Chains of a Dark Goddess (36 page)

A scout rode up to General Togisi. “Sir, I believe it’s clear enough now.”

Togisi turned to the trumpeter beside him. “Sound the call. We advance.”

Five blasts sounded on the trumpet, three short, two long. A cry went up among the Issalians.

Chapter 52

Mounted, with the Valiants behind them, Breskaro and Kedimius waited in the tunnel that led into Kerokar Pass. They hadn’t spoken about their confrontation. Breskaro had kept his word and had only killed and animated prisoners and nearly two hundred others who had volunteered after some urging.

“How will you know when it’s time?” Kedimius asked. 

“A priestess with the army will send a message to me using the
spell of the distant whisper
. It’s a tricky spell, but we’ve been practicing it together for weeks now.” Breskaro looked at him thoughtfully. “Is something bothering you? Are you having doubts about the side you’ve chosen?”

“It’s not that. It’s the Valiants. I can’t
bear
to look at them. I knew these men, Breskaro. I grew up around them. These are old friends who ride beside me. Good men like Amrasi.”

“They’re not those men any longer.”

“But I remember them so well. I know their souls have departed, but their voices, their expressions ... Does it not bother you?”

“No. Death changed me. I don’t know what awaits you on the other side when you die, Kedimius. If it’s not Paradise that you find, if you should end up in the Shadowland, let go and embrace Oblivion. Do not linger as I did.”

“You wish you had not?”

“In a way. But I did and now I have the chance to right many wrongs and save Orisala.”

“The speech you gave the Mûlkrans...”

“I’m not a politician.”

“No, it was good. It was practical and to the point. You didn’t give them false hope, yet you gave them hope nonetheless. Hope not born of promises or divine rescue, but the sort of hope that comes from hard work and relentless spirit.”

“That’s what it will take.”

“I am glad to have gotten the chance to know you again. Even if you are changed.”

