Shadowblade (23 page)

A slender figure appeared at the top of the gangplank and began to descend to the dock below. It seemed to Cannath that the man had simply appeared out of thin air. The man was a Frost Elf, the race of elves sworn to evil who inhabited the frozen wastes of the Northern Continent. His skin was a frosty blue color with shifting patches of white, the effect was mesmerizing. His hair was blue-black and his eyes were the blue-green color of glacial ice. Cannath thought it odd that he almost seemed able to see through the man who now looked him in the eye with utter calm and confidence. The elf carried himself like a hawk perched upon the limb of a tall tree with its kill gripped in its talons and shrieking a triumphant cry to the world.

The man looked disdainfully around the battlements of the port and brought his gaze to bear on the stalwart prince. The man was dressed all in black with a high collared coat heavily decorated in what he guessed was Elvish design. The piping of the sleeves and collar were all richly done in silver and blue; the man truly bore a lordly demeanor. Yet, Cannath couldn’t shake the feeling that, at times, he was peering right through the elf.

He was surprised when Gavinos greeted the newcomer like an old friend and happily embraced him. While Coronus did indeed return the embrace and acknowledge Gavinos, Cannath noted that the man’s face remained stone cold. The pair spoke for a few moments in their own language and Cannath was getting anxious.

“I am Prince Cannath-” the prince said finally, interrupting the elves. But Coronus returned the interruption with one of his own.

“I know who you are. All is as I commanded?” the rude interruption took Cannath aback for a moment. He was briefly angry, yet realized he was in no position to quibble with this man. Frost Elves were renowned for their strange powers and the longer they stood here, the harder their fight would become.

“Of course, Commander Coronus,” replied Cannath refusing to address the elf as lord. Coronus did not seem to notice. Gavinos was nowhere to be seen.

“Good, it appears we have little time,” the voice was smooth as glass, inviting, yet deadly.

“Commander, are there reinforcements on the way?” Cannath asked, hopefully. The elf simply waved him to silence and called to a shadowy figure on the deck of
Eradicator
in the language of the Frost Elves. Then, quite suddenly, a large hatch opened from the hull of the ship, nearly at water level. A wide gangplank drifted out of the hatch and settled quietly on the dock a few yards away from Cannath and Coronus. Cannath thought he saw some figures moving near the opening of the hatch but all he could see were shadows. A gentle odor of decay, at once sickly and sweet, drifted through the air and settled around him. It was a mild odor, strong enough to make his stomach fill with butterflies, yet weak enough to dismiss when distracted.

Then he watched hopefully as solid figures began to fill the top of the wide gangplank and make their way down. Row after row of men, and women, ambled onto the pier and settled into military formation. Oddly they seemed to be a collection of the various inhabitants of Llars and not from just one particular place; were they mercenaries perhaps? The prince marveled at how silently the troops moved and noticed that each bore the same strange symbol painted, or tattooed, on their foreheads.

What dedication these soldiers must have to proudly display their master’s symbol on their faces for battle!
he thought eagerly. But these new soldiers didn’t seem particularly soldier-like as the prince gazed at them more closely. They looked unhealthy; their skin was very pale and many of them had festering sores on their exposed skin. Flies danced around their heads and the gulls were being particularly noisy, some even diving at the heads of the unmoving soldiers. Perhaps there had been disease aboard ship. He knew from his own experience that it was entirely possible for that to happen in the close confines aboard a ship.

When all were formed up on the pier Cannath saw that there were many, many, more soldiers than a single ship of this size should hold. Three full companies of soldiers stood silently, at perfect attention on the pier, bearing poleaxes, swords and shields, lances, bows, or spears. And on the massive foredeck of the ship two large ballistae that he was certain he had not noticed before, appeared on the main deck.

“Commander, the Arnathians will by now have us trapped inside the gates. What is your plan?” Cannath asked inwardly nervous.

