The Silent Army (29 page)

They were not alone in the charge. The northern barracks of the infantry was ahead of them, each with a spear and a sword, some with bows as well.

The gates were closed behind them, the City Guard alerted and made ready.

By the time the king and his cavalry arrived at the northern front the infantry and archers had dug in.

The infantry had set their long shields in a vast barrier and set their pikes and spears in a thick, layered wall of sharp points. The shields did not hold themselves and the soldiers waited as patiently as they could as the massive column of the enemy came their way.

Kordis looked at the barrier of flesh, wood and steel and nodded his approval. The archers were ready. Three layers deep, the bowmen waited for the command to be given and behind them more spear men prepared for combat.

They did not wait long for the warriors of the Sa’ba Taalor. The beasts they rode were terrors. There had been reports, of course, but the stories never seemed capable of doing justice to the reality. There was no exception here.

King Kordis looked upon the warriors of the Blasted Lands with the clawed, hellish mounts, saw the odd light in the eyes of man and beast alike, and swallowed the gasp that wanted to escape him.

The first of the enemy rode forward, a behemoth of a man with heavy plate armor and a sword of impossible size braced on the saddle of the monster he rode. His face was hidden behind an iron mask with a scowling visage.

He rode two dozen yards ahead, while the army of men and monsters waited behind him, several holding banners that matched the face on the giant’s armored helmet.

“Would you parley?” the man called out as if the answer didn’t actually concern him.

“On what would you parley? You stand at the edge of my city and your people already attack from three other directions.”

“I am Tarag Paedori, Chosen of the Forge of Truska-Pren and King in Iron. I rule over all of the armies you see coming at you from every direction. If you would hope to survive what is coming for you, now is your one chance to negotiate.”

Deep within the eyes of that mask, the silvery glow showed King Kordis exactly where the eyes of his enemy were and that they looked directly at him.

“What would you ask to leave this city in peace?”

“Surrender your crown to me and I will spare the lives of every person in Goltha. No one will be killed who does not raise a weapon.” He paused for a moment and tilted his head. “There is another king already here, who would not offer you any similar kindness. He and his will kill all of your people unless I command him to stop.”

King Kordis considered that. He was puzzled that there was more than one king, but didn’t have the time to ponder the implications.

“What of the Empire?”

“We are already at war with the Empire. We are already at war with you. But if you lay down your swords and offer me your crown, we will let all of you live.”

“And if we do not agree to these terms?”

“Trecharch fell in days. You will not last any longer.”

Kordis’s eyes remained locked with that silver gaze as he gave his command. “Archers, at the ready!”

As one the archers obeyed, nocking arrows and preparing to draw.

Tarag Paedori looked his way, his face unreadable behind the iron mask.

“You would kill me without even a counteroffer?” The man sounded exactly the same. If he was afraid he hid it very well.

“You have asked what I cannot give to you. Your people have already attacked my home, my people. How can I bargain with you when you attack from all fronts?”

“How can you not when you know we will win and crush you?”

Kordis smiled and shook his head. “I know no such thing.”

The King in Iron climbed from his mount and held the massive sword, letting the blade’s tip lightly touch the ground. From the side of his beast he pulled a shield as tall as a young man and held that as well.

“I may not survive the arrows of your archers, King Kordis. I may not survive this combat in any event. But my people will follow my orders and will seek to kill you. All of you. Every child. Every soldier. Every wife. All of you will die if you do not surrender.”

“Your people cannot kill us if you are all dead, Tarag Paedori. Archers, ready!”

The archers obeyed, pulling the bows and holding steady.

Tarag Paedori called out in a language unknown and the result was immediate. The riders moved forward and spread out even as Tarag Paedori himself moved forward, raising his shield until it blocked most of his body.

Kordis screamed, “Fire!” and the archers loosed a volley of arrows across the distance. The riders were fast to draw shields and raise them into the air, forming a wide wall to the front and above the mounts and riders alike.

Arrows rained down, some sticking in shields and others sticking in flesh. Even as they did so, the King in Iron bellowed an order of his own and the whole force moved forward.

