By Blood Betrayed (The Kingsblood Chronicles) (24 page)

As soon as Saul completed his spell, his left arm was suddenly covered with a shimmering shield of golden light. Where Temvri’s black-bladed sword struck the shield, there was a renewed shower of sparks, which had no effect on Lian when they showered on him. Temvri’s reaction to them, however, was one of intense pain.

This afforded Saul better protection from the Undead’s attacks, and he was able to begin landing his own ferocious blows. With each strike of the ranger’s runesword, links of the chainmail were severed, until the armor of the Undead hung useless, more hindrance than protection.

Lian and Saul were both landing more effective strikes, but Temvri still managed to slash Lian across the shoulder and chest. He felt the cold bite of the knight’s black sword, and knew that his scale armor had been pierced. At the same moment, however, he managed to sever one of his opponent’s legs, tumbling Temvri to the ground.

Saul moved fast, and leapt in to sever Temvri’s head at the shoulders. His sword didn’t appear to slow down at all as it sheared through mail and bone. A bloodcurdling scream of frustration and rage arose from the helmet as it flew through the air, abruptly cut short as Temvri’s consciousness faded.

The wraith, having kept its attention on the battle as well as the ogre, now rose to a height a little over twice Teg’s. It seemed unsure of its next move, but the ogre quickly resolved its confusion.

Teg gathered himself in a leap, and jumped higher than Lian’s head. At the same time, he swung the club in a wide arc that terminated on the wraith, and it vanished as swiftly as its companion had.

“Who stupid now?” Teg demanded as he landed, the earth shaking slightly as he did so.

“Not you, Teg,” Saul said, removing a small vial from his pouch and offering it to Lian. “You’d best stop that bleeding. This will do the job.”

Lian eyed the ranger warily, but accepted the vial. His shoulder and chest ached with an acid pain where the knight’s foul blade had bitten him. He swallowed the contents, a rather pleasant blue color, and immediately felt welcome relief from the pain.

The prince wasn’t concerned about the damage to his
lashthirin
armor, for the elven smith who crafted it had bound powerful mending magics into it. In a matter of minutes, the scales were rejoined, as strong as the day they were forged. It was, like Gem, a master work.

Saul retrieved his bow from where it had fallen and nocked another steel-tipped arrow.

“My thanks,” Lian said, reclasping his cloak where the sword blow had sliced it.
Now’s not the time to ask what Temvri meant by “blood-drinker,”
he thought to himself.

Snog drew near again and said, “They’re spreadin’ out. They’ll be firin’ ta get the range. One’ll shoot high ‘n one’ll shoot low. The rest’ll fire in the middle, tryin’ fer a lucky shootin’.”

“Can goblinish crossbows achieve that kind of range?” Lian asked incredulously, nodding toward the two bows the goblin carried.

“The grunts don’ carry this kind o’ bow, milord,” the goblin replied. “Theirs is lighter, but got a lot more range. These things is fer short-range work.” Snog handed Lian’s captured crossbow back to him.

“My bow has the advantage on range,” Saul said, “but I’m sure that they’ll have ground support moving in fast.”

Snog said, “I don’ hear the rats nowhere, so the calvary’s out searchin’ fer us. They’ll be comin’ afoot, and the lads’ll be bone tired from forced marchin’.”

“Rat calvary?” Saul asked, a slight smile on his lips. “That I’d like to see.”

Snog said defensively, “They ain’t heavy horse, but they’ll hold their own.”

“We can quibble later,” Lian said. “They’re firing.”

The four of them watched the incoming quarrel flights, ranger, prince, and goblin each calculating flight paths as they flew. None of these initial bolts were going to strike near them, but they would land all around them. One fell right in front of a wolf, which let out a surprised yelp and jumped backward.

“Good range indeed. We need to move,” Saul said, ignoring the sword wound on his leg and drawing them back toward the shelter of the buildings.

Without warning, a gigantic streak of gold and white appeared from behind the promontory, dropping on the archers’ position without a sound. The sudden shriek of goblins being shredded and mauled was punctuated by a tremendous scream of rage and fury.

“Gilaeshar!” Lian shouted at the top of his lungs. The gryphon had swept in behind the crossbowmen, and taken them completely by surprise. He apparently had timed his attack to begin immediately after they had launched their first volley.

