Days Of Light And Shadow (67 page)

Chapter One Hundred and Five.

The sun had almost set when they crested the hill and saw the gathering army. With the light coming from such a low angle and glistening off the green of the grass Iros wondered if he was seeing things. But he wasn’t.

Ahead of them he could see the glint of steel and the lines of soldiers forming a living river travelling slowly south through the valleys. A river that stretched almost a league in length. He tried to guess how many soldiers and cavalry and cannon that would be, but simply couldn’t. There were too many to count.

Iros held up his hand to call a halt, and quickly the troop reined in around him. They could see the army with their own eyes.

“Captains could you raise your colours please.” It was strange for him to be commanding the three troops of rangers, not least because they were rangers and not dragoons, however they seemed to accept his commands. Or at least the three captains did. If he was going to meet defiance anywhere it would be from the elders in their wagons. They seemed to enjoy it.

This time at least the elders didn’t seem to have any issues with his orders as the rangers raised their standards. But he knew that later, when they had made camp for the night with the rest of the army, they would probably start making his life difficult   again. Suggesting and demanding things that he simply couldn’t give them. At the moment there were only a dozen elders If he was truly to command the rangers as they went into battle, as well as up to thirty or forty thousand windriders, then there would be hundreds of elders to deal with as well, with none of them inclined to follow his command. Even with only a dozen elders from the groves in Greenlands, West Hold and Copper Hills, it was a constant negotiation to get them to do anything.

At least they had fast wagons. The dwarves had built them variants of their dreaded battle wagons just like Trekor’s. They didn’t have steel sides or cannon mounted front and rear, but they did have ball bearing races and huge springs that allowed them to fly over the ground as fast as the horses could gallop. It had to be a strange ride, the wagons bounced and swayed with every bump in the road, but compared to the squeaking and banging of a normal trader’s wagon they seemed like bliss. And they had high backed, padded leather seats and cushions, that added to the comfort. Even Trekor’s cats seemed to enjoy the ride as they slept their days away on the floor by her feet.

“We ride for the front?” Captain Harral asked the obvious question.

“Yes. We’ll ride for the front, but hopefully the patrols from Preston and Torrington will already be here. So if we spot them the rest of the riders can join them, and we four will ride to meet with Commander Tyrus Foria and introduce ourselves.”

It was a plan, but not much of one, and the elders might insist on coming to meet the commander anyway. But there was hope he thought.

And maybe too, with so many soldiers in front of them, there was hope that they would carry the battle, something that had seemed in desperately short supply after they had lost the bridge. And more than anything else Iros knew, an army travelled on hope.

Chapter One Hundred and Six.

“Master Peri, as I have already said. I rule in favour of Master Halders. Arguing about it will not change it, and neither will it help your cause.” Sophelia did her best to look the blacksmith directly in the eyes, but he was so tall and sitting down she was even shorter than usual. And it didn’t help that the baby was busy kicking her. She was sure it was a boy.

“Lord Iros -.”

“Iros would have said exactly the same thing. And I think I know him rather better than you.” It was a line she was using far too often, but it seemed to help, and Juna had said to keep using it. And to keep rubbing her stomach from time to time, just to remind them that she was Iros’ wife and the mother of his child to come.

“You know that we are preparing for an attack. That there may well be an army of abominations arriving on our doorstep any day now. You know also that it is the duty of the Lords and Ladies of Drake before all else, to protect Greenlands. No compromise can be made in this matter.” Again it was a line that she was using every day. Making sure that everyone heard her. As Iros had said the people had to know her reasoning. They had to know why she decided as she did.

“But he’s a troll!” And that was the heart of the matter. Many people couldn’t look at a troll’s tusked face without knowing a sense of fear and disgust. Many people regarded them as little more than dangerous beasts. It was humbling in a way to see the same intolerance in the humans as she had seen amongst her own people. It was embarrassing.

“And did you know Master Peri that among trolls humans are known as malleous, a term that means pig like? Or that sprites, elves and gnomes are referred to as tito, or puny?” Every people had their own swears for the others. And every trader knew them all.

