Brave Men Die: Part 2 (12 page)

Pyxis screamed in frustration as she hurtled toward the regathering Murukans. Her Wraiths spread out in a line to prevent the enemy repeating the tactic of dividing their forces. Her standard bearer rode on the right, her unicorn on purple fluttered in the wind as they rode hard and fast.

She searched for the leader, his voice carried on the wind. She judged he was the one in front but as they closed the gap other riders screaming war cries surged forward and formed the head of the lance. The others formed up behind them and barrelled into one section of her line.

Pyxis led the move to envelop the Murukan formation. She raced across the pass and engaged an unsuspecting soldier from the side, her scimitar flashed, sliced across his neck. He spun from his saddle, blood splashing his horse’s mane as he tumbled to the ground. Striking out again she stabbed a horse and hit an artery in its neck. Blood sprayed over her armour as the mount crashed into another Murukan knight.

Her warriors had engaged the entire Murukan unit and were locked in bitter combat. Even though they outnumbered them she didn’t see this going her way as cavalier after cavalier was cut down. Most stood back as others engaged, unable to get close enough to make a strike.

The gate creaked open and the contingent of stationed knights at the Gorgon Pass came charging out. Their armour was already covered with a layer of dirt, tired eyes looked out of the slits in their dented helmets. Shouts rang across the pass as they kicked in their heels to join the fray, riding forth under a blanket of arrows that covered the way.

Commander Avil watched on as the Nails stood together and defended against the superior Kyzantine numbers. In pockets close to the mountain side knights were in pairs, their horses head to tail to give them the better chance. Others moved about quickly from one spot to another, blocking a blade that would have killed a man, slaying one of the enemy before they could take one of them. The Nails were holding, but just.

Several hundred of the Kyzantines turned at the sound of the charge and moved to assault them. Duncan blew his horn and his men rallied. Three hundred lances dipped, held steady by unmoving arms. They crashed into the enemy, impaling men and horse alike. Sabres struck the counter, hacking into the garrison company. Steel battered against armour as the momentum of the charge stopped and they fought hammer and tongs.

The garrison company had been fighting skirmishes for years, been soldiers for longer and riding for decades longer than that. The warriors they were fighting were green and uncomfortable in the saddle. Their sword work was average, they could counter the blows but their distance was wrong, and the saddles hindered them from moving forward to close the gap like the infantrymen inside them wanted to.

In the distance a male voice rang out and ordered the retreat, the order echoed by other voices. Duncan slashed out, taking the man he was fighting in the neck as he turned to pull away from combat. Sections of the Kyzantine force fled down the pass.

‘Give chase! Don’t let them re-engage!’ Duncan ordered.

His men broke rank, chasing down the slowest of the enemy, and allowed the rest to abandon the field. When pursuit was pointless, Duncan turned them toward where the Nails where still locked in combat.

Pyxis spat on the ground as the first of Fizdis’ cavalry rode past headed for the safety of the Empire. She had heard the idiot order the retreat when she had expressly commanded they hold their ground.

‘Fizdis, you stupid bastard! Get your men back in line and charge that unit!’ Pyxis' voice carried, as her scimitar pointed at the garrison company charging toward them and her destrier spun in tight circles beneath her.

Some of his men rallied around them as Fizdis pulled at his standard bearer and ordered the signal. ‘Back, come back,’ he yelled after his men. Those who had fled before him were long gone, those behind slowed and grouped together.

Arrows launched through the air and started landing amongst the massing unit. Taking the warriors squarely in the chest, they fell from their saddles clutching at the shafts. Pyxis could have sworn that the archers on the wall could not have hit from there, and they would not have abandoned the safety of the barricade. More arrows flew and hit as Fizdis moved his unit toward the garrison company for a second time. Pyxis located the archers and stared in open awe as she realised the scouts on the left had been completely overpowered and replaced by Murukan archers, who fired volley after volley into her troops.

A lone figure stepped out from the gate into the afternoon sunshine. Her head turned to the bright sun beating overhead. She calmly walked in the tracks left by the garrison cavalry force, ignoring the noise of the battle around her. Kneeling in the dirt she put her hands firmly on the ground and, as she did, the dirt became soft like mud and her hands sunk into the earth up to her forearms.

Mira’s eyes went dark and she began whispering the incantation. The ground began to rumble and even those on the wall of the barricade were not safe. Vibrations flung stones down from the mountain and trees shed their leaves. The words slowly came out and when she finished four giant green roots erupted from the ground.

Horses reared back from the wriggling roots that shot out toward the sky.

Mira moved her mouth silently to control the roots as they whipped around and snatched at the Kyzantines. Flung into the air, the cavaliers screamed as the roots squeezed the life out of them. Once they were no longer moving she smashed them into the ground and grabbed at the next.

