The Hordes of Chanakra (Knights of Aerioch) (24 page)

The ground erupted under the archers, hurling them through the air.  Lightning struck out of a clear sky, scattering the cavalry before them.

*Run Kreg,* the thought burst into Kreg's brain unbidden, sounding like a familiar voice.

"Shillond," Kreg whispered, then shouted, "To me!  Rally to me!" He charged at the disarrayed cavalry, yanking his sword free of its sheath as he did so.

Confused and demoralized by the magic lightning and earthquake, the Schahi scattered before the handful that followed Kreg.  The survivors trudged back up the hill as the Schahi regrouped in the valley.

"King Efrij led us to this evil," one of the knights said. "We are undone."

Kreg agreed with the knight.  But if that sentiment spread, the army would break and the Schahi would run unopposed through Merona.

Back at the Meronan lines Kreg found Shillond, leaning on Bertan.

"Bertan!" Kreg grabbed the boy by the shoulders.

"I didn't abandon you!" Bertan shrank back, fear in his voice.

"I thought you dead." Kreg hugged Bertan to him. "How...?"

Bertan hung his head. "When King Efrij charged, I remembered how you said that an ill-timed charge could lead to disaster.  I went to get Shillond.  It was all I could think to do."

"It is good that he did," Shillond said. "I was in dream state, maintaining a shield against magical attack when Bertan woke me."

"And thereby saved all our lives," Kreg said.

Shillond smiled and shrugged.

Kreg saw that Bertan's face still held fear.

"Bertan," he said, "you did the right thing.  I'm proud of you."

"But I ran away."

"No.  You saw what was happening and, in all the confusion and without time to think, you made the right choice.  If you'd come with me, no one would have gotten to Shillond and we all would have died."

Bertan managed a slight smile.

"Kreg," Shillond said, "we have a problem.  Breaking through the Schahi's own magical defenses has cost me.  I have spent my strength.  Too little remains to hold our own defense for long.  If you have any plans, now would be a good time."

Kreg glanced down the hill.  The Schahi had not yet regrouped, but he could see that they would soon renew the attack.  He closed his eyes and tried to visualize the map of the area that he had studied. "Shillond, can you make a marsh passable?  Dry it up, or freeze it, or something?"

"I think I just have the strength, yes."

"Good," Kreg turned to one of the knights. "Go to the other wing.  Gather the knights.  Then have the peasant levies fill the gaps." Without thinking that Kreg had no authority to give such orders, the knight rode off to do as instructed.

"I don't think we can win," Kreg told Shillond. "Not now.  But maybe we can buy enough time to turn a rout into an orderly retreat."

In the valley, the Schahi army formed their three lines.

#

Kreg reined his horse around to face the rest of the cavalry who followed him.  They had ridden over a marsh, frozen by Shillond.  Kreg, and those surviving knights that had followed Efrij in his charge, rode spares brought up from the rear.  The crossing had cost them two horses, injured in falls on the slippery ice.  The slightest opposition would have prevented crossing.  Fortunately, the Schahi did not seem to know of their presence.

Kreg had left Bertan to tend Shillond, who had collapsed from the effort of freezing the marsh.  Fewer men at arms rode with Kreg than he remembered being in the force. "Remember," he said, "we have to confuse them, break them up, scatter them if possible.  Hit hard, hit fast, then pull back.  While their attention is on us, the peasant levies and archers will retreat.  Then we get out of here ourselves."

"Peasants," one knight said. "Leave them, I say." There were murmurs of agreement. "We have lost.  No good will come if we ride on to our slaughter."

Kreg stood in his stirrups.  Maybe he could use their devotion to honor above all, even reality. "Are you all cowards?"

"There is no shame in being overmatched," the knight said.

"No?" Kreg said. "Would men of honor slink away like whipped dogs?  Would men of honor leave those who served them well to die?  I go.  Let men of honor go with me."

