The High King: A Tale of Alus (54 page)

Merrick looked ready to murder. Near
midmorning, he was having a meeting with his generals including Kar’esh. The gargoyle’s presence helped remind the generals that it was Merrick who controlled this creature. He was the one that pulled the string that would launch nearing five hundred of their grey arrows.

He was near to fuming by the moves of his enemies. Every time his armies sought to close with the men of Maris and Sileoth, they would get a taste of blood and disappear. Every time he thought the army cornered, they would sneak away. Worse, the enemy often would strike with quick fierce feints of their own. Many a soldier had been felled by a sneak attack. Too few of his enemy fell with regularity it seemed and always they kept moving.

Despite his desire to crush Oapril. This enemy remained a threat. If he attacked the capitol city, they could actually cut him off by destroying his supply lines. If they were confident enough in Oapril’s defenses, they might even dare the long march to return the favor and run for a siege of Hala.

Then to add to his frustration and fury, a gargoyle barged into his command tent and handed a medallion to Kar’esh and message. As if the intrusion weren’t enough, the beasts actually had the nerve to walk out on him.

Turning his back to Merrick and the generals, Kar’esh led the intruder from the tent without a word. “Where do you think you’re going?” Merrick fairly snarled. He wouldn’t suffer a hound, who knew no better, such an affront, surely this gargoyle knew the High King would find a way to make him pay for such a thing. He may have to be more subtle to not ruin their agreement, but, as Merrick watched the tent flap close behind them, he gritted his teeth and knew that this was the last straw that he could allow to fall between them.

Midday and the sun stood out strongly in a blue sky empty of all clouds. The morning fog had burned away from the valleys under its brilliant strength. The heat rose as summer refused to give its last gasp in the north.

For Gerid and his small band of banner men, the watching of the sun brought added agitation as they awaited an enemy that was unknown to them. Gargoyles had been in the north for a few years and had been what had driven Gerid away from his home, but he had never seen one. Hala was empty of their number as they fought with Merrick or joined those hidden in the Dragon’s Scar Mountains. His house had been destroyed along with many lives, but they had been long gone by the time they had arrived. The brief talk with the messenger and it’s four comrades were the first time he had seen a Mar’goyn’lya in the flesh, if only for a moment.

Even as he stewed over the worry over this new enemy, Gerid tried to envision what they could do from what Baitrum had briefed him about. Larger than a man with skin like thick, seasoned leather. Strength greater than any man and perhaps most oxen. Agility and the ability to fly that seemed impossible for their size. The giant would be looking up to these monsters if they stood on the ground and more so should they take flight.

As he went over the scenarios in his head, Finneas gasped from where he held a spyglass watching the direction they had seen the messenger go towards. “He’s bringing a few with him, my lord.”

“The equivalent of squires or arms men, just like the six of you,” Gerid replied with little worry. “Looks like he’s up for “discussing” things with me.”