“Yet Master Halders has spent his entire life in a village lying between Elaris and Solaria. A village where there are almost no people of any pure blood. Instead there are mostly people who mix human with elf, sprite with dwarf, gnome with troll. And he has been a respected person in that village, crafting ploughs and agricultural tools.”

“And did you know that when the abominations attacked his village he stood tall and defended it with his hammer. He placed his life in danger to protect every single villager, no matter their race.”

“Now tell me Master Peri, when the time comes and Greenlands stands under attack, will you do the same? I already know Master Halders’ answer because he has proven it. I do not know yours. In fact all I know of you is that you will not even share your pit with him because he has troll blood in him. Despite the fact that he is a blacksmith. Despite the fact that with two of you working at the one pit you will be able to craft more armour and more weapons and thus help defend Greenlands better.” It was a telling point, and while the blacksmith didn’t understand it completely she knew that the rest of the audience did. But then she was speaking to them as much as she was speaking to him.

“Look around you.” Sophelia stood up and gestured to the audience gathered in the Great Hall. “Look at all these people, these Greenlanders, and tell them that your intolerance for another blacksmith is somehow worth their lives. That the extra weapons that you want to refuse Master Halders the chance to craft will not be the ones that may save the lives of their children. Tell them!”

The blacksmith stared at her, his eyes wide with shock, and beneath his great black beard and ruddy cheeks she could see him turning pale. He started to stammer . She let him continue like that for some time, not so that he could suffer but rather so others could see him suffer. Could learn from his example.

“I thought not.” She marched right up to him and stared him down despite the fact that she did not reach his shoulder. “Master Halders is a blacksmith just as you are. His duty is, as is yours, to craft the weapons and armour that Greenlands will need so that the people can defend themselves. And as my husband has said many times, nothing can come before the protection of the people.”

“The treasury is nearly gone, and the Drake family fortune with it. All spent on rebuilding the province and finishing the city’s defences. It is not missed by either Iros or myself, because it goes to protect the people. My husband rides with the king’s army, risking his very life to defend Greenlands, as do the Black Otters. And though they are in harms way they will not flinch and they will not yield. And while they ride and I have been entrusted with this sacred duty, I will not flinch and I will not yield either.”

“Now Master Peri you will return to your pit, and you will stop complaining like a short changed bard, and you will set to work crafting the weapons and armour the people of Greenlands need. And in this duty you will not flinch and you will not yield. Do you hear me?”

Yes my Lady.” The blacksmith bowed to her as he tried to back away, and she knew that she’d won this battle. But there were many more battles yet to fight. And as she turned back to the table and her seat, and saw Juna nod to her almost imperceptibly, telling her she had done well, she knew that her morning was barely begun.

But at least she knew that it was a duty she could perform.

Chapter One Hundred and Seven.

Someone called him, but not by name. By something far more intimate. She called him by who he was, not merely the name he was known by.

Terwyn stopped dead in the street. The load of timber he was carrying, lay forgotten in his arms. The sounds of the other citizens as they went about their business of slowly repairing the city, was unheard. The pain and sorrow of his life had suddenly vanished. All he heard was the voice.

But it wasn’t a voice. It wasn’t words or language. It wasn’t a message. It wasn’t spoken. It was like a voice but it was also nothing like that.

It was just a touch. The feel of a loved one telling him of her love. Nothing more. And yet that was all it needed to be. There was no need for anything else. The message was complete.

And then when she was gone and the broken city was back he wanted more. He wanted it to never end. But that wasn’t going to happen. Her message had been given. And so too had her instructions.

Though he didn’t remember her telling him of them, he knew where he had to go, why he had to go there, and at what time.  He would do so. They all would. Up and down the streets he could see others of the shadow watch receiving and accepting the same message. All through Leafshade, through Whitefern and the other cities, through the smaller towns and villages, he knew the rest had heard that same call. And they would respond.

