The Lords of Areon (The Chronicles of Areon Book 3) Page 11

  “Then, we may need to fall back,” Kilren said, stepping up to the side of the aged lord. “If they get on this side of the river they'll, slaughter us.”

  “I think slaughter may be a bit of an overstatement, lad,” Ian replied, turning his eyes to the newcomers. “We certainly couldn't hold this clearing against them, but the surrounding woodlands will provide more than enough cover to keep them from being able to simply ride us down. In this situation, the strength of the bow may even surpass that of the horse.”

  “Unless they happen to be carrying crossbows,” the lieutenant said, his own eyes locked on the dwarf.

  “Even if they are,” Gregor replied, “The terrain could make things difficult for them.”

  “And their armor could make things difficult for us,” Kilren countered. “One of the real advantages we had during the siege was the fact that the enemy couldn't scale the walls covered in full-plate. That's not go be the case here. We'll likely be facing heavy cavalry. They may not exactly be arrow-proof, but you can be sure they're going to be fairly arrow-resistant.”

  “I'm sure you're right,” the young lord nodded, “but don't underestimate the skill of our allies. They'll put every joint in our enemies' armor to the test. Not to mention the fact that, at point-blank range, they may even be able shoot through it.”

  “We need to do our best to make sure point-blank range doesn't come up,” the lieutenant replied.

  “That's certainly true,” Gregor chuckled. “My point, however, is that our situation isn't exactly hopeless. We have advantages as well as our enemies.”

  “I don't deny that,” Kilren replied. “I'm just not sure that we'll be able to hold the fords.”

  “Well, we have to try,” Darian asserted. “We can't let what happened to Dalfaen happen to another village.”

  “Dalfaen was destroyed by an army of trolls just before dawn,” Ian replied. “They didn't have any warning or any avenue of escape. That's hardly the case here. Word reached the nearest villages nearly two days ago. They've already been evacuated.”

  “Which is why we can fall back without risking anything,” Kilren pointed out.

  “We can't just fall back,” the young Telian replied. “This is the most defensible position in the region.”

  “Oh, I agree,” the lieutenant nodded. “It's just that it's not that defensible. We're not going to be doing King Illfas any good by getting ourselves, as well as a hundred or so of his men, killed trying to hold the fords against a greatly superior force.”

  “That certainly wouldn't be of any service to him,” Lord Andor replied with a broad smile. “Which is why we'll have to do our best to hold the fords without getting ourselves killed. Our enemies might arrive at any moment, Lieutenant, but so might our allies. The span of a few hours could change this war for months, or even years, to come. You're wise to be cautious, but I think the possible benefits of facing our foe here outweigh the risks.”

  “In that case, my lord,” Kilren replied, “we'd better prepare ourselves rather quickly.”

  “I completely agree.”

  Lord Andor, along with Darian, Gregor, and the rest of his men, readied themselves directly in front of the fords; intent, if at all possible, on preventing their foes from crossing the river. The archers, including Kilren and Erana (accompanied by Rragor), took up positions on each side of the crossing, where they would be able to hurl their darts at the enemy without having to face them directly. Behind the main battle line stood Ian, Gwendolyn, and Jalek; each prepared to make use of their particular talents in aid of their allies.

  Mere minutes after the defenders had gotten themselves in place, the first of their enemies rode into view. It was an unfortunate surprise to see two riders sitting atop each of the mounts of their foes. What was even more disconcerting was the fact that some of the passengers were clearly spell-casters in the service of King Palnar. In this battle, they would face more than simple flesh and blood.

  As the foot soldiers slipped from behind the cavalry, many of them cocking their crossbows the moment their feet touched the ground, Darian was almost shocked to see Gregor desert his position and make his way to the very back of the battle line, stopping only after he had reached Gwendolyn's side. Although he hadn't expected the young lord to be as completely immune to fear as a Telian Knight, he found it hard to believe that he'd fallen back at the mere sight of the enemy. On the other hand, Darian knew almost nothing of Gregor's history. This might be his first real battle. He almost certainly hadn't been raised from infancy to face death with no sense of dread. That being the case, he certainly couldn't be blamed for finding such formidable foes somewhat intimidating. More than likely, once the battle began, his fears would subside and he would be able to do his part courageously enough.

