Soul of Dragons (8 page)

Mazael rode at the head of his men, Romaria and Gerald at his side. Both castle and town looked peaceful, much to his relief. Corvad had not decided to strike at Castle Cravenlock. Of course, he could have attacked elsewhere. Mazael had left Sir Nathan Greatheart and Sir Hagen Bridgebane in command during his absence, and he wanted to speak with them at once. Perhaps they had additional news. 

Gerald frowned. “Mazael...look at the smoke.” He pointed at one of the new workshops outside of the town's walls. “Is that workshop on fire?”

“It’s supposed to be,” said Mazael. “Some of the more enterprising peasants set up a workshop for making pottery.” He scratched at his beard. “Apparently, the clay from the hills can be used to make especially fine pots, or so they tell me. If it works, I'll tax the merchants as they head west, and...”

“Mazael,” said Romaria, voice sharp, “that smoke isn't coming from a workshop. That house is on fire.”

Mazael frowned. As they rode past the town, he saw that a house behind the workshop was on fire, its interior burning. Even as he stared at the fire, he glimpsed dark figures running below the town's walls, figures with black armor and gray faces.

Malrags.

But no alarms rose from the town. Which meant the sentries on the wall hadn't noticed the Malrags yet, or had grown lax in their duties. If that was the case, Mazael would have them flogged. But if the town hadn't noticed the attackers, if they hadn't yet seen the Malrags...

“Gerald!” said Mazael. “Have your men sound an alarm, now!” 

Gerald shouted orders, and a dozen of his knights lifted horns to their lips. The blasts rang out, and Mazael saw heads turn on the wall, saw the sentries move to look.

Saw them notice the Malrags.

Horn blasts rose from the walls of the town, and Mazael heard the sudden shouts of alarm, the booming crack as militiamen pulled shut the town's gates. The Malrags would not get into the town to cause havoc. Men rushed to the ramparts of the town's walls, bearing crossbows and spears. The militia, at least, had not been lax. So why had the sentries failed to see the Malrags? The Malrags moved in large warbands...

Unless they were trying to be stealthy.

That disturbed Mazael. The Malrags were never stealthy. But if Corvad had taken over the remnants of Ultorin's horde, and commanded them to use stealth and tactics, the Malrags would become much more dangerous. 

Even as Mazael watched, the Malrags turned and fled from town’s half-built outskirts, running for the hills west of the castle. There were no more than thirty or forty of them, and Mazael's horsemen could ride them down with ease.

Even as he opened his mouth to give the command, he saw the dark mass emerging from the hills.

More Malrags.

Hundreds of them, marching in an orderly formation rather than their usual frenzied charge. The Malrags bore massive shields, creating a wall of black steel, and carried serrated halberds. 

“Gods,” said Gerald. “They've never fought a formation like that before.”

“Those are Corvad's Malrags,” said Romaria. “I can see crimson veins on some of them.” 

Mazael drew Lion. The sword shuddered in his grasp, the blade shimmering with blue fire as it reacted to the presence of the Malrags. “Any zuvembies with them?”

Romaria sniffed the air. “No. Just Malrags. I don't see Corvad, either.” 

Mazael nodded. “Then something else is controlling the Malrags. A balekhan, most likely.” He had faced balekhans before, during Ultorin's attacks. Larger and stronger than normal Malrags, the demon spirits inhabiting them possessed the power to command lesser Malrags. “Corvad probably delegated his authority to it. If we can find and kill it, the Malrags won't be able to keep their formation. We can deal with them easily then.” 

“A sound plan,” said Gerald.

“Form up the men,” said Mazael. “Heavy horse in the center, the mounted archers on the wings. We don't dare charge them directly, not when they're in formation like that.” Many a foolish lord had led his men to ruin by charging a wall of spears. “Send the horse archers to harass the Malrags. Keep Circan with us – we'll need him if those Malrags have any shamans. Oh, and send one man to the town, and another to the castle. Tell the town's bailiff to send out any mounted archers and militiamen he can spare, but to leave enough to hold the town. And bid Sir Nathan and Sir Hagen to come to our aid with as many knights and mounted armsmen as they can.”