It wasn’t because of the terrible losses Elaris had suffered, although that alone would have been enough.  Nor was it for all the towns and now cities that were being attacked by the shuffling armies. It wasn’t to save lives or for the shadow watchmen to have their vengeance upon those who had taken so many. It wasn’t for glory or to redeem their honour. Their honour was gone forever. It was simply because She had asked them, and She had the right.

Terwyn dropped his pile of timber to the ground where it scattered in all directions, causing some of those nearby to have to leap aside. He didn’t listen to their shouts of surprise, or apologise for making them jump either. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered any more save obedience. Rebuilding the city wasn’t important. The dead and dying weren’t important. The pain and sadness wasn’t important. Only obeying the Mother mattered.

Ignoring those who were still protesting, he marched off for the broken and burnt out building he still called home, knowing that he needed to retrieve his sword and   armour. The others he knew would be doing the same. They were heading for the pass.

Python Pass. It was the narrow strip of land between the mountains separating Elaris from the southern wastes leading to Vidoran and from there to the Reaver’s temple. Y’aris thought he’d set a trap for the army. He hoped his abominations would catch the humans unaware. That he could cripple them, slow them down while he raised even more abominations. And maybe he would have been right. It was a natural block and whoever held it could use a small army to defeat a large one. And for the moment the Reaver held it.

But not for long. He had miscalculated. He thought this was his war. He thought he could win it and anoint himself as king. His dreams were mortal dreams. But this war was one of gods and demons, and he forgot that he served a demon. As his demon master sent his soldiers shuffling in to battle, so too did the Mother send her children. Even her most damaged children.

The shadow watch would take back the pass.

Chapter One Hundred and Eight.

Python Pass. Terwyn looked out across it from the safety of the trees, surprised by how ordinary it seemed.  A huge flat expanse of grass stretched out ahead of him leading from the tree line to the pass itself, a long twisting stretch of narrow ridgeline, crossing the divide between the eastern mountains that separated Solaria from Elaris, and the endless forest that was Elaris.

Not only was the pass the most direct route to the temple, it was part of the old copper road, one of the few roads that lead south through Elaris, and that linked up with other trails coming from Solaria. The Irothian army was forced to take it so that the sprites could join up with them as they travelled, swelling their numbers. And the pass itself was a natural choke point. The perfect place for an ambush. Even their former high commander knew that much, which was why he’d set one.

It looked peaceful. But Terwyn knew it wasn’t. It was here that the enemy were massed, waiting for the armies of the north to reach them, so that they could spring their ambush. Tens of thousands of them lay in the grass, waiting unseen, ready to leap out at them from close range. It was a simple plan, but an effective one when your army consisted of shambling soldiers that could tear a man from his horse and rip out his throat.

Unfortunately for the demon, their army was still a day’s ride away. And even more unfortunately, the shadow watch knew they were there. The Mother had told them everything they needed to know.

Terwyn raised his sword high, and marched out into the huge clearing, uncaring of how  many abominations might be lying in wait. The only thing that mattered was that they died. All of them. And with them all the black priests that had travelled with them, directing the mindless monsters. Without them they would never have been able to carry out an ambush. And Terwyn knew that when they died, the temple would be severely hurt. It would be a long time before they could organise another attack like the one they’d carried out on Leafshade. The demon had gambled heavily on this attack. Or Y’aris had.

The rest of the shadow watch marched out beside him, proud for the first time in ages.  They were a small force, only fifteen hundred lightly armed men in makeshift armour and despite the strength the Mother had given them, every one of them knew that they would probably die. They always had. But this was never about survival. They had died long ago. This was only about making their death’s count for something. It was about finally doing what was right. And for an elf that was always about obedience to the Mother.

Then the nearest of the abominations screeched and started to rise from the green fields, and Terwyn forgot about the reasons. The only thing he knew was the sweet, sweet sound of the voice as the Mother filled him once more.

He roared his battle cry, a wordless scream of nothing except outrage that these things should even exist, and ran straight for the nearest.

