A Realm of Shadows (14 page)

His men laughed.

“And what gift
is that?”

Aidan held his
ground.

“The gift of
valor,” he replied.

Leifall studied
Aidan for a long time, and Aidan stood there, feeling his heart pounding,
knowing his father’s destiny lay in these moments, trying to hold onto a brave face.

Finally, Leifall
smiled.

“I like you, boy,”
he said. “I don’t like your father, or his cause. But the blood in your veins
runs true. You are right: we may be safer here. But safety is not what men were
born for.”

Leifall turned and
nodded to his men, and suddenly a series of horns blew. Aidan looked up and saw
dozens of warriors on the battlements stepping forward, all sounding horns,
echoing each other, until finally, the gates opened.

There came a
rumble, and moments later, there emerged hundreds of horses, riding fearlessly out
for battle. As Aidan watched them all come, he felt his heart leap in anticipation.
In victory.

“Let us go to
your father, boy,” Leifall said, laying a hand on his shoulder. “And let us show
these Pandesians who the men of Escalon are.”

Duncan
ran proudly,
facing off against the battalions of Pandesian soldiers, clutching his sword
and bracing himself for battle. Beside him stood a dozen soldiers, Kavos, Bramthos,
and Seavig amongst them, all bravely making a stand with him against the incoming
army. Duncan knew it would be a massacre. Yet his being here, making a stand, would
also give the bulk of his forces the precious time they needed to retreat to
the canyon. Saving his men was more important to Duncan than saving his own
life.

Duncan
also knew that
they could not stand and wait here for the army to come to them. If they were
going to die, they were going to do it bravely, boldly. Duncan charged with his
men, all rushing forth boldly to meet the army. He felt emboldened having these
fearless warriors by his side, all running in step with him, none hesitating to
meet death in the face.

He had a plan,
though. He was not ready to sacrifice their lives that quickly.

“CLOSE THE
RANKS!” he commanded.

These veteran
warriors all followed his command, coming shoulder to shoulder, tighter and
tighter, a solid wall of men in step, charging like an arrowhead into the great
army. Duncan looked up and saw the Pandesians hardly fifty feet away, on
horses, rumbling right for them in a great cloud of dust.

Duncan
waited and
waited, his heart slamming, knowing they had to be disciplined, to wait until
they got closer.

“RAISE THE
SHIELDS!” he yelled, his command barely audible over the sound of the army.

His men huddled together
in a tight semicircle and as one, raised their shields.

“PREPARE TO
DEFEND!”

His men stopped
and knelt together, as one.

The army hit
them like a stampede, a wave of men and horses. As it did, Duncan felt himself
reeling from the stampede of a million men and horses.

But they held
the line. A solid wall of brass, they were able to block the incoming blows of
hundreds of Pandesian soldiers. Horses stumbled and fell all around them, while
dozens of soldiers fell head over heels, collapsing to the ground and causing
an avalanche of fallen soldiers. Chaos and confusion spread quickly in the Pandesian
ranks.

Duncan and his
men held tight, despite the force of blows, all one unit, one wall of steel,
preventing any swords or spears from getting through. Duncan waited for his
moment of opportunity, and then he shouted:

“SWORDS!”

As one, the men
quickly lowered their shields and stepped forward, stabbing the soldiers all around
them. Duncan thrust his sword to the hilt in a soldier’s stomach, watching as his
eyes widened in shock.

Immediately,
they all pulled back and raised the shields again, forming another wall of
steel before the next wave of attacks came.

Again the blows rained
down, and again they blocked them in every direction. Duncan’s arms shook as he
was slammed, feeling the pounding of battleaxes and halberds smashing against
his shield, the sound of reverberating metal deafening in his ears.

“SWORDS!” Duncan boomed.

Again they lowered
their shields and stabbed the soldiers before them.

Again and again Duncan used this maneuver, keeping his men safe against the much bigger army, while
dropping dozens of Pandesians at a time. They were like an arrowhead cutting
its way down the center of the army, creating great havoc while managing to
stay alive.

Yet the storm of
blows never paused, and Duncan felt as if he were up against the weight of the
world. He blocked and stabbed, again and again, his face dripping with sweat
and other men’s blood. Soon enough, exhaustion crept in, his shoulders lowering
just a bit. He breathed heavily in the stifling heat of the shield wall, and he
knew he couldn’t make this last forever. He could see his men tiring, too.

