Amethyst of the Gods Page 18

* * *

  South of the city, well outside the walls, the dwarves looked anxiously at the eastern sky, waiting for the first edge of the sun to appear above the horizon. They waited patiently and solemnly as their hands gripped the shafts of throwing axes and large battleaxes. The still night air gave way to the typical morning breeze, slight and gentle at first, but increasing as the eastern horizon grew brighter. As he waited for the first sliver of the orange sphere to appear, Prince Darok slowly raised his axe high above his head.

  "Charge!" the dwarf prince shouted as he saw the tip of the sun. "Victory for Garala!"

  "For Garala!" echoed thousands of dwarven voices as they began exiting the forest and charging towards the distant horde of ogres and goblins.

  They ran for several hundred paces before they came to a thick strand of yaki bodies, blue from the taste of myric poison. The dwarves leaped over the carcasses and continued their charge. In the distance Prince Darok saw the bursting of flames beyond the defensive wall.

  "They'll be coming our way soon, lads," he shouted as he ran. "Show them what dwarven weapons are made of."

  Shortly after the words had left the prince's lips, goblins noticed the charging dwarves. Ogres also turned to face the new threat. In moments the battle was joined. Goblin archers released a hail of arrows as the charging ogres thundered towards the dwarves. The dwarves raised their shields and continued to close on the enemy. In moments the threat of the goblin archers was removed by the large stature of the ogres. The dwarves and ogres met in a spray of blood as the ogres grabbed dwarves and tore them apart, while other dwarves hacked into the ogres with their axes.

  * * *

  North of Tagaret at the edge of a recently burnt forest, three hundred Rangers mounted the gypsy horses.

  "You will remember where you got those horses," quipped Natia. "They are our livelihood."

  "Don't you worry, lass," grinned Sergeant Randi Witzak. "If we get through this, you can have more horses than you can count."

  "Careful, Sergeant," retorted the king of the gypsies, "our princess counts rather high."

  Although the banter was light, both men realized the danger of their situation. One thousand gypsies and three hundred Rangers were hardly a match for Sarac's army, especially if that army decided to flee back to the north, which is were they had come from.

  "Any moment now," Tedi said softly as he gazed at the eastern sky. "We cannot hope to hold against Sarac's forces, so remember to shout loudly. Make them think there are ten thousand of us. Our best chance of survival is to keep the creatures changing direction until all of the king's forces close in on them."

  "The sounds of their death throes will be loud enough to be heard on Mount Kalas," vowed Randi. "It shall serve notice on the Dark One that we are on the way to kill him."

  Tedi smiled and nodded as he waved for the right flank of gypsies to start forward. He turned and waved the left flank of gypsies forward as well.

  "Time to make the enemy scream," Tedi said to Randi as he saw the sun peak over the horizon. "I am off to lead the right flank. May our endeavors be fruitful."

  Sergeant Witzak nodded solemnly and waved his Rangers forward. The Rangers were to be the base of the bowl between the two gypsies forces. They would lag behind slightly until contact was made with the enemy, then they would charge swiftly while the gypsies tried to hold a line on the flanks. Although their ranks were slim, Randi hoped the maneuver would alarm the creatures enough to turn them around. If it didn't work, they would be shredded quickly and overrun.

  "Fruitful?" mused Randi after Tedi had left. "May the plains run red with the blood of the Dark One's army. Forward Rangers!"

  The Rangers moved forward slowly. Randi kept his eyes focused on the distant walls of Tagaret. He saw the flames leap from beyond the walls, and his eyes narrowed to the host outside those walls. He shuddered slightly as the ogres and goblins turned northward amidst angry shouts and growls. In moments, the gypsies had halted their approach and engaged the enemy with bows.

  "This is it, men," Randi shouted. "Make it louder than a tavern brawl. Charge!"

  As anticipated the ogres and goblins began filling the bowl in an attempt to separate the two flanks and get within striking range of the gypsies. The enemy heard the approach of the Rangers and turned in confusion to defend themselves. At first it appeared that the plan would work. The goblins and ogres were initially confused. Some turned and ran while others attacked all three sides of the bowl. Unfortunately, those who turned and attempted to flee were met by other Sarac forces fleeing the city. The creatures turned and attacked the Rangers.