The elf glanced at him briefly but said nothing. Instead he stared intently at his troops. Suddenly the men moved forward as one unit and it struck Cannath that no verbal command had been given. Cannath and Captain Amos looked at each other warily, and followed the elf down the pier toward the main port area and the battlements. Cannath was eager to begin the fight but he was beginning to feel as though he and his forces were trapped inside the pier.

The Port of Hybrand was located in a strategic position and it was flanked on both sides by sheer cliffs. The battlements that led to the city were tall and easily defended to help prevent assault from the sea. Only now Cannath found himself trapped on the wrong side of the battlements. He knew that there were no Arnathian fleet ships in the area to attack them by sea, but there were certainly a large number of deadly Arnathian soldiers on the other side of the battlements waiting for the moment when their blades would taste blood.

He knew that in all of Hybrand there were perhaps three companies of one hundred and fifty men each scattered about, and one of those companies occupied the capital city of Hybrand. But that one company was worth three of any other military force on Llars in a fight. He wondered how these silent and decidedly grim looking soldiers would fare against the Arnathian regulars.

“Prince Cannath,” called Commander Coronus. Cannath nodded at him. “Open the gates.”

“I beg your pardon, Commander. I will not!” he said. “Do you mean to kill us all?” Cannath was getting angry, and began to feel as though he had been betrayed.

The elf leaned very close to Cannath and placed a single finger on his forehead. The prince immediately felt a pain like a blade of fire piercing his head and he fell to his knees. He looked up at the elf, eyes begging for mercy. “Give the command, Prince Cannath,” the elf said quietly, menacingly. “The Arnathians will fall before the might of my soldiers!”

Cannath signaled to his second, Captain Amos, who ran as fast as he could toward the battlements. Anyone who could make Prince Cannath fall to his knees with the touch of a finger was someone to be reckoned with, the man thought as he ran. Cannath dusted himself off and stood back up. He was angry at being treated so poorly by someone who was supposed to be an ally and even angrier at having no choice but to accept the man’s leadership. He watched as Coronus strode confidently to the front of his formation and stood expectantly at the gate. Cannath made his way to the battlements to remain with his men.

Slowly, the gate began to creep open and a full platoon of Arnathian regulars trotted into the port, in step and banging their shields ominously. Cannath’s men rained arrows down on the invaders but his men were too few now to do any real damage. He resigned himself to walking up and down the ranks of his men bolstering their confidence and preparing them for the eventuality of a fight on the battlements themselves.

That fight never came. As the prince and his men looked on, the deadly effectiveness of the troops belonging to Lord Commander Coronus became evident. Every Arnathian that entered those gates was cut down by Coronus’ men. By now, the newcomers were making their way into the streets and were taking the fight to the Arnathians. Cannath and the rest of his men watched the events unfolding with awe. The strange troops cut down the highly trained and skilled Arnathians with ruthless abandon, seemingly impervious to the deadly blows of their foes. One by one the Arnathians fell, there were no survivors. Commander Coronus was in the thick of the fighting although he seemed to appear and disappear at times, Cannath noticed. Finally the fighting drifted further away from the port and his men cautiously moved down from the battlements.

“That man’s a wizard, Prince Cannath!” said Captain Amos scandalously. “We ought not trust him, Sire!”

“Wizard or no, Captain, he has saved us,” the prince replied solemnly. “And I shall have my revenge on General Craxis!”

Cannath left a small detachment of men at the port and sealed the gates. He knew that the port could be defended easily by just a few men, at least long enough to allow him a retreat and escape aboard the
Eradicator,
if that became necessary.

Having won the battle for Port Hybrand, Commander Coronus reassembled his troops on the main avenue outside of the port where Cannath and his remaining men found them. Cannath attempted to speak with the commander, to offer congratulations and thanks, but the grim elf ignored him.

In the distance he could hear the shouts of the dreaded Arnathian Senior officers, calling their men into ranks. He looked at the elf, who stood silently surveying his troops, but saying nothing and began to fear the arrival of more Arnathians.

