In Her Name: The First Empress: Book 01 - From Chaos Born (27 page)

He and Dara-Kol stood at the head of the defensive line facing east, the direction from which the queen’s forces must come. Half of his warriors were arrayed in a semicircle, fifteen warriors deep, around the entrance to the pass. The other half, he had split into several groups. Some had been tasked with scouring the neighboring villages for water and food. Some had been sent to hunt in the nearby forests. Others were gathering wood for fires and to use as makeshift pikes and spears.
 

The largest group had been sent farther into the pass to warn travelers along the road of the coming battle. Or to fight them if they forced a challenge, protecting Kunan-Lohr’s back. While there were still some cities and distant provinces that had not given their honor to Syr-Nagath, she was now the effective ruler of T’lar-Gol. Beyond the walls of Keel-A’ar, any warriors Kunan-Lohr’s forces encountered now would technically be enemies. It was simply a question of whether they were aware of that fact or not.

“My lord!” Dara-Kol pointed to a hill that lay to the east along a bend in the road. “The signal!”

A bright flash shone from among the trees near the top of the hill. Then more. Kunan-Lohr watched as the party of warriors he had sent there to watch for approaching forces told him with signals from a mirror what was heading toward him.
 

“A thousand mounted warriors,” Dara-Kol murmured as she interpreted the flashes aloud, “riding fast.”

Kunan-Lohr turned to face his warriors. “The Dark Queen sends a thousand mounted warriors to us.” He shook his head theatrically, as if completely appalled. “A thousand!”

“I may spare some for your pleasure, my lord.” It was the young male warrior who had thrown the spear and gotten the rope across to Dara-Kol at the river. “But I fear that I may need a longer spear.”

The battle line erupted in laughter, and Kunan-Lohr could feel their spirits rising, their bloodlust turning from a flicker to a flame. He knew that the riders now approaching were only to fix him in place and prevent him from escaping through the pass. As if he would have even tried.
 

A cloud of grief washed over him for a moment as he thought of Ulana-Tath and his daughter, Keel-Tath. He had known when he had parted from his consort that he would probably never see her again. They had shared much in this life, and his parting gift to her would be a chance at living, and a chance for their daughter to do the same. He could only hope that she had fled the city to escape the path of the queen’s vengeance, for he knew Syr-Nagath would never rest until their daughter and all who sheltered her were put to the sword. Or worse.

He could sense her song in his blood, her fear, her anticipation. He instinctively knew that she must be on the move, and had taken his words to heart about bearing Keel-Tath to the safety of the Desh-Ka temple. With all of T’lar-Gol now falling to the Dark Queen, their daughter would not find safe harbor anywhere else. And there would come a day, he knew, when she would be a fugitive from the entire Homeworld.

“Run, my love,” he whispered as the mounted cohort of the queen’s army came into view, the feet of the charging
magtheps’
talons sparking on the cobbles of the road. “Run as fast as you can.” He took in a deep breath before whispering aloud, “And know that my heart is forever yours.”

* * *

Dara-Kol clenched her fists to help ward off the fear she felt take hold of her as the mounted cohort drew near. While
magtheps
were normally placid, docile animals, they were large and powerful, and in the hands of a trained rider could be extremely deadly. And in a massed charge such as this…

“Perhaps it is time we prepare a welcome for our guests, do you think?”

She turned to Kunan-Lohr. “Yes, my lord. Should I send runners to recall the warriors who are foraging?”

He shook his head. “No. They are all veterans. They will know what to do.” Leaning closer, he told her, “And having some of our swords out of sight along the enemy’s flank and rear is never a bad thing.”

“Yes, my lord.” She bobbed her head in understanding. Then she turned to the ranks of warriors behind them. “Pikes to the front!”

Over two-hundred warriors stepped forward. Each held a pike made from nearby trees that grew straight as an arrow and were hard as steel. Roughly as big around as a warrior’s forearm and as long as three warriors stood tall, they had been cut down and sharpened with swords and axes. The warriors who carried them were among the largest and strongest in the army, and could handle the ungainly weapons easily. They set the pikes down on the ground, facing the approaching enemy, for theirs would not be the first weapons to strike.

