The Lord Of Lightning (Book 3) (34 page)

Halldora commanded the women and child warriors back behind Frea and her soldiers of Man. With the lack of support from the rear, Ravensdred's garonds began to break through, until the whole field was a vicious mix of garond and human, slashing, hacking, clubbing, blood flowing in a leaderless, confusing melee of violent carnage.

The ghaunts were unstoppable. With a limb hacked away, the undead warrior would move in to bite, stab or throttle a surprised human. Frea saw with horror that her right flank was crumbling under the persistent mayhem of the dead human creatures. And, the ghaunts kept clawing their way out of the putrid cracks in the earth. There seemed to be hundreds of them swarming out of the noxious subterranean caverns.

With the help of the mighty Kaprk-Uusshu, Conniker and the wolves held the vyreeoten back. The Syrenf River ran red and purple with the blood of the fiercely slashing animals. With both tooth and claw, the fighting among the beasts was a ferocious, violent frenzy, whipping the river up into a froth.

The white wolf took heart as Myanne, Hanarry and the special soldiers of Reia leapt from the river bank and buried their crystal knives into the surprised and squealing vyreeoten. The shining knives hurt the vyreeoten with a shock they had not encountered before, and many of them fell.

Conniker and Josr fought Klaaug, the large, yellow leader of the vyreeoten, to a bloody stand still. Klaaug was stronger than the other sea serpents, and seemed tireless as it  pressed its advantage.

Yulenth rose to see the utter, brutal destruction in all directions. The ghaunts, the magic-twisted garonds, the vyreeoten, the garond army engaging the humans and wolves in a delirious battle without seeming sides or organization. The destruction waged all across the Plain of Syrenf, a devastating insanity. Deifol Hroth had horror at His command, and the humans of Wealdland were on the verge of success or complete extinction.

But, the Lord of Lightning had a secret advantage, a terrifying weapon of unimaginable power, the Heaven's Key. And now Yulenth knew there was no way of stopping Him.

The moment was coming and Yulenth held his breath.

Klad made his way to Deifol Hroth, who stood stock still, the Lhalíi in one hand, the Ar in the other. Energy crackled all about the body of the Lord of Lightning. He seemed calm and happy, almost beautiful in his placid certainty. His face was a picture of serene accomplishment.

Klad knelt, unwrapped the Sun and Moon swords, and offered them to his Evil Lord.

Ronenth shot the paricale forward and a line of silver segments flew out in a deadly line directly at Ravensdred. The garond general leaned back as the foremost segment of the paricale shaved the hair from the front of his head. Ronenth recalled his paricale with a flick of his wrist. Blood trickled down Ravensdred's face as he straightened.

"My turn," Ravensdred growled with a frightening smile.

Ravensdred swept the scimitar and the horn of the Ulokem Swogger inwards at Ronenth, like a deadly bear hug. Ronenth gathered the paricale into a defensive shield at the last instant, but the scimitar played across his thigh, leaving a burning cut. Ravensdred grinned, all large, sharpened fangs.

"You are not untouchable," Ravensdred whispered to Ronenth as he leaned in close with the strike. Ravensdred paused.

Ravensdred quickly pulled his arms apart and the heavy, ridged iron ball in the middle of the Ulokem Swogger's length of chain flew up at Ronenth, who deflected with his paricale still gathered into a shield. The force of the blow pushed Ronenth back, his feet skidding across the sward of the Plain of Syrenf.

Ravensdred wrapped the black chain around both of his wrists to protect them. Then, he charged with a crushing overhand, windmill blow with the scimitar in his right hand, his left holding the horn, back for an impaling counter strike, the iron ball in the middle flying up into Ronenth's face to obscure his vision.

Ronenth brought the paricale out in a straight line to meet Ravensdred's onslaught. The silver segments rang against the scimitar and deflected the iron ball. The high end of the elvish weapon wrapped around Ravensdred's hand and would have cut his right hand clean off if he hadn't wrapped the black chain of the Ulokem Swogger around his wrist.