  "This is it, men," shouted Randi. "Give them more than we take. For the king!"

  While many armies would break and run under similar circumstances, the Rangers held firm. Neither did the gypsies give up a pace of their defensive line. Randi dropped his bow and drew his sword as the ogres lumbered towards him. He was vaguely aware of shouting from his men, but the fighting was too intense to concentrate on it. His first realization that help was at hand was the score of arrows that soared over his head and destroyed the clump of ogres charging him. Before he could turn around to see who was aiding him, a dozen unicorns streaked overhead. He looked up and backwards and his face broke into a wide grin.

  "The men of Tor!" he shouted loudly as he saw thousands of men on flying unicorns. "Bless every one of them. Forward men!"

  The ogres and goblins also saw the unicorn army coming. Sarac's forces broke and ran, but there was no place to run to. Ogres and goblins still streamed out of the city. The northern plain of Tagaret ran red with blood as King Arik's forces attacked with a vengeance.

  * * *

  In the forests west of Tagaret three thousand Red Swords spread out in long lines. The lines were two deep and the men took shelter behind the trees. There was no view of the eastern horizon, but there would also be no charge towards the enemy.

  "It will have to be soon," David Jaynes said to Alexander Tork. "The sky is certainly light enough already for the beginning of a sunrise."

  "The enemy will appear shortly," nodded Alex. "Do not wish for death any sooner than necessary."

  "You really think they will overrun us?" asked David.

  "Without a doubt," Alex nodded solemnly. "We are too small a force to stop them, but our task is important nonetheless. Whatever forces escape past us will rally around the Dark One's castle at Mount Kalas. King Arik will have to face those forces anew. It is important that we destroy as many of them as possible."

  "Then we shall," David nodded glumly. "If Red Swords aren't good for at least a ten to one kill ratio, you can fire me."

  "I don't run the Red Swords," chuckled Alex, "but if you can't handle at least twenty to one, I will arrange for your retirement."

  "Retirement is looking pretty good," retorted the Red Sword as the first of the fleeing goblins came into view. "Just let me kill a couple of hundred goblins first."

  "It is the Black Devils that worry me," frowned Alex. "We are not equipped to handle them in large numbers."

  "Then we shall kill them in small numbers," shrugged David as he signaled his hidden men. "Let the vanguard get close before you signal the start of action."

  "As always," grinned Alex as he nocked an arrow.

  The first goblin was only a dozen paces away when Alex let fly his first arrow. He swiftly nocked another and let it fly as thousands of arrows flew into the charging creatures. The goblins immediately halted and brought up their bows as the ogres charged past them.

  David Jaynes saw a Red Sword fall to a goblin arrow. He immediately moved to fill the void. While the second line of Red Swords continued to use their bows, the first line dropped their bows and drew their swords. Alex stood in the center of the first line. He drew his massive two-handed sword and began hacking the ogres that attempted to get by him. Soon there was a large pile of bodies around him. That large pile protected him from the first fireball as the fiery projectile impacted on a dead ogre.
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br />   "Magicians!" Alex shouted as the next projectile flew straight towards him. "Kill the Black Devils."

  David Jaynes picked up the call and repeated it. The second line of Red Swords tried to pick out the Black Devils in the charging mass, but the number of charging creatures made the task nearly impossible. David glanced sideways and saw Alex deflect one fireball after another with his magical sword. Other Red Swords were not so lucky. They did not have a magical sword as Alex did. He saw several of his men burst into flames as the Red Sword lines began to break. David shouted orders for the first line to retreat to behind the second line. It was the agreed upon procedure for delaying the escape of Sarac's forces.

  David noticed that in many places along the lines, there were no Red Swords to retreat. He frowned as he moved backwards himself. David turned to see if Alex had a different strategy that would delay the creatures. He saw Alex's sword sticking out of an ogre's body, but Alex was nowhere to be found. He shook his head with sadness and nocked an arrow as the soldier in front of him drew his sword.