“Bales!” Dara-Kol’s bellow summoned another group of warriors, who rolled thick bales of dry steppe grass about thirty paces forward. The bales had been soaked in pitch, and warriors along the front rank held torches, waiting for the signal to light the barrier.

“It will not stop them,” Kunan-Lohr had explained earlier to Dara-Kol, “but it will add an element of confusion in their attack, and will prevent them from bringing to bear more than a few tens of warriors at any one time.” He had given her a wicked smile. “
Magtheps
do
not
like fire.”

Kunan-Lohr drew his sword, and the warriors behind him did the same. The sound of the glittering metal blades singing from their scabbards echoed from the sheer walls of the pass.

The charging group of mounted warriors changed formation from the mass column more suited to the road to a line that was roughly the same breadth as Kunan-Lohr’s. The sound of the beasts’ feet striking the ground and the war cries that erupted from the throats of the warriors filled the air, just as did the cloud of dust that rose in the wake of their thundering passage.
 

Dara-Kol felt the fire in her veins ignite, a passionate bloodlust that swept aside her fears. She could sense the same emotion in the charging warriors, and she threw back her head in a howl of challenge.

All along the defensive line, the warriors did the same. Kunan-Lohr added his own deep roar. The sound was magnified by the rock walls around them, and Kunan-Lohr could sense a momentary spike of fear in the hearts of the attacking warriors.

Just before the
magtheps
reached the barrier of pitch-soaked steppe grass, Kunan-Lohr nodded at Dara-Kol.

“
Fire!
” While she was young, she had mastered the art of the command voice, and the word boomed above the tumult.

Torches arced away from the defensive line to land in the bales just as the first riders leaped over the obstacle, their
magtheps
braying in protest.

The bales exploded into flame.
Magtheps
and riders were caught in the maelstrom, and the war cries of both sides were drowned out by the screams of flaming beasts and warriors.
 

In addition to the bales themselves, the road on either side of the barrier had been liberally coated with pitch, and was now burning with lethal fury. It stuck to the
magtheps’
feet, and the beasts went berserk trying to escape the searing pain. Riders were thrown to the ground, where they, too, were shrouded in flame as they were trampled.

But, as Kunan-Lohr had predicted, the queen’s warriors did not stop. More came pouring across the wall of fire, and some began to make it far enough to reach the defensive line.

“
Pikes!
” At Kunan-Lohr’s command, the warriors armed with pikes knelt down and lifted the long, sharp points of the weapons toward the onrushing enemy warriors. They kept the tail end of the pike on the ground, and more warriors braced the end with their feet, as the surface of the road offered nowhere to plant them.

The
magtheps
brayed and screeched as they ran forward, urged on as much by their desperation to escape the flames as the frenzied kicks their riders delivered to their ribs.
 

Holding the pikes were all veterans of many campaigns who were not in the least intimidated by the charge. Each one carefully aimed his or her weapon, hands clenching the hard wooden poles, at the approaching
magtheps
.

The riders slammed into Kunan-Lohr’s line.
Magtheps
squealed in agony as the pikes speared them through the chest or belly. Most of the riders were thrown forward, but few lived long enough to even hit the ground before their bodies were hacked to pieces by the swords of the defenders.
 

But the opening of the battle was hardly one-sided. Riders with more experience in this type of attack deftly sidestepped the pikes, or dropped the pikemen with well-placed
shrekkas
before stampeding into the mass of Kunan-Lohr’s warriors. Holding the reins with one hand and their swords in the other, they guided the
magtheps
through leaps and twirls as they slashed at their opponents on the ground. The talons on the animals’ feet were longer than a warrior’s extended palm and fingers, and could tear through or puncture armor, as well as flesh. While the
magthep
was a herbivore, when frightened or enraged their mouths could be deadly, the flat grinding teeth quite capable of crunching bone.