The wave of shields and bodies parted only in one spot, where the shield of the king remained, where his helmet still glared at Kordis and his people.

Most of the archers managed a second volley of arrows before the riders were too close. The animals and riders moved fast, and charged the massive shield wall that King Kordis had prepared against assault. Spears, pikes and shields waited. The first of the mounted riders came forward and moved ahead of the wall. The archers could not fire without risking hitting their own on the closer side; the mounted rider, a woman with a spear in her hand, nodded approval of the structure.

Rider and mount strutted before the entire expanse of barrier and throughout her spear was held at a resting position. When she was finished moving in front of the barrier she nodded to herself and then rider and mount leaped. That was all there was to it. The wall itself was nearly six feet in height. No horse could clear it without being impaled. The beasts of the Sa’ba Taalor were not horses, he’d known that, but he did not expect them to jump the wall as easily as a cat might leap onto a table. But that is what happened. The great monster rose over the wall and then crashed down, and the rider hurled her spear even as the beast turned toward the soldiers making up the wall.

King Kordis had a perfect view of their faces as the great monster lashed out and ripped two soldiers away from the barrier. The wall foundered there, falling as the men were pulled away.

The spear was hurled with terrifying force and drove into the first of the archers, throwing the man sideways with the force of the impact.

By the time the spear had finished its travels, a dozen more of the hellish riders were coming over the living hedge, their beasts roaring out in battle cries that sounded as unsettling as the riders themselves. One of the mounts did not quite clear the barrier and took a spear in the shoulder that ripped a great wound all the way down its length. It fell on the barrier and knocked more shields and soldiers aside. After that, chaos. The wall did not hold, although the soldiers did their best to push forward against the rising tide of the enemy while trying to defend themselves from the great claws of the monstrous mounts. Soldiers took strides forward and then were hauled back and torn open. In the face of that fury the ranks collapsed and despite no order being given, several archers took aim and only added to the chaos. Some might have hit their targets, but not all of them.

The great wall of Sa’ba Taalor that crashed against the remaining wall of spearmen took down their enemies, bloodied and bloodying with the same zeal.

Soldiers retreated. Sa’ba Taalor charged forward. The sheer savagery of the assault left Kordis stunned and speechless.

Enough!

Kordis shook off the unexpected sight and drew his sword. Around him others did the same. Lances were no longer an option; there was simply too much chance of crushing and impaling his own. But swords were a different matter. The horses charged down toward the Sa’ba Taalor and responded to the simple pressure of knees into sides. Horse and rider worked as one, and the king swept his sword across the side of one of the mounts as it came past him, roaring. The sword smashed into heavy armor and cut but not deeply. The impact ran up King Kordis’s arm and he grunted.

One of the gray-skins saw him and swept a long mace at him, but instead of striking the king, the weapon shattered his horse’s face. The horse, well trained or not, was unprepared and dropped, screaming its agony into the air.

The animal fell and so did he, rolling as best he could in full armor. The impact was brutal and surely the gods favored him as his horse did not roll over him during the crash to the cobblestones.

Hooves and legs moved around him as he tried to rise and one of the great mounts landed on horse and rider alike not five feet away, taking both to the ground. He saw the thick claws hook into the flesh of the horse and peel it back with terrifying ease, revealing meat and blood and bone. The teeth focused on the man and savaged his neck, nearly tearing the poor bastard’s head away.

King Kordis made his feet and gathered his sword, sweeping the blade toward the mount. The animal was faster than he’d have imagined and ripped the blade from his hand with one claw. The great, armored face roared. The rider above swept a chain over his head and brought it down on the man next to the king.

He changed targets, Kordis was certain of it. The man had planned to attack him and changed his mind.

No matter. The sword was gone but he was not without weapons. His axe came free and he swept it into the chest of the closest of the gray-skinned enemy. The man blocked his blow and shoved him backward into the side of a horse still standing despite the nightmarish mounts. Kordis stumbled and was hit again, by what he could not guess but pain crashed down his side and across his back and he stumbled but righted himself.