Now, he tore into the archers, ignoring the paltry infantry force that had been arrayed out of sight behind them. This second unit began advancing hesitantly to engage the gryphon, but their indecision was costing the lives of the goblin archers.

I told you that I would find you again, Lian Evanson
, the gryphon’s powerful voice sounded in his head, the glee in the carnage it was wreaking nearly overwhelming in its ferocity. The gryphon closed the mindlink, so as not to drown Lian in its rage.

“I hope that’s a friend,” Saul commented as he observed the devastation in amazement. In less than twenty seconds, Gilaeshar had slaughtered ten of the archers, and the half that remained abandoned their crossbows in an attempt to fend off the monster with their daggers. The gryphon’s beak and talons cut and slashed and ripped mercilessly, tearing goblins into bloody pieces without apparent effort.

Movement behind the archers’ line revealed that the infantry on the ridge was retreating in disarray. Lian didn’t really blame them for retreating from the massacre.

“He is,” Lian said in answer to Saul’s statement.

Ignoring the blood bath taking place on the ridge, or perhaps unaware of it from their position at the forest edge, another force of goblin infantry emerged from the trees. Armed with throwing axes as well as their usual sharp knives, they were still too far out of range to be a threat yet. That would change quickly, and as they came into view, their numbers were revealed to be about sixty.

A stream of filthy human and goblin forms streamed from the woods to the goblins’ left. They hissed and gibbered madly, and Lian and Saul said, “Ghouls,” simultaneously.

Among the least of the true Undead, ghouls could only be killed by means of hacking them apart, and any strike to their vital organs wouldn’t really hurt them. They could also be slain by decapitation, a common method of dispatch for Undead in general. A few charms existed to keep them at bay, but Gem didn’t have time to weave any of the ones she knew, for those were intended to be prepared long before the actual meeting.

Saul said with a distracted expression, “I’ve located your calvary. They’re on the other side of the peak, along with a large army of skeletons. They’ll be deployed near the castle before we can reach it, I think.”

While they were assessing the situation, a pair of trees in front of them cracked and splintered. When the sharp report had died away, and the resultant shards had settled, a man-sized figure in voluminous black robes stood straddling the two trunks. At his side hung a cage of polished silver on a heavy chain, and within it lay a blackened, ancient skull.

Lord Grey
, Lian thought in dismay to Gem.

“It’s the boy I want!” thundered the deep and resonant, magically amplified voice of the necromancer Lyrial. “The rest of you may go in peace!”

A goblin in a uniform similar to Snog broke from the far right flank to run toward Lyrial. Snog pointed to him and said, “Can you hit the runnin’ one from here, ranger?”

Saul replied by quickly drawing and firing his bow in one smooth motion. Long before the scout neared Lyrial, the arrow struck him in the side of his chest. The goblin fell silently, both lungs pierced, and the infantrymen near him shied away.

“Why did I kill that one?” Saul asked dryly.

“’Cause he seen the gryphon, ‘n I didn’t want the black robe knowin’,” Snog answered, picking at a stubborn piece of rabbit meat in his teeth, and feigning disinterest.

“Good reason,” said Lian, glancing at the hillock. The few remaining goblins were in rout, fleeing the blood-soaked monster in several different directions. The gryphon didn’t seem amenable, however, to allowing a single one of his former tormentors to escape, and was pursuing them with a vengeance. Lian didn’t think the pursuit would last long, given the speed and viciousness of the gryphon.

“An’ he was a right bastard who should’ve had his throat slit years ago,” Snog finished with satisfaction.

Lyrial, who had watched the arrow’s flight dispassionately, now turned away from the goblin scout’s death. His voice boomed across the distance between the groups. “Then you have given your answer, and your answer will bring you death!”

The necromancer gestured with his left hand. It was as if an invisible rope restraining the ghouls had been cut, for they immediately surged forward en masse. The goblins joined the advance, a drummer in the back rank beating a steady rhythm. With their generally shorter legs, and the cumulative exhaustion of a long, forced march, they lagged behind the tide of ghouls.

