The Mirror And The Maelstrom (Book 4) (23 page)

The plan would need to be executed shortly, thought Manfir. The entire Ulrog force had not come to life yet and the Malveel remained strangely absent to this point. If the Zodrian army wished to score a minor victory here, they needed to strike and retreat.

Drengel the Conjuror watched the distant smoke curl into the pale blue sky. A smile played across his angular features. The final battle began and he stood less than a day’s march from its epicenter. He and the Memnod would arrive in plenty of time to receive the glory he so richly deserved.

Behind him, rows of his creations stood motionless. The darkness within their forms shifted and churned, illuminated periodically with flashes of the fire of Chaos. At a nod from Drengel, the largest of these forms moved to his side.

“We will march directly upon the battle ahead, you will annihilate anything that stands in our way. I will not tolerate Sulgor stealing my glory with a premature victory.”

The creature acknowledged nothing. It simply stepped past the Conjuror, moving in the direction indicated. A moment later the remaining Memnod streamed past their Malveel lord toward the city of Delvi.

A dozen barbed pikes slammed into the armored scales of Vespewl the Scourge. Many snapped upon the impact. Others glanced off ineffectually. However, a few made their mark. Serrated edges raked hand sized stony scales from the Malveel’s body. Vespewl halted and reeled backward as his giant claw ripped through the air throwing a pair of giants to the ground.

The others scrambled for their lost weapons or quickly drew broadswords and hacked at the beast. Brother Shor was lucky. His pike struck true and a thin line of black blood oozing from Vespewl’s left shoulder rewarded him.

Shor danced from the path of a flailing claw and stumbled into the rush of a dozen Hackles. The stone men howled but before they attacked, an equal number of Keltaran giants slammed into their onslaught and drove them back.

Vespewl raged. Worthless Ulrog! The robed giants repelled his slaves so easily. The beast found no time for anger. More of the determined Keltaran monks rushed at him. Their tactics and training were far superior to the average giant.

“Keep the Malveel isolated!” shouted Olith as he skewered an advancing Ulrog.  “It’s our only hope.”

Keltaran pushed in on either side of the beast and drove Hackles back.

Shor heard the command and saw his opportunity. Vespewl’s flank lay unguarded and a dozen brothers hacked at his front, preoccupying the Malveel. The monk rushed in with his pike leveled at the beast’s ribcage.

The command was not lost on Vespewl either. Olith intended to cut off his support. Vespewl realized he overcommitted and his Ulrog faltered. Instantly, he changed tactics. His eyes flared to life and he swept the fighters before him with the fire of Chaos as he spun toward the origin of the command. There amongst the fighting stood his quarry, Olith of Keltar, dueling a hapless Hackle.

Pain flared through his left flank. A shower of stony scales flew into the sky like autumn leaves before a gust of wind. The Malveel’s body reacted on its own. A powerful hind leg snapped forward toward the pain, pounding whatever assailant breached the Malveel’s defenses.

Olith dispatched the Ulrog before him and discovered the fight moving ten yards from his position. He turned. Vespewl’s body contorted at an odd angle. The beast’s head turned to the side. The Scourge inspected a large black gash running along his midsection.

A dozen Keltaran retreated from the creature, desperately trying to extinguish crackling Chaos fire crawling across their armor and shields. The body of Brother Shor lay a few yards from Vespewl. The monk struggled to rise but injury or stunned confusion prevented him. Olith raised his shield and dashed forward.

Vespewl exhaled a violent hiss. The wound was deep but he would survive. How had he allowed such an error? The Malveel roared and turned on the monk sprawled a few yards from his position. Evil eyes filled with the fire of Chaos and locked on the struggling Keltaran.

“A mighty blow, giant,” snarled Vespewl. “But not one you will brag of to your comrades tonight.”

The Malveel raised and flexed his giant right claw.

CLANG!

The blade of Grannak Stormbreaker raked across the chest of Lord Vespewl the Scourge of the Zorim. A row of stony scales shattered upon impact and the beast reeled backward in shock and pain.

Olith clenched his teeth and stepped forward, spinning the blade back across the Malveel’s chest. More scales dropped to the grassy plain. The giant advanced, putting distance between himself and the struggling form of Brother Shor.

