Storm Holt (The Prophecies of Zanufey Book 3) (31 page)

It was time to gather his knights and fall back. Despite wanting to help the people, his knights were his first priority.
It would be stupid to think they might be invincible.
Even if they were somehow immune to death, it didn’t mean they couldn’t be captured. It didn’t bear thinking about. He raised his sword high and urged his horse into the fray yelling.

‘Knights. Knights of the Raven.’
 

He hacked into the first Maphraxie, dismembering its arm as it wielded a studded club. Black blood spurted in goblets over his horse and leg. He thrust it through the throat in disgust and moved forwards, shouting as loud as he could, hoping his knights could somehow hear him above the chaos of battle.

‘Ghenath.’ He cried out as the elf knight rounded the corner. She drove her curved slender sword easily into the neck of a Maphraxie, then looked at him, her eyes wild. ‘Fall back, there are too many. Tell everyone to fall back and take cover. We cannot risk being captured.’

She nodded and turned her horse back the way she had come. Marakon tried to follow, but his path was immediately blocked by a beast of a Maphraxie. This one’s eyes gleamed, and it looked at him with more intelligence than most. He adopted a different tactic. Rather than hack and slash at the brutes like he usually did, he treated this one as if it had human cunning. He pulled his horse back as if afraid. The Maphraxie came on emboldened. As it lifted its axe he reared his horse, and to his surprise it slashed out its hooves into the enemy’s face. He thrust his sword in a killing blow.

‘Good boy.’ He petted his horse’s neck. He’d ridden horses into battle many times, but never had he experienced this level of teamwork. His horse always seemed to know what he wanted it to do, and responded without pause. He wondered if it had been so in the past when he was king. ‘I wish I could remember what I called you back then.’ He darted into an empty street, and turned to survey the battle.
 

The market square was heaving with Maphraxies. There were several bundles being tossed between them. Screams of terror filled the air, but between him and the net of children there were at least twenty Maphraxies. He could not reach them.

A snarl came from behind and his horse skittered. Two death hounds bounded towards him, not quite managing to stay abreast of each other in the narrow alley as they struggled to get to him. Drool slathered their drawn lips and fangs. Their eyes were wild, like rabid dogs. He drew his dagger and hurled it, kicking his horse forwards at the same time. The first beast fell instantly, the dagger embedded between its eyes. The other hound leapt over the body of its companion only to be slashed down by his sword. He reached down and pulled his dagger free of the twitching corpse.
 

The alley was empty for now. Ahead was a wide fire-lit street, and beyond it were more dark alleys. They would eventually lead out of town and into the woods. He glanced back at the market square filled with Maphraxies. He grimaced. Today was not a victory. Fleeing from battle were always the hardest decisions he felt he ever had to make. He preferred to die fighting than flee. He would have felt better if he’d managed to gather all of his knights to him. But then he couldn’t fight a hundred Maphraxies and still consider himself sane.

There came a scream, and a young boy staggered into the alley. The child pressed himself up against the wall trying to hide from whatever was coming. Marakon trotted towards forwards, sword at the ready. The boy trembled and stared up at him. Marakon motioned for him to get behind his horse, and the boy slunk back. A wiry Maphraxie hurtled round the corner, rope at the ready. Marakon’s sword decapitated him instantly. A second Maphraxie tried to enter more cautiously, but met the same fate as its comrade. Marakon listened for footsteps, but heard none.
 

‘Come, up behind me.’ He pulled the boy up onto his horse.
 

‘My sister,’ the boy wailed.

‘We’ll try to find her,’ Marakon said, and urged his horse forwards into the brightly lit street. Fire flared around them, even the wet cobbles seemed to be burning. The instant wall of heat that hit him made him gasp. He heard a scream in the next alley.

‘Kelly,’ the boy squealed.

Marakon galloped forwards. Thrust under the arm of a Maphraxie was a small blonde girl, screaming. The Maphraxie was running and had its back to Marakon. It didn’t even see the sword that ran it through. The girl scrambled free and Marakon pulled her up in front of him. Protecting the children now became his first priority. He had to get them to safety. The next street was empty. He glimpsed the dark shape of trees at the end. He cantered along it into the forest beyond, and didn’t slow his horse for a good few yards even after they had entered the trees.
 

Moving through the thick foliage quickly became difficult on horseback. He had a thought. Perhaps he could help more people this way, carrying them on his horse one by one.
 

‘Hey, boy, what’s your name?’

‘Ben,’ the boy replied.

‘Ben, I need you to do something brave. Take your sister as deep into the woods as you can. You have no need to be afraid, scouts keep these woods clear of wolves and bears. But if you look after your sister, I can go back and help more people.’ He helped the boy onto the ground followed by his sister. ‘The monsters will be gone before dawn, but do not return to the town until sunrise. You hear me? Go now, quickly, as far and as fast as you can.’ The boy nodded.

Marakon turned his horse back the way he had come. Weariness filling his mind as it drained the strength from his body. If he helped the people he might find Rasia and his sons. He urged his horse faster through the trees. He didn’t even see the dark shape moving at the edge of the forest until it was upon him.