On the next
wave, Duncan raised his shield just a bit too slowly, and a blow scraped his
arm; he cried out in pain as he felt it tear flesh.

“SPEARS!” came a
great cry, cutting through the air.

Duncan was
immediately alert as he recognized it as the voice of the Supreme Ra.

He peeked out
and saw Ra sitting on a horse with a golden harness, towering over all his men,
at the rear of the army. No sooner had he uttered the command than dozens of spears
soared through the air, sailing right for Duncan’s men.

Duncan
tightened his
grip on his shield, raising it a bit higher to block, as did the others. A
spear fell on his shield, bruising his arm, echoing in his ear with the clang.
Yet his shield held.

Another spear
fell, and another, dozens raining down, until soon his shield grew heavy with
all the spears stuck to it. The shield crept lower and lower, until finally he
lowered it and sliced off the spears. As he did, it left him exposed, and Duncan dropped to one knee, gasping in pain, as a spear grazed his shoulder. He heard a cry
and watched Kavos’s calf get grazed by a spear, too.

“ARCHERS!” cried
Ra.

Duncan
saw the Pandesians
around them moving out of the way, and he saw in the distance a legion of archers
step forward and prepare their bows.

Duncan
’s heart fell. He
knew they could not survive this wave of arrows. They had made a brave stand and
had gotten farther than he had ever expected, killing hundreds of men around
them. But now they had reached the end of their run. If they were going to die,
he figured, better to die not cowering behind a shield, but taking out as many
men as they could in one last, valiant charge.

“MACES!” Duncan cried.

As one, his men all
threw their shields, using them as weapons. Duncan bashed one soldier in the
jaw, then used his shield as a disc, throwing it, severing the heads of several
soldiers as it spun through the air with its sharpened edges. Duncan immediately
drew his mace and raced forward into the throng with all his men.

They swung in
wide circles, his men spacing out, creating distance from each other as they
swung wider and wider. They struck and killed unsuspecting soldiers in a
greater and greater circle, the air filling with the steel clang of spiked
metal balls hitting armor, of armor rattling as Pandesians dropped in all
directions. The circle grew wider and wider, till they had created a perimeter
of fifty feet right in the center of the army, none of the Pandesians able to
get close to them.

At the same
time, the archers came forward. They leaned back and raised their bows to the
sky, and as they did, Duncan braced himself, knowing he was about to die.

But then, suddenly,
everyone froze. There came an eerie silence in the battle, as all the soldiers,
on both sides, looked up to the sky up in terror. Duncan, baffled, looked up,
too—and was stunned by what he saw.

There came a
roar as the skies parted, and Duncan’s heart quickened as he saw who it was. Theon.
He had come for them. Theon, Duncan was elated to see, dove down right for the
Pandesian soldiers, opened his mouth wide, and breathed fire.

Shrieks filled
the air as one row after another of Pandesian soldiers were aflame, starting
with the archers. Within moments, the flames rippled through the ranks, and thousands
of Pandesian soldiers lay dead, Theon creating a wide perimeter around Duncan
and his men.

As Duncan
watched, riveted, in awe at the dragon’s power, Theon finally swooped down and
breathed a huge wall of flame, separating Duncan from the rest of the army—and giving
Duncan and his men the precious time they needed to retreat.

“To the canyon!”
Duncan cried.

His men all fell
in beside him and they ran, as one, away from the Pandesians, away from the
wall of fire, and to the distant canyon. It was there, Duncan knew, that he
would make his last stand. He had achieved his goal: the bulk of his men were
free, safe, in the canyon. Now it was time for him to join them, and to have
one last chance to fight the Pandesians on his own terms.

As Duncan and
his men sprinted from the flaming battlefield for the canyon, perhaps still a
hundred yards away, heaving for air, behind him, he could hear Theon’s flames begin
to dry up. He heard the baby dragon flying away, and he knew his fire had run
out. His time was limited before Ra’s army caught up.

Duncan
, heart
pounding, redoubled his speed. He saw the edge of the canyon getting closer, and
he wondered how his men had done on their surprise assault on Baris. He prayed
they had been successful.

