Soul of Sorcery (Book 5) (16 page)

Molly felt a twinge of fear for him. She doubted any one of the Tervingi could stand against his fury. Yet he had spared her life after their duel in Arylkrad, and had their positions been reversed, she would not have been so merciful, not then. 

Her hands clenched into fists.

Gods and devils, but she wanted to kill something.

###

Mazael lowered his lance, Hauberk’s hooves ripping at the earth. On his right Sir Hagen roared commands to the armsmen and the knights, while on his left Sir Aulus galloped with the Cravenlock banner. The horse archers streamed past the knights, some of them turning in their saddles to loose shafts at the pursuing Tervingi. He saw Romaria flash past, releasing arrow after arrow with cool precision. 

Good. She was safe.

The charging Tervingi raced toward them, bellowing their battle-hymn, and Mazael gave himself to the rage.

The horsemen crashed into the Tervingi.

A Tervingi swordsman ran at Mazael, brandishing a broadsword. Mazael aimed his lance, all his strength and the speed of Hauberk behind the blow, and the steel head tore through the swordsman's neck. The Tervingi fell without a sound and vanished beneath the horses’ pounding hooves. Mazael’s lance ripped through another Tervingi, and the force of the blow knocked the weapon from his hand.

He yanked Lion from its scabbard and took the head from a passing Tervingi with a single smooth blow. 

The Demonsouled rage pulsed through Mazael’s veins like living fire, and he struck left and right, blood dripping from Lion’s blade. Tervingi after Tervingi came at him, and Mazael cut them down like wheat, the power of his arm driving his sword through their shields and armor. All around him the knights and armsmen drove the Tervingi swordsmen back, spearing them, slashing them, trampling them beneath iron-shod hooves. 

Footmen could not stand against the charge of armored knights, not on an open field.

Mazael split the skull of another Tervingi and wrenched Lion’s blade free, laughing. This was what he had been born to do! To fight, to conquer, to slay. Let the Tervingi come! He would cut through them, kill every last one of them, drench the earth with their blood.

Then the Tervingi swordsmen fled around the village, unable to withstand the onslaught of the knights any longer.

Despite the battle rage pounding through his veins, Mazael forced himself to rein up. Sir Aulus lifted his war horn to his lips and called for a halt.

It seemed the Tervingi had decided to spring their trap.

Dust clouds rose from the far side of the village. 

###

Molly watched the melee. For a moment she thought the Tervingi spearmen would break ranks and rush to aid the beleaguered swordsmen, but the knights moved too fast. The Tervingi swordsmen fled, but their movements were orderly.

As if they had planned to run all along. 

Mazael had been right.

“Wizard,” said Lord Richard. “Do you have the location?”

“I believe so, my lord,” said Timothy. Mazael’s court wizard was hardly the oldest or the most powerful among the court wizards of the Grim Marches, but he unquestionably had the most experience in battle, so the other wizards followed him like sheep after a sheepdog. “We think the Tervingi wizard is atop the tower.” 

“You are ready to strike?” said Richard, calm as ever.

“Yes, my lord,” said Timothy.

“Good,” said Richard, turning his horse, the crimson scales of his armor gleaming. “If the Tervingi wizard chooses to interfere in the battle, it will be in the next few minutes. Strike when he begins to wield his powers.”

“As you command, lord,” said Timothy.

“And the moment has come,” said Richard. “The signal, please.”

The standardbearer nodded and gestured to the trumpeters, who blew another sequence of blasts. 

The horsemen wheeled, knights and mounted archers both.

The mammoths came into sight, charging from the northern and southern sides of the village.

###

“The signal!” shouted Mazael. “Aulus!”

Aulus blew his war horn, and the knights and armsmen turned their mounts. Mazael felt the ground tremble as the mammoths charged, the mighty beasts trumpeting in fury. Tervingi archers waited atop the mammoths, perched on their wooden platforms. 

The knights and armsmen rode towards Lord Richard’s waiting footmen. As they did, Mazael saw the horse archers galloping towards the mammoths, bows ready. Romaria rode at their head, steady and calm in her saddle. 

He hoped her plan worked.

###

“This is madness,” murmured Aegidia. “What are they doing?” 

