Battle Mage: Dragon Mage (Tales of Alus) (61 page)

             
Thundering hooves and men with glowing blue spears and shields rushed into the fray. The monsters now found their flanks being overwhelmed by this new force. The ones towards the back and left were slower to respond to the new enemy, but as the horsemen continued their slaughter, even they began to withdraw from the new attackers.

             
Howling in despair and frustration, the dark horde turned tail and quickly disappeared back into the forest. The riders didn’t bother to pursue. They knew the beasts’ abilities in the brush. Horses just couldn’t catch them. A few more minutes fight and all that remained on the road were men and the corpses of both sides strewn around the carriage and road.

             
Deiclonus felt an overwhelming rush of exhaustion as he leaned onto his staff for support and took in his surroundings. More walking stick than magic staff, the elder wizard moved to check Ashleen who had slumped onto one of the dead horses appearing drained, in pain, and checking her shoulder. Wendle joined him with a limp and showing numerous nicks on his cloak and robes that attested to close quarters fighting as well.

             
As the elder wizard checked on the girl, who wanly smiled up at his attention, the new horsemen rode to surround the wounded vehicle. One man clad in mostly brown rode to face them and saluted. “Falcon Trillon, at your disposal, sir. I’m afraid that we weren’t able to save you all, but we had to chase this pack from quite away to get here.”

             
The wizard looked up at a young man that looked to be in his very early twenties at most. Light brown hair, barely mussed, topped an uncovered head. Deiclonus also noted an aura about the man. Around the aura, the snow seemed to bend and flee from him as if sliding over a bubble. It was an odd aura for a mere falcon of Southwall to have. Such mages were not generally known to be strong in magic. Also like a wilder they differed from true wizards, though they did have their uses as more than a dozen werebeasts attested. “Greetings, Falcon Trillon, I am Deiclonus, wizard of the first order. Your timely rescue is still much appreciated, young man. Thankfully, our Southwall allies apparently still guard the wall during the winter.”

             
The falcon nodded. “Never enjoyable, but it has been necessary with the Dark One’s beasts roaming more freely the past few years,” he agreed. “You have wounded?”

             
The wizard glanced around. The guardsmen numbered three standing. Looking to their faces, the men shook their heads sadly. Three then, the rest all slain. He knew they were lucky that any of them lived. Had the Southwallers not come along when they did, they would all most likely be dead. “My apprentices have their share of cuts and bites but they should survive until a healer can see to them.

             
The falcon dismounted. Checking Ashleen’s arm for himself, he merely said one word, “Heal.”

             
As the wizard watched, to his amazement the wound swiftly seemed to heal over and barely a scar remained where the savage bite had torn her fleshy upper arm. The man went to his pack and took a partial loaf of bread and began to chew on it as he went to check the others.

             
“You battle mages can heal?” the elder wizard remarked in surprise. “I’ve not seen many full wizards who could heal as well.”

             
Glancing at Deiclonus, Falcon Trillon replied, “It’s a bit new, and like you wizards, not many of us have the skill.”

             
“Impressive,” was the reply.

             
“Thank you very much,” Ashleen added as she tested the arm. “If you’re a tailor besides all my needs would be met,” the wilder smiled as she ruefully played with her torn sleeves. The skin was a bit pink from the cold but she could move the appendage as if nothing had happened.

             
While the battle mage had distracted them with his magic, the other two passengers had exited. A man with a rounded belly that could be assumed even through the bulk of his robes and cloak was also quite bald. With his floppy hat perched atop his head, the man appeared to be quite full of himself as well. Noting the dead around him nearly unblinkingly, their deaths seemed to bother him little. The second to exit was a young, attractive woman with dark curled hair and dark brown eyes that could probably hide many mysteries in their depths. Unlike the nobleman, the girl paled and tried to look away from all the blood and death.

             
The man checked his footing to avoid soiling his fur boots, before noting the falcon. “I assume we have you to thank for our salvation, young man?”

             
Nodding, the falcon replied, “Yes, sir, I am Falcon Sebastian Trillon. I am in charge of this squad. We noted this pack on the move and came as quickly as our horses could carry us.

             
“I am afraid that some of your men were dead before we could reach you.”

             
The man patted the air, waving off the worries, “That is not your fault, lad. They’ll be hard to replace anytime soon though I am afraid. At least once we reach the wall; we should be reasonably safe for the rest of our travel.”

             
Sebastian nodded, “This seems to be an odd time of year to attempt to travel though, sir.”

             
“One needs to keep the line of communication open as much as possible despite the weather.”

             
The round little man seemed to start in recognition of a mistake. “I am afraid that I forgot to introduce myself. I am so used to someone else being around to do so. I am Lord Romonus, of Treatenshire, ambassador of Kardor. This is my lovely daughter, Helena.”

             
“Pleased to meet you both.” The falcon glanced to his men who had worked to remove the two fallen horses from their harness. While the remaining four in the team looked agitated, they appeared none the worse for wear despite the battle that had surrounded them and their falls. “I think we have your team put back together as best we can here, my lord. Perhaps we should move on before they find reinforcements and decide to return.”

