Soul of Dragons (9 page)

A quiver of arrows hung from Romaria's belt, and she still held her short bow. She raised her bow and released, sending the arrow into the nearest Malrag's eye. The creatures charged at her, shields raised, weapons drawn back for a strike. Again she released, and again and again, every shot slaying a Malrag. Around her the surviving men recovered and loosed their arrows, while those still horsed kept harassing the Malrags' flanks.

But Romaria's quiver ran empty, and the Malrags kept coming.

###

Hauberk thundered towards the nearest Ograg. The destrier's headlong speed gave Mazael's blow all the more force as he swung, Lion a burning blur in his fist. The sword crunched through the Ograg’s armor and thick hide, digging into its knee, and the creature swung its spiked club for Mazael's head. He ducked and a dozen more knights raced past the Ograg, stabbing with their spears. Steel spearheads plunged into its legs and belly, and the Ograg fell to its knees with a howl. 

A charging knight buried his spear in the Ograg's throat. The creature collapsed with a gurgling snarl, misshapen hands clawing at its neck. 

A cheer went up from the men, cut short as the three remaining Ogrags attacked. The swing of a massive club sent two horses crashing to the ground, their riders tumbling through the air. 

###

Romaria tossed aside her short bow. 

She did not draw her bastard sword. The Malrags rushed her, their white eyes wide with bloodlust, six-fingered hands lifting axes and spears. 

Romaria took one step forward, then another. 

Then she changed.

The power of her Elderborn heritage flowed through her, and her flesh reshaped itself like clay. A moment later she wore the form of the beast within, of the great black wolf. The Malrags hesitated, stunned at the sudden transformation, and that was all the opening Romaria needed. She tore into the Malrags, a blur of black fur and white fangs. In one heartbeat she hamstrung of pair of Malrags, sending the creatures falling. In the next her jaws closed about a Malrag's neck, ripping its throat free.

She sped through the Malrags like a black wind, and they scattered in disarray.

Yet there were hundreds of them, and even in the form of the great wolf, Romaria could not take them all.

###

“Reform!” yelled Mazael. 

The Ogrags crashed into Mazael's knights and armsmen, leaving a dozen men stunned, dying, or dead. The remaining horsemen broke free, galloping in all directions. Mazael cursed, Lion trailing blue flame in his fist. He knew he had to keep his Demonsouled fury under control. Yet for his men to have survived the great battle at Deepforest Keep, only to die within sight of their homes, filled him with molten rage.

By all the gods, he would drive the Malrags from his lands once and for all, and make Corvad pay for what he had done. 

Mazael galloped past a fallen knight, leaned down, and snatched up the wounded man's spear. He rammed Lion back into its scabbard, steering Hauberk towards the nearest Ograg. The giant lumbered to meet him, raising its spiked club high.

Mazael stood up in his stirrups and thrust the spear with both hands. The steel point plunged into the Ograg's exposed armpit, sinking deep. Black blood and crimson slime slid down the shaft, and the weapon ripped from Mazael's hands as Hauberk galloped past. The Ograg shrieked in fury and spun, trying to track Mazael. Again Mazael wheeled Hauberk around, ripping Lion from its scabbard. The Ograg turned just as Mazael raised Lion, and the towering creature flinched from the azure fire around the blade.

It gave Mazael all the opening he needed to swing for the Ograg's wrist. Lion sank into the Ograg's arm, and the club fell from its gnarled fingers. The Ograg's enraged howl became more of a screech, and again Mazael rose in his stirrups, all the strength of his arm behind his next blow.

Lion's tip tore open the Ograg's throat. The creature fell to its knees, the ground shaking, and two passing knights buried their spears in its face. 

Its screech dissolved into a gurgle, and then silence.

Mazael risked a look around the battlefield. His knights fought the remaining two Ogrags, wearing them down bit by bit. But the Malrags' formation had dissolved into chaos, the creatures pursuing the mounted archers.

Should he ride to the archers' aid? No – he saw knights and mounted armsmen thundering from the castle. But if they did not get here in time, if the Ogrags overpowered Mazael's knights or if the Malrags slaughtered the mounted archers...

