| |
“The battle is well underway, Majesty, and it is not going well.” The look on Tabars’ face was one of grave concern mixed with the same determination he’d always had even in the direst of circumstances.
Lerryn looked down from the small rise from which they could see the battlefield through the edge of the tangled forest. The Ice King’s forces were concentrated along the north and west sides of the city. He could not see all the way to the south wall, but he could tell for certain that they were not attacking from the west.
“Why don’t they have the city surrounded?” Larris asked.
“The Ice King is leaving them a path to retreat. The lands west of here provide few defensible positions until you reach Karkwall. If they abandon the city, they will be slaughtered.” His mind racing, Lerryn assessed the situation in a glance. “Archers forward! Spears in support!
His commands were quickly passed through the lines and his troops formed up in solid rows. At Lerryn’s command, Kelvin blew his war horn and a hail of arrows rained down on the surprised forces of the Ice King. Cries of pain and sharp commands rose up above the din of battle as their right flank turned to meet the new threat.
Lerryn looked at Aspin. “I need you and the seekers inside the city to help bolster the defenses. If you go in from the west, you should be able to enter unmolested. They’ve left that wall open.”
Aspin nodded and began shouting instructions to the mounted throng of brown-robed men who waited nearby.
“Have our reserves form a wall and protect them,” he said to Tabars. “Once the seekers are inside, the reserves should join them and aid in the city’s defenses.” The reserve force was comprised of the youngest and greenest troops. He expected little from them, but they would be better suited to fighting from behind a wall than out in the open. “You and the White Fang,” he continued, “form a rear guard. When everyone is inside the city, sweep around to the south and take them in the flank. Slash and run but don’t fully engage unless the situation dictates it. I want to give them lots to think about.”
Tabars wheeled his horse about and gave the orders. Moments later, the reserves marched forward at double time. They were so young, Lerryn thought, some barely old enough to shave, and he was sending them to their deaths. Of course, he reminded himself if they did not prevail, their lives would be forfeit anyway.
“They will be all right,” Aspin said. “We can provide some protection until they are in the city. After that...” He shrugged.
Lerryn nodded. He watched as the young men continued to file past. One fell to his knees and vomited loudly. Others looked so pale that he thought they might collapse there and then, but despite their fear, not one of them turned and ran. Soon they had formed a double wall of spears, with two rows of archers behind. The seekers swept around behind them, spurring their horses as fast as they could go, followed by Tabars and the White Fang.
Their presence went unnoticed by the main force of the attacking army, but a small contingent broke off and charged toward them. A few nervous archers released far too soon in the arrows fell uselessly to the ground.
“Hold!” Their commanding officer called. “Loose on my command!”
Lerryn tensed as the Ice King’s forces released their own volley. Arrows whistled through the air toward his young troops.
“Shields!” The officer shouted.
But before his men could even assume a defensive posture, Aspin stuck out his hand and shouted a single word. The arrows bounced back as if striking an invisible wall and fell to the ground. The attackers saw this and hesitated, but then they charged again.
Another seeker had joined Aspin and the two of them hurled balls of fire into their ranks. Lerryn’s men added another volley of arrows, and he was pleased to see that most found their marks. But despite the carnage, the remaining men continued to charge forward while the injured crawled as if driven by an unseen force. Lerryn returned his attention to the battle, confident that the seekers and his own troops would easily dispatch the remaining attackers.
Down below the battle raged. The arrival of his forces had caught the Ice King’s troops unawares, but their sheer numbers and apparent mindless determination had helped them rally almost immediately. A large detachment had broken off and charged his position on the high ground. His archers were no longer firing in waves but released as quickly as they could nock, draw, and fire. The ranks of attackers fell like wheat before the scythe, but still they came, every fallen man replaced by two more. Lerryn drew his sword. It was time for him to enter the fray.
“Don’t do it, Lerryn,” Larris said. “I can lead the charge. You are the king. You are needed to command.”