  Chapter 15

  Cost of War

  At first the mood was one of jubilation as the citizens cheered the soldiers who were chasing the fleeing creatures of Sarac's army. Everyone hailed the dragons flying overhead and marveled at the still burning carcasses of the enemy's siege engines. As the battle moved outside the city's walls, the mood changed to one of relief. The citizens believed for the first time that Tagaret would be spared the wrath of the Dark One. As the day wore on and the sun climbed higher into the sky, the cost of victory became more apparent.

  The citizens of Tagaret began pulling furniture from their homes. They lined the streets with tables and beds, anything that could be used to accommodate the wounded above the blood soaked streets.

  Prince Garong naturally assumed the task of coordinating the healers. He assigned the elven healers by skills. The most skilled healers lined the street to the western gates, the intermediate towards the southern gates, and the least skilled to the northern gates. As the wounded were brought into the city, he evaluated the wounds and dispatched the patients to the appropriate healers. All too soon, it became apparent that there were too many wounded for the elven prince to handle the task alone. King Arik entered the Gateway Inn to enlist the aid of Sheri and the Queen's Helpers. He halted at the entrance to the common room and saw that Jenneva's eyes were open. A shiver of excitement raced up his spine.

  "They are getting better!" exclaimed the king as he walked to Tanya's side and stared at her.

  "They are responding to our treatment," Zalaharic nodded without emotion. "We are fortunate that they still live. What brings Valon into our presence?"

  King Arik sensed the edge in Zalaharic's voice. He sighed with the understanding that the elven healers had been working over Jenneva and Tanya for hours. He knew they must be very tired.

  "I need the assistance of the Queen's Helpers," declared the king. "The number of wounded is overwhelming our ability to take care of them properly."

  Zalaharic stopped what he was doing and stared at the king. He waved his hand in dismissal to the elven healers around him.

  "I do not require all of these healers any longer," Zalaharic stated. "Let half of them rest while the other half help with the wounded. They can switch off after a few hours."

  King Arik gazed at Tanya with concern, and Zalaharic smiled thinly.

  "Fear not for her, Valon," the elf healer declared. "She will recover in time. There is little more that we can do for her at the moment. She needs rest, as most in this room do. I will spend a little bit more time with Jenneva and then rest myself."

  "What do you want me to do?" asked Sheri as most of the elves shuffled out of the room.

  King Arik explained the problem to Sheri, and she nodded exhaustedly.

  "I can handle it," Sherri assured the king. "The Queen's Helpers will get carts and transport the wounded to the proper places. Leave it to me."

  "Where is Fredrik?" asked Niki as she rubbed her eyes and looked around the room. "He was supposed to join me here. Why isn't he here?"

  "I don't know, Niki," shrugged King Arik. "I will send someone to look for him. You should rest some more."

  King Arik hurried out of the inn before any more questions could be asked of him. He realized that he had not seen Fredrik since the start of the battle hours ago. He hurried up the steps to the new wall and ran along it until he came to the section that Fredrik had claimed as his own. The top of the wall was strewn with stones, but there was only one body in the area. King Arik's eyes dismissed the body as he continued to search for Fredrik. There was no sign of Fredrik, and the king sighed loudly as he turned to check on the old soldier lying amidst the rubble. The old man's arms were askew and his white hair protruded from a pile of small stones.

  The king stooped next to the body and felt for signs of life. He leaped to his feet as he felt the old man's pulse racing like a galloping unicorn. King Arik shouted for assistance as he carefully removed the rock debris from the old man's body. Two soldiers raced along the wall and knelt next to the body. The soldiers had carried a stretcher and placed it next to the body. King Arik helped the soldiers roll the body onto the stretcher. He inhaled deeply as he recognized the facial features of Fredrik.

  "This cannot be," gasped the king as he gazed at Fredrik's face surrounded by the shock white hair of an old man. "Get this man to the western gates immediately," he ordered the soldier. "Get Zalaharic from inside the Gateway Inn to tend to him."

