Fate Rides Wicked: Volume I of the Lerilon Trilogy (16 page)

“Am I to take command?”

“Yes, since you have not taken the oath of isolation and
the humans can get their orders direct.”

Tych pondered this for a moment, then said, “Lendril
will command.” He held up his hand to stop her protests.
“I fear what my energy releases might do to my fellow
soldiers. Not only that, I have the skills of a magician and I
think I can have them in disarray when you arrive.”

Lendril nodded. “You’re right. Just be careful.
Flandroke said there were over two thousand forangen in
Damarin’s castle.”

“I know you’ll lead wisely, Lendril. Perhaps we should
draw up a plan of battle,” said Cort. With this they all sat
down at the table in the middle of the tent and went to
work. The night, however, was still young when the two
endarils were able to exchange some much-needed
affection.

Lendril’s brilliance and uncanny wisdom showed in the
planning session, and the troops had recognized it
immediately. This gave her the respect she needed as she
took command of the army the next morning. It made it
easier for her to go about the task of organizing and
amassing the troops.

Tych considered this as he tied up his horse for Cort to
use later and peered over the top of a little hill above the
battlefield. Below, the camps of the forangen forces were
breaking up and the siege engines rolled forward. He could
see, as Cort had described, over a thousand forangen set up
in the field in front of the city with the rest spread evenly
around the rest of the castle. He thought over his small
repertoire of spells and tried to formulate a plan.

Lendril took offense to Tych telling the neftiran sentry
that she had not yet become a princess. He failed to realize
it might be a sore spot. Thus, she told him to come up with
his own plan and be out of their way by the time they
arrived. Now he tossed various ideas around in his head as
he watched the camp being organized below him.

Then it struck him. The forangen prepared in a neat
orderly fashion. The first thing to do to slow them would
be to destroy that order. He looked for the right spell, and
then had it. He pulled up a nearby plant, searched quickly
for a feather and began to chant as he crested the hill. He
held the hand with the feather out palm up and it stood
vertically on its stem as the dew and water rushed from the
plant. Soon only a dry, brittle skeleton remained of the
plant and the feather spun in Tych’s hand on the stem.

A forangen spotted him at this point and charged, but it
was too late. Like a tornado, a funnel of water started to
form around the feather, and it leapt from the endaril’s
hand. As it touched the ground, it pulled all the water up it
could and grew, sweeping down the side of the hill. The
forangen and those helping him tried to run but the water
funnel blasted them and still grew larger. By the time it hit
the camp, it stood three stories tall and carried the force of
a hurricane.

It blasted tents from their anchors and sent forangen
flying, smashing anything directly in its path. About
halfway through the camp, the magic ran out and the
motion stopped, sending a wave of water on all the
forangen nearby. A good quarter of the camp had been
smashed and sent into disarray.

Tych smiled, picked up another loose feather and began
to chant again. In moments, this shorter spell had him
lifting off the ground and floating towards the city walls.
Some of the forangen saw him do this but lacked the brains
to attack him. The rest of the monsters took abusive orders
and began the clean up.

The nearby soldiers watched in amazement as Tych
landed softly on the wall. The humans had long banned
magicians, and those that practiced either were killed or
fled into the more secluded regions of Li. The reasons
consisted mostly of fear and superstition, though nobody
took on an accomplished wizard or sorcerer without a
foolhardy or brave heart.

Everybody the prince approached backed away until he
came to what he knew to be an officer. The man wore
chain armor and wielded a larger sword but those did not
give him away. Across his chest, from his right shoulder to
his scabbard on the left side of his belt ran a wide swath of
cloth, the top half blue, and the bottom half red. Tych
knew this to be a sign of rank among human armies.

“You,” he said, “are an officer. Tell me how I can
help.”

“I’m a captain to be exact. Why should I help you?”
The captain cautiously backed away.

“In a few minutes my army will be here to trounce
these evil creatures. I need to know where to strengthen
your walls with my magic.”

