Azurite (Daughter of the Mountain Book 1) (46 page)

Before that thought had finished crossing his mind, the mountains before Brutus exploded with such ferocity, that he thought the earth was regurgitating itself.  Rock and gravel was thrown into the air, above the tree line, accompanied by the sound and tremor of a deadly earthquake.  But the blasts didn’t stop there; they continued on every few seconds, going straight down the path of the slot canyon.  Explode, fall, implode.  The cycle seemed to go on forever. 

Mountainsides erupted, throwing boulders astray and opening up the earth till the dark caverns of the Anions were fully exposed.  Noman soldiers were sucked unsuspectingly into the recesses of the earth screaming as they plummeted to their death.  The sound of all the commotion was deafening, louder than anything Brutus had ever heard.

Talan’s blasts were forcing the remaining Noman soldiers back out of the canyon and into the open.  Falling rocks, massive sinkholes, and the sheer force of the fire powder bursting through the earth killed off handful after handful or Olger’s men till the only ones remaining were running towards the hills and screaming for mercy. 

Brutus turned around to face the arrow wielding Guards who’d retreated from the mountain cliffs. 

“We need to move and meet up with Captain Atwater’s battalion.  They’re waiting for us down at the canyon’s northern edge,” Brutus explained to the company of soldiers.  “From there we’ll join with the Captain’s troops and attack Olger’s men retreating from the canyon.  That being said, the Queen wants Olger Guttensen captured and returned to her
alive.
  No mistakes on this one.  If you don’t know which one is Olger, it’s the dimwit who looks like he’s never fought a battle before.”  He met each soldier’s eyes to make sure they understood his instructions, but their faces remained tight and serious.  “Ok, let’s go.”

Brutus took off in a jog, the clinking of his chainmail adding to the symphony of war sounds surrounding him.  The Samarian Guards stomped down the canyon, skidding down near vertical gradients and hopping over deep cracks until they reached a cluster of forest whose trees grew almost sideways out of the mountain.  By the time they intersected with Captain Atwater’s company, Brutus was breathing heavily and adrenaline was pumping through his veins.  The sounds of explosions still filled the soldiers’ ears, and the air above the forest was pervaded with so much blue dust that it toned down the bright glare of the morning sun.

Lee Atwater was on Brutus before the General even had a chance to greet him.  He looked the same as he did before, dressed in Samarian plate armor but lacking the helm.  His long hair fell around his face like white cotton, and the nasty gash to his forehead from the previous battle had been patched up.

“Several hundred Nomans have already exited the canyon,” Lee gushed as soon as Brutus was in earshot.  “We need to move out now before Olger gets too far ahead of us.  We can engage his soldiers here, where the land is unstable, and we can use the forest as cover.”

“These men are ready to fight,” Brutus said.  “You lead the way, but when Olger is captured, he must be captured alive.  We are taking him back to Mizra.  Queen’s orders.” 

Lee’s eyes grew hateful when Brutus told him this, but he didn’t object.  Instead he turned towards Brutus’s newcomers, instructing them to position themselves in the trees, firing at will towards any Noman they saw.  Lee’s company would engage the enemy in hand to hand combat, and a platoon of men would score the end section of the mountain to take down those lingering behind.  Then, as one battalion, Brutus and Lee would lead the formation of Samarian soldiers down the incline of the mountain to where the unsuspecting Nomans were gathering in the clearing below.

When what remained of the Noman army finally came into view beyond the trees, it looked like pure mayhem.  Distraught soldiers were trying to pull limp bodies from underneath piles of rock.  The Samarian land was unrecognizable due to the blood, body parts, and rubble that dotted the normally beautiful forest.  Officers scrambled around desperately trying to figure out a way to reorganize their troops through the now mangled land, while others were running away, defecting against being forced to participate in the Noman battles.  At the moment, it looked like the small company of Samarian Guards would have an advantage over Olger’s army.  But something told Brutus that it couldn’t be that easy, and more Noman troops were somewhere lingering in the background. 

“Attack!” Lee’s voice boomed over the melee.

