Mask of Swords (33 page)

“Very well,” said Sigaldra. “We…”

“They’re moving,” said Talchar.

The Skuldari had arranged themselves into twelve columns around the ladders. Earnachar rode back and forth before the columns, the Prophetess riding at his side. To judge from his posture, he was haranguing the Skuldari. 

“Arnulf,” said Sigaldra. “Withdraw to the square. If we call, come. If not…”

“If not,” said the Tervingi headman, voice grim, “then we shall hold back the valgasts as long as we can.”

“Thank you,” said Sigaldra. “All of you, thank you.” She took a deep breath. “You are not Jutai, but you have defended us nonetheless. You have met your obligations to your lord honorably.” She looked at Adalar. “Even those of you who are not of the Grim Marches. You are all honorable men and valiant warriors.”

“Thank you,” said Adalar. 

“If the speeches are done,” said Talchar, “we should prepare ourselves. I think the Skuldari are going to come at us any minute.”

“Go,” said Sigaldra. “May the ancestors and whatever gods you worship watch over you.”

A roar went up from the Skuldari warriors, and the twelve ladders started forward.

###

Adalar adjusted his grip on the greatsword, the setting sun throwing long shadows to the west. 

The twelve ladders came closer. The Skuldari had learned from their previous failures. Warriors with shields screened the ladders, protecting them from arrows. The archers loosed steady volleys, and some of the warriors fell, but most of them did not. The ladders were going to reach the wall.

All of them at once. 

The archers stopped, holding their fire until the warriors started ascending the ladders, when they would be more vulnerable and less able to shield themselves. 

“Stand ready,” said Adalar, looking at his men. Some of them had been with him since the Great Rising and Caraster’s rebellion, and he hated the thought that they had survived the Runedead War only to die here.

“There’s so many of them,” said Wesson, “that it will be all the easier to hit them.”

Adalar nodded. The ladders reached the base of the wall, and the Skuldari warriors started to lift them. The ladders were empty, and Adalar was surprised that the Skuldari had not sent up some warriors on the ladders. It would be easy enough to throw the ladders back, especially since…

“My lords!” Timothy’s voice rang over the wall. “The ladders! Beware! A cloaking spell! It…”

The top of the ladders undulated with ripples and mist. The ripples cleared, and atop each ladder crouched a dark-cloaked form, the black robes billowing to reveal crimson-armored hides. 

“Soliphages!” shouted Adalar.

The ladders slammed against the battlements, and the soliphages leapt onto the ramparts and started killing. 

Everything exploded into motion at once. 

Volleys of arrows ripped from the walls, plunging into the mobs of Skuldari warriors racing towards the ladders. Men fought and screamed and died as the soliphages attacked, forming open spaces that the Skuldari warriors could claim. 

The nearest soliphage struck, killing one of Mazael’s armsmen. Adalar whipped his greatsword around in a massive two-handed swing. The soliphage started to turn to face him, and his heavy blade sank halfway into the soliphage’s neck. The creature thrashed in pain, and three of the armsmen drove their spears into its torso. Adalar tore his sword free and shoved, and the dying soliphage tumbled over the battlements, knocking a pair of Skuldari warriors from the ladder. 

“The ladder!” said Adalar. “Quickly!” They rushed forward and sent the ladder falling backwards. 

A cheer went up from his men, but only from his men. Adalar whirled and saw fighting raging up and down the ramparts. The soliphages were brutally effective fighters, and their prowess had seized enough space to allow the Skuldari to scramble up. Three more of the soliphages had been killed, but the others were holding. The longer they held, the more Skuldari could get upon the ramparts…

“Attack!” said Adalar. “After me!”

He raced down the rampart, joining the fight against the other soliphages. Arrows hissed from the gate as Sigaldra commanded the archers to fire. Flames flashed and roared from the rampart, and a cone of fire swept across one of the ladders, setting both it and the Skuldari warriors upon it ablaze. Timothy had abandoned his restraint and thrown his powers into the fray. Adalar hoped the Prophetess did not respond with her magic. 

It hardly seemed necessary.

Her forces were already winning. 

Adalar drove his greatsword through the chest of another soliphage, sending the creature collapsing to the rampart. They had killed a half-dozen soliphages and thrown down as many ladders, but Skuldari warriors were swarming onto the wall. Already they had established several beachheads, and more warriors were climbing up. In a matter of moments they would drive the defenders back. 

Then Adalar heard the screaming from the village.