“And I’m pleased to see you as a grown man. About earlier, I think...” Breskaro’s qavra flickered. He closed his eyes and nodded. Then he turned to Kedimius. “It’s time. The battle has begun.”

~~~

Issalian infantry streamed through the breach in the rockslide and charged into a hail of arrows. They raced down into the ditches the Mûlkrans had dug. As they came climbing up the other side of the six-foot deep ditches, their skulls were bashed in with war hammers wielded by dead men. The few who did reach the top didn’t last long.

“Sound the second charge!” Togisi commanded. The trumpeter relayed orders.

Amidst the second wave of infantry, the cavalry charged through, lances lowered. When they poured through the bottleneck, they slowed down and were met on the opposite side by undead infantry wielding long pikes. Thick armor, strong shields, and powerful horses proved greater. The warhorses crashed through the first ranks, trampling and maiming those beneath them. But slowly their charge ground to a halt as no more than ten men could ride through abreast. 

The second, third, and fourth charges failed to break through and the fallen horses and men began to clog the route.

As time passed, the death toll mounted. Over five thousand of the Issalians, mostly volunteer infantry, lay dead or dying. Perhaps five hundred of the undead had been rendered inactive, but there were another four thousand of them.

Togisi ordered the professional infantry forward and called back the volunteer and light professional cavalry he had used so far. He turned to Colonel Huro:

“Relay this order to all infantry and cavalry captains: You are not to fall back under any circumstance. You must seize the ground beyond the bottleneck at all cost. Priestess, we must do something about their dead warriors. They are stronger than we feared.”

Priestess Blasidia ordered eight of her battle priestesses to go with them. “Use the crystals against the undead.”

And so, over twenty thousand infantry forged their way through the pass, under a hailstorm of arrows and ballista bolts. They drove through the bottleneck, picking their way over corpses. They went through the trenches dug by the Mûlkrans. They came in waves, unrelenting, their blood filling the trenches. 

The eight battle priestesses rode forward with the cavalry, under heavy guard. They held aloft their crystal matrixes and staves, and once they were within a hundred paces of the undead, bright beams pulsed from the crystals. Each beam that struck an undead warrior disabled him. Each crystal destroyed fifty or more undead before burning out. The priestesses had only four crystals each, but it was enough to change the tide of the battle. 

The Issalian infantry seized the other side of the trenches. The undead were pushed back, their numbers starting to thin. Those not destroyed by the crystals were disabled by attacks aimed at their legs. 

The battle raged for another hour. The Mûlkran regulars joined the undying, yet they failed to keep the second line of trenches. Nearly ten thousand Issalians lay dead. The Mûlkran archers had to withdraw and set up a new position further back. The trebuchets were still far enough away to be safe from attack.

The Mûlkran infantry held thanks to what was left of the narrowing of the pass, but if they lost another fifty paces of ground, the Issalians would be able to pour out and encircle them.

Five battle priestesses were returning, having expended their power. The other three lay dead, killed by archers. 

“Why does their cavalry yet wait?” Blasidia asked General Togisi. “Surely they could have repulsed that last surge.”

Togisi shrugged. “A better question is why have we not seen any of Harmulkot’s sorcery, and why is Breskaro sitting there doing nothing? Have you felt any presence of sorcery?”

“I have not.”

“Then Breskaro has some foul plan in mind and has yet to reveal it. That’s why our best remain in reserve. That’s why I feel—”

The western wall of the pass, where stones were piled to clog the secret entrance, exploded open.

Chapter 53

Using the
spell of distant whispers
, Breskaro projected his thoughts toward Harmulkot. 

“
Where are you?
” he asked.

“
I am near. I have gathered what we need. I will be there within an hour.
”

“
We don’t have that long. We’ve lost the second line. I must attack now.
”

“
I will do my best,
” she replied. “
My strength be with you, champion.
”

Breskaro touched the trigger plate. Nothing happened. The door to the pass remained shut. He tried again. Nothing.

“Damn it.”

“Invoke the girl,” Kedimius said.

“In Esha’s name, I beg thee,” Breskaro said, reaching his hand toward the trigger.

Before his fingers could touch the trigger, pulleys whined and gears twirled. Following a series of bangs, creaks, and clacks, the door slid open.

A pile of rocks blocked their way. 

Breskaro turned to Kedimius. “Your last chance to back out.”

“I’ll ride with you to the end, my friend.”

Breskaro reconnected his mind to that of the Mûlkran priestess. “
Launch the barrels of oil.
”

Breskaro turned in his saddle and admired his Valiants and the four hundred and fifty Mûlkran knights behind them. 

He raised a fist in salute. “To battle!”

“To battle,” the knights of Mûlkra shouted. The Valiants made no sound, no movement. They simply waited.

Breskaro faced the rock wall, placed his palms together, and chanted. Power gathered within the qavra around his neck and within his qavra heart which began to beat wildly.

Breskaro looked at Kedimius. “For Orisala.”

“For Orisala,” Kedimius echoed.

He spoke the command for the
spell of the ram of force
, its potency tripled through tedious preparatory rituals using runes inscribed on two talismans, one strapped to each forearm. 

Power flowed from his palms into the air before him and formed into the shape of two spirit rams, easily twice their normal size. They lowered their heads and charged into the piled stones blocking the entrance. The rubble blasted outward, scattering into the mass of Issalian infantry marching through the pass. Dozens were killed, maimed, or knocked unconscious.

Kedimius nodded at Breskaro then smiled. Captain Amrasi cantered forward, lowered his lance, and howled an unearthly battle cry. Kedimius followed him. The Valiants charged, the hooves of their warhorses pounding the cold gravel. Falling snowflakes stuck to their cold, lifeless skin. They smashed into the flank of the Issalian infantry divisions, who were desperately out of position and in disarray. Breskaro rode in the midst of the formation, between the Mûlkran knights and his Valiants.

Kedimius cringed as his lowered lance burst through the ribcage of a dark-haired Issalian infantryman, no more than twenty years old. A young man who had been a comrade of his only days earlier. The lance broke. Kedimius drew his saber. Deflecting spearpoints with his shield, he chopped at heads, battered shields, and sliced into forearms. Blood flew. Souls departed. Tears dripped onto his breastplate.

Amrasi and the Valiants beside him were ruthless, more deadly than ever for they didn’t care about their own safety. The Mûlkran knights behind them fought bravely to defend their homeland. Together they formed a wedge and drove toward General Togisi and the Issalian First and Second Lancers.

Breskaro rode in the midst of the wedge, chanting. The Mûlkran trebuchets launched hole-punched barrels of oil into the air. The oil spewed out over the Issalians as the casks tumbled. The barrels struck and burst, spraying oil across nearby soldiers and falling well short of Breskaro’s position. Unable to wait any longer, he unleashed the
spell of scattered flames
. A shower of sparks zoomed out through the pass. 

On their own, the sparks were practically harmless. The splattered oil ignited. Men screamed, fell, and rolled in the dirt trying to put out the flames. Some were trampled as warhorses panicked. Riders were thrown from their saddles. Shields were abandoned, or lowered, leaving their bearers exposed to Mûlkran longbows. Most of the fires were small and caused little damage, but they sowed confusion and stopped the Issalians’ progress. 

In the distance, the image of the cavalry of the Mûlkrans and the Valiants that had waited behind the lines disappeared. A mist rose up from the trenches, conjured by a contingent of priestesses from Mûlkra who had abandoned their illusion of the horsemen and Breskaro. Within minutes, the Issalians could see nothing ahead of them. They were forced to blunder into the Mûlkran lines. 

Breskaro held out a scroll of parchment, covered in runes he had painstakingly drawn out in blood over the last several weeks, and spoke the dangerous
spell of summoning demons most foul
. A rift like a festering wound on the cloudy, snow-drizzling sky opened. From it plunged three demons of wing and talon with razor beaks and bulging sores that dripped poisonous ichor. With terrifying shrieks, the horrors fell upon the Issalian Second Lancers. The veteran knights scattered in terror as the first of their comrades were shredded by the demons.

Breskaro’s burning emerald eyes flickered out. His heart skipped one beat, two. He began to fall, but Kedimius closed in and caught him.