Yet Duncan’s heart dropped when he neared and heard the triumphant shouts of men—not his
own—and he knew all was not well. As he reached the edge, he and his men stopped
short and gazed down below. He saw the bulk of his men fighting bravely on the
steep slope of the canyon walls—and not doing well. He saw the dozens of dead
bodies, saw his men surrounded on all sides, falling by the minute, and he realized
Baris had somehow anticipated their coming and led them into a trap. Duncan’s men were stuck, trapped on a broad plateau, fighting Baris’s men below—and yet somehow
also flanked by Baris’s men above. Duncan looked closely and saw that Bant had
taken advantage of secret stone passages, small tunnels in the canyon, and even
now had hundreds of his men pouring out of them, above Duncan’s men, attacking
them from both sides.

His men, clearly
not anticipating this, were falling by the dozens as they tried unsuccessfully
to fight on two fronts at once. Duncan watched in horror and indignation as
several dropped, shrieking, spears hurled into their backs. Bant’s treachery
and deceit never ceased to amaze him.

Duncan
tightened his
grip on his sword, breathing hard with fury, and felt his destiny rise up
within him. He sensed that he, with but a dozen men, could defeat hundreds and
free his men, if he caught them by surprise, used the high ground, and with
speed and valor at his back.

“CHARGE!” he
commanded.

The dozen
fearless warriors beside him were already at a sprint, all racing down the
steep slope, stumbling and not caring as they zeroed in on Bant’s men below.
They sprinted straight down the canyon, Duncan’s heart pounding in his ears.

As he neared, Bant’s
men turned and looked up over their shoulders at the commotion—and were clearly
shocked to find themselves outflanked, too. Duncan, seeing a soldier about to
stab one of his men in the back, knew there was no time. He raised his sword
and threw it, and watched it turn end over end and then find a place in a
soldier’s back, felling him, and saving Duncan’s man.

Duncan
did not
hesitate. He threw himself into the mob, drawing the other sword on his belt, swinging
two swords at once, chopping off the heads of three soldiers before any could
even raise a shield. He felt his veins, his entire being, burning for vengeance
against Bant and his people, and determined to free his men.

His dozen
soldiers were as determined as he, Kavos, Bramthos and Seavig throwing
themselves into battle, hacking down dozens of men, felling them and causing an
immediate panic in the group.

They fought
their way straight down the mountain face, cutting through the lines, forcing Bant’s
men to retreat back down the slope. As they did, they retreated into the arms
of the rest of Duncan’s forces, led by Arthfael, who immediately hacked them
down. Sandwiched from both sides, collapsing in panic, Bant’s force of soldiers
at the canyon top were soon all dead. Many were killed on the spot, while
others Duncan and his men hurled down the mountain face, their tumbling bodies
like boulders, taking out more men below.

Duncan
was soon reunited
with his men, and they all let out a cheer, one solidified force, holding the high
ground. Now they all turned and looked down below, and knew they had only to
contend with Bant’s army below.

“CHARGE!” Duncan cried.

They all charged
down the canyon slope together, regaining momentum as they fought back against Bant’s
stunned and retreating men. Bant’s men, caught off guard, could not retreat
fast enough, and Duncan felled them left and right. Duncan felt a mounting optimism,
and he felt that soon the canyon could actually be theirs. A thousand soldiers awaited
them below, but now they had the momentum and the high ground.

Duncan
led his men,
hacking through soldiers as they fought their way down to a broad plateau near
the canyon bottom. From here, it was but a hundred feet to the canyon floor, to
vanquishing the rest of Bant’s army, and to victory.

As Duncan rallied with all his men, preparing for the final advance, suddenly, he felt the
ground shake beneath him. He looked down, baffled. He looked over and narrowed his
eyes as he saw Bant’s men chopping massive ropes. A rumbling followed, and Duncan looked up to see a massive boulder swing on a rope. He braced himself, too late, as
a moment later it smashed into the underside of the plateau on which he stood.

There came an
awful cracking noise, the sound of rock splitting, and Duncan looked down with
horror to see the plateau he stood on separating from the canyon wall. His
world turned sideways, he was thrown off balance, and suddenly he and all his
men were falling through the air, tumbling in an avalanche of rubble, hurtling
down to the army below, and to an instant and sure death.