Blood of the Earth (53 page)

Another of the ships slipped out of its berth into the ocean, lowering oars and pulling away into the bay. The cavalry charge along the inside of the north berm wall was making headway, allowing access into the enemy encampment that didn’t involve climbing over the front line. Anatoly headed toward the breach, walking briskly behind the back rank of archers as they steadily emptied their barrels of arrows.

They reached the northern edge of the shield wall as the last of the Rangers poured past on their light horses. Anatoly stopped to let them by, motioning for the Strikers to gather around.

“We’re going to follow the cavalry,” Anatoly said. “We’ll make our way along the inside of the berm wall toward the water. Don’t stop to fight if you don’t have to. Let the rest of the army kill the enemy.” He pointed to the warship in the northernmost berth. “Our objective is that ship. Once we’re aboard, we’ll capture it if we can or set it on fire if we can’t. Any questions?”

No one spoke. Anatoly nodded curtly and started out into the wake of the cavalry. There was little resistance near the gap in the berm wall. Most of the enemy soldiers were focused on repelling the main attack along the eastern front, and those nearest the gap had been trampled by the cavalry charge.

Anatoly ignored the battle taking place to his south as he moved purposely through the trail of carnage. Nearly two-thirds of the way into the enemy encampment, the cavalry had turned south and into the heart of the camp, disrupting the barbarians’ efforts to mount an effective defense against the advancing shield wall and throwing the entire camp into chaos.

Wizard Sark had softened a path for them on his way through the camp toward the southern berm wall where he had blown another hole, allowing the cavalry a way out.

When they reached the place where the cavalry had turned, they started to encounter some resistance. Anatoly almost relished the opportunity to unleash his festering anger born of worry for Abigail, and more distantly for Alexander.

The first barbarian they came upon was a sentry posted along the northern berm wall. The Rangers had passed only a minute or so before and the barbarian was just coming out from behind an upturned wagon he’d used for cover against their arrows. He smiled when he saw Anatoly and the Strikers, then shouted for help from his companions.

Several dozen men emerged from similar hiding places, cautiously at first, then boldly when they saw that the threat of the Rangers’ arrows was past.

“Finally, an opponent who will fight me face to face like a man,” the barbarian said, drawing his enormous two-handed sword from the sheath lining his back.

Anatoly brought his axe up into a ready guard position and advanced toward the barbarian, who brought his sword down over his head in a powerful stroke. Anatoly spun to his right and using momentum to fuel his stroke brought his battle-axe around in a whistling arc, cutting into the big barbarian from hip to navel. The man fell away screaming as Anatoly stepped into the next onrushing barbarian, thrusting the top spike of his battle-axe out straight into the man’s belly. He didn’t bother to finish the wailing man before he met the next attacker.

The Strikers formed a wedge behind him, fighting as a team, blocking with their dragon-scale shields for the man to their left and thrusting at the enemies that got close enough, but never breaking formation. Only one Striker was even forced to a knee by the barbarians. Kelvin’s dragon-plate armor protected them flawlessly from any but the most blunt-force attacks. The one man who did go down blocked a downward stroke from a war hammer wielded by a barbarian who easily weighed three hundred pounds. The strike didn’t even dent the dragon-scale shield but the force of it was enough to break the arm of the Striker who took the blow. A moment later, one of his companions killed the barbarian with a precision thrust of his sword into the barbarian’s throat.

They moved the rest of the way to the waterline, meeting pockets of resistance here and there but besting them without difficulty. Anatoly didn’t shy away from the enemy that came his way, but he never took his eye off his objective.

At the water, they turned south and worked their way to the long dock linking the land with the giant construction berth cradling the warship. Most of the barbarians were east of them now, either fighting against the shield wall or moving toward it.

The cavalry had passed through the entire camp, leaving a trail of destruction behind them.

When Anatoly and the Strikers began advancing up the dock, the handful of men between them and the ship turned and ran toward the ship, shouting a warning.