Vespewl quickly recovered from the second blow. The Scourge rose, towering over the Keltaran general. The beast’s eyes flared and poured fire upon Olith. The giant’s shield snapped upward taking the full brunt of the deluge. Flame clung to his helm and dripped from his shield, but Olith remained in a rigid defensive stance.

Utecht reached the battle. He and his Keltaran warriors burst upon the exposed rear flank of the retreating stone men. A row of the creatures fell before the beasts realized they stood caught between the advancing Brotherhood of Awoi and the original assailants of their camp. The Ulrog priests caught within the vise quickly called upon the fire of Chaos and the battle turned into confusion.

The Keltaran sergeant looked past his own confrontation. The sight of General Olith locked in single combat with Vespewl the Scourge shocked him.

The fire of Chaos halted. Olith ducked his head to the side of his shield and spied a massive claw arcing toward him. He hopped backward and slashed across the front of his body. The ring of metal on stone rewarded him. A five inch hunk of black claw bounced off his leg and dropped to the ground. The howl of Vespewl deafened Olith. The Keltaran general stepped back, raised his shield and braced himself.

Brother Shor crawled from the battle. His lungs burned. He found it difficult to breath and fought hard to remain conscious. Shor glanced backward. A dozen yards away, General Olith stood alone against Vespewl. The brotherhood engaged a line of Hackles. The Ulrog surged forward and pushed the brotherhood from the general’s side. The Malveel lord stalked forward and circled Olith. The beast ignored the disabled monk. Shor sucked in air, raised himself to his knees and searched the ground for a weapon.

Clang! Skreeeee!

Vespewl’s powerful claw slammed into Olith’s shield and ripped across its surface. The general winced upon impact but held firm. The beast’s head dodged at Olith’s exposed shoulder, teeth dripping in spit. A quick jab with the great sword and the creature lurched backward.

“Good,” thought Olith. “At the very least the Malveel’s injury makes him cautious. He tests me.”

Vespewl snarled and gnashed his teeth. This fool of a giant held his ground against one of the Chosen. He needed to kill Olith here and now, but the general’s swordsmanship kept Vespewl at bay. Again the Malveel’s eyes filled with the fire of Chaos. He unleashed it full force on the Keltaran.

Olith disappeared behind a wall of flame. It cascaded upon his shield and helm for an instant then abruptly ended, leaving the armor of the giant blackened and charred. The general did not fair well in his second encounter with Malveel flame. The skin beneath his metal armor blistered. His lungs burned and fought the acrid fumes. His breastplate’s leather bindings smoldered. His eyes clouded and smarted from the heat.

Instantly the monster lunged upon him, raging a series of blows atop the face of Olith’s great shield. The giant fought hard to absorb the punishment and keep his broadsword in a menacing position.

Brother Shor snatched a discarded pike from the thick grasses. Its shattered handle would suffice. The monk grunted and unsteadily rose to his feet. A sturdy hand hooked beneath his shoulder and supported him.

Vespewl’s physical assault stopped. His eyes once more filled with fire. Olith read the signs and ducked behind the protection of the shield. The Malveel roared in delight. His feint worked. The Scourge dropped down and a great leathery wing shot forward, low to the ground.

Olith Stormbreaker missed the maneuver. The bony edge of the wing passed beneath his shield and pounded against his ankles. The force sent the weakened general reeling. He staggered backward and fell, losing his grip on the shield. The steel sheet clanged to the ground a few yards from his position and Olith lay breathless, his broadsword clutched to his chest.

Vespewl bellowed in triumph and closed on the fallen giant.

“You dared me to follow you to these fields,” snarled the Malveel as he towered over the prone general. His eyes sparked crimson. “Your arrogance seals your fate.”

The Malveel suddenly roared in pain and rose on his hind legs. His huge head twisted awkwardly to the left, snapping and thrashing at the figure of a man so close to the beast he was nearly beneath it.

Shor gripped the broken handle of the pike with all his strength. The Malveel thrashed and roared, rising high on his back haunches. Shor rose as well, carried by the handle of the wicked barbed-pike locked deeply within an oozing wound in Vespewl’s side. The monk planted his feet against the Malveel’s flank and rammed the pike further into the monster’s ribs. A howl of agony rewarded him before the powerful downbeat of Vespewl’s wings smashed him to the ground.