“Why should I trust you? You’re a magician and
you’re one of the silver people, who, by the way, never
associate with humans.”

With this Tych unclasped the hook for the brown cloak
that hung around his neck and let it fall. The men gasped at
the sight of the two swords next to the leather armor and
the daggers. “I am also a warrior.” He pointed towards the
army reassembling in the north field. “I did that with
magic to give my general a chance to lead the army here. I
have over five hundred well trained soldiers, including a
squad of neftiran warriors.” The soldiers on the wall
gasped. The prowess of the neftir in battle sparked many
legends.

“Well, if you are here to help us, strengthen the north
gate and the south wall. No funny stuff. We’ll have arrows
pointed at you from all directions.”

Tych picked up his cloak and walked the twenty feet
between him and the top of the north gate, the main
entrance to the city. Taking a small piece of clay from his
pouch, he once again began to chant, only this time in a
singsong manner. As the chant finished, he leaned over the
wall and fired the clay at the gate. At first the men seemed
ready to fire, but they saw a steadily spreading grey color
coming to the doors, until they appeared to be made of one,
unbroken piece of stone.

One of the soldiers turned to Tych, amazed. “You
turned it to stone.”

“Not permanently, but long enough to hold off the
horde and the siege engines. Now, what is wrong with the
south wall?”

“It is too short and too close to the trees,” said the
soldier. “If the forangen could climb we’d be dead. As it
is we’re having a terrible time keeping the ladders down.”

“Take me there.”

Crentin seemed like a large city when one had to walk
around it, but in fact housed only three thousand people,
one thousand of them soldiers. It took them a good ten
minutes before they reached the center of the east wall then
another twenty to reach the south wall’s weakest point.
Here the wall stood only a couple of stories, compared to
the four of the north wall.

“Clear the wall,” said Tych. All the soldiers ran for the
east or west wall. Before one of the soldiers could leave,
he stayed him by putting his hand on his arm. “Wait. Give
me your shield.” The soldier looked over at the captain,
who nodded. The man left almost immediately after
handing Tych the round piece of steel with the red and blue
stripes.

Once the wall stood empty but for him, Tych began to
hum a tune, then sing and then belt out a song. He set the
shield up on the wall, drew ancient rune symbols on it, and
then jumped backwards as the song ended. A bright flash
of light momentarily blinded all of them.

When it cleared, they saw the shield had vanished and
Tych hovered above the city. They couldn’t look long,
however, because the forangen began their attacks. As the
prince flew to the front of the city, he heard cheers go up
and knew that his army had arrived.

Cort untied Tych’s horse and climbed up when they
reached the hill. Lendril and the other mounted soldiers
held steady waiting for two of their number to return. The
pemilons awaited the sound of battle to the south of them
and the other soldiers waited in their positions in front of
and behind the riders and pemilons.

The two thrandril scouts returned and came directly to
Lendril. “Our fire won’t work. Their camp is soaking wet
on this side.”

“What?!” Lendril interjected. “There hasn’t been any
rain!!”

“That’s not all. Much of this side of the camp is
smashed and many forangen lie dead deep inside the camp.
It’s like a giant fist of water just pounded the camp flat.”

Lendril pondered this for a moment. “Tych did this.
What of the surviving forangen?”

“Close to fifteen hundred attack the city, another two
hundred are cleaning up the mess and watching for further
attacks from this quarter. It seems Tych foiled your plan a
bit.” The thrandril said this in the least accusatory tone
possible, unsure of Lendril’s attitude towards the situation.

Lendril thought quickly. “Cort, you’ll stay with me.”
She pointed to one of the mercenaries and said, “Take your
men and lead them wide around to the west side of the
forangen army. Your attack will signal the rest of us to
charge.” The men left immediately. She turned to the
scouts. “Spread the word along the lines. The archers are
to use the diversion those men will cause to approach and
disrupt the middle of the forangen army. From there the
plan will continue as discussed this morning.” The scouts
ran off and told messengers and the word quickly spread.