  The soldiers took the stretcher and moved off at a swift pace. King Arik gazed around the section of wall that Fredrik had called his own. He seemed to recall that Fredrik was going to be shielded by elves. The king worked his way through the rubble to the far end of the wall section. The merlons were blasted away in this area and the king leaned over the wall and looked down towards the base. There in a twisted clump rested the bodies of three elf magicians. The king leaped off the wall and examined the bodies. There were no signs of life.

  King Arik hurried back to the western gates. He heard Niki's wailing long before he got there. He braced himself as he walked through the gates.

  "Quiet, woman," Zalaharic shouted as he lost his usual calm demeanor.

  King Arik's eyebrows rose as Niki immediately fell silent. He wondered if the elf healer had cast a spell upon Niki to make her shut up.

  "Thank you," Zalaharic said softly. "Now, I understand that you have healing powers of your own. I want you to aid me in healing your husband."

  "I will help," Niki nodded as she sobbed. "Will he live?"

  "He will live," smiled the elf healer. "He has been struck by lightning. He is a fortunate lad and will be fine after we slow down his bodily functions."

  "He is more fortunate than the elves that were shielding him," declared the king as he stood alongside Zalaharic. "They are all dead."

  Niki bit her lower lip as she looked at the king. She wiped tears from her eyes and looked to Zalaharic for direction. King Arik moved away and climbed the stairs to the wall. He saw General Gregor standing at a crenel and walked over to him. For several moments the two Alceans stood silently gazing out over the carnage visible across the barren part of the city.

  "So many dead," sighed the king.

  "The bloodiest battle that I have ever witnessed," the general replied in a whispering voice. "I am only thankful that the bulk of the bodies belong to the enemy. If things had not gone as they did, it would be Black Devils standing here looking out over the destruction of Tagaret. We were very fortunate today."

  "More than fortunate," nodded the king. "I half expected Wyka and the dragons to show up as I had sent for them days ago, but the arrival of the unicorns and the men of Tor was an amazing stroke of luck."

  "Do not put much faith in luck," warned the general. "It will seldom smile upon you. The men of Tor and the unicorns were sent for."

  "Sent for?" questioned the king. "Who sent for them?"

  "Alexander Tork," r
eplied the general. "He dispatched a fairy last night before leading the Red Swords through the tunnels. He was not sure that they would respond in time, but it appears that they did."

  "Indeed it does appear that way," agreed the king. "What are our losses so far?"

  "Hard to say," mused the general. "I sent fairies out to see how things were going. Some of the reports were promising; others were not. The gypsies had met up with the Rangers north of the city. With the aid of the men of Tor, their losses were minimal."

  "That is encouraging," King Arik stated.

  "Yes," nodded General Gregor. "The dwarves to the south have many casualties, but they also killed a fair number of the enemy. The worst is the western flank."

  "The Red Swords?" questioned the king.

  "Exactly," nodded the general. "Their position was overrun. While there are piles of the enemy dead, there is not much left of the Red Swords. I fear that they are no longer a viable fighting force. Such is the cost of war."

  "And Alex?" the king asked hesitantly.

  "His body has not been found," the general said haltingly, a barely detectable sniff in his voice.

  "Perhaps he is still chasing Sarac's army?" posed the king.

  "No," General Gregor shook his head as he pointed towards the west where a scraggly band of soldiers was crossing the barren part of the city. "That, I suspect, is the remains of the Red Swords. We shall question them when they arrive."

  "What of the remnants of Sarac's army?" asked King Arik as they waited for the Red Swords to approach.

  "We have no accurate estimate of their strength," shrugged the general, "but I doubt that they will regroup and attempt to attack Tagaret again. Their losses here have been severe. For them to attack again would mean their certain annihilation."

  "They won't be back," reasoned the king. "They will gather at Mount Kalas to defend it. Sarac must know that we will be coming for him soon."

  "There is not much that we can do about that now," frowned General Gregor. "It will take us days to mend and regroup."

  "Us, yes," declared the king, "but not the Cordonians. If General Fernandez could get word to his men, they could try to intercept Sarac's army before they get firmly entrenched at Mount Kalas."