The Mirror And The Maelstrom (Book 4) (28 page)
Read The Mirror And The Maelstrom (Book 4) Online
Authors: Daniel McHugh
Sulgor halted upon the hilltop and a sly smile crept over his toothy maw. Izgra, the fool of a warlock, pushed Sulgor once too often. If this battle concluded without the emergence of Amird, then Izgra Admir would pay the price for his transgressions. If the Deceiver never returned from the burning mists of Chaos, then Sulgor the Magnificent would stand in his stead as ruler of this world.
Sulgor’s grin grew with every passing moment. Either way, his power grew beyond any he ever held. The battle to the south grew louder and Sulgor studied the vast numbers of Ulrog marching toward the extermination of Zodra. The grin quickly fell from his face. Desire breeds stupidity. First, he must attend to the business at hand. The Malveel lord rushed down the hill toward his army.
Manfir slammed a fist into his open palm.
“The cavalry must offer more support to our front line,” demanded the Zodrian king.
“They are trying, my lord,” stated General Wynard. “But each time they retreat and reform, the Ulrog push forward and Brelg’s pike men lose ground.”
“The formation breaks apart,” continued Manfir. “I dare not risk another Ulrog push before I let them regroup.”
The Zodrian king turned to the south and waved a hand. A banner carrier lifted a red pinion on high, slowly spinning it in a circle.
“Archers! Ready yourselves!” shouted Nyven to his men. “On my command, I want three quick flurries. Let’s pin down those beasts and give our men a chance to retreat.”
Brelg stood a pace from the front line. His pike men thrust and parried their weapons in an attempt to keep the Ulrog at bay. Sweat poured down the old sergeant’s brow. Black blood dripped from his pike and covered his armor. He glanced south and saw the red pennant streaming above the command position.
“Guardsman!” shouted Brelg. “Up! Then out!”
The line of pike men rushed at the surging enemy. The ferocity of the attack stunned the Ulrog. Iron barbed pike heads slammed into stony hides, piercing many Hackles and dropping them before the feet of their brothers.
Just as rapidly, the Zodrian guard ripped their weapons away and fled to the south.
“Arrows away!” shouted Nyven.
The enraged stone men fought to pass their fallen comrades and charge after the retreating Guardsmen. However, before they made two strides, a hail of bolts rained from the sky, tearing into the exposed Ulrog and dropping more Hackles to the ground.
Hai sat atop his stallion, his cutlass raised high.
“We must give Sergeant Brelg time to clear the battle zone,” shouted Hai. “Steady.”
A few moments more and the cutlass slashed downward. The Eru horsemen heeled their mounts and rode hard toward the gap created by Brelg’s retreat.
UTECHT NERVOUSLY MONITORED the activity about him. He stood front and center in the Keltaran line. The brunt of the Scythtar forces hammered and slashed at his position.
His line would break soon. The men he chose were not the strongest of Keltar, but he was proud how long they stood against this superior foe.
“Keep at it boys!” exhorted Utecht. “Fight in the name of Avra!”
Utecht’s eyes swept to the west. The Keltaran line in that direction appeared worse off than his. They slowly lost numbers and ground to the Ulrog. In the east, the giants held steady and the Ulrog met a line that refused to budge.
Granu turned to an attendant at his side.
“Now,” rumbled the Keltaran king.
The attendant lifted a great ram’s horn to his lips and blew a deep, resonant note across the battlefield.
The lines to both the east and the west turned and fled from their positions. The heavy Ulrog facing them stood in frozen disbelief as the long legged giants rushed south.
“Forward!” shouted Utecht. “Push ‘em back! For Olith!”
His troops broke into a frenzied fight, gaining a few yards on the packed Ulrog line.
Nagret sat atop his command post watching his glorious victory take shape. Canx’s narrow eyes lay just beyond the shoulder of the Shadow studying the battle as well.
The blare of a horn captured Nagret’s attention and rapid movement on the edges of the line drew his eye. The maneuver was unmistakable. The Keltaran broke into retreat.
“Our glory grows,” Nagret grinned. “We send the mighty Anvil into retreat.”
Canx remained still save for the hint of a smirk that crept across his own face. Perhaps this forced alliance rewarded him after all.