The vessel was being prepared to launch. Ropes were being cut and the front scaffolding of the construction berth was being hastily pulled away, but it would still be several minutes before they would be free of the berth.

Anatoly reached the rear part of the berth and took the first of the staircases leading to the top of the berth wall where the gangplanks allowed access to the ship. As he rounded a corner in the switchback staircases, a barbarian thrust a sword at him, landing a glancing blow against his breastplate. He didn’t bother with his axe in such tight quarters … instead, he grabbed the man by the wrist and threw him into the water.

They reached the top of the scaffolding and found that the gangplanks had been pulled onto the ship, except Zuhl’s men had forgotten to retrieve a number of other planks that formed the topmost walkway of the berth wall. Anatoly set one of the stout boards across the ten feet separating the berth wall and the ship.

As he boarded the ship, two men rushed him. He met their charge, defending the gangplank as the Strikers filed aboard. Both men fell quickly, the first with a gash across his belly, the second toppling overboard.

Anatoly and his men moved along the deck of the ship toward the bow. The men onboard were mostly sailors or shipbuilders. Very few of the battle-hardened barbarians were on deck to guard the ship, so they had a relatively easy time clearing the top deck, throwing most of the men they encountered overboard rather than killing them outright.

They reached the bow and turned down the other side of the deck to ensure they hadn’t missed anyone. By the time they reached the aft deck and the anchor winch, Anatoly was convinced that the ship had nothing more than a skeleton crew aboard, just enough to sail it to the Isle of Zuhl where it could be loaded with troops.

He released the anchor, dropping it into the shallow water and ensuring that the ship couldn’t leave the berth without becoming hopelessly entangled.

“That should hold them for now,” he said. “Let’s take the lower decks, one by one.”

“We’re right behind you, Master Grace,” Captain Sava said.

Chapter 38

Abigail and Magda quickly changed into their riding armor before mounting their wyverns. Knight Raja and Flight Commander Corina were already mounted and waiting. Abigail took care with her locking pins to ensure that she was secure in her saddle. One final check and she goaded Kallistos into the air.

He thrust down with his powerful wings, propelling them dozens of feet off the ground. The next thrust brought them higher still and started them moving forward over the rear of the army toward the fierce aerial battle that was taking place over the ocean.

Knight Raja took his place to Abigail’s right, just behind Kallistos’ wing tip. Magda and Corina gained altitude more quickly, riding older and more experienced wyverns, and took a high overwatch position above and behind them.

They gained altitude, floating over the supply trains, then the soldiers held in reserve, then over the archers, and finally, over the melee taking place along the berm wall. Abigail surveyed the damage done by her army as she coasted on the crisp air.

It was a scene out of a nightmare. Dead and dying littered the ground, peppered with arrows. Fire burned everywhere there was fuel left for it to consume. Her archers continued to shower the enemy camp with their deadly rain. The shield wall had taken the top of the berm and the archers were reaching farther into the encampment, killing many of those that had attempted to avoid the fighting.

Abigail nodded to herself. These barbarians had sacked Fellenden City and Bredon. She’d seen the devastation they’d visited on the people of those cities. She’d seen the cruelty and depravity of the brutes from the Isle of Zuhl. Now she was watching them die, the logical consequence for such a vicious and wanton violation of the Old Law.

The heavy cavalry charge led by General Kern had cut a path of destruction along the inside of the northern berm wall and then turned south toward the heart of the camp, trampling barbarians underfoot with every yard gained. Rangers followed in their wake, sending arrows into the camp and cutting many barbarians down by surprise.

She turned her attention to the battle raging in the sky over the bay. Six of Zuhl’s giant warships were in the water now, oars pulling them away from the shore, sails being unfurled and just beginning to catch the gentle breeze. The bulk of his fleet was getting away.