             
Already pale from the death around them, Helena somehow managed to whiten even more at the idea and quickly retreated inside the carriage.

             
Glancing around apparently looking for someone, Lord Romonus said to Deiclonus, “Kerrick seems to have been slain as well. Would you have your apprentice drive us to the wall, wizard?”

             
The man in question nodded and gestured for Wendle to take his place on the bench. While the younger man didn’t appear overly enthused to sit on the seat and drive through the remaining snowy miles, he moved to comply with his master’s wishes.

             
“It’s not too far to the wall from here,” Sebastian stated trying to make the man feel better. The falcon also noted that the wizards of Kardor had not put up barriers against the wind as he had. It was a magic taught to him by a wizard. Surely, a full wizard would know and use the trick in this kind of weather if they could?

             
He shrugged and dismissed the thought. It mattered little. Soon the carriage was running once more, but this time nine battle mages accompanied the three remaining guardsmen on their ride to the wall.

For Darius, the High Wizard’s Origin Read:

The Emperor’s Shadow War

Chapter 1- Dante

The smells of blood and death lay upon the plain.
The orange light of a new day's sun added its color to the
already crimson stained earth. The cries of crows and
ravens broke the still air with their raucous calls of
delight and the occasional squabble over a choice piece
of meat. The fights ended quickly though. There was
more than enough for even their great numbers, but the
large ebony scavengers had their work cut out for them
even still. Armor that had sought to protect the men of
Certe in life resisted the strength of their beaks even
though it had failed its responsibility so completely.

A sudden movement from the center of the dead
startled the scavengers from their fare. The air turned
dark as the flock lifted angrily from their meals. A groan
from the final surviving defender was drowned out by the
squawks of the brazen birds. The warrior fought his way
weakly to his knees. A hand brushed absently at the
blood blinding his vision. Looking back to the ground in
front of him, the man found his broken sword.

The largest of the ravens swooped downwards to land before the man. It looked at him curiously. The man thought that he could see disbelief in the creature's eyes
which mirrored that which he also felt. It squawked at
him as if to ask him how it was that he still lived.

A croak through his raw throat was his
ineffectual retort. The soldier coughed and the effort
nearly threw him back onto his face in the gore. He spied
an unopened canteen on a body nearby and reached out
for it. Lifting the container to his mouth, the fallen
warrior poured the liquid between his lips. The silver
haired man rinsed out his mouth and spit it back out. The
water had turned red before it even touched the blood
stained earth.

Pouring the contents of the canteen back into
his mouth, he forced his throat to swallow. Once started,
the man couldn't stop until the vessel was drained.

The raven hadn't moved throughout the whole of
his efforts.

The man stared at the creature in amazement. The thought of the scavenger drew him to look about him. The death surrounding him caused an unbidden
gasp. He could tell that the hundreds of bodies mostly
belonged to his comrades and allies. The army of King
Druin lay about him in great unkempt piles.

He forced himself to remember how the losses
could possibly have happened. The sight of a dark
misshapen body sent waves of memory flowing harshly
back into his consciousness. Tears of bitterness and
failure came unbidden as he remembered it all.

Dante
Betrice of the Certe Alliance Guard had
come with his comrades when reports of the dark horde
invading their lands had come to them. King Druin ruled
in the south of the alliance and had sent the first
battalion to meet the unknown intruders. General Batist
had confidently led his men to the plain of Turo and there
the army found that they faced the horror of creatures
not born of their world.

The creatures consisting of two main types wore
black armor strangely discolored by a crimson gloss. The
smaller creatures all had dark green skin, a green that
resembled that of an evergreen in winter. Small and
quick they darted in and out and around the humans with
their long knives. If a man wasn't careful, the beasts
would take swipes at his legs going for the tendons in
particular. He had seen many a soldier fall to the tactic and the creatures were quick to pounce in small groups
to finish off their victim as well. If they didn't get the kill,
their larger cousins would use their axes and clubs
instead. With rough skin the color of oak bark, the
creatures were nearly the height of a full grown man and
had chests wider than a man's shoulder width. The larger
beasts had formed a core through which their smaller
cousins operated.

With power and speed, the dark warriors had
quickly dismantled the entire command.

Dante had fought valiantly. Even as the men
around him fell, he had continued to hold his ground.
Dark creatures could be found slain in the midst of the
Certe Guardsmen, and some were the result of his work.
Then the numbers had closed in on him. Their mass
proved too strong for his blade and the shield he had
carried was left in tatters.

This brought him back the question of his
continued existence. "How can I be here?" he questioned
the raven still before him.

Cocking its shiny black head at him curiously,
the bird answered with a softer call. Dante looked at the
creature before him in wonderment that it was still
perched before him. Shaking his head slightly until he
realized that the motion caused him dizziness, Dante
then chose to try and stand. The raven retreated only
slightly as it continued to watch.

The soldier chose to ignore the bird and turned to
the task of finding a suitable sword and shield to replace
those that he had lost. He also found a pair of animal skin
canteens and a couple of travel packs of food. Dante began eating ravenously. He had been famished. The
hunger was greater than any he could ever remember.