Lerryn looked at the faces of those around him: Larris, Allyn, Colin Malan, Hierm van Derin, Hair, Edrin, Kelvin, Oskar Clehn, his fierce-looking female companion, and the three young Seekers who had joined him. All nodded their agreement. He was about to acquiesce when he looked out and spotted a familiar face in the midst of the battle.
“I’m a fighter,” he said. He reached out and squeezed Larris’ shoulder. “The gods be with you, brother.”
Larris nodded. “And also with you.”
“If you will all excuse me,” Lerryn said, “courtesy demands that I pay my respects to our uncle.” He raised his sword, put his heels to the flanks of Kreege, his faithful warhorse, and shouted, “Cavalry, charge!”
“What do we do?” Allyn asked. “Should we get inside the city and try to find Shanis?”
It appeared to take a moment before his words registered with Larris, who was staring at the back of the charging cavalry as it plowed into the Ice King’s forces. He shook his head as if coming awake. “I suppose we should.”
Oskar shifted in his saddle, ready to ride when something caught his attention. In the midst of the battle, a circle had opened in the ranks of soldiers and a pale blue glow emanated from a massive figure that stood locked in battle with a tall, red-haired girl.
“There she is!” He pointed at the combatants.
Larris spotted them immediately. “We have to get to her!” He gave no orders, but kicked his horse and charged down the hill and into the fray with Colin close behind.
Cursing, Allyn galloped forward, trying to catch up with Larris.
Oskar turned to Lizzie. “You should be able to get into the city if you swing around west like the seekers did. I’ll find you when this is over.”
“No,” she said flatly. “I stay with you.”
Oskar knew a lost cause when he saw one. “Stay between us, then. We can shield you.”
Lizzie laughed and shook her head. Here, in the midst of battle, with the Ice King in their sights and men and women dying all around, she showed no fear. “It will be as you say.” She winked at him.
“Let’s go.” As one, they charge down the hill, following in Larris’ wake. Up ahead, they saw him hacking his way through the confused tangle of battling warriors. Beside him, Colin was laying about with the ferocity of a wild beast. Allyn had dismounted and was firing off arrows with almost inhuman speed and accuracy. With no regard for his own safety, he took down every warrior who threatened Larris from behind. Hierm forged ahead, reaching Allyn just in time to ride down an enemy poised to thrust a spear through the young man’s unprotected back.
As they rode, Oskar, Whitt, Naseeb, and Dacio began to hurl spells into the fray. It was a difficult task to accomplish from horseback, but they managed to blast a path for Larris to follow as the prince continued to fight his way toward Shanis.
Oskar stood in his stirrups, but he could no longer see her in the midst of the battle. Otherworldly noises, cracks like shattering ice, rang out across the battlefield and he knew she was still fighting.
“Look out!” Dacio shouted. He waved his hand and the force of his will sent an arrow flying off course.
“Nice one,” Whitt said. “I wish I could...” The words died in his throat as a feathered shaft took him in the heart. His eyes widened as life fled from him and he slid off the saddle to the ground.
“Whitt!” Oskar cried. He wheeled his horse and tried to return to his friend’s side. Another arrow flew, whizzing past his ear. He spotted the archer immediately— a man in a crimson Galdoran uniform perched high in a tree. Rage burned inside him and he remembered a place far away and a moment that seemed a lifetime ago when he had called down the lightning upon the golorak. He stretched out his hand and felt the power surge through him.
With a blinding flash, a great bolt of lightning struck the tree. It exploded with a deafening roar, sending earth, stone, and bodies flying in all directions. Oskar closed his eyes and when he opened them again, a smoking crater the size of a small house stood where the tree had been. Bodies, rather, body parts, lay all about and he smiled with grim satisfaction at the knowledge that his friend’s killer was dead.
“No!” Something flew through the air at the corner of his vision and he wheeled to see Lizzie spring down off her horse onto the back of the silvery, catlike creature. The beast’s claws whistled through the air, inches from Oskar, just as Lizzie opened its throat with one of her wicked looking knives. She hit the ground, rolled away from the thrashing beast. No sooner had the ice cat regained its feet then an arrow blossomed in its eye socket. Oskar knew it had to have been Allyn who made that shot.