Gerald nodded, shouting Mazael's orders. Within moments the horsemen had formed up, waiting the order to attack. Two men galloped away, one making for the gates of the town, the other riding for the road to Castle Cravenlock's gates. Mazael half-expected to see green lightning fall from the sky, to obliterate the messengers. But no blasts came. Either the balekhan commanding the Malrags did not care about the possibility of Mazael's reinforcements, or it did not have any shamans.

That was a welcome thought. 

He looked at the advancing Malrags. There were at least five hundred of them, against Mazael’s one hundred and sixty horsemen. Close odds, but they could win. Especially if reinforcements came from the town and the castle.

Mazael lifted Lion over his head, the sword ablaze, and his men cheered as the mounted archers galloped to the attack.

Chapter 7 – Red Knights

Romaria swayed in the saddle as her mount raced forward. In one hand she held the reins, and in the other she carried a short curved bow, the sort favored by the men of the Grim Marches. Her composite bow, a gift from the Elderborn tribes, was a powerful weapon, but too large to use from horseback. Fortunately, the short bow had more than enough power to strike down a Malrag at short range. 

“Arrows!” shouted Romaria.

She had taken command of Mazael's mounted archers. The archers had seen her take the shape of a wolf and rip out Malrag throats, had seen her wake the army of traigs to save Deepforest Keep, and therefore did not object. 

Romaria dropped the reins, steering her mount with her knees. The sturdy little horse had been well trained, and continued running. She seized an arrow from her quiver, lifted it to her bow. Around her the men did the same, their horses' manes and tails streaming in the wind.

The wall of Malrag spears loomed before her.

“Release!” said Romaria, urging her horse to the left. In the same motion she raised her bow, drew the string, and released. 

The archers galloped past the Malrag spear wall, loosing their arrows. Most of the shafts slammed into black shields or skidded off Malrag armor. But some penetrated the armor, and a few Malrags fell dead with arrows through their throats or eyes. A ripple went through the Malrag ranks, and for a moment Romaria thought they would break formation and attack, as they always had in previous battles.

But the formation held firm. 

The horse archers rode past the Malrags’ right flank, still releasing arrow after arrow. The Malrags shifted formation, moving to keep their shields between them and the hail of arrows. Romaria grinned. If they could force the Malrags out of formation, that would leave them vulnerable to Mazael's knights. 

She raised her bow, arms tight with tension. She had an advantage over the other archers. The Elderborn half of her soul, the beast within her, made her senses supernaturally keen. The vile stink of the Malrags filled her nostrils, along with the sharper corruption in their crimson veins, so similar to Demonsouled power. She heard their growls and snarls, the angry hiss of breath over yellowed fangs.

And she saw their eyes, white and blank beneath their black helms.

Romaria released the bowstring, the arrow burying itself in a Malrag's eye, and the creature fell with a choked howl of pain. 

And through the ranks of the Malrags, Romaria glimpsed a massive shape.

###

“Flank them!” said Mazael.

He kicked Hauberk to a run. Two bands of mounted archers circled around the Malrags like a swarm of bees, loosing their arrows. To Mazael's great surprise, the Malrags held their formation, not breaking to attack the horse archers. But even thought the Malrags had not attacked, the rain of arrows disrupted their tight formation. The Malrags could not face both Mazael's horsemen and shield themselves from the archers' arrows. One strong charge, and the Malrag lines would break. 

He rode left, his men following, and he saw the dark shapes stir within the Malrags' lines.

###

Romaria released another arrow, and saw the hulking form stand up in the center of the Malrags.

The creature stood fifteen feet tall, arms and legs like tree trunks, armored in overlapping plates of black steel like a dragon's scales. It had the leathery gray hide of the Malrags, its skin covered in gnarled growths and cysts. But like Corvad's Malrags, a network of crimson veins overlaid its hide, pulsing and throbbing. 

An Ograg, one of the larger, more dangerous cousins to the Malrags. 

Romaria shifted her saddle and fired. Her next arrow flew over the Malrags' head and sank into the Ograg's neck. The creature bellowed in fury, slapping at the arrow like a stinging fly, and its massive white eyes turned to face her. 

In the heart of the Malrag formation, she saw three more Ogrags stand up, each carrying a massive spiked metal club. 

