CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED

CAMLIN

Camlin stood in the treeline and tracked a white-cloaked warrior who was behind Wulf with his sword raised high. Camlin loosed, his arrow punching through the warrior’s throat; the man’s legs buckled and he tumbled into Wulf.

Wulf spun around, axe pulled back to strike, face twisted in a snarl, and then he saw the arrow, realized his enemy was dead. He shoved the corpse away, looked to the trees and saw Camlin grinning at him, dipped his head in thanks and then returned to the fray, smashing a white-cloak in the face with the boss of his shield, swinging at his head with his axe.

Camlin searched for another target.

At first he had loosed arrow after arrow at the white-cloaked warriors massed on the left flank of Nathair’s shield wall. It had been too good an opportunity to miss and the combined forces of his and Dath’s archers had inflicted vicious damage upon the survivors of Lothar’s warband.

It was harder to get a clean shot now, as the hand-to-hand fighting was a furious whirlwind, white-cloaks were interspersed with Wulf and his crew, Kadoshim and Jehar, as well as a handful of giants. Balur One-Eye was hacking at white-cloaks and Kadoshim alike with terrifying fury, sending heads and limbs flying, mist-wraiths forming in the air all about him as he tried to carve a way to Nathair’s shield wall, which was wider and deeper than Veradis’ and looked to be hammering ten hells out of the smaller wall of shields.

A cloud of smoke engulfed Camlin and his crew, rolling out onto the plain, and a wave of heat warmed Camlin’s back, the sound of crackling and wood splitting too close for his liking. He glanced back, saw smoke and flame hungrily spreading through the forest.

Time to join the party, he thought and shouldered his bow.

“Enough tickling them,” Camlin shouted, drawing his sword. “Time to show them we’re more than elm and feathers.” With that he was running out from the treeline and shouting, “FOR ARDAN AND EDANA,” as his battle-cry, which took him by surprise.

He slammed into a white-cloak, hacking down between shoulder and neck. The man’s chainmail held, but Camlin felt the warrior’s collarbone snap, kicked his legs from under him and stabbed down into his throat as his momentum carried him on, swinging two-handed at the next warrior in front of him, sword taking the enemy high in the head. Camlin kicked him to the ground and looked for someone else to kill.

But what was left of the white-cloaks on this flank were gone, either dead, dying or swallowed into the ranks of Nathair’s shield wall.

That still left a handful of Kadoshim, but Akar and his Jehar were amongst this flank in all their righteous fury, teamed with Wulf’s axe-wielders and Balur and a dozen other giants. Mist-wraiths were forming in the sky with great swiftness.

Then it was just Nathair’s shield wall that was facing them.

Camlin stood and stared at it as he gathered his breath and watched Balur lay into it with his long axe.

That wall’s an amazing beast, put together like a chainmail shirt, weapons bouncing off it.

Camlin watched in horror as he saw a handful of Wulf’s men attack it, their axes bouncing off the interlocked shields, short swords stabbing out as the axe-wielders moved too close, falling away with stab wounds in bellies, legs, throats. Camlin saw five men fall in as many heartbeats.

Don’t want to get too close to that, the beast has got a bite on it.

Balur and his kin were doing a fine job, though, slamming axes into the flank-men of the wall, hooking and skewering shields, dragging men out of formation and into the open, hacking them to death in a matter of moments.

Don’t think I’m much use against that—can’t see too many arrows getting through all that wood and iron. Think I’ll see if I’m needed elsewhere.

He scanned the battlefield, but nothing was clear apart from a lot of death and dying, with smoke starting to roll thick across it from out of the forest. For a moment the enormity of it struck him, a scene like nothing he’d ever witnessed before, so many disparate peoples from across the Banished Lands, all trying to end each other.

He glimpsed a knot of Ardan’s grey, to the north, mounted, battling against men in black and gold.

Edana’s where I should be, and killing Rhin’s men seems like a good idea to me, he thought, and set off at a loping run, the crew of archers following him.