He blinked.

Another band of horsemen approached from the north. At least fifty strong, with every man clad in steel plate and a crimson cloak. At their head flew a red banner adorned with an eight-pointed silver star. 

###

Romaria raced through the Malrag ranks, maiming and killing. So far she had kept the Malrags off-balance, but she was tiring. She could not keep up this pace forever. Sooner or later she would stumble, and the Malrags would have her. 

She drove another Malrag to the ground, her fangs opening its throat, and hamstrung another with a quick rake of her claws. The Malrags tried to strike her down, but they were packed too close together. She dodged the downward stab of a spear, kicked off the shaft, and killed the Malrag that wielded the weapon. An axe ruffled her fur, and Romaria ducked the blow, ripping open the belly of the nearest Malrag. 

There were too many of them. 

Then Romaria heard the blast of a horn, the shouts of men, and steel crunching into Malrag flesh. She saw the horsemen from Castle Cravenlock driving into the Malrags, their banners flying overhead. At their head rode Sir Nathan Greatheart, old and hard as an oaken staff, and Sir Hagen Bridgebane, grim and black-bearded. The knights smashed into the disorganized Malrag lines, lances piercing Malrag chests, maces crushing Malrag skulls. 

A deafening roar filled Romaria's ears. She pivoted, fur bristling, and saw a tall figure hurrying towards her. A Malrag, but taller than the others, and clad in black steel plate from head to foot. A massive black sword rested in its armored hands. 

The balekhan. 

No doubt Corvad had delegated some of his control over the Malrags to the balekhan, commanding them to obey it. If Romaria could kill it, the Malrags would lose their ability to coordinate. 

Of course, fangs and talons could not penetrate the balekhan's black armor. 

The balekhan saw her and howled a war cry, black sword coming up for a blow. 

###

The red knights galloped closer, crimson cloaks streaming behind them. Mazael stared at the banner, trying to place it. It resembled the banners of the militant orders of the Knights Dominiar or the Knights Justiciar. Yet Lord Richard had expelled the Justiciars from the Grim Marches, and Mazael himself had destroyed the Dominiars. Besides, the Dominiars' banner had been black, while that of the Justiciars was blue. 

Were these red knights friends or foes?

The charging knights veered towards one of the remaining Ogrags. The creature bellowed, swinging its club. The red knights galloped past, flinging heavy javelins that penetrated the Ograg's armor and sank into its flesh. The leader of the knights, a huge figure with a massive red beard, swung a steel war hammer with two hands. It struck the Ograg's knee with a loud crack, and the creature fell with the sound of shattering bone. 

Mazael's knights swarmed around the Ograg, spears rising and falling.

He heard the crash as the riders from Castle Cravenlock charged into the Malrags. 

Mazael grinned and turned Hauberk toward the last Ograg. Whether friend of foe, he would accept the aid of the red knights against the Malrags. 

###

Romaria released the shape of the great black wolf and flowed back into the form of a woman. Something about the magic of her Elderborn soul insured her weapons and clothing returned when she transformed, and she yanked her bastard sword from its scabbard.

The balekhan sprang at her with a roar, its sword a black blur. The creature possessed far greater strength, and Romaria could not hope to parry the blow. Instead she sidestepped and whipped her sword sideways. The tip crunched through the gap in the armor covering the balekhan's elbow, drawing black blood. She leaped back as the balekhan reversed its swing, the tip of the sword swinging past her face. Romaria darted forward and stabbed, aiming for the balekhan's eye slit, but her sword clanged off its masked helm.

The balekhan was strong, but not fast. If she could wear it down, inflict enough minor wounds on it, she could land a killing blow. Again her sword sped forward, striking a weak point on the balekhan's plate. The balekhan roared and stalked after her, chasing her as arrows fell and the horsemen carved their way through the Malrags. 

Then Romaria saw the shaman.

It stood a dozen yards away, a hunched, gaunt shape in a robe of tattered black leather. All three of its eyes, both the white ones and the glowing green one, gazed at her. Circan's wards no doubt stopped the Malrag from raining down more of the green lightning blasts. But the wards would not stop the creature from loosing a spell at her.