Nagret’s eyes narrowed. Something was amiss. The centerline of the Keltaran army ignored the retreat signal. Their comrades raced from the battle to the south, but a force of lightly armored axe men pushed forward into the bulk of Nagret’s army. The Shadow’s excitement grew nearly uncontainable. He spun on his underling.
“That fool Keltaran commander misunderstands the signal,” laughed Nagret. “He leads a quarter of the Anvil into annihilation while the rest flee.”
Canx looked from Nagret to the battle below. The middle portion of the Keltaran force pushed forward. The Silent One was no fool. He too could see the huge tactical error committed by the Anvil. Hundreds of giants would be cut off from escape if only the Scythtar army could take advantage of the blunder. Canx looked back to Nagret, his expectations evident.
“Go!” commanded Nagret. “The Keltaran hand us the glory we desire in the eyes of our Lord Amird. Take command of our center packs below and destroy the Keltaran vanguard!”
The Silent One quickly bowed and launched himself from the command post toward the center of the battle. Perhaps Nagret was correct. Perhaps Canx played the fool as he followed Sulgor the Magnificent. He raced forward, his claws raking chunks of earth from the ground. Perhaps the Silent could find his own glory this day without the blessings of Sulgor.
Nagret spun to the nearest tracker.
“The battle Hackles are too slow,” complained Nagret. “We need speed to pursue the giants if they flee. Send as many trackers as possible to support Lord Canx.”
Utecht glanced westward. The Keltaran retreat separated itself from the sluggishly pursuing Hackles by twenty yards. A check to the east revealed the same situation. The bulk of the Anvil separated itself from combat. The Keltaran sergeant looked north and spied a Malveel rushing toward his lines followed by dozens of smallish Hackles.
“You said you could run, my boys!” bellowed Utecht. “Now run like you never have before! Retreat! Retreat!”
The Keltaran line made a last push against the stone men, then turned and fled to the south to join their comrades.
Canx made rapid progress toward the fleeing Keltaran. Unfortunately, they discovered the imminent arrival of a Malveel or realized the mistake they committed. The remainder of the Keltaran line broke and fled to the south.
Canx reached the back lines of the Ulrog force and encountered difficulty. The Ulrog crowded and milled about blocking his path to glory. The Malveel lord tore at the Hackles before him, tearing at flesh and stone as he created havoc with his passing. Trackers and priests rushed to keep up with the silent Malveel. They roared commands for the battle Hackles to stand aside.
Nagret searched the southern horizon and spied his adversary. In the distance atop a low hill, Granu Stormbreaker sat on a strangely colored Brodor. Nagret pondered the monk. What dread thoughts must be running through the troubled king’s mind as he prepared to watch nearly a quarter of his fighting force destroyed?
Canx, a host of trackers and the swifter of the battle Hackles broke through the line of stone men blocking their way. Some of the main force remained confused and rooted to their positions as others lumbered forward attempting to join the chase. The army of the Scythtar slowly came to life and poured south in pursuit of the straggling Keltaran force.
Nagret snorted in amusement. The Abbott of Awoi dared to match wits and forces with Nagret The Shadow. Canx and his Ulrog would soon annihilate those Keltaran tardy in removing themselves from the fight. Even now Canx closed the gap on the terror stricken giants.
Nagret narrowed his eyes and glared at the figure on the opposite hill. The priest of peace would discover the horror of Chaos. Nagret’s burning orbs swept back to the pursuit. Canx made exceptional progress, the powerful form of the Malveel lord coursed across the plain. However, his support numbers diminished as fewer and fewer of the larger fighting Hackles kept pace.
Nagret shook his head and dismissed the issue. Canx remained surrounded by several hundred speedy trackers and smaller stone men. When the battle was met, these forces would quickly consolidate around the silent Malveel and overwhelm the lesser Keltaran force.
The Shadow glanced back to Granu’s position. The Keltaran king huddled in troubled conference with a dozen black-robed monks. Monks? Nagret’s eyes shot back to Canx. The Silent One nearly overtook the retreating force of giants. Oddly, the Keltaran soldiers ran as one, a solid unit of runners trailing three-dozen riders, not the disorder of a troop in panicked flight. The magnitude of his mistake struck Nagret
“The monks,” hissed Nagret to himself. “Where are the monks?”