A swath of the ocean between Zuhl’s ships and the Ithilian fleet was frozen into dozens of jagged chunks of ice floating mostly beneath the surface. Three Ithilian warships had attempted to pass the icy barricade only to collide with icebergs and suffer hull breaches.

A squad of Sky Knights broke off their attack runs against the soldiers within the camp and signaled as they passed that they were out of javelins and firepots, heading back to the rear to rearm.

Dozens of the Ithilian ships were damaged or destroyed, some frozen in place, bobbing on the ocean without direction, others were aflame, burning out of control, their crews abandoning ship.

The dragon made another pass against a fast-attack boat, freezing it solid with a gout of impossibly cold breath. Another ship scored a direct hit against the dragon’s belly with a ballista bolt, only to have it shatter on impact, drawing the dragon’s attention.

Abigail squinted against the brightness of the wizard riding the dragon as he pointed his staff toward the ship. A bolt of magical energy shot forth from the tip of it, streaking toward the offending ship and solidifying into a shard of ice ten feet long and two feet wide before it crashed into the deck, blasting a hole in the side of the ship as big as an ox.

Nearly a dozen Sky Knights, witches all, were commencing an attack run against one of Zuhl’s ships that was sailing out to sea. One by one they targeted the ship, not with javelins or firepots, but with magic. Abigail watched with fascination as each witch in turn released an orb the color of the sky at the shield protecting the giant warship. Each orb hit home, one after the next, and with each impact, the shield pulsed and then dimmed, pulsed and then dimmed some more.

The Sky Knights still over the enemy encampment re-formed and started gaining altitude for an attack run against the same ship. As the second to the last witch passed over the target vessel, the shield failed and her spell fell harmlessly against the deck of the ship. Nearly two dozen Sky Knights turned as one and started a gradual dive toward the unprotected ship.

The dragon rider took notice and pulled away from the Ithilian fleet to engage the Sky Knights again. The witches were clear, gaining altitude and turning to make a run against another ship when the Sky Knights armed with firepots began their attack run. Two by two they flew over the ship, casting their firepots down through the masts and rigging onto the deck. The fires started small but grew quickly.

Then the dragon engaged. Coming broadside to the Sky Knights lined up for their attack run, the dragon breathed on one wyvern, freezing it in midair, sending it tumbling into the ocean, while the wizard riding the dragon unleashed a bolt of magical energy from his staff, hitting the second wyvern on the side and freezing it and its rider solid. Two dead in one pass.

Abigail and Knight Raja reached an altitude above the aerial battle and started their attack run. She signaled to Raja for a tail strike. They gained speed, wind roaring past them as they came down on the dragon from behind. He was wheeling away from them, lining up for another run against the wyverns attacking the vulnerable ship below, exposing his blind side as they soared in.

In unison their wyverns snapped their tails at the dragon, each hitting the bony ridge along its back. The dragon roared in pain, folding its wings and falling into a steep dive to escape the sudden insult it had sustained. Abigail and Raja pulled into a turn and angled up to maintain altitude over the dragon. A bolt of magical energy shot forth from the wizard’s staff, just missing Raja’s wyvern as he turned hard.

Magda and Corina were next, pulling sharply to maintain a viable attack angle on the dragon, each unleashing spells similar to the blue orbs that had depleted the ship’s shield. Both scored direct hits against the wizard’s shield, dimming it but not defeating it.

As the dragon roared in fury, it banked, thrusting hard against the open sky and gaining altitude faster that any wyvern could. It came for Abigail and Raja. She saw the danger of the rapidly rising dragon and attempted to pull her turn tighter as she tipped into a dive to avoid his attack … but she was too late. The dragon came around behind her; she had nowhere to run. She’d seen how quickly this dragon’s breath could freeze a person solid. She had only moments now.

Then she felt it. Air so cold her skin burned, her hair felt suddenly hard and brittle, her riding armor grew stiff, resisting her effort to turn in her saddle. She reversed her direction, pulling Kallistos into another hard turn and looking back.