  While the soldiers of Mikral were preparing their assault, Ian began playing one of the war songs of Innalas. A few of the elvish warriors filling the glade had heard him play it once before. It was the same tune he had selected when their forces faced an army of trolls and wargs nearly a year ago. That battle had been won, but many lives had been lost. More than one mind was moved by the idea that this conflict could have a similar result.

  The defenders faced a force that was nearly double their own in number, half of whom were mounted. Their foes were battle-hardened warriors who had long made their living spilling the blood of others, as well as their own. They were unmoved by fear, and unfettered by pity. The only hope Lord Andor's forces had of stopping them was the slight advantage the terrain gave them, the incredible power of their allies, and the will of the Eilian.

  One of the Mikralian commanders raised a horn to his lips and sounded the charge. Instantly, the mounted soldiers kicked their beasts into motion as their crossbow-wielding allies began marching quickly toward the river's edge. The enemy spell-casters wasted no time and immediately unleashed jets of flame in the direction of their foes.

  In response, Lord Andor held his arms aloft, crying out for the protection of the gods. Divine power poured through his ancient frame, extinguishing the burning darts before they reached his allies. The aged Telian stood on the very edge of the river, awaiting the onslaught of his oncoming foes with Daegon standing by his side. Before the Mikralian cavalry had even reached their side of the fords, arrows began to fall upon them like rain. Although a cry of pain rent the air here or there, none of the enemy fell from the saddle.

  The gentle current of water that stood between them and their foes proved no restraint to the powerful horses of the mounted warriors. Their charge was somewhat slowed by the rocky bottom of the riverbed, but it was in no way brought to a halt. This changed, however, moments before the first of the riders reached Lord Andor. The aged Telian held his gauntlet out toward the water, his fingers extended and the stone on the back of his hand burning with its own blue light. A bolt of lightning shot from his outstretched hand, electrifying both man and beast.

  As screaming men were thrown from their wildly kicking mounts, Lord Andor waded into the water, striking down one foe after another. Daegon was at his side and his men were at his very heels. Darian followed his master's example, ending the life of several of their adversaries as they attempted to continue their assault on foot. The knight had hoped, rather than expected, that Lord Andor's displays of power would discourage their enemies. These soldiers were too experienced to be much moved by it, however.

  In truth, many of the warriors who had been nearer the rear had already calmed their beasts and once again mounted. Behind these were an even greater number of soldiers who had yet to reach the river. It seemed likely that the men who had followed their lord into the water would soon find themselves greatly outnumbered and unquestionably driven back toward the shore.

  This observation had not escaped Jalek, who stood chanting words of arcane power and drawing complex symbols on the ground before him with his staff. The moment he completed this ritual, the circle he had drawn began to glow and a form rose from the water of the river
. It appeared to be a man just over eight feet tall, clad in scale mail, and wielding a trident in his hand. Without a moment's hesitation, the creature turned its attention to the attacking cavalry, striking out at one after another with his massive weapon.

  The enemy magic-users engaged this new adversary, enveloping their watery foe in blazing fire, as their crossbow-wielding allies took up their position on the battle line. Before these archers could even aim their weapons, however, Gwendolyn released a ball of fire into their midst that exploded the moment it reached them. The broken bodies of their fallen comrades demanded vengeance against the young sorceress who herself immediately became the target of countless flying bolts.

  Gregory threw himself between the maiden and this assault, blocking several shafts with his shield while several more ripped into his flesh. Gwendolyn involuntarily screamed as he collapsed momentarily at her feet, two darts in the upper right side of his chest, and two more in his left leg. Immediately, she fell to her knees, as he fought to raise himself to his feet, focusing her thoughts to heal his flesh.