The Samarian Guard rushed on the army of Nomans with swords, battleaxes, and spears thrust high into the air.  The clamor of iron swords smacking plate armor resounded loudly throughout the peaceful forest.  The Samarian archers had climbed the large Sugarpine trees as they’d done as children and began setting loose their remaining arrows from their quivers.   Heavy grunts, vile curses, and angry battle cries resonated through the mountains as Brutus sped down the incline and into the violent anarchy, intent on locating and apprehending Olger.

As he tore through the masses of men, his blade found and killed any Noman soldier who got in his way.  The enemy retaliated by violently assaulting him, but Brutus pushed through, ensuring every Noman body found the tip of sword.  All around him were the sounds of death, and the air reeked with the overpowering stench of sweat and blood.

When Brutus finally recognized Alvard amidst the endless number of Noman faces, he felt the fires of hatred burn through him.  The haunting images of the Noman commander holding Gerod Kingsley’s mutilated corpse in his hands while he instructed his other men to execute unarmed Samarian Guards almost drove Brutus to madness.  He clutched his sword till he muscles cramped, and he cried out in anger at the murder Alvard’s company had inflicted.

Alvard was standing at the head of a Noman squad who were frozen in fighting stance with weapons drawn.  They formed a semicircle around Olger, and it was backed up against the canyon whose entrance had been reduced to a pile of rock.  The General quickly studied Olger’s temporary fortress, devising a plan of attack, and his eyes moved all the way up to the top of the canyon to see if any Noman archer had found their way up there. 

Instead of a Noman, outlined against the grey haze of battle, stood a single solitary figure.  He wore a cloak that ran to the ground, and its hood was pulled over its face.  The figure paced briskly across the edge of the canyon, stopping every few seconds to peer down at the ensuing battle below him.  When he stopped the last time, Brutus thought he could feel the creature’s eyes focusing directly on him, and it chilled Brutus to the bone.  He didn’t have any more time to contemplate the matter, because Lee Atwater suddenly appeared next to him.  Brutus tore his attention away from the lone figure.

“I say we just go for it,” Lee panted heavily, his expression filled with hatred.  “But I get that one.”  He pointed his sword at Alvard, and Brutus didn’t object.

“Let’s go,” the General said.

Without another word, Lee and Brutus rushed at Olger’s protectors.  Brutus swung his sword high into the air, bringing it down with a heavy hand on Noman body parts till he felt the blade slice cleanly through them.  A Noman soldier reciprocated Brutus’s attack with a blow to his plate covered shoulder and a pound to the head.  A temporary ringing filled his brain, but Brutus quickly parried then kicked the man in the rib cage, which forced him to the ground.  The man struggled to get back up, but Brutus kicked him again, this time in the back, fracturing his spine.  With the Noman soldier injured and unable to stand, Brutus took the opportunity to puncture the man’s jugular with his blade.  Blood spewed vertically from the wound, but Brutus turned away, ignoring the man’s cries of death.

To the right, Lee was combating Alvard who was almost a foot taller and had a much longer reach.  Lee was beginning to loose ground, and the Noman had pushed him further back from the canyon and away from Olger.  Alvard lunged at Lee, but the Captain docked only a millisecond too late, and the edge of the sword grazed his arm where his vambrace ended and his breastplate began.  Lee cried out in surprise, and Alvard shifted his weight, preparing to make his fatal strike towards the Samarian.

Brutus charged straight at him, knocking the Noman out of reaching distance of Lee and knocking his weapon out of his grasp.  A look of sheer terror overcame Alvard’s angular face as he crawled to retrieve his sword.  Brutus look at Lee and then the two of them attacked, continuously beating Alvard’s body till the man lay unmoving on the ground and blood flowed from every opening on his face.  Satisfied that they’d killed the man who’d so ruthlessly murdered his Samarian brothers, Brutus looked to see if any other Guards were free to come to their aid; they needed to get Olger into custody. 

Behind him, the unorganized army of Noman soldiers had somehow regrouped, and every single Samarian was engaged in combat.  Scores of dead and maimed soldiers littered the ground now wet with blood.  The Noman army had always been larger than Samaria’s, and even through Brutus and Lee had executed a logical attack plan, the Nomans still seemed to have the upper hand; the Samarians were simply outnumbered. 