The lessons taught by Woil poured into his consciousness at the same moment he witnessed the southern hilltop swarm over with black figures.
Shor’s fist remained high in the air as two hundred monks of the Abbey of Awoi rose from prone positions behind the hill. The host of black robes rushed toward the battle armed with pike and battleaxe.
The hilltop in the distance drew Canx’s eye. Hundreds of black-robed giants poured over the swale and rushed toward him. He nearly snared the retreating Keltaran force and his confidence remained high, but like all of his brethren, the Silent One required assurances of his own safety.
He glanced about and confidence crumbled to chagrin as he realized his main force dwindled from a mixture of five hundred fighters and trackers to just over one hundred stone men, most of whom were swift trackers. Spinning back toward his foe, his confidence encountered another serious blow. The fleeing Keltaran army wheeled about and rushed at his position.
Utecht swung the big Brodor in a wide turn. He circumvented both the Keltaran infantry and the bulk of the pursuing Ulrog force. He and his armored cavalry smashed through the thin line of trackers trailing Canx. The Keltaran cavalry severed the support of the Malveel and his small force of trackers. The hunter became the hunted.
The remaining two thirds of the Keltaran Anvil halted their retreat. Their Ulrog opponents had given halfhearted pursuit. The bulk of fighting Hackles stood content to watch Lord Canx and their brethren destroy the isolated Keltaran stragglers. Now, the Hackles gaped in confusion as the Anvil forces to both east and west collapsed toward Canx and his few hundred trackers.
It all crystallized in perfectly clarity to Nagret. He would lose the bulk of his trackers due to this gaffe if he did not react. However, if he threw more of his force at the problem in an attempt to salvage Canx, he played directly into the Keltaran plan.
The Shadow allowed a grim smile to creep across his features. He stood on the opposite end of a tactic he had employed so well. The next move in this game, the one the Keltaran generals expected, would be a mad attempt by Nagret to rescue his stranded force. Invariably more Hackles would be lost in this vain attempt and his army would become compromised.
The Shadow spat. These humans were so predictable. If they found themselves in his situation, they would throw away their lives in a foolish effort to rescue their brethren. What an idiotic gesture of their weaknesses for one another. Always they weighed the lives of those left behind as greater in value than the common sense of battle tactics and victory. Not so with Nagret the Shadow. He held no such regard for the lives of his servants or his brethren. He was not Woil. Trackers meant nothing to him. As for the Silent One, fewer competitors for the favor of Amird simply enhanced Nagret’s position. He turned to a priest positioned behind him.
“Sound the retreat,” growled the Shadow. “We will let the humans gain their small victory so we may win the war.”
The bulk of the Ulrog army turned their backs to the carnage to the south as Nagret’s horn sounded loud and clear, calling them to their original positions, calling them to abandon those trapped behind Keltaran lines.
Fire filled the eyes of Canx the Silent as the horn blast echoed over the Eru plains. Keltaran poured toward him, the giant warriors slashed at him with axe and pike. He returned blow for blow and fire poured from his eyes, but with each passing moment the hopelessness of his situation grew. The Silent One ripped a bloody spear from his chest. Black blood spilled across razor fangs as he croaked the first word he had spoken outside of Lord Sulgor’s presence in his nearly two millennia of existence.
“Fool.”
ZARD THE SHUNNED finished his report and nervously eyed the figures surrounding him.
“So they fear me,” laughed Drengel to the Shunned. “Excellent. The balance of power shifts and I, Drengel the Conjuror, stand tallest among the Malveel.”
Zard knit his brow in confusion.
“They intend to rush the war forward,” snarled Zard. “They intend to be victorious before you are even a factor. They plan to steal all glory!”
“Let them,” laughed Drengel. “They make my job that much easier. Whatever the outcome of their battle, it simply leaves less for my Memnod to clean up.”
Zard remained confused. He edged from the churning black figures as they moved even closer. Drengel sighed.
“I either scour the human races from this earth or the Ulrog Horde. Either way, it is I who will await Lord Amird and present him with this world as a gift.”