“Probably figures no man can stand before him alone,” was the reply from Finneas.
“Perhaps.”
The gargoyles circled high overhead checking for traps. In the distance on the crest of the three closest hills to the south and east, men from his army watched and waited with spyglasses from afar. Should he lose, they would no longer be needed, but Gerid knew he couldn’t lose. He mustn’t.
A dozen gargoyles swooped in facing the seven men across nearly thirty feet of stone. The crest was nearly flat and all but bare of grass let alone trees. More than a hundred feet across its length and half that across, the hill would serve perfectly for the passe’rote.
The leader of the Mar’goyn’lya held out the golden amulet towards the men. “Where did you get this?” Kar’esh demanded in a voice like rumbling granite.
“Does it truly matter?” was the reply, but even this alien face could be read to know that it did. “Fa’makel’zer gifted it to my sister and a friend when they arrived. Your people have snuck into this world and headed north to the mountains with the Che’ther. He told them that you had a problem. Your honor has crippled you in that Merrick has a hold on you and your soldiers from an agreement that you can only wish to get out of.”
The creature stiffened and, if Gerid knew body positions, Kar’esh betrayed the truth of his words.
“I made an agreement with this High King Merrick. My people will honor the letter of it, even if means our deaths. Those who came on their own never swore to join him and are free. We are not.”
“If we were told true, the only things that can end this agreement are three. Finish what you agreed, die trying, or the passe’rote. I bring you your salvation, but should you refuse I can fulfill the second choice as well.”
A strange grating noise could be heard coming from the gargoyles. As a whole, they were laughing.
“I doubt you could fulfill either just by boasting,” Kar’esh replied with that gravel voice. He had not laughed though Gerid thought it amused him as well. “You know the name, passe’rote, but do you know the meaning?”
“Like a rite of passage in my language, but it means more than that. Two leaders can come together as we do now to save our followers lives. I do not doubt that many would die in my army should you choose to disregard the passe’rote option, but if we are both agreed, this can be settled here and now between us and these witnesses.”
The gargoyle looked thoughtful. “A passe’rote usually has a clear set path to a decision. What shall we play for?”
Gerid nearly shook his head at the word play. The passe’rote was very serious in mar’goyn’lya culture from what he understood. To merely call it play, meant that Kar’esh believed him incapable of standing up to the gargoyle’s might. He was the leader. The alpha male of his kind. Taking measure of the ones behind him, Kar’esh appeared to be the largest of his kind as well. “The decisions are these. I lose and my armies go home. Merrick can finish his conquest and eventually some of your army will be free to find the rest of your people. The second decision, if I defeat you, your Mar’goyn’lya and the che’ther who are bound by your agreement leave Merrick to go find your people and stay away from these lands unless invited by me or someone I designate.
“Do you accept?”
The gargoyle stared at Gerid intently. “You know that I cannot do less than my best in this. To cheat and lose is the same as dishonoring myself in front of my people.”
Nodding in agreement, Gerid added, “I know. We will fight until one of us can no longer go on. If death is the reason so be it, but it can be unconscious or wounded as well.”
“Agreed.”
“This hill top is our ground. I won’t restrict you from flying but this is where the fight must end.”
“Agreed,” the gargoyle showed some surprise for the lenient rules. His stare showed curiosity. The human had great belief in his strength to allow so much. Kar’esh had yet to see any man that could touch his weakest warriors in strength. He had heard of the one man that had found a kink in their armor and turned the tables in the strike on the golem mages, but this man did not appear to be that kind of fighter. “Weapons?”
“Melee,” he replied gesturing to his axe and then those unveiled by the arms men behind him. Swords, axes, even steel clubs lay atop a red blanket letting their shine stand out even more. “Beyond that it matters little.”
The gargoyle nodded agreement and pulled a large sword from his belt. A shield was passed from one of men. “Then let us decide this if there is no more to be said.”
Pulling a reinforced shield created in Hala for him just for this battle as well as his familiar battle axe, Gerid prepared for the onslaught that was about to come.
“Let us meet as brothers,” Kar’esh intoned the ritual greeting in the man’s language.
“As brothers then,” the giant nodded and began to stalk forward.
Giving up more than two feet in height and reach, Gerid approached the battle cautiously. More
surprisingly, Kar’esh did not rush forward expecting a swift defeat. The man had shown an assuredness in his prowess to ask for a battle one on one with the leader of his kind. A soldier from nearly birth, his strength, skill and wisdom had earned his position as general to his people. Their world had ravaged their numbers but those who remained were rugged and made of the toughest granite. This human had to be more than even his extra size implied.
The sword slashed challenging Gerid’s shield. Angling it slightly, he spared the wood and iron a direct blow and yet it still quivered and sent a shock into his arm. The beast hit hard. The giant had never felt a blow of it’s like before. He had known everyone to respect this Kar’esh and now he knew why.
The axe hammered the huge shield on the gargoyle sending chips of wood and iron fleeing and threatening a break with one blow. Kar’esh’s eyes widened slightly. It was a blow that would be respected among his kind. This giant was no joke.
Opening forays over, the dance began in earnest.
Despite their size, both giants moved with a fluidity and grace that many a smaller man would be glad to achieve, but within that grace thunderous attacks crashed into the juggernauts unceasingly. Blow for blow, feint for feint, a blow aimed for the head was countered for a slash at the legs. Kar’esh had the height on his side, but that only meant Gerid could take his legs. One such attack caused the gargoyle to leap for the air. Great wings reacted without conscious thought to lift him higher and back from the axe. Gerid countered by throwing the weapon centered on his chest. A calculated risk that he would lose his weapon, Gerid caught a thrown great sword from his men.