Riothamus watched as the heavy cavalry wheeled and galloped towards the footmen. The horse archers and the light raiders rode past the retreating knights, bows ready in their hands. The maneuver should have resulted in chaos, but the horsemen handed it with ease and skill. 

That was not good. 

“Perhaps they hope to distract the mammoths,” said Riothamus. “Or pepper them with arrows and drive them away.”

“They haven’t the numbers,” said Aegidia. The horse archers galloped towards the charging mammoths. “They might enrage one or two, but…”

Aegidia blinked, and gripped her staff tighter. 

“No,” she said, and Riothamus heard the alarm in her voice. “Riothamus, quickly! A spell to quiet the minds of beasts. Summon all your strength, and focus the spell upon the…”

Power snarled in the air around Riothamus, and the hair on his arms and the back of his neck stood up.

“Guardian!” he said. “The enemy’s wizards!”

“They strike!” said Aegidia. “Wards, quickly!”

Riothamus began muttering the spell, gray light flickering around his fingers. Aegidia did the same, light flaring around her staff. Gray mist swirled around their feet, cold and damp.

He thrust out his hands and Aegidia lifted her staff just as a ball of flame fell screaming out of the sky.

The gray mist formed into a sphere, shielding the top of the tower, and the inferno hammered against them. The tower rocked with the force of the blow, and a firestorm raged around them, eating into the sphere of mist. Riothamus gritted his teeth, pouring more power into the wards, and he heard Aegidia shouting another spell.

The flames flickered and went out, and the sphere of gray mist faded away. 

Riothamus wiped sweat from his brow. “Those wizards can hit hard.”

“Inelegant,” said Aegidia. “But strong. The mammoths, boy. Focus…”

More power spiked in the air. 

“Guardian!” said Riothamus. 

“Another attack!” said Aegidia. “Warding spells!”

Riothamus cast the spell, joining his power to Aegidia’s might.

Another sphere of gray mist billowed to life around the tower an instant before the blast of flame struck home.

Riothamus doubted the enemy’s wizards could keep up that pace of assault for very long. 

But it would be long enough. 

The mammoths and their drivers were on their own. 

###

“The prepared arrows!” shouted Romaria. “Now!”

Her trumpeter blasted out the command, gripping the reins in one hand and his trumpet in the other, and the horsemen obeyed.

Romaria reached to the tight-wrapped quiver dangling from her saddle, and drew out one of the prepared arrows. It was little different than the arrows she had already fired. But unlike the others, it had a thin strip of wet cloth wrapped around the shaft.

The stench of it filled Romaria’s nostrils, made her want to reach for the earth magic and become the wolf.

Which wasn’t surprising, since the cloth had been soaked in wolfhound urine. 

Most of the nobles and knights enjoyed hunting the lions and the deer that wandered the Grim Marches, and most kept kennels of wolfhounds. It was just as well that the lords preferred to travel with their hounds, giving them an ample supply of urine. 

And she already knew that the mammoths hated and feared wolves.

Hopefully, their instincts extended to wolfhounds.

The mammoths lumbered toward her riders, a solid wall of muscle and brown fur. Arrows hissed from the wooden platforms on the back of the beasts. An arrow blurred past Romaria’s horse, and one of her riders screamed and tumbled from the saddle. 

“Release!” shouted Romaria. 

She sent an arrow hurtling at the nearest mammoth. 

The arrow slammed into the beast’s trunk. The mammoth bellowed in fury, its trunk coiling. 

And the stench of the urine-soaked arrow filled its nostrils.

The mammoth trumpeted in sudden fear, head whipping back and forth as it tried to find the nonexistent wolfhound. Others did the same, whether from the urine-soaked arrows or instinct. Mammoths were herd animals, and panic could spread through herd animals like a fire in a dry forest. 

But the rest of them kept coming.

“Fall back!” shouted Romaria, loosing another arrow.

The horse archers wheeled and began to ride back to Lord Richard’s lines. One of the mammoths surged forward, crashing into the riders, and a dozen men and horses fell screaming. But the other mammoths began to panic, and a few broke away to flee across the plains. 

One even crashed into the fleeing Tervingi swordsmen, trampling them in its haste to escape.