~~~

General Togisi remained as serene as a monk despite the carnage being wrought in the pass. He spoke softly.

“We ride now, priestess.”

High Priestess Blasidia lofted her crystal matrix the size of a baby’s head and started toward the demons. 

Togisi grabbed her arm. “Ignore them. Go for Breskaro. He’s weak. Finish him and the rest will become easy.”

Blasidia ordered two of three priestesses who had not yet used their matrixes to concentrate on the demons. 

Togisi, Blasidia, the remaining priestess, and the First Lancers swept through the ranks of their retreating infantry and charged toward the Valiants. 

The two priestesses held their crystals aloft and recited prayers as they rushed toward the demons who were scattering the Second Lancers. Concentrated beams of light streamed from the crystals and struck the demons, searing their skin and sending them into a rage. 

The demons beat their massive wings and launched toward the priestesses. One demon disappeared in a cloud of smoke as all three beams focused directly on him. The two remaining demons fell upon the priestesses and tore them in half. When they began to drink their blood, a squad of Second Lancers rallied and charged. With their lances they skewered one demon, partially disabling him. The other demon spun around before the lances struck. It tore into horses and riders, breaking the charge.

Valiants, Mûlkran knights, and First Lancers collided. The priestess beside Blasidia aimed her crystal at the undead knights. Where the other undead would fall after a single bolt of light struck them, the Valiants could sustain several bursts before falling. But the strikes weakened them, evening the odds. Togisi rallied nearby infantry units into helping the First Lancers, and then the Mûlkran charge was outnumbered ten to one.