force of nearly a hundred thousand could move. By nightfall they would be within half-a-day’s march.

With the exception of those on the road leading to the forest, the enemy had withdrawn inside their encampment. They’d made what preparations they could to defend against Abigail’s approaching army and now they seemed to be working feverishly to complete the seven ships still occupying their berths.

She landed behind her troops and dismounted, giving Kallistos the haunch of a cow from the feed cart before mounting up on her horse and riding to the head of the army. She pushed the army on until sunset, then called a halt. She spent an hour or so walking among her soldiers, offering encouragement and listening to their stories. Most of these men had seen battle on Ruatha, many were seasoned warriors, but all were nervous about the coming fight. Zuhl’s soldiers were fearsome and they were defending from a secure position. Tomorrow would be the beginning of a battle that would probably last for days. Many would die.

She went to her tent, tired from her day of scouting the battlefield. She had received reports and reviewed maps of the area, but she also wanted to see the terrain, the enemy positions, and the fortifications for herself. She remembered one of her father’s lessons: Accurate information about the enemy and battlefield is the first step to victory.

That she would destroy the enemy was a certainty; she outnumbered them two to one. She was less certain if she would defeat them before the ships were completed and she was concerned about the losses she would take. From a human perspective, each life lost was an unspeakable tragedy, but she didn’t have the luxury of such considerations.

She was worried that the battle for the shipyards would diminish her force strength enough so that the next engagement with the regrouping raiding legions would cripple her army. She knew there would be many more battles before this war was won or lost, and she would need to preserve as many of her soldiers as possible so they could stand and fight in the battles to come.

She hated it that these were her concerns. So many would die. So many families would suffer the terrible loss she had grappled with since Darius was murdered. She consoled herself with the knowledge that many more would be lost if she failed, and so she vowed to herself that she would not fail—no matter the cost.

***

Anatoly woke her just before dawn. He wore his armor, his broad-bladed battle-axe strapped across his back and his short sword at his side.

“The army’s started moving,” he said quietly. “General Markos estimates we’ll reach the enemy by noon.”

After strapping on her leather armor, her quiver, and the Thinblade, she picked up her bow and left the tent. Captain Sava was standing just outside with several of his dragon-plate-clad Strikers in a loose cordon around her tent.

They followed her to the mess tent, constantly vigilant. After a quick breakfast, she went to the stables and mounted her horse. Anatoly shadowed her without question or conversation. He was mentally preparing for the battle to come. He often said that he fought best when he was in a foul mood. From the frown he wore, Abigail suspected he was nursing his anger. She left him to it as she reviewed her plan of attack yet again.

Dawn broke over a clear sky. There was a chill in the air and the wind was still, as if the world was waiting expectantly for the events of the day to unfold.

She’d gone over every angle of attack, every capability at her disposal, every weakness, every terrain feature and come up with the best strategy she could. She’d listened to the counsel of her generals, the Sky Knights, wizards, and witches. Now her plan would be put to the test and she was certain of only one thing: It would not survive contact with the enemy.

Once the fighting began, she would have to be flexible, seizing opportunities as they presented themselves and defending against threats as they became apparent.

By midmorning, she could see the enemy encampment in the distance. It was a large camp, sprawling away from the sea in a haphazard arrangement of tents, hastily constructed buildings and towers, all surrounded by a berm wall and trench. She heard the alarm bell toll in the distance, alerting the enemy of her approach.

By noon, they were nearing the outer berm. It looked quite a bit taller from this angle than it did from the air. She stopped on a little hill and surveyed the scene. Her army spread out around her in all directions.

“General Markos, move the infantry and archers into position,” she commanded. “Commander Corina, send out the scout riders and prepare the attack wings for launch on my order. Make contact with Admiral Tybalt and Prince Torin. Tell them to attack at will. General Kern, deploy the cavalry on the southern flank and await orders.”

Her commanders saluted and left to carry out her instructions, leaving Abigail with Anatoly, Conner, Magda, Wizard Sark, Mage Dax, and Knight Raja. Captain Sava’s Strikers surrounded them as the soldiers began moving into position.

Abigail expected the enemy to react … but they didn’t. Instead, they held their position inside the berm wall and waited as their slaves worked furiously to load the lumber necessary to complete the construction of the remaining ships.