His horse screamed as a foltoy the size of a bear pounced on top of them, sending them all to the ground. The wind was knocked from Marakon’s lungs and he struggled to keep from being crushed by the beast. He struck at it with his sword and fist as best he could from his prone position, managing to shear off a chunk of flesh from its back. It screamed. He rolled to standing as it twisted to face him. His horse staggered up and seemed to limp. He hoped its armour had stopped a mortal wound.

‘Run,’ he screamed at his horse. To his surprise it obeyed him and ran back into the woods.

The foltoy turned to follow it but Marakon leapt in its path.
 

‘No you don’t,’ he growled, ‘now you get to fight me.’ The foltoy hissed, green eyes cunning. He lunged at it and sliced another wound along its side. It howled, but still hesitated to retaliate.
 

‘Fight me,’ he screamed. He ran at it. The beast was fast and dodged his sword. Claws flashed towards him. He fell back as they narrowly missed his face. In the same instance he flicked his sword up and sank it shallowly into its shoulder. The beast screamed, staggered back, then ran towards him, maddened by pain.
 

Marakon stepped to the right as it came on, raised his sword and slashed a deep gash down its side. But to his surprise the foltoy did not stop, and instead carried on past him into the woods. The beast was wounded, black blood oozed from its side, but he couldn’t let it get away, he had to be sure it was dead. He chased after it, slashed at its tail, taking the end off. The foltoy made an awful sound, and quick as lightning turned and swiped at him. Marakon took the full force of the blow on his chest. Claws scraped along his breast plate, and if he hadn’t been wearing armour he would be dead.

Before he could recover the foltoy struck again, putting all of its weight behind the blow, sending him sprawling down the bank. He hit his head hard on a tree trunk as he rolled. The last thing he saw was the foltoy bounding off into the forest.

It seemed only moments later when Marakon swam up through a woozy fog of pain. He was alone and all was silent, apart from the noise of his rasping breath. He could barely breathe against the constriction of his damaged breastplate that had also twisted in his fall. He reached aching arms up to find the straps and undid them. It came free and he sucked in lungful’s of air. He sat up wincing. His body was sore all over, cuts and bruises were everywhere, but none of them appeared fatal. Waking up feeling like this was becoming annoyingly normal.

He blinked, trying to get his bearings. The soft light told him it was dawn. The overcast sky was a mass of grey clouds but at least the rain had stopped. He flinched as movement caught his eye, but then laughed as his eyes fell upon his horse munching on grass at the forest edge. He eased himself up onto leaden legs and hobbled over to it. There was dried blood on its flanks but it seemed fine. From his pack he took long dregs of water from his water flask. The water helped clear his woozy head.

Dried blood, both red and black, covered the ground where he’d fought the foltoy. He glanced into the forest. In the distance lay an unmoving black shape. He smiled grimly. At least that foltoy wouldn’t kill anymore. He strained to see more in the forest, hoping to catch a glimpse of the children, but there was nothing.
They’ll be far from here if they have any sense
, he consoled himself.

He glanced at the town. Smoke billowed up into the sky from many places. The Maphraxies would be gone by now, along with however many unlucky bastards they managed to capture. Rasia… He tied his breastplate to the saddle, and feeling saddle sore decided to walk. His muscles screamed for rest as he made it back into what was left of Wenderon.

THE sun was setting when Coronos finally returned. There came a shimmer in the air in exactly the same place where he’d left that morning, and then there he was again. He looked weak and tired.

‘Father, are you all right?’ Asaph took hold of Coronos’ arm as the old man swayed.

‘Asaph?’ He blinked. ‘There you are. Yes, I’m fine. I was never very good at transportation, and now I’m older it really hits me hard.’

‘Maybe you shouldn’t do it again,’ Asaph said and helped him sit down upon his folded cloak.

‘Well, I never felt I fit on the Wizards’ Circle, not with my skill in magic. But being an Orb Keeper and advisor to King and Queen of Drax I felt obliged. I didn’t think being an Orb Keeper was a good idea either,’ he puffed then chuckled. ‘Goodness what have you made for dinner? I’m famished,’ he said, eyeing up the huge mushrooms sizzling on a hot stone in the fire. A pot of soup hung above them, along with a pre-cooked load of roasted roots and truffles and some more of the Mayor’s Kitchen’s bread.

‘Well, you were gone ages, and we got bored. We couldn’t leave the camp for long because we didn’t know when you’d be back. Issa has gone to find some berries for pudding,’ Asaph said.

‘Wonderful. I guess you two had some private time together?’ Coronos wiggled his eyebrows.

‘What?’ Asaph felt his cheeks grow hot. ‘Uh, we just foraged for food, nothing more.’

‘Really,’ Coronos said, completely unconvinced as he settled himself before the food.

‘And maybe a little kiss,’ Asaph added quietly. Both men laughed.

‘He’s back,’ Issa said, bounding over with a small sack full of berries, and surprising Coronos by bending to hug him. She then set about finding plates and spoons in their packs, humming a song neither man recognised.

‘Just a kiss, you say?’ Coronos said with a raised eyebrow. Asaph shrugged innocently.