  “No!” Gregor cried, pointing toward their greatly outnumbered allies. “Don't worry about me! I'll live. You have to help them.”

  Seeing Ian throw down his pipes and begin moving quickly toward the wounded young lord, the maiden obeyed this request, leaving the preservation of life to her companion while she continued to hand out death. Her frame was already shaking from her previous exertion, but she had yet more to do. After taking a few deep breaths, the maiden once again began chanting.

  The enemy archers proved to be less well armored than their companions. The elvish warriors, along with Kilren and Erana, focused on these foes both because they were more susceptible to the power of the bow and because their crossbows were so deadly to their allies. Already, a number of Lord Andor's men lay dead or dying due to the accurate aim of the Mikralian bowmen. These soldiers decided to return the fire of the enemy bowmen, however, as their own numbers began to be thinned by their deadly shafts.

  At first, this seemed a contest the defenders would easily win. Not only were they able to fall back into the cover of the surrounding woodlands, they were also slightly more skilled than their adversaries at hitting targets at so great a distance. The low growl of warning that Rragor began to emit told both Erana and Kilren that something wasn't right, however. It seemed as if he had caught a scent on the wind coming from the woodlands behind them. They weren't kept waiting long for a clearer explanation.

  A battle cry was heard in the distance as a small force of Valrak's mercenaries fell upon the elvish archers most in the rear. Their light armor suggested the idea that they might have swum the river some distance before the ford, allowing them to flank their enemies on this side of the battle line. The trees, which had proven such excellent cover for the defenders, were now helping the foe, who rushed in on them with sword and shield.

  Caught between the bolts of the enemy on one side and their blades on the other, many of the elves found themselves forced to engage the foe in melee combat. Kilren and Erana dropped their ranged weapons and flew into the fray with Rragor following close behind. They did their best to keep the enemy at bay until their allies could shoot them down.

  The adversaries that pressed in on Lord Andor did so with the utmost caution. As skilled as they were and even with the advantages they had, they were no match for the aged Telian. Their only hope was to drive his allies away from him so they could surround him. The spell-casters, having defeated the beast of water, were doing their part by striking out at the lord's men with jets of fire; either killing them outright or driving them toward the opposite shore.

  Three of the mounted warriors made the younger Telian their target, doing their best to separate him from his master. Although filled with the strength of the Eilian, he found it impossible to hold his ground while facing three opponents along with the beasts on which they rode. Two of them struck out at him with long spears, while the third engaged him with sword and shield. More than once, he managed to avoid a flashing spear-tip more by the grace of the gods than by skill alone. As they drove him ever closer to the shore, he realized it was only a matter of time before they overcame him.

  With this in mind, he decided to take what he hoped would be a somewhat unexpected course of action. He screamed out in apparent panic, turned, and fled toward the bank. This would have certainly made his adversaries wary, had they known for certain that he was a Telian Knight. Fortunately for his ploy, however, a number of Lord Andor's soldiers were similarly attired, so his enemies had no way of knowing who he was. They decided to take advantage of his apparent fear, pursuing him rather than turning their attention to his master. As soon as his enemies had crossed the ford, Darian turned and charged at them as fast as his feet could carry him.

  The three rode side by side, each hoping to deal the killing blow. The knight dashed madly toward the spear-wielding foe on his far left, slamming into his outstretched weapon with his shield held aloft. The shaft shattered under the force of this blow, although the spear of his second enemy stuck him, tearing through his armor and ripping into his side. Ignoring the agony, the knight dropped his sword, grabbing his passing opponent by the leg. With the power of the Eilian flowing through him, he snatched his adversary from the saddle.