###

Mazael cursed, reining Hauberk up, his men halting. 

The Ogrags lumbered through the formation, the Malrags parting to let the larger creatures pass. Four of the damned things, each covered with those crimson veins, larger and stronger than normal Ogrags. All four made straight for Mazael's knights and armsmen, ignoring the arrows that buzzed past them.

Four Ogrags might be enough to take Mazael's horsemen. 

“Should we withdraw to the town?” said Gerald.

“No,” said Mazael. “Those Ogrags could smash through the gates, and then we'll have Malrags pouring into the town. And if we withdraw, they’ll kill our wounded before they deal with us.” Gerald's mouth tightened. His pregnant wife and son were with the wounded, after all. 

“Then how do we fight them?” said Gerald.

Mazael looked at Castle Cravenlock, saw horsemen racing through the gate. Reinforcements were coming. The only effective way to fight Ogrags from horseback was with javelins, or lances long enough to counter the creatures' greater reach. 

“Draw them away from the town,” said Mazael. “Have the archers keep harassing the Malrags. Once we're away from the town and the castle, out in the open, we can ride down the Malrags and deal with the Ogrags.”

Gerald nodded to one of his knights, who lifted his horn and blew a series of blasts. The horsemen formed up around him, and Mazael and his men rode away from both the town and the castle. The Ogrags pursued, while the Malrags remained in formation, trying to shield themselves from the hail of arrows. 

###

Romaria's bow twanged, sending another shaft into the dark ranks. A Malrag fell, black blood spurting from the arrow in its throat.

Horn blasts rang out, and Mazael's heavy horse turned and rode east, away from both the town and the enemy. The Ogrags howled and pursued, while the Malrags remained in place, trying to shelter behind their shields. Romaria scowled, her mind racing. Mazael's horsemen could defeat the Ogrags, if they were careful. But they could not fight both the Ogrags and the Malrags at the same time, and if the Malrags attacked while the horsemen engaged the Ogrags...

A flash of movement in the distance caught her eye. Horsemen rode from the gates of Castle Cravenlock, at least a hundred of them, armor flashing in the afternoon sunlight. That made Romaria’s task easy enough. Her mounted archers would keep the Malrags pinned, while Mazael's men dealt with the Ogrags. And when Castle Cravenlock’s knights arrived, they would smash the Malrags’ lines. For all the Malrags' ferocious strength, they could not stand against armored horsemen in the open field. 

She lifted another arrow.

A heartbeat later a blast of green lightning ripped out of the sky, slamming into the earth a few yards away. Romaria's horse reared in panic, and she lost her saddle, falling hard to the ground.

###

“Circan!” shouted Mazael.

The wizard dropped his reins and began casting a spell. Another lightning bolt hammered down, the blast throwing a half-dozen mounted archers from their saddles. Mazael's fist tightened around Lion's hilt. Had Romaria been thrown from her horse? Had she been injured, even killed? No. He had to focus on the battle. If he made a mistake, more people than Romaria would die. 

Circan flung out his hands, shouting the final words of his spell. An emerald lightning bolt howled out of the sky, reaching for the mounted archers. But this time it struck an invisible barrier and rebounded into the Malrag ranks. Mazael saw a dozen Malrags killed by the blast, and a dozen more flung to the ground. 

“Keep that shaman tied down!” said Mazael. Circan managed a nod, face tight with strain as he cast another spell. “The rest of you, scatter and take those Ogrags!”

His men shouted and galloped forward, spreading themselves into a loose formation, spears and javelins at the ready. Mazael raised Lion, the blade sheathed in a storm of blue flame.

Behind the advancing Ogrags, he saw the Malrags break formation and charge the stunned horse archers.

###

Romaria staggered back to her feet, her left leg and side aching from the fall. Some of the mounted archers lay around her, dead or dazed. She heard the Malrags’ bloodcurdling war cries, saw them break formation and charge. But with Mazael's horsemen fighting the Malrags, and the reinforcements from Castle Cravenlock still making their way down the hill...

Romaria and the remaining archers were on their own. Those still on their horses galloped back and forth, firing arrows, while those who had lost their mounts lifted their weapons. The archers all had swords, but only light leather armor. They would not last long against the Malrags.