It surrendered whatever sort of life it had to his blade, apparently unable to continue with its head cleaved in half. But as it fell a dozen more rose and Terwyn knew that the battle was just begun. The same was true all around. The things were rising out of the grass in their thousands, and charging them. Terwyn smiled at the sight. It just meant there were more to kill.

Even as they charged him he charged them. The others did the same, all of them screaming in fury. The two opposing armies met each other in the middle of the field and the watchman’s blade quickly tore the first of them apart. 

Terwyn’s blade sang as he slashed left and right, moving like the wind, and the abominations fell before him in pieces. His sword seemed invisible with its speed, and nothing could stop it. Flesh was no barrier. Bone didn’t even slow it down, and chunks of black blood covered bodies sprayed in all directions. And when one of the abominations got past him, and its teeth tore into his body Terwyn barely noticed. All he knew was that it needed to die too, and he made sure it did.

The rest of the watch were the same, his brothers and sisters in arms, tearing huge holes in the army of abominations.  Though some of the shadow watch fell as the battle continued, Terwyn felt no sorrow for them. No shock or outrage for their fate.  For they were the lucky ones. Their battle had ended. Their suffering was finished. His continued.

Little by little he advanced into the field of battle, striking down the enemy as he went all the while looking for the priests who commanded them. In Leafshade when they’d attacked there had been some priests among them, hooded figures commanding the army. A few of the survivors had seen them. But most of them had got away. Disappearing into the forest when the battle had been ending. He did not intend for that to happen again. They all had to die.

Time passed, hours or minutes, he really had no idea which, and eventually he found himself out in the very middle of the field, and behind him he knew, was a sea of bodies. Abominations, shadow watch, it didn’t matter which. What did matter was that the enemy was starting to thin out. Scores were still attacking him  struggling desperately with one another in their desperation to tear the watchman limb from limb, to sink their diseased mouths into his flesh and suck the life out of him. But behind them there were less and less.

Terwyn knew a profound sense of satisfaction at that. These terrible monsters should be losing. But at the same time his comrades were thinning. There were less and less of them as well. Fifteen hundred men at arms had become maybe half as many. If they were winning through then it was only by the thinnest of margins.

Terwyn had so wanted to be able to carry on. To travel with the army. To destroy all the foul creatures and their masters. To burn the temple. But that joy would have to fall to the soldiers following them. His joy would have to be in killing as many of these monsters, and their foul  priests as he could so that the army could pass freely. It was enough.

Through the thinning horde of abominations surrounding him he could see the leaders, not that far ahead, and the sight gave him hope. He knew his target.

Priests of the demon. Inquisitors in their grey robes. Whatever Y’aris had wanted them to be called, they were in front of him and his sword had their names on it. The sight of them so close, hiding within some strange magic bubble and chanting their foul magic furiously, filled him with rage and Terwyn felt a further rush of fury . When he called for the Mother’s aid it was there for him.

Sweat   poured from him; blood too. His heart was thundering in his chest, and the strength in his arms and legs was as that of a god.

Terwyn screamed, a sound such as no mortal throat should be able to make, and flung himself at the abominations standing between him and them. His sword danced in his right hand, and when it wasn’t enough his left hand struck as well, punching anything that came within range, crunching bone with every impact. His feet too had become weapons, and those that fell before him he crushed underfoot. Bones shattered, flesh turned to jelly, and body parts flew, as he pushed on toward the dark priests, screaming.

He got closer to them with every step.

He saw one of his comrades reach the nearest of them, watched as his sword sliced the priest in half, and celebrated as he knew that victory was in sight. Such evil creatures, filled with the darkness that had once tried to own him. Determined to pass that darkness on to so many others. They had to die. And their dark magic could not protect them. Not against those who the Mother had chosen to serve her.

The priest screamed one final time, as he fell to the ground, dead before he hit the ground. The watchman screamed with triumph even as he advanced on the next. Before he reached him though, a score of abominations came from out of nowhere to carry him to the ground, and even though many of their body parts flew Terwyn knew that his comrade would not get up again. But it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that somewhere under that pile of ravenous flesh there was a man who had brought down the first of the priests. One down, another hundred to go.