###

Sigaldra’s fingers ached and her shoulders throbbed, yet she ignored the pain, releasing arrow after arrow. 

She had no shortage of targets. 

Skuldari warriors swarmed the ramparts, and she drew and released, picking targets at random. Around her the other archers loosed in all directions. Fire flashed as Timothy unleashed his magic into the battle, turning Skuldari into living torches. 

It was not enough. 

“We must go!” said Talchar, droplets of blood flying from his broadsword. He cut down a Skuldari warrior. “We cannot hold! We must fall back to the keep.”

Sigaldra hesitated. He was right. The ramparts were on the verge of falling. If the Skuldari swept away the defense, Earnachar could carry out his promise and kill everyone in the village. At least if they withdrew they could retreat in good order, keeping some semblance of defense. 

Though she doubted they would last out the night.

“Very well,” said Sigaldra. “Sound…”

Screams rose from below. 

Sigaldra turned and saw valgasts racing through the street. 

A dozen of the spindly, yellowish-green creatures ran towards the gate. A surge of panic went through Sigaldra. There were no guards on the gate. Everyone capable of holding a weapon was already on the walls.

The valgasts could open the gate, and if they did, the battle was over.

“Stop them!” said Sigaldra. She shot one of the valgasts, and then a second. The other archers loosed, and two more valgasts fell.

But the rest reached the gate, and Sigaldra saw more valgasts running through the village, battling Arnulf’s thains. Beneath her boots the ramparts shuddered as the valgasts threw aside the bar and opened the reinforced gates.

A cheer went up from the horsethains and the spider riders, and they charged for the gate.

Sigaldra snarled and loosed shaft after shaft, but it was pointless. 

The battle was over, and this was the final day of the Jutai nation.

Chapter 18: Charge

“Halt,” said Mazael, reining up. 

Around him the horsemen came to a stop. Romaria, Molly, and Riothamus stopped, and the knights and mounted armsmen, five hundred strong, brought their mounts to a halt. The sun set to the west in a fiery blaze, throwing shadows long and black across the plain. They had passed the ruins of barns and silos as they entered the lands held by Greatheart Keep. The Skuldari and Earnachar’s men had swept the countryside clean. Unless Mazael missed his guess, the Skuldari were assembling siege engines or other equipment from the scavenged timbers. 

“What are we waiting for?” said Molly. She waved a hand to the west. There was smoke on the horizon, quite a lot of smoke. The only thing nearby that could have produced that much smoke was Greatheart Keep. “I think the village is about to fall. If it hasn’t fallen already.” 

Mazael pointed at the sky, and Molly tilted her head back.

“Ah,” she said. “However did you scout before you had skythains, Father?”

“There was more guessing involved,” said Mazael, and the griffin spiraled out of the sky and landed before him. The great beast had the body and limbs of an enormous lion, and the head and vast wings of a giant eagle. A young skythain, a whip-thin Tervingi youth of about twenty, sat in the griffin’s saddle, calming his mount.

“What news, Rilaric son of Rilago?” said Mazael. 

“Ill news, hrould,” said Rilaric. “I fear the village is about to fall. Nearly two thousand of the blue-painted warriors assail their walls, and there are valgasts in their streets.”

“Were you seen?” said Mazael.

“I do not believe so,” said Rilaric. He patted his mount’s neck. “The folk were focused upon their battle. Someone might have glanced skyward, though…but the battle shall occupy them for some time.”

“They’re about to have more problems,” said Mazael. “Head north and find the mammoths. They should be in position by now. Tell them to proceed immediately.”

“It shall be done, hrould,” said Rilaric, and without further ceremony his griffin launched itself into the sky with a shriek, its great wings beating at the air. 

“Well,” said Molly. “What do we do?”

“We ride to Greatheart Keep and lift the siege,” said Mazael. “An army is vulnerable when laying siege, especially when its target is about to fall.” He had used that stratagem once before, hitting Amalric Galbraith’s army as it laid siege to Tumblestone. “Ride them down, and kill as many as you can. Find the Prophetess and kill her. If possible, I want Earnachar alive.”

“Earnachar?” said Molly. “Why?”

“The Prophetess is too dangerous to keep alive,” said Mazael. “Earnachar, though, is not. I suspect that the Prophetess disclosed a large part of her plans to him. He’s going to tell me everything he knows.”

“If he has one of these heart spiders,” said Riothamus, “I might be able to expel it. Along with any other men who have been infected. If I cure them, they might be willing to aid us.”