Olith gulped air into his burning lungs. His damaged eyes fought to see the image of Brother Shor tossed away from the howling Malveel. The beast rose on high and desperately struggled to remove a weapon jutting from its side. Shor lay ten yards from Olith, motionless. The general stared up at the raging beast and clutched his brother’s blade close to his chest. He prayed to Avra to allow him one last blow in the name of his people.

Vespewl’s fury could not be contained. Fire dripped like tears from his eyes and ignited the grasslands about him. His pierced armor dripped with black blood. He allowed himself to be grievously wounded by a simple Keltaran monk. Where were his reinforcements? Where was Nagret?

He twisted his body enough to lock a giant claw on the weapon thrust into his side. He tore at the handle and erupted in flame. Its barbed tip stubbornly refused to come free. He tried desperately to control his anger for one moment in order to remove the weapon. He steadied his grip, took a deep breath then yanked.

The beast became vulnerable, standing tall on its hind legs. The unprotected skin at the back of its knee stretched tightly over tendon and joints. Utecht rushed in and brought the massive iron-headed war axe forward with all his strength. With a sickening chop it shredded the beasts hide and severed every sinew connecting Vespewl the Scourge to his lower leg.

Olith watched in awe as the giant creature’s eyes erupted in flames. The general’s ears filled with the desperate cry of the anguished Malveel. Olith lie stunned by the answer to his prayer. Vespewl lost his balance and slowly toppled forward toward the dying general.

“Thank you, Avra.” whispered Olith.

Olith Stormbreaker raised the blade of his forefathers, pointed its razor sharp tip at the falling beast and braced its pommel tightly to his chest.

Lord Vespewl the Scourge, third of the Chosen of Amird, slammed onto the blade forged deep in the Zorim Mountains. It shattered the stony scales on his chest and plunged into the innards of the beast. Fire poured from the Malveel, engulfing the grassy plain in flame for only a moment then going still. Vespewl’s crimson eyes faded to the cold blackness of death.

Flair shouted the command and his cavalry force split in two, each half rushing toward opposite ends of the Zodrian line. Brelg and his infantry spun and rushed back toward the walls of Delvi.

The Ulrog in close combat with Brelg’s men found themselves without a foe. They pushed forward in pursuit,  creating a bulge in the Zodrian line. The lack of resistance emboldened them. Without the measured command of their Malveel lords, the Ulrog reacted impetuously.

Brelg’s unit turned and faced down the stone men, halting the Ulrog in their tracks. Flair’s horse men wheeled their mounts, rushing back to the center of the Zodrian line and cutting the advancing Ulrog off from the main force of Hackles.

Manfir drew his sword, clenched his teeth and heeled the flanks of the Black. The  stallion leapt down the hill, followed by a hundred cavalry. They swept through the confused Hackles decimating a quarter their number in the first wave.

Woil raised his wings like a shield to protect himself from the arrows that rained down upon him. The war circle lay broken, but the Eru used their archers to buy time and reform their signature battle plan.

“Forward. Forward, you fools,” growled the Lamentation to his servants. “Drive them toward our forces to the west and we will grind them to dust.”

Woil’s plan was simple. The Eru committed themselves deeply into Woil’s forces. The Ulrog’s right flank camped just west of this position and if Nagret possessed any sense he pounded the Eru from the other side, moving east to unite forces. The servants of Amird held the horsemen in a vise. A vise slowly crushing the life out of the human army.

“Move,” roared the beast. “Do not let them reform.”

Woil intended to sacrifice many Hackles upon the altar of the War Circle, but it would be worth it. Destruction of the Eru force in this battle assured victory in the war itself. The Malveel sneered in delight. As long as Nagret obeyed orders and moved east, Woil the Lamentation would report a glorious victory to his superiors.

Nagret gathered more and more of Woil’s Mnim to his banner and pushed them hard to the west. He coveted Woil’s command and determined to gather every extra Hackle he could to his banner at the expense of the Lamentation. When he came in sight of the battle within Vespewl’s Zorim camp, he unleashed his Hackles into the fray.