The shaman lifted its claws, green sparks crackling around them.

###

Mazael swung Lion, the burning blade biting deep into the Ograg's leg. Around him both his men and the red knights flung javelins and stabbed spears, driving the Ograg to its knees. The bearded red knight rose up his saddle, hammer grasped in both hands, and brought the weapon down. 

It struck the side of the Ograg's head with a massive crunch, and the creature sagged to the earth. 

But Mazael still heard the sounds of battle as the riders from Castle Cravenlock struggled against the Malrags. 

The bearded red knight reined up before Mazael and pulled off his helm. He looked about forty, with a weathered face and graying red hair. He held the massive hammer as if weighed no more than a slender branch, and his blue eyes were keen and fierce as Lion’s fire.

“Whoever you are,” said Mazael, “thank you for your aid.”

“And yours, as well,” said the bearded knight, his voice a deep rumble. “We are bound by our oaths to pursue the Malrags, wherever they appear. I would not wish to face that warband on my own.” 

“Nor I,” said Mazael. “I am Mazael, Lord of Castle Cravenlock.”

“The lord of these lands?” said the bearded knight. “Good, for we have business with you. I am Sir Kjalmir Morsbane, a commander of the Order of the Knights Arminiar.”

Mazael blinked in surprise. The Arminiar Knights? Unlike the other militant orders, they did not interfere in the politics of the great lords. They held lands far to the north, along the edge of the Great Northern Waste. Mazael had never traveled that far north during his wanderings, and the Arminiars rarely came south. 

Later. He could question Kjalmir later. Only after the battle was won, after his slain men had been avenged.

After he saw if Romaria still lived. 

“You might have business with me,” said Mazael, “but we've more important work first.”

“Aye,” said Kjalmir. His teeth flashed white in his red beard. “We've Malrags to slay.”

They rode to battle together.

###

The shaman turned as Romaria ran to the side, the green light around its talons intensifying. She felt the surging power as the shaman gathered magical strength, arcane force strong enough to strike her dead where she stood. The balekhan pursued her, launching blows like a storm of black steel. Romaria backed away, ducking and dodging. 

The shaman thrust out its hands, green light flashing between its claws.

Romaria sidestepped, moving closer to the balekhan. It swung, and Romaria made no effort to dodge.

But her movement had put her between the balekhan and the shaman.

An arc of sizzling green lightning erupted from the shaman's hands and curled into the balekhan, fingers of green fire shooting up and down its limbs. The balekhan went into a mad dance, sword falling from its armored fists, smoke rising from the gaps in its armor. Romaria sprinted past the balekhan, sword grasped in both hands.

Her swing took the shaman's head from its shoulders, the green light fading from its third eye. She spun as the balekhan jerked and danced, and drove her sword tip into the eye slit of its helm. She felt the blade crunch against bone, and the balekhan toppled backwards with a clang of its armor.

A shuddered went through the surrounding Malrags, and their efforts to fight the archers and the horsemen lost cohesion. Each Malrag went into a frenzy, and the knights drove them back.

A few moments later Mazael and his horsemen charged the Malrags from behind, accompanied by knights in crimson cloaks.

The battle was over a short time after that.

###

Molly reappeared atop the ramparts of Cravenlock Town's wall. 

The guards didn't notice her, their attention held by the battle raging on the plains. The town itself was a scene of chaos, with militiamen rushing to the walls, and women and children heading for the shelter of the domed church in the center of the town. But the panic was controlled – everyone here had survived Ultorin's invasion, and knew what to do during an attack. 

No one saw Molly.

She grinned, drew on the dark fire within her, and walked into the shadows.

She reappeared atop the half-built inn overlooking the town's central square. The three-story building must have been damaged during Ultorin's attacks, because most of the roof was missing. Molly perched on a beam and gazed at the church. It was a massive structure for so small a town, with thick walls and high, narrow windows. The dome rose over the walls, built in the style of Old Dracaryl.

Appropriate, really. Given what Corvad sought to find. 

She wrapped a loose brown cloak around herself, hiding the dark armor of the Skulls, and strode into the shadows.