Ronenth snapped the lower end of the paricale up into the conical shape for close fighting. Ravensdred's counter with the black horn, low, between their legs, clanged off the silver segments gathered in Ronenth's hand.

Ronenth brought the conically gathered leaves of the paricale, as he deflected the horn, up at Ravensdred's chin. The garond general whipped his head back just in time to prevent his head from being torn in two. An edge of one of the silver segments traced a thin line, a light cut, barely touching, up the garond's chin. Ravensdred stepped back and wiped the blood from his face, without looking, laughing a dangerous, murderous laugh, eyes immovably fixed on Ronenth.

All about Ronenth, garond soldiers were streaming past the broken lines of the human armies. Ronenth whipped the paricale out in a wide circle to give himself room to fight Ravensdred. Ronenth could hear the garond warriors bellowing and looking back. The noise even made Ravensdred glance back for a moment to see the human warriors of Reia pushing the garond army forward.

Ronenth saw the chance and threw the paricale out in a straight line, like a spear. But, some evil power must have warned Ravensdred, who side stepped and wrapped the black chain of the Ulokem Swogger around the furthest two segment of the paricale. Ravensdred was a head taller than Ronenth and weighed twice as much as the glaf boy. With sheer muscular fury, Ravensdred yanked Ronenth towards him, clean off his feet.

Ronenth saw Ravensdred pull the scimitar and horn out to his sides. He was going to use the double, crushing attack that he began with. Ronenth pulled and rotated his body so his feet were aimed straight at the huge garond's face, as he rapidly gathered in the segments of the paricale into a shield.

Ronenth landed both feet squarely into Ravensdred's face, as the scimitar and horn clashed against the paricale gathered over Ronenth's head. As Ronenth fell, he quickly rearranged the paricale into the jagged saw blade and brought it down on Ravensdred's head. The garond deflected the strike by shifting his arms so that the iron ball in the middle of the chain took the angry, destructive sawing force of the paricale. Sparks showered between the two as Ronenth found his feet, only a step away from Ravensdred.

Looking past Ravensdred, Ronenth saw a mop of wild orange hair, a girl, slashing with a sword, cutting garonds like Yonne the Lord of the Dead.

"Hetwing!" Ronenth called. "Protect my flank!" Hetwing moved with a courage and confidence he had never before seen in the Princess of Reia. Though lithe, her stoke was deadly and cowered the garonds she faced. Hetwing had mooned over Ronenth when she stayed with her brother in New Rogar Li. But she was so different now. Ronenth was astounded at the change in her. But, was she changed? Had she not always been the woman he saw before him?

Ravensdred sensed the Princess of Reia moving past him, under his right arm, and tried to bring his scimitar down on her as she came.

Hetwing brought her sword up and laid a nasty, but not deep cut under Ravensdred's arm, as she skidded past the garond and turned to a stance directly behind Ronenth, her back to his back.

"Finish him!" Hetwing yelled as she cut at the garonds that had circled behind Ronenth.

"Watch your head," Ronenth warned Hetwing, as he looped the paricale up for a whipping strike at Ravensdred. "Nice of you to join the fight," Ronenth said with pretended casualness over his shoulder.

"Be quiet and fight," Hetwing snarled. Ronenth laughed.

Ronenth's paricale sang against the black scimitar and horn of the Ulokem Swogger as Ravensdred crossed them in a defensive move. Both the glaf and the garond struck again and again, and deflected in a storm of strikes and parries.

Hetwing, fighting three garonds, gasped to hear the incredible speed of the clangs of the strikes as the paricale and the Ulokem Swogger clashed with intense fury behind her.

For a moment, a wisp of orange hair from Hetwing floated back into Ronenth's face, and in that moment he knew he loved her. He could hear the sound of her sword behind him, slashing and ringing against the garonds who were attacking on his flank. Her back pressed against his. She had fallen in love with him last year, back in the politically difficult days of the rebuilding of New Rogar Li, he had ignored her, chasing after Frea, who he always knew was for Arnwylf. Why had he not seen  what was right in front of him all this time? Love was right under his nose, and he was too busy feeling sorry for himself to see it. Ronenth fought with a renewed fury, until Ravensdred had to step back several paces, surprised by the glaf boy's sudden increase in strength.