“Kill the priests!” He roared the command out to his remaining comrades though he really didn’t need to. They understood the battle as clearly as he did. They knew their enemy.

Three more watchmen broke through the lines of abominations, moving like the wind, and their weapons swiftly tore a few more of the grey robed priests apart. One, a watchman with a battleaxe, actually split a priest in half from head to foot with a single strike, and as the enemy fell in a shower of dark blood, Terwyn laughed wildly. 

More and more of the shadow watch broke through, and more and more of the priests fell before them. The priests’ magic was proving useless. It was then that  Terwyn knew the battle was theirs.

Finally it was his turn. With a flourish Terwyn beheaded two more of the abominations and found himself inside the bubble of magic that the priests had created around themselves. And he saw the nearest priest in front of him. Only a dozen feet away. Black eyes, black veins, black heart. Demon ridden.

Roaring with uncontrollable rage, he leapt the distance between them, almost flying through the air, and when he landed let his sword sweep through the frightened priest’s outstretched arms as he pleaded for his life. But his life was ended. Before his blade had even completed its arc Terwyn punched the priest in the face, and felt bone crunch under his fist.  The priest flew backwards, propelled by the power of his fist, and as half a dozen more abominations charging from the side carried him to the ground, he knew that he was dead.

But there were more to kill.

The abominations tore and bit at him, but they couldn’t stop him. Terwyn let his sword and fist fly and somehow got to his feet again. His wounds were terrible, he was bleeding from every part of his body, chunks of his flesh had been torn out, and he knew his death was near. But the next priest was closer, and he ran at him, and instantly thrust his sword right through him. He pulled it free and the priest fell to the ground nearly dead. But because he wasn’t he followed up with a head stomp, crushing it into a puddle of blood and brains, making certain.

A dozen more abominations rushed him then, ripping into his flesh with everything they had, and bore him away from the surviving priests, but that was alright. He could see more of his comrades tearing into them, and knew that the battle was almost ended.

Less than a dozen priests still stood, and they were swiftly being hacked to death by half a dozen of the surviving shadow watch. And if five hundred abominations still fought, the score of watchmen was more than enough to handle them. Wounded and dying as the shadow watch were, the abominations were naught but practice for them.

So they fought on, chopping and slashing their way through the last of the enemy, screaming wildly, tearing them into shreds, and knowing nothing but the savage thrill of looming victory. And then, unexpectedly it came. The last of the abominations, the creatures that had once been men, fell to the ground in pieces, and there were no more. Terwyn looked, the others looked, but there simply weren’t any.

It was finally over. He knew that, so did the rest, and so did the Mother as she took her strength from them. But she didn’t let the pain return. She told them, or they understood, that she was proud of them. She would not allow them to suffer any more. So the last eight of them stood there, staring at the plains of blood and bodies all around, and finally knew they’d won.

It had been close, but they had won through.

Terwyn would have celebrated, would have raised his sword in victory and screamed it for all the world to hear, but he didn’t have the strength. Neither did the others, and even as he stood there wondering what to do, one of them fell to the ground in front of them, dead. Another soldier, his battle finally ended, his body returning to the soil. His soul returning to the Mother. It wasn’t being consumed by the demon. Death was a worthy reward.

That left seven and Terwyn realised that it would be six soon enough. When he looked down and saw his leg missing, and the gaping holes in the rest of him, he knew his battle had come to an end.

That was a good thing.

He fell to the ground, suddenly tired beyond anything he had ever known, and found a small rock behind him to lean against. The others still stood or lay all around him, staring at  each other, wondering what to do, and he knew that there was only one task left them. To die. And they would do it soon enough. Arms and legs were missing, many had terrible holes and tears in their bodies, and blood poured from huge open wounds. People could not survive with wounds like theirs. But that was as it should be. People should die. Not be transformed into the soulless monstrosities they’d just fought.