This was so much worse than he’d expected. The lines of combat were supposed to be formal. He’d trained for years with his sword, for years with his axe. He was a proficient archer and a skilled horseman! But in seconds it all fell apart. Where were the guards who were supposed to ride with him? One he’d seen killed but the rest could have been anywhere at all and he would have never known.

A gray savage strode forward and smashed into him, using a heavy shield to send him backward once, twice, a third time. Kordis grunted, staggered back and fell to the ground on his ass. Each blow of the shield had hurt, but none of them broke anything.

He came up as quickly as he could and took his axe to the shield bearer; the blade sank into wood and metal but before he could pull it back the man smashed into him again, using the shield to cast him aside. The axe remained where it was, the gray bastard grinned at him and kicked him in his chest plate, sending him sprawling.

They were everywhere. Soldiers from both sides attacked, hacking with blades, swinging axes, maces, sticks, whatever they could find to attack with after a few moments of heavy struggle. People fell. Some got up while others were stomped into the ground by hooves, boots or clawed feet.

It was overwhelming! King Kordis could scarcely breathe. Hot blood from someone or something spilled across his face and into his left eye. His weapons were gone but he swung with his fist and hit someone. He wasn’t even sure who, exactly, only that they’d felt the blow.

A body smashed into him from the left and another from the right and yet another was pushed into his chest as someone brought a curved blade down and cleaved the poor bastard’s head open.

Kordis lunged forward, hoping to at least manage to find a shield or a blade to use. He was dealt a blow to the side of his head that dropped him again to the ground and left his ear feeling like a hot iron was pressing into it.

The hands that grabbed him were not friendly. He was lifted and spun and thrown through the air and then left to crash into the ground once more.

When he rolled over to stand, the boot that caught him in the side felt like a mule kick to the ribs.

He could not rise. Someone was standing on his back and pressing his face into the dirt at the same time. He tried to move, but was pinned properly. Looking up as best he could he saw the gigantic form of the King in Iron over him, watched the man hack a soldier with the massive sword he wielded and felt the blood of the man wash over him.

Tarag Paedori reached down and caught him by his arm, hauling him to his feet and dragging him along through the crowd of combatants. He did not have a chance to collect himself or even take his feet properly.

“You should have surrendered, Kordis! Your life would be easier, yes?”

Tarag Paedori held him off the ground by his arm and roared, “Here is your king! Here is Kordis!” then threw him to the dirt again.

He had enough time to look up before that great sword of the King in Iron came down and cut his neck open. Kordis’s life ended a few seconds later.

Tarag Paedori looked down at the king of his enemies and nodded. It was good. It was proper. They had met in the field of battle and he had won.

Now he would claim his prize. The dead man’s head was mostly severed. One cut and it came free.

“Take their heads! As many as you can. We will bear them to the palace and let them know what they will face!”

A javelin was all that was required; he drove the tip of one into the bloodied stump of a neck and then raised the head up high for all to see.

“Take them! Take them all, and if your enemy is still alive, take them just the same!”

He rode forward, prize held high, “For Truska-Pren! Take them all in his name!”

His followers listened, and they obeyed.

The best of armies can be weakened by the loss of a leader. In this case the armies of Goltha did not flee, but they writhed and howled and were taken by the tide of the Sa’ba Taalor.

An army is hard to miss. A single individual is often harder to see. Theran did not stride angrily up the hill, either; he approached with extreme caution, knowing that an army waited above and that they were currently raining destruction down on the buildings behind and around him.

King Kordis amused him. The man was standoffish at the best of times and while he was a competent enough ruler, he was not a very good person. He was self-centered, a whoremonger – it did not matter how much a whore cost, he or she was still a whore and Kordis gleefully indulged in both sexes – and believed that the sorcerers should do his bidding. Some fool had told him that wizards could make the sky rain diamonds and since hearing that he’d tried several times to convince Theran to give him a ransom in the gems. The argument over that particular debacle lasted over a year, and only really came to an end a short time ago, when Desh Krohan leveled several miles of forest. After that the king looked at Theran with a great deal more apprehension and possibly even respect.