Glancing off the huge shield of the gargoyle, Kar’esh landed only to rush forward. Sword on sword, the two clashed over and over. Chips flew as blades collided with the inhuman blows of the two combatants.
Kar’esh’s shield showed more wear. The axe had bit into its hide multiple times and one corner had even been shorn from its bulk. Finally the defense gave under a blow from the great sword. Leaping back to toss it aside, the gargoyle drew a large mace instead of replacing it. The heavy weapon threatened Gerid’s heavily reinforced shield and blade both. Tossing his shield back to Finneas, Bakur grunted as he tossed a hammer of nearly the size of Kar’esh’s mace. The giant caught it easily.
Round two, Gerid thought. Both breathed through their mouths taking in the air they needed to fuel their bodies’ stamina. He had not tired despite the fierceness of his opponent, though the same could be said for Kar’esh. Titans or strength and stamina, the fight was rejoined. The heavier, thicker weapons lashed out fiercely. The swords had more range, but catching a blade with the metal blocks caused more damage to the weapons.
Gerid lunged beneath Kar’esh’s defense jamming the hammer into his gut driving the creature back with a grunt. The mace clipped his shoulder with a slap. The giant shrugged the pain off even as he winced.
The swords were beginning to get inside as well. Gashes on legs and arms and chest armor could be found. Gerid’s wounds began healing even as he fought. The blood covered that fact and even as he began to look worse, his body maintained itself. His god given healing would let him win this he felt. The gargoyle was still strong but Gerid doubted he could heal so well.
Blades began to break and new weapons were thrown in to the warriors. The sun had moved visibly since the start of the battle. The gargoyles behind Kar’esh, though mesmerized by the battle, were also growing concerned. Their leader was unable to tame this giant. Their strengths were similar. Their skills rivaled one another and their stamina continued to draw out this battle, but there had to be limits and eventually something had to give. A mistake could finish the battle with a single mighty stroke.
The men tried to back their commander quietly, but as the fight raged on they couldn’t help but shout words of encouragement or praise for a magnificent blow. Gerid heard none of it. His attention remained focused on Kar’esh and never wavered. Like a knife his attacks remained keen.
Gesturing a feint, the giant thrust his current sword forward. Kar’esh dodged enough to avoid taking his guts, but a wing drooped and lagged behind. Screaming in pain, Kar’esh tried to retaliate even as a small stream of rust colored blood arced through the air.
Gerid rolled beneath the swinging blade, and slammed his hammer into the meat of the gargoyle’s left thigh, the same side as the struck wing. The other’s mace came up in response catching him in the chest and sending him into the air as his lungs gasped in pain.
Kar’esh took a moment figuring to move in for a killing blow if need be. No human however strong could stand after such a blow, he thought, but the gargoyle was wrong. Trying to catch his breath, the giant stood revealing a breastplate severely dented. A loud gasp came as his lungs refilled in a rush. Gerid smiled and stalked forward.
“Impossible,” the gargoyle gritted through his teeth as he frowned. This was definitely no normal human. Most mar’goyn’lya would not be getting up any time soon from such a strike.
Gerid noted a slight limp as Kar’esh moved forward once more to meet his attacks. Light swirled slightly before his eyes even as his body tried to recover. A rib had broken, maybe two. They took longer to knit than his skin, but it would heal and the pain was dimmer every time he was injured it seemed.
His next blow was a bit weaker. The ribs would slow him down a bit he feared, but his opponent had slowed as well. Not so much that the gargoyle couldn’t score a stab that pierced his armor and gouged his side. A blow that would stop a normal man, Gerid retaliated by stabbing Kar’esh in his side as well. Both combatants reeled back. The giant merely to remove the blade. The gargoyle, however, now showed both surprise and great pain. It was nearly a debilitating blow.
The four fingered hand reached to the wound to cover the flow of liquids in stunned pain. This man would not fall. He was tiring from the wounds now. The giant had slowed, but looked unwilling to fall despite his many wounds.
With a last ditch effort, Kar’esh dropped the mace that had survived so many blows and used his sword, the third of its kind for him. Holding the wound with his left, he tried the right and lunged for the giant. The man’s eyes never left him even as he revealed a grim smile. He held both of his weapons still. The wound in his side reveled blood on his armor and down his leg, but there seemed to be no pain.
Parrying the thrust easily as the gargoyle weakened, the giant merely pushed him away with the hammer with a blow to his chest. It seemed half hearted and Kar’esh feared that the man was beginning to toy with him. How could he be standing with so many wounds?
Resisting any pain with his will, the gargoyle thrust and slashed with the sword only to be beaten back over and over. Always the only retaliation was the stinging hammer. The blade was used to defend but never to kill. Finally, the giant dodged a thrust and hammered down onto Kar’esh’s right forearm. The blow was strong and a crack could be heard as a bone broke within the skin. The sword dropped limply as Gerid followed with a blow to the chest powerful enough to knock the gargoyle from his feet.
Pain from the broken bone waged a war with the wound in his side, even though he had many other pains. Looking up at the sky, he noted the giant standing over him pointing the tip of his blade at the leader’s neck.
“It’s over. The decision has been made,” Gerid stated looking a bit pale but otherwise strong. “You will take your people and head to the mountains to find the others. I wish you good health.” He looked at the stunned gargoyles behind their leader and ordered, “Get him some healing for his wounds, but then leave Merrick’s camp. Your people no longer fight this war.”