He was about to look for his friend when Lizzie hurled another of her knives right at Oskar.
He had no time to react before the knife flew past him and struck a mounted warrior in the eye. Oskar gaped as the man fell to the ground.
“You can’t expect me to have your back all the time. You’ve got to pay attention!” Lizzie yanked her knife from the dead man’s skull and clambered back up onto her horse. “Now, keep your eyes open. Go!”
Lerryn was eager to fight but had no occasion to bloody his sword as he charged toward Orman. His cavalry encircled him, carving a path through the enemy ranks. He kept his eyes trained on Orman’s blond head. His uncle sat astride his horse, shouting orders and flailing about with his sword.
As they drew closer, their progress slowed. The mass of soldiers, though none of them a match individually for his men, nonetheless proved a formidable obstacle due to their sheer numbers. Their charge slowed and up ahead, he saw the flow of the battle carry Orman off in the opposite direction.
Lerryn’s heart raced. He had to get to Orman before someone else did. He wanted to be the one to finish the coldheart traitor. He urged his horse forward and began slicing his own path through the melee. His sword bit deeply into mail and flesh as he cut down every man in his way. He was aware that many of those he faced wore the uniform of Galdora. These were the rebel troops Orman had spirited away. He wondered if they were, in fact, rebels, or merely pawns under the Ice King’s powerful sway. It did not matter. They were trying to kill him, and neither empathy nor sympathy would protect him.
He continued to battle, but no matter how hard he fought, Orman seemed to drift farther away from him. Would he ever get there?
No sooner had the thought passed through his mind than a bolt of lightning sliced through the air and erupted in a flash of light up ahead of him. He ducked his head and shielded his eyes from the flying debris. When he opened them again, he saw before him a large patch of burnt ground, and beyond it, his uncle.
Their eyes locked and Larris charged. Orman hesitated for only a second and then he too drove his mount forward.
They met in the center of the charred circle of earth. Their swords clashed and then they were past one another. Lerryn wheeled his mount and came forward again. He struck at Orman, who turned the blow and then the world narrowed to a single flurry of blades. Sparks flew and the sharp clang of steel on steel rang in his ears.
Orman’s face was a mask of determination or was he under the same spell as his soldiers? His strokes were almost mechanical in their precision. He was an accomplished swordsman and had won many a duel.
“Hello nephew,” Orman rasped as he struck out with his sword. “I understand you have usurped my position.”
“No, I have merely claimed my throne,” Lerryn said through gritted teeth as their swords clanged together again. “You shouldn’t have left your son behind, you know. My dear cousin now rots in the dungeon along with your cohorts.”
“It makes no difference. The Ice King has promised me the throne when the Frostmarch is over. My son and my loyal companions will be freed and we will rule while you and everyone you love lie beneath the ground.”
Their swords came together again. Lerryn deflected the blow and thrust, opening a cut on Orman’s shoulder, but his uncle didn’t flinch. Orman struck again and once again Lerryn’s counter-stroke found its target. But the wounds he inflicted were shallow and Orman continued to fight.
“Did I forget to mention?” Lerryn asked. “They are in the dungeon now, but they go before the headsman at sunrise tomorrow. You’ll be hard-pressed to win this battle and reach Archstone in time. Sorry about that.”
It was a lie, but it had the desired effect. The news of his son’s impending demise cut through the force that dominated Orman’s mind. Teeth bared, he roared and attacked with reckless abandon. Calmly, like a blacksmith at work, Lerryn turned each blow and gave back with vicious thrusts that left his uncle bleeding until, chest heaving and shoulders sagging, Orman managed one final swing that Lerryn easily ducked.
Smiling coldly, he drove his sword into Orman’s throat just above his gorget. His uncle had only a second to open his mouth in surprise before blood poured forth, his eyes rolled back, and he fell lifeless to the ground.
The world around him seemed to return to Lerryn in a flash and he was aware of silver shapes coming at him from all sides. Ice cats! He had scarcely raised his blade when powerful claws tore into his flesh.