###

“It’s working,” said Mazael. “Aulus!”

Aulus lifted his war horn and sounded the charge.

The knights and armsmen wheeled, spinning around to face the fleeing Tervingi. The mammoths milled north of the village in a panic, some fleeing into the ruined village or thundering away across the plains. To the south, he saw the mammoths lumbering away from Sir Tanam’s riders. The swordsmen stirred in a disorganized mass behind the panicked mammoths. One solid charge, and the swordsmen would break or die where they stood. 

And then the Tervingi spearmen would be trapped between their defensive ditches and the heavy cavalry. No doubt they would surrender once they realized the futility of further resistance.

Or perhaps they would prefer to fight to the last man. 

Mazael found himself hoping for that.

He put spurs to Hauberk’s sides, and the big horse surged forward. 

###

More flames exploded around the tower, lashing at the walls of gray mist. Riothamus poured more of his strength into the wards, sweat dripping down his face. Aegidia swung her staff in a circle, shouting spells of power. The sphere of gray mist shuddered and buckled beneath the raging firestorm, but did not collapse.

Then the flames winked out, and the sphere of gray mist faded away.

Riothamus sagged against the stone railing, bracing himself for another blast.

But no more attacks came. Perhaps the knights’ wizards had exhausted themselves.

“The mammoths,” said Riothamus, forcing himself to stand upright. “We must calm the mammoths…”

“Too late,” said Aegidia, voice quiet. 

Riothamus looked over the railing.

The mammoths fled in all directions, some trampling both the enemy and the Tervingi alike in their haste to escape. Somehow, the horse archers had driven the mammoths into a frenzy. Riothamus watched as wings of knights maneuvered north and south of the ruined village, preparing to charge the disorganized swordthains. 

“Then we are defeated,” said Riothamus, the words bitter in his mouth. The swordthains might inflict heavy losses on the knights, but they could not stand against a charge of heavy horsemen. The spearthains would be trapped between the horsemen and their own trenches. And if they tried to escape over the trenches, the enemy’s archers would have abundant time to shoot them down.

“No,” said Aegidia, her voice stern.

She lifted her staff, and the sigils flared with white light.

The tower trembled, and Riothamus felt the enormous surge of power as Aegidia worked her spell. He felt the magic flow from her and plunge into the earth. The ground trembled, and Riothamus grabbed at the stone railing. For a terrible instant he wondered if Aegidia had forsaken her vows, if she intended to command the earth to swallow the enemy army…

The ground between the armies rippled like the waters of a windswept lake. 

Then the trenches before the spearthains vanished, the earth welling up to fill them like mortar between bricks. 

Aegidia groaned and slumped against her staff, trembling from exhaustion.

A stunned silence fell over the battlefield.

And in that silence, Riothamus heard Ragnachar bellow a command.

The Tervingi spearthains surged forward with a yell, Ragnachar and his orcragars in the lead. 

###

Molly blinked. 

One moment the horsemen had been smashing through the Tervingi swordsmen, the mammoths stampeding in all directions. Then Timothy and the other wizards began shouting, and the earth trembled, and Molly wondered if the Tervingi wizard had conjured up an earthquake.

Right after that the ground rose to fill the maze of trenches before the spearmen, and the barbarians charged forward, screaming one of their strange battle-hymns. A fist of warriors in ragged black cloaks led the charge, a huge man in black plate at their head, a greatsword in his hands. A ripple of panic went through the halberdiers’ ranks, and even some of the lords looked alarmed.

Lord Richard’s expression did not change.

“Archers,” he said to his standardbearer. “Release at will.”

The trumpets rang out.

A storm of arrows and crossbow bolts shot overhead, falling like a steel rain into the Tervingi. Hundreds of barbarians fell, but their charge continued unabated.

“Footmen,” said Lord Richard, drawing his greatsword. “Stand ready to receive the charge!”

The trumpets rang out. 

The halberdiers braced themselves, the gleaming blades of their polearms extended.

Molly drew her sword and dagger, blades rasping against the leather of her scabbards. Thousands of screaming barbarians ran at them, spears drawn back to stab. Molly had trained as an assassin since a child, had killed more people than she could remember, had fought Malrags and undead and even a dragon.