Kreg wheeled his horse and trotted off without looking back.  A few seconds later the jingle of mail told him that others followed behind him.  He waited a long moment before glancing back.  The group that followed was smaller, but not much so.  He smiled grimly.  A small band, perhaps, but one that would fight.

"Please," Kreg whispered to himself as they rode on. "Please, no magic."  With Shillond no longer able to shield them, and the High Seer's abilities unsuited to the task of defense, the army had no protection against even the feeblest wizardry.

As they rounded the arm of the hill, Kreg swung to the left, riding up the slope.  From this vantage point he could see the Schahi army had already begun its next attack.  The archers had withdrawn and begun to reform their lines behind the cavalry.  The infantry were advancing up the hill.  The entire Schahi army faced the forces on the hill, none looking in his direction.

Kreg did not know who had taken command of the peasant levies but they were holding.  Their lines were thinner as they had spread to fill the gaps where the cavalry had been but they were holding.  And the archers still poured arrows down on the advancing Schahi.

As the Schahi infantry collided with the Meronan shield wall an idea burst full formed into Kreg's head.  If he could time it right...

Kreg waited, his lance held in an upraised hand to restrain the impatient knights.  As the Schahi infantry broke off their attack, he dropped his lance and urged his horse forward. "Charge!"

Kreg's shout, and the stampede of shouting voices, the pounding of cantering hooves, drew the Schahi's attention.  The archers turned to face them.  They managed only a few poorly aimed shafts before the Meronans crashed into their lines.  The archers fled, dropping their bows in their haste.

The timing was perfect.  The archers collided with the rear of the Schahi cavalry just as the infantry reached them from the front.  In an instant the army of Schah dissolved into a howling, disorganized mob.

The Meronans swept them back, up the hill.  As the Schahi retreated, the Meronan arrows began to fall among them from above in a deadly cascade.  By the time the sun was low on the horizon, the battle was over.  Meronan cavalry met Meronan peasant levies across a field littered with the bodies of the Schahi army.

#

A few of the Schahi had slipped away and Kreg let them run.  Kreg dismounted his horse as Shillond, again leaning on Bertan, approached.

“I thought,” Shillond said with a grin, “that the plan was to give the army a chance to retreat, not to win another victory.”

Kreg shrugged, “Plans change.  The foot was holding so well that...” He looked back at the carnage-strewn field.  Many of those bodies would vanish with the dawn but for now...The screams that rent the air from wounded men and animals finally penetrated Kreg’s awareness.

“Oh, God,” Kreg whispered.  Griselde had been almost clean.  But this?  So many dead.  So many wounded.  And the pitiful cries of the wounded, men and horses, stabbed at Kreg’s ears like daggers.  But worst of all was the smell, the smell of blood, the smell of feces.

One man, one of the Meronan foot--Kreg could no longer think of them as “peasant levies”--half disemboweled by a sword stroke, was attempting to drag himself up the hill, intestines trailing behind him.

“No.” The reins of Kreg’s horse fell from nerveless fingers.  He dropped to his knees, then fell to a ball as sobs wracked his frame.

Kreg felt hands take hold of his shoulders and turn him.  Between them, Bertan and Shillond lifted Kreg’s shoulders so Shillond could cradle him in his arms.

“Your Grace,” Bertan said, “Is there anything you can do?  Make him sleep or something.”

“I could, boy.” Shillond kept one arm wrapped around Kreg’s shoulder and, with the other, held his head against his shoulder. “But he needs this.  Wounds of the spirit are like wounds of the body.  The sooner they are cleansed, the less chance for them to fester.”

Some time later, Kreg wiped at his face and stood.  With Bertan’s help, he mounted his horse once more.  He walked the horse toward where the foot still stood in battle lines.

The army cheered.  Kreg said nothing and raised his hand in a tired wave.

When the cheering had died down, Kreg said, softly, “See to the wounded.” He looked down to where Bertan stood by the side of his horse. “Bertan, go tell the knights to send out scouts, about two miles down the road, and sentries.  I don’t think there are any more armies headed our way but let’s make sure.”