Cort walked his horse up next to Lendril’s. “It will take
about fifteen minutes at full speed for them to get in
position on the opposite side.”

“Then we will wait.” Lendril’s face had long ago
assumed the demeanor of a warrior, and Cort admired her
strength.

About twenty minutes passed before the sound of battle
reached them. “Hold!” shouted Lendril. The riders braced
to take off. A shrill whistle reached them and with a yell of
“To battle!” Lendril led them into a gallop towards the
field.

The riders, as planned, passed the front ranks of foot
soldiers and sped through holes in the rows of archers
raining arrows on the forangen army. They crashed into a
quickly forming shield wall and shattered the enemy on this
side of their forces. Alert to the new danger, the human
general of the forangen diverted more of his men to the side
Lendril’s attack struck.

The goal of the riders reached its climax as the forangen
closed behind them in clumps. Lendril dropped her axe in
its sheath, unslung her crossbow and let fire at the general
of the forangen, a large human man. She turned to the front
of the city to see the other riders similarly taking out the
human leaders of the forangen.

All the mounted forces surged onward, trying to get as
far away from the archers as possible, because now another
rain had started on the shattered ranks of the enemy.
Lendril again switched weapons and swung her horse
towards the wall of the city. Quickly she cut a path,
striking at all that approached.

Then she saw him. Tych stood amidst a huge group of
forangen, blocking and delivering blows all around. The
ground underneath him rapidly became greener from the
blood of his enemy as they fell. She looked closer and saw
that he used the jeweled blade, but energy raced out along it
each time it hit the creatures. She estimated that in mere
minutes he would have no place to move, being completely
walled in by bodies.

Her horse whinnied. For a moment the entire enemy
had avoided her and concentrated on the charging foot
soldiers. Now the battle began full tilt. The neftir drove
into the forangen first, once again shattering any attempts at
a defensive posture. Several hundred forangen had already
fallen, but a new group of close to a thousand surged
against Lendril’s forces, including the ones that now
harried her. Using her axe and the horse, she struck down
attacker after attacker, until her arm began to tire.

The siege of the city ended for the moment as this new
challenge decimated the organization of the attackers. The
city garrison cheered and fired burning arrows into the
platforms and other siege equipment. They pulled up
ladders and threw them into the city. Soon about five
hundred of them poured through the doors and gates,
anxious to join in the melee.

Lendril reached a position near Tych about an hour into
the fighting and called out his name. For the moment the
forangen had stopped attacking him, seeing how futile it
seemed to be. Without turning his head, he yelled, “How
goes the battle?”

“It’s happening as I planned. Why do you not use
Gaylin?”

“The spirit of the sword warned me to wait until I could
master it better or it would prove dangerous. Lendril,
withdraw all your men then attack again in a way that
drives the forangen up against the city wall. I want them
pinned there.”

For a second Lendril thought he must be crazy, but then
remembered Damarin’s castle where he toasted them
without effort. She could see the forces now matched well
in number. Without another thought, she rode to the
nearest neftir and began the process of ordering the forces
to fall back and reorganize. At the same time a few more
forangen decided to test Tych out again, but he dispatched
them summarily, leaving him standing all alone in the
middle of the field.

All but a few of the archers had entered the fray and
Tych approached the ones that still fired into the groups of
forangen. After a couple of brief battles he reached them.
He addressed the first one to give him his attention as they
struggled to assist in the withdrawal. “Reorganize the
archers. We’ll drive the forangen to the wall then we’ll
need you to make sure they all stay there after the other
soldiers pull back again. Just stay behind me while pinning
them.”

The archer nodded and began spreading the word.
Tych stepped into various battles to help in the retreat,
finishing off five or six opponents to free a group of his
own men. He came, finally, to the captain of the city
garrison. “Captain, send word to have your men clear the
walls. Their lives are in danger up there.”