At a signal from Saul, the wolves streamed forward in their own charge, eleven animals strong. Snarl lumbered after them, growling as he ran. Lian, Snog, and Saul each selected targets among the ghouls, aiming high in the hopes of striking the spine or head. Teg reached down and picked up a pair of small boulders from the untilled ground, then casually tossed one the size of a watermelon into the mob of ghouls, smashing two of them to the ground. Neither one got back up.

Teg was only able to smash two more ghouls before the wolves and Snarl got too close for him to risk another throw. The three archers had downed two ghouls between them, in addition to Teg’s four, by the time the wolves reached the horde.

The ghouls and wolves fell upon each other with a terrible ferocity, and Lian noticed that the wolves displayed far more intelligence than mere animal-level. They attacked hamstrings and knees, and if one managed to cripple a ghoul, it would leap away to find a new target. Still, the number of ghouls was telling, and the wolves were sustaining terrible wounds. Snarl batted ghouls left and right, while they clambered onto him in an attempt to drag him to the ground. The bear rose to his full height and bellowed, throwing off ghouls who were unsuccessfully trying to bite him through the thick layer of hide. His three-inch claws ripped arms from sockets and hurled ghouls for yards around him; they couldn’t really stop him.

Snarl paused, still holding a ghoul in his fatal spine-snapping hug. He tossed that one aside, and then began charging around, swatting ghouls off the wolves and enabling them to circle and attack again. He was no longer mortally wounding the ghouls, but he was lengthening the wolves’ effectiveness considerably.

Lian had never seen anything like this strange animal dance before.

Another half dozen or so wolves burst from the tree cover to the far right, charging at full speed toward the melee. These were taller than the first group, and leaner, and they ran faster than a horse at full gallop.

They quickly reached the fight and began snapping off arms and legs with their powerful jaws, disregarding the feeble counterattack of the Undead. Lian watched as one particularly large ghoul ripped a huge gash in the side of one of the larger wolves, but it ignored the wound and continued to worry at a goblinish ghoul, shaking it in half before turning on its new opponent.

I think those are werewolves
, said Gem in awe.
Their wounds are closing as fast as they’re inflicted.

I don’t care what they are as long as they’re on our side
, he returned, though the sheer ferocity of the powerful werewolves made him swallow involuntarily.

The necromancer was advancing now with a small bodyguard of oversized goblins in chainmail. Lyrial was limping, and Snog said, “Temvri’s horse must’ve come apart under ‘im, milord.”

“Temvri had a horse?” Lian asked.

“Aye, milord,” Snog said gleefully. “Lyrial took it fer his own steed. I be guessin’ he hurt his leg when Temvri, an’ his horse, died. ‘E didn’t limp, last I seen ‘im.”

Almost as if Lyrial knew that he was being mocked, he began a gutteral chanting, the harsh dissonances reaching them over the din of the battle. A black birdlike form emerged from the mage, flew over the battle and the goblins, then swooped down toward the four warriors where they waited.

Saul opened his mouth as if to speak, but stopped when Gem began singing a counterspell. The bird form faded into nothingness before it reached the group.

Lyrial paused for a few heartbeats, then resumed his advance, holding Lord Grey’s cage over his head like a lantern and chanting a new spell. This manifested as a swarm of black wasps, which flew with supernatural speed across the distance. This time, Gem’s counterspell caused the wasps to falter, but did not successfully unweave the spell.

Saul’s clear tenor sang a second counterspell, and the wasps dissolved into a fine black dust which dispersed harmlessly.

The goblins had now crossed half the distance, but still they didn’t pick up the pace. Lian could see that some of them were limping and in general they looked worn out. Still, they would be deadly when they reached the foursome.

The goblin advance was further slowed by sliding to Lian’s left to avoid becoming entangled in the chaotic fight between the ghouls and the wolves.

Lyrial hurled another spell similar to his first toward them, but focused through the skull of Lord Grey in the same manner as the second. This one Saul deflected by sacrificing his golden shield, depleting its energy to create a hemispherical shield over them.

“How’s he doing that?” muttered Saul, referring to the fact that the spells Lyrial were casting were tightly woven and difficult to counter. Such skillful magics were beyond the abilities of a necromancer of his apparent rank.

“It’s the skull,” Lian said. “It’s a magical focus for necromancy.”

Saul looked at the prince. “How do you know that?” he asked.