“Do not be entirely sure of that,” said Mazael. “The Prophetess probably inflicted the spiders upon some against their will, as she tried to do with me. Others took the spiders voluntarily. If we win the battle, you can seek out the spiders and remove them. Until then, we shall need your powers to deal with any vrokuls the valgasts might have among their numbers…and any spells the Prophetess might fling our way.” 

“It shall be done,” said Riothamus. 

“Let’s finish this,” said Mazael, and he snapped his mount to motion. He shouted orders, and the horsemen spread out into a broad line, lances and spears glittering in their hands. They headed west at a fast walk, passing buildings destroyed by the Skuldari. It was just as well that Earnachar had launched his attack so early in the spring. There were not yet any crops for the Skuldari to steal. 

Hopefully there would be enough Jutai left to plant a crop. 

The Demonsouled rage stirred beneath Mazael’s thoughts, urging him to action. The Jutai were under his protection, and he had promised Sigaldra that he would defend her people. Yet Earnachar had betrayed him, allying with the Prophetess and the Skuldari and the valgasts to bring war and fire to the Grim Marches. 

It would end tonight. One way or another.

Romaria lifted her face and closed her eyes for a moment.

“What is it?” said Mazael.

“Corpses,” said Romaria. “Dead flesh. I can smell them. A lot of dead men.”

“There are going to be a lot more dead men in the next few hours,” said Mazael.

“Let’s hope most of them are Skuldari,” said Molly. 

“We haven’t seen any scouts,” said Romaria. “Neither Tervingi horsethains nor Skuldari spider riders.”

“Earnachar must have pulled them all in,” said Molly. “Or they came of their own volition, to get their share of the loot when the village falls.”

“Aye,” said Mazael. He might have come too late to save Greatheart Keep and the Jutai, which only made his anger stir further. “If we’ve come too late to save them, at least we can avenge them.”

“No,” said Riothamus, a pulse of golden fire gleaming in the sigils of his staff. “It’s not too late. Someone has been casting spells within Greatheart Keep, I can see it.”

“Timothy?” said Mazael. His court wizard had been a loyal friend through some very dangerous times, and the man knew how to handle himself in a fight. 

“I think so,” said Riothamus. “A lot of spells, and recently. The fighting is still going on.”

“Then let us hasten,” said Mazael.

He ordered the horsemen to a trot, and the plume of smoke on the horizon grew larger.

A few moments later, Greatheart Keep itself came into sight.

A half-dozen houses burned within the walls of the village, throwing up the high plume of dark smoke. A dozen ladders rested against the spiked outer walls, and Skuldari warriors surged up the ladders, weapons in hand. A score of small melees raged along the ramparts as the defenders struggled against the Skuldari. Worse, someone had opened the gates, and the great mass of the Skuldari warriors was surging towards it. If the Skuldari got into the village, they would impossible to dislodge again, at least until Mazael had summoned more lords and knights to his side.

The Jutai would be dead by then. 

Yet neither side in the battle had noticed Mazael’s force yet. 

“Sound the charge,” said Mazael.

His standardbearer nodded, lifted a war horn to his lips, and blew a long blast, the note echoing over the field. For a moment the fighting along the walls of Greatheart Keep seemed to pause as the defenders and the attackers alike looked for the source of the noise. Mazael put spurs to his horse, and the destrier let out an angry snort and surged forward, steel-shod hooves tearing at the ground. His knights and armsmen shouted and charged, their lance points falling. A ripple of alarm went through the Skuldari warriors below the wall. They were in a horribly vulnerable position, and they knew it. Footmen could withstand a charge of horsemen, but only if they were properly equipped and positioned. The Skuldari warriors were neither, and they knew it. 

Mazael lowered his lance, raising his shield, and his horsemen slammed into the mass of Skuldari footmen. His lance speared a blue-painted warrior, driving through his leather armor and erupting out his back in a crimson spray. Another fell beneath the hooves of Mazael’s horse, his screams ending as the horse trampled him to a bloody pulp. The lance ripped from his hand with the impact, and he yanked Talon from its scabbard, striking right and left as his horse surged forward. He had been skeptical about using a curved blade at first, but it was a superb weapon to use from horseback, and his Demonsouled strength coupled with his mount’s momentum allowed him to strike the head from a Skuldari warrior with a single blow. All around him wedges of horsemen drove into the Skuldari, trampling and killing, and the Skuldari attack broke apart. The mass of warriors turned and fled, some running into the opened gates of Greatheart Keep, others fleeing into the fields.