What is this man doing? he
wondered. Now he could hear the sound of swords slapping on shields, like thunder in the distance. That signaled one thing; the Arnathians were ready to fight. Soon he would hear the tell-tale sound of their heavily booted feet stomping on the cobblestone roads of Hybrand as the deadly warriors trotted inexorably towards them, and doom would come with them.

“Commander, that sound is the Arnathians preparing to move. They will come in full force-” the elf silenced the prince with a wave of his hand, a slight tingling pain tickled his brain for a brief moment.

“I know what they are doing, Prince Cannath. We will fight them here.” Cannath swallowed an angry retort as the elf’s malevolent eyes cast him a baleful glance. He decided to trust in this new god, Ilian Nah, and turned to face his own men, preparing them for battle.

The most dreaded and fearful sound in the world, the sound of the Arnathian Army running towards an enemy, steadily and in step, smashing swords on shields every fourth step, drifted down the avenue and echoed off buildings. Cannath knew this would be the deciding moment. As a former Arnathian military officer, he knew they would bring their full force to utterly destroy a rebellion before it started. Odds didn’t matter much to the Arnathians, for they were so good that each Arnathian soldier was worth any three of his enemy; any enemy.

Coronus stood at the front of the formation of sickly looking, yet fearsome, troops who stood silently awaiting the onslaught of the Arnathian force that was moving inexorably toward them. After moments that seemed like hours to Cannath, Coronus began moving forward and his contingent -numbering far too few to Cannath’s reckoning- followed their commander. The front of the column of the Arnathians spread out suddenly and formed into a wedge formation, hoping to break the enemy ranks by splitting them in two groups with the point of their wedge.

Yet, the battle-hardened Arnathian Army had never faced anything like Coronus or his glazed-eyed troops that were now running to meet their foes.

Coronus’ angry concentration never wavered; the dark clothed man seemed to be reaching toward his back for something that wasn’t there. Cannath saw that the man’s forearms actually disappeared for a brief moment and then flickered back into view holding something that held the appearance of a sword in each hand. These swords were just as blurry and dark as the shadows of Assassins’ Alley!

The elf swung the blades outward. In seconds he clashed with the lead man of the Arnathian forces and cut him to ribbons. The sound of the clash of the opposing forces was deafening as sword and spear and shield met head-on and at full force. The force of the impact was so strong that the front ranks of Arnathian soldiers were actually thrown backward and into the trailing ranks of their own men, causing many to fall. The fight turned very quickly against the Arnathians, who had never seen such an enemy; it was as if their column had run headlong into a wall!

The Prince of Hybrand watched in awe as the elf efficiently cut down every attacker unfortunate enough to come his way. Of those that put up a fight, it appeared to Cannath that their weapons never made contact with the swords of the blue-skinned man. And, from time to time, Cannath watched as a cloud of darkness enveloped a platoon of Arnathians, or a skull made of blue fire raced through enemy ranks biting and slashing with teeth before finally exploding into a ball of blue flames and consuming the bodies of men in a mass of blue and green flames.

Cannath watched in amazement as the sickly troops cut down the deadly Arnathian soldiers. Although it appeared as though there was no stopping Commander Coronus, he was still wildly outnumbered and now a large contingent of Arnathian forces had circumvented him and moved toward the gates to the Port. Prince Cannath, who was being held in reserve, prepared his men.

“So this it? This is our last stand?” he shouted in frustration, and looked skyward. With resignation he said, “You tempt me with a brief taste of victory and steal it from my grasp. To what end?”

“My Prince, have faith. All will be-” the captain began.

The prince whirled to face his subordinate, the point of a dagger near the man’s face. The typically stoic prince growled at him, “Have faith in Zuhr? He has abandoned us, fool! Look at Coronus! He fights with the power of Ilian Nah!” Cannath withdrew the dagger from Amos’ face and threw his arms to the sky.

“Ilian Nah, I beseech you! Help us as you help your brilliant commander! Aid us now that we may vanquish our foes!” Captain Amos thought there was a mad, wild, gleam in his prince’s upraised eyes, and it worried him almost as much as his lord’s blasphemy.