The human soldiers of Reia kept surging forward until there were no clear front lines or cohesive groups of garond or human. The battle raged one on one all throughout the Plains of Syrenf.

Ravensdred tried to bring his scimitar in with a downward press as a feint to counter with the black horn. Ronenth saw the obviousness of the move, and saw an opportunity.

As the horn came in, Ronenth swung the end section of the paricale around Ravensdred's left hand. The black chain wrapped around the garond's wrist kept him from losing his hand as before. But, Ronenth switched his grip on the paricale and locked up Ravensdred's left hand grasping the black horn of the Ulokem Swogger.

Ravensdred pulled his left hand, but Ronenth held him tight. The Scimitar was a slashing, crushing weapon, and now Ravensdred had no room to swing the black blade.

Ravensdred adapted immediately and brought his scimitar up close to Ronenth's face with the intention of drawing it across the glaf boy's throat. Ronenth whipped the other, free section of the paricale up to catch Ravensdred's right arm. The paricale cut into Ravensdred' flesh, but not deeply because of the length of the segments of the elvish weapon.

Ronenth and Ravensdred were locked to a standstill within the tangles of their weapons. Ravensdred pulled and pushed, and Ronenth clung to him with all his might. Ronenth knew if he let the large garond free, even for an instant, Ravensdred would have the advantage.

Ronenth heard Hetwing, behind him, grunting with the tiredness that was settling on her weary limbs. She couldn't keep up this defense by herself for much longer. Ronenth was bound to Ravensdred between the paricale and the Ulokem Swogger and he had no idea what to do next.

Iounelle hacked her way towards Deifol Hroth on the far side of the Plain of Syrenf. The twisted garonds were the worst, fighting with tooth and claw like wild animals. She tried to face as many as she could to take some of the burden off the humans facing the weirdly misshaped things. The magic-twisted garonds were taking down two, three human soldiers at once with their enormous claws and fangs.

Something burned in her mind, and she couldn't push the questions out of her head, even as she fought. What was the Ar for? Why was this thought suddenly plaguing her? How did the black stone work? She must have been taught something about it. Why couldn't she recall what she had learned about the strange Heart of the Earth?

Frea fought side by side with her mother, Halldora. The Athelings of Man were mighty warriors who fought with courage and honor. But, the ghaunts were too much. Even though there were only several hundred of the dead humans, they couldn't be stopped unless they were completely hacked to pieces.

Halldora looked over at her daughter. Frea was no longer a little girl. She was a woman, a fierce woman with a noble and true heart. Her daughter swung the black sword she had found buried in the Far Grasslands with deadly accuracy, keeping the dead claws of the ghaunts back. The black sword seemed to give her little daughter a daunting strength.

Frea growled as she hacked at the dirty, animated corpses. They took too many hits to bring down. She looked about. The Athelings of Man were failing.

From the corner of her eye, the elf's heart leapt as she saw the Archer leading his kiplethite archers from across the river. The kiplethites arced arrow after arrow into the twisted garonds, over the heads of field now filled with fighting humans and garonds.

The elf then had to make a difficult choice, should she make her way towards the Dark One, or should she fight her way to the Archer's side as he had requested.

The elf cut and slashed limbs and heads from the twisted garonds. She knew what she had to do. The elf turned north and fought her way towards the Lord of Lightning.

Arnwylf fought his way through the melee raging all about him. A black flock of arrows sailed over his head. The archers to the west had crossed the river and joined the main body of the battle. The field was a confusing mix of humans and garonds. The garonds had pushed through the human lines, then a crush of humans, the reians, had come up behind the garonds.

Arnwylf hoped the wolves would hold the vyreeoten on their western flank. The human army seemed to be holding the twisted garonds on their eastern flank. Ahead Arnwylf saw the ghaunts to the north tearing into the human army. He thought he saw a flash of wild, red hair that belonged to Frea. But he couldn't think about her at this moment. He had to make his way to Deifol Hroth.