Brutus had severely underestimated the number of enemy ranks that had been waiting outside the canyon and hidden in the forest while the first group had entered.  Now, they were paying for it with their lives.  All around him, Samarians were being hacked to death by weapon wielding Nomans whose troops were still marching in from the east.  Indigo tunics and shiny plate armor dotted the forest floor while the violent and savage Nomans continued to push through the remaining Samarian army. 

Brutus turned around and saw Olger standing safely between his flanks of bodyguards.  The Samarians hadn’t even penetrated Olger’s line of protection, and from the looks of things, they couldn’t even get close to him without fighting off a dozen lines of Noman soldiers.  If he didn’t get Olger into custody, then this war would never end.

Brutus blitzed towards Olger’s Guards, tearing the formation apart with every effort he had.  He fought them from every direction, using every ounce of combat training he’d ever received to removed them from the sight of his target.  With wrath and hate driving him forward, Brutus violently trounced every single one of the Overlord’s guards until his hands were sticky with enemy blood.  Olger was standing right in front of him now, unshielded from the consequences of Brutus’s vengeance.

Olger’s iron helm protected his entire head, but heinous eyes stared out from underneath the metal casing, and his mouth was twisted into a psychotic smile.  His sword was unsheathed and ready to counter Brutus’s aggressive attacks.  Bellowing out with a passionate battle cry, Brutus lunged forward and thrust a deadly blow at Olger’s middle.  The Overlord was quick to deflect it and strike back at the General, who immediately blocked it. 

Brutus continued on with his bout of attacks, but Olger’s nimble fighting skills prevented Brutus from gaining an edge on him.  They danced around one another, with Olger releasing a crazed cackled every time his weapon clashed against Brutus’s armor.  Sweat poured in Brutus’s eyes while they fought, and no matter how often he gained on Olger, the Overlord countered with a better strike.

Unexpectedly, Brutus felt a painful blow make contact with his upper back.  His plate amour crumpled against his skin and pushed against his bone.  Two Noman soldiers rushed at him from behind, one wielding a spiked mace.  Brutus howled in pain as the mace swung around and made contact again, knocking him to his knees.  The stabs of pain were excruciating, and they radiated all the way up to the crown of his head till Brutus feared he would soon loose consciousness.  With the General incapacitated, the soldiered reached underneath his arms, lifting him up like a prisoner.  Brutus struggled against their grasp, but they held him so tight he wasn’t able to wiggle free. 

Further off behind him, Brutus could make out Lee’s voice throwing swearwords at the brutal Nomans he so valiantly fought, but then it was followed by a clash of metal, a heavy grunt, and then Lee’s voice was silenced.  Brutus winced.  Every fiber in his being wanted to turn around and see if Lee was alive, but the men detaining him wouldn’t allow it.   Olger removed himself from against the canyon wall where he’d been pushed him back, wiping blood away from his mouth where Brutus’s fist had somehow made contact.  He removed his helm and tossed it to the side revealing his shaved head with the trailing ponytail.  The ruthless Overlord glared at him with eyes as dark and cold as obsidian, his mouth still twisted in a patronizing sneer.

“Well fought, General,” Olger said to him.  His words were hard and sharp.  “But not well enough to save the lives of your men, I’m afraid.  Or your own.”  He raised his sword and placed the tip into the tender part of Brutus’s neck, pushing lightly.  Brutus just fanged his teeth at him.

“Before this is over with, you ignorant savage, you’ll be in the exact same position as your buddy over there.”  He nodded his head towards Alvard’s paralyzed and beaten body lying sprawled out on the ground.  Fear flashed through Olger’s eyes for a miniscule second before they turned icy again.  He pushed harder on the sword till Brutus felt the skin on his neck split and blood pool around the blade.

Around them the battle still roared, but the incorporeal being skulking atop the canyon caught Brutus’s attention again as he stopped to face the scene of bloodshed below.  The rays of daylight outlining his figure seemed to grow brighter with each second Brutus gazed up it, until the light was too effulgent to look at.  Despite the situation he was in, Brutus’s instincts told him that the being standing atop the mountain was not one of Olger’s hired soldiers, but an outsider here to help Samaria’s dying army.  The General met Olger’s cruel glare again.