She waited with the outward appearance of patience, though she was anything but patient within. The battle would begin on her command, but she had to wait for her men to move into position first. It was a painstaking hour before the infantry had advanced to within a hundred feet of the berm wall and formed a shield line. Behind them were several rows of pikemen backed up by another ten ranks of infantry. Next came row after row of archers armed with longbows. Abigail had been careful to ensure that they had plenty of arrows—her plan depended on it. A heavy rope soaked in oil was laid out before each rank.

Once all was in place, she double-checked everyone’s position and nodded to herself. It was time. She withdrew the arrow from her quiver, yellow feathers standing out in stark contrast to the grey-and-white fletching on most of her other arrows. She nocked the arrow and drew, aiming into the sky. When she released it into the air, a piercing shriek rose into the clear sky, alerting all for miles around that the battle had begun.

Things moved slowly at first. The ropes before each rank of archers were ignited, providing a source of flame for their arrows. As one, they nocked an arrow, touched it to the rope and raised the flaming point toward the sky. The first volley lifted into the air trailing smoke and embers in its wake. Before it reached the apex of its trajectory, a second volley was away.

Abigail meant to kill the enemy with flame and arrows. If she could destroy them without ever crossing blades, then so much the better. It didn’t matter how they died, only that they did. Another volley of arrows rose into the air as the first volley ripped into the enemy encampment. Horns blew in warning. Shouting rose above the screams.

The enemy’s few ballistae and catapults began to fire into Abigail’s army. The weapons were powerful but they were too few to cause significant damage—unless you happened to be the unfortunate man who got hit with a small boulder or large spear-sized ballista bolt.

After ten volleys of arrows, the attack wings flew overhead in formation, heading for the ships still berthed in the shipyard. Fifty Sky Knights joined the battle, armed with firepots and tasked with burning the shipyards and Zuhl’s ships before they could launch.

The enemy didn’t appear to be putting up much of a fight, which was fine with Abigail. As she watched the arrows rain down on them and the fires begin to build, she started to get the feeling that it was all too easy.

That’s when she saw the dragon.

Chapter 29

Alexander took Isabel by the shoulders and peered into her piercing green eyes with his magical vision. Her colors had changed. There was still a slight taint but the growing, festering darkness in her colors that had been keeping him up at night was gone.

“What about the darkness?” he asked.

“It’s gone,” Isabel whispered. “Dear Maker, Alexander, I didn’t realize how much it had worked its way into me until just now. Azugorath’s magic must not be able to reach into the Wizard’s Den.”

“Makes sense,” Alexander said. “Shivini wouldn’t have remained trapped if there was a connection between the outside world and a Wizard’s Den.”

“What happens when you open the door?” Isabel asked.

“I don’t know,” Alexander said, “but I suspect the wraith queen will be attracted to the taint infecting your magic.”

“I didn’t even realize how loud the voices were,” Isabel said. “I’ve been trying so hard to ignore them. Now that they’re gone …”

Alexander waited as she stared off into the distance, lost in thought.

“I don’t think I can resist for much longer,” Isabel said. “I’m terrified that I’m going to betray you.”

“I don’t believe that you will ever betray me,” Alexander said. “I know your soul. If Azugorath influences you to act against me, it won’t be you making that choice.”

“But what if I hurt you? Or worse?” Isabel said.

“You won’t,” Alexander said. “I’ll see the danger before you succumb to the wraith queen’s will. If worse comes to worse, we can always use the Wizard’s Den to shield you.”

“I’m not sure that would be wise,” Jack said, “at least not until you have a chance to empty this place out and refurnish it.”

Alexander looked at the bard and then at the bookshelf he was staring at intently. It was a finely crafted cherrywood case with glass doors. The books within were all magical tomes, but the thing that made Alexander’s blood run cold were the dark colors emanating from most of the volumes.

They were books of necromancy.

Alexander carefully looked around the rest of the room. A number of other items radiated colors that indicated magic.

“You might be right,” he said. “There are quite a few magical things in here and there’s no telling what any of them do. If Malachi left that smoke demon in here, he might have left other deadly things, as well. Let’s not touch anything over there.” He motioned toward the desk and bookshelves. “The table and chairs look safe enough.”

Hector opened the door on the wall opposite the entrance and wandered out onto a balcony. “Curious,” he said.

Alexander joined him. The balcony was about ten feet wide, jutting six feet from the doorway with a four-foot-high wall. It opened into a luminous fog that was neither warm nor cold. With a frown, Alexander went to the hearth and found a piece of charred wood. Stepping up to the railing, he tossed the wood into the fog. It fell out of sight without a sound. Everyone waited for several moments for any hint of noise but there was nothing.