Kreg watched as Bertan ran off. “I am so tired.”

#

The army marched for another day before reaching the town of Callens, a day of marching past burned farms, empty pastures, and bloated bodies.  A day in which Kreg grew progressively more morose.

“Kreg?” Shillond said as they reached Callens.

“Wait, I’d said,” Kreg whispered. “Let the Schahi come to us.” He turned aside to look at a farm.  The family that had lived there lay outside a burned cottage.  In the cool weather, their bodies had not yet started to bloat.  They had been hacked repeatedly, long after they had died.  There was no telling what tortures they had undergone while still alive.  “And all the time the Schahi were doing this?  When Efrij said they were ravaging the country, I didn’t know.  I swear I didn’t know.”

“Kreg?” Shillond laid a hand on Kreg’s harm. “You did all you could.”

“Then I should have done better,” Kreg said. “How many have I killed because I wasn’t good enough?”

“You're not listening to me, are you?”

Kreg turned back down the road and continued toward Callens.

“Shillond?” Bertan said from where he rode just behind them.

“We have a problem,” Shillond said.

Silence fell over the army as they rode into Callens.  Bodies littered the streets, some crushed as if pressed between heavy stones, some dismembered pieces scattered, making identification of individual bodies impossible, all mutilated to some degree.  Stains of varying shades of red and red brown marked every wall, every street.

The contents of Kreg's stomach fought their way upwards at the stench.  Only by a supreme effort of will was he able to retain them. "How could they do this?" Kreg's voice cracked. "It's inhuman."

"They're not human," Shillond said softly. "In literal truth, they're not.  They're animals, possessed by demons."

Beyond Shillond, Kreg could see Bertan sitting still on his horse, his face white.

"It's not like in the tales," Bertan whispered.

"It never is," Kreg said.  All the books he had read, all the history he had studied, finally became real to him.

#

Kreg nodded and turned his attention back to the map. "I don't think we can hold Merona.  The army is exhausted and Schah has fresh troops in the north plus the survivors of those we fought here.  They will join the others."

"Do you have any suggestions?" Shillond looked up at him.

"Evacuate," Kreg said. "Gather every ship, every boat, every raft.  Bring them here and ferry every man, woman, and child who can reach us to Aerioch.  I don't like it but it comes under the heading of buying time."

"Time is not our ally," Shillond said. "As you said before, how long before the Chanakran wizards conjure up an invincible army?"

"I know it!" Kreg snapped. "What do you want me to do?  Quit?  I've never just quit in my life." He stopped, chagrined. "Sorry.  I guess I'm just a little tired." He slumped into a chair and dropped his face into his hands. "Gods, what am I going to do?  How many more are going to die because I’m not good enough?"

"I think you're more than a little tired," Shillond said. "For now, get some rest.  I'll get the necessary messages out."

#

Keven and Kaila sat pouring over a map of the western frontier of Aerioch.  An image of Shillond's head appeared floating in the air above the map.

"Shillond!" Kaila sat back, nearly oversetting her stool.

"There is trouble," Shillond said. "I must speak quickly for this spell is a great strain."

With a quick glance at Keven for confirmation, Kaila said, "Say on."

"We have won a battle," Shillond said, "but the cost was high.  Efrij has been slain and our forces are exhausted.  Another army approaches from the north.  Worst of all, Kreg is heart-sore.  He continues from sheer tenacity, but his heart is gone.  He blames himself for Efrij's folly and for all the deaths that have come, and will come, because he is not more than human."

"Efrij has always been a weak-minded fool." Kaila felt anger rise up in her. "What did he do this time?"

"He led a charge--" Shillond scowled deeply. "--against Kreg's advice, I might add--which caused the deaths of nearly half the men-at-arms.  Kreg rode with them.  The Schahi trapped them, surrounded them, did not even allow them a chance to fight for their lives.  They called up archers to slay them."