  Before his foe could climb from the earth, Darian grabbed up his sword while begging the gods to heal his wounds. The hole in his side closed itself as his opponents turned to make another charge. At the same moment, a unicorn came flying from the woodlands, quickly closing the distance between itself and the Telian's foes. Before they could reach the knight, the unicorn reached them. It drove its horn into the side of the second spear-wielding soldier, knocking him from the saddle before vanishing from sight only to reappear between the knight and his third foe.

  Under the circumstances, the warrior decided that discretion was probably the better part of valor and resumed his original plan of flanking Lord Andor. As he headed back to the general fray, his unseated companion rose from the ground and attacked the young knight. Alone and dismounted, he was no match for the Telian. In seconds, he had been disarmed and wounded in such a way as to keep him out of the battle without costing him his life.

  With this attended to, Darian took possession of one of the two horses and quickly made his way back toward the main line of battle as the unicorn headed toward the woods to help the elvish archers. Gwendolyn sent another ball of fire flying toward their enemies which exploded among the cavalry, greatly lessening the overwhelming odds Lord Andor's remaining forces were facing. The strain of channeling so much arcane power almost overcame the maiden and she nearly collapsed at Jalek's side. For his own part, the wizard had decided to try earth against fire, summoning up a creature of sand and stone from the ground. Ian had attended to Gregor's wounds, who held his position at the maiden's side, ensuring that no harm would come to her.

  The tide of battle seemed to be quickly turning in favor of the defenders. The attackers had been unable to drive Lord Andor from the very center of the fords and he was still surrounded by a small group of ferocious fighters, including the resolute Daegon. Several of these had even managed to mount themselves on the beasts of the fallen. The mercenaries who had crossed the river to flank their foes seemed to have been defeated as the arrows of the elves were once again raining down upon the ranks of the enemy. Added to this was the fact that their own magic-users were quickly becoming exhausted and that their last reserves of energy would probably be spent trying to destroy the earth elemental that had just waded into the skirmish.

  This changed, however, as reinforcements arrived to bolster the faltering forces of Mikral. A group of fifty riders bearing the banners of Lord Valrak made their way quickly toward the line of battle. One of these warriors was particularly conspicuous. His truly massive frame was covered in pure black armor with Valrak's own emblem – that of the red, rising sun – on his breastplate. The helmet he wore had two steel horns rising from it and
completely covered his face, only revealing his fearsome gaze. On each side of him, riding a short distance behind, were two mercenaries of almost equal size, each bearing one of the mercenary's banners from his lance.

  When the warlord reached the edge of the water, he dismounted and drew a prodigious two-handed sword from his saddle. Several of his servants followed their lord's example before falling behind him. The Mikralian soldiers who had been struggling unsuccessfully against the aged Telian fell back, making way for these new allies.

  Whereas most of his servants attacked Lord Andor's men, the warlord himself, along with his two flag bearers, fell upon the knight. As Darian pushed the beast he was riding onward, doing his best to reach his master, he could only watch in dismay as the old man was driven back, step-by-step.

  The young Telian maneuvered his mount as quickly as possible through the pack of mercenaries who had managed to press their attack beyond the knot of soldiers, fighting to aid Lord Andor. He managed to strike down two of these adversaries as he pushed through their ranks, leaving the rest to face his courageous allies. As he quickly closed the distance between himself and his master, one of the three enemies Lord Andor faced succeeded in getting behind him.

  Darian cried out a word of warning as the villain raised his massive ax above the old man's head. The aged Telian leapt to the side, the blade of his enemy's weapon narrowly missing him, before hitting his adversary in the face with the butt of his spear. Although this took but a moment, it gave the young Telian the time he needed to reach the warrior who was flanking his master.

  The knight lashed out at the mercenary, but his opponent had been warned of his arrival when he yelled out his warning to the aged lord. As Darian dropped his sword at his adversary, the man spun around, dodging the Telian's blade before striking the knight's mount in the head with his massive weapon. The creature's own reaction time saved its life, but the blow did it very little good. The poor beast instantly collapsed, throwing Darian from the saddle as it did so.