Dara-Kol guarded Kunan-Lohr’s left side, for he was a right-handed swordsman. A riderless
magthep
, its hide aflame, ran toward them from the maelstrom. While it had thrown its warrior, it was still deadly.
 

Stepping to the side, Kunan-Lohr opened its throat with a quick cut of his blade. The beast charged on a few more steps before it collapsed.

Two more beasts, with riders this time, charged forward. One of them leaped in the air, bringing up its feet and talons to strike.
 

Dara-Kol darted out of the way of the deadly talons, which were coated with burning pitch, before jabbing the tip of her sword into the beast’s side, just behind the madly waving forelegs.
 

As she pulled the blade free, she dodged the slashing sword strike of the warrior on the beast’s back.
 

Turning to attack the rider, she was knocked to the ground by a massive impact. Rolling onto her back, she looked up to see the second
magthep
was in the air, its feet poised to tear her to ribbons.
 

A glittering blade flashed twice, so quickly that she could barely see it. The beast was liberated of its feet and crashed to the ground beside her, bellowing in agony.
 

Kunan-Lohr was there beside her, as if by magic. His sword flashed a third time, taking the head of the rider who was pinned under the hapless beast. Two paces away lay the other
magthep
and rider, the one she had stabbed, dead.

“More of a challenge than ritual combat in the arena, is it not?” Kunan-Lohr gave her a fierce grin. His entire body appeared to have been painted in blood. Even his teeth were stained with it. He reached out his free hand to help her to her feet. “Come, child, there are more waiting to be killed!”

* * *

The battle went on for hours, until the sun had passed onward to the west and the struggling warriors and beasts were cast in the cool shadow of the great escarpment.
 

The fiery barrier had long since burned out. Once the flames had finally guttered and died, the queen’s warriors mounted proper charges against Kunan-Lohr’s line. Masses of them, hundreds of riders at a time, smashed against his warriors over and over. Most of the pikes had been broken or were hopelessly stuck in their victims, and his warriors had to absorb the mounted charges with their swords and bodies.
 

It was a desperate, bloody affair. While Kunan-Lohr believed from the outset that he would win this first engagement, he also realized the mounted warriors were merely to keep him entertained until the queen arrived with the main body of her forces.
 

But his victory had not been easily won. More than once the riders had driven deep wedges into his line, killing many of his own warriors before the riders were brought down. Once, a group had actually broken all the way through, and for a time his warriors had to fight back to back, as it were. That was when the groups of warriors who had been foraging broke from cover and attacked the enemy from the flanks and rear, inflicting severe casualties and forcing the riders to retreat and regroup.

Finally, after one last charge by fewer than a hundred enemy warriors and one last orgy of killing, the battle was over. The road was awash with blood, the entrance to the pass a gruesome abattoir. The stench of blood and offal and flesh filled the air, as did the cries of wounded warriors and the pitiful mewling of dying
magtheps
.

Kunan-Lohr and a handful of other senior warriors moved with slow deliberation among those who suffered. Those with minor injuries were bound up with strips of the black undergarment taken from the dead. As for the rest, those from whom life was slipping away, Kunan-Lohr himself administered the last rites. Then he consigned the soul of the warrior, his own and enemy alike, to the afterlife with a dagger through the heart. Most would have survived had there been healers to tend them. But the healers in the nearby villages refused to come, for they knew that Kunan-Lohr was an enemy of their queen and to give them succor was forbidden.

Dara-Kol led a group that was slaughtering the injured beasts to put them out of their misery. If nothing else, Kunan-Lohr thought darkly, his warriors would eat well for a time.
Magtheps
were not typically used as meat animals, but none of his warriors would quibble over such trivialities. Other warriors corralled the surviving
magtheps
in a rope enclosure off to the side of the road where they could feed and be close at hand in case they were needed.

The rest of his warriors had the unpleasant task of dealing with the dead. Kunan-Lohr had ordered the bodies stacked across the mouth of the pass. “Build a mountain of the dead over which the queen’s warriors must climb to reach us.” It was a grueling, unpleasant task, but body by body the wall grew. It would not affect the final outcome, he knew, but would buy them more time.