The death squad moved. As the vines erupted from the ground Calan kicked his horse and charged past the new Murukan unit. His sabre struck out and took one man in the back as he broke the line and charged toward the barricade. Others across the pass did so too, some hacked down as they attempted to break the line, but a few made it and barrelled toward the mage.

Calan looked out of the corner of his eye and counted that five others were with him. Frantically scanning the pass before the barricade, a growing urgency swelled in the pit of his stomach as the screams of men and women torn apart by her spells filled his ears. Finally he spotted her crouched on the ground in front of the closed gate.

More screams followed by a sickening crunch sounded in the background as the mage’s spell continued to pick up its victims, tear them apart, and throw the discarded remnants away. The thought that two of the death squad would get there before him flashed through Calan’s head and he was disappointed that the glory would be theirs. As the death squad closed the gap the sickening sounds of the dying stopped and Calan’s heart leapt into his throat. Moments before the first two cavaliers rode the mage down the ground erupted under their feet, flinging them aside like dolls.

One of the roots picked up another rider and flung them into the mountainside. Calan watched in horror as the death squad was torn apart. The root sank back into the ground as he pulled up, waiting for a moment to strike. Archers from the wall began firing and he pulled his shield up to protect himself. He didn’t have the time to wait. He kicked in his heels as the vine came up through the ground and wrapped around his horse’s neck. Calan leapt from the saddle, rolled across the ground as the root snapped his mount’s neck and hurled it at the incoming rider. It smashed into the rider’s body, throwing him to the ground. The horse picked itself back up and milled around, nudging the broken body of its rider.

Calan got up and ran the scant metres to the kneeling body of the mage. He brought his sabre back over his shoulder as the mage turned to face him. Her hands were still buried in the ground as her green eyes locked onto his and he swung the blade around, taking her head from her shoulders. Her sandy blonde hair flew through the air as her head travelled, landed, and rolled across the ground. Her body collapsed into a pool of blood, her arteries spurting the last of her life force out of her body.

Calan snapped out of the moment when arrows thudded into the ground around him. He took off to the riderless horse standing nearby, grabbed hold of the pommel and pulled himself into the saddle. He slapped it on the rump with the flat of his sabre as an arrow thudded into his shield. The horse was reluctant but eventually reacted to his directions and he took off back toward the fight.

Castor’s sword struck out and turned away a strike that would have claimed Volans’ arm. Volans reacted, bringing his warhammer against the Kyzantine’s head, crushing the man’s skull. Castor moved forward, urged Virtue to take two steps, allowing him to get around his opponent’s guard.

Hearing the screams, Castor sat high in his saddle and watched as the garrison company charged into the Kyzantine column. Kyzantines rallied to the new threat and gave the Nails some relief. Signalling to Volans, Castor dashed forward, urgently needing to take advantage of the shift in battle. His arm darted forward, taking a woman in the armpit. The grip on her hilt loosened, the blade clattered to the ground.

Castor’s eyes darted across the battlefield. Warriors were fleeing in the distance and others were pulling away from the Nails. He witnessed a female warrior dispatch man after man with the lightning strikes of her scimitar. The look on her face screamed frustration and anger. Castor singled her out for combat. His mind raced. Could he take her? He realised it didn’t matter. He just had to stop her killing all the others. Maybe buy some time, create something out of nothing. Whacking his mount with the flat of his sword he screamed at her, leaving Volans behind as he smashed in the skull of the last warrior facing him. Castor wove through the combat, aimed his sword at her chest.

‘You and me bitch. Let’s see how well you dance.’

Before he could get close enough to swing his blade, two soldiers ran interference. Raising his shield Castor took the first blow on its metal frame and took the second on the crossguard of his sword. Volans charged past, leapt from his saddle and collected the first soldier. They landed in a heap on the ground, fists flailing into each other as they wrestled for dominance and distracted Castor’s second opponent. As the man stammered, ‘Fizdis, sir,’ Castor lashed out and ended his life. The man’s blood sprayed on Castor’s face, adding to the gore that was already covering his skin.

As Volans wrestled with his foe on the ground Castor pressed on, his heart racing as he entered single combat. She turned his blade away before striking out with lightning quick reflexes. Castor just managed to block the savage blows as she struck rapidly again. She thrust with complete accuracy, aiming for every point his armour failed to protect. He brought his shield around, keeping the blows away from his body. His sword knocked an attack away from his head but swept the strike into his unguarded arm. The tip of the scimitar punctured his muscle and tore open the skin across his forearm.

The hatred burned inside him, consumed his thoughts as the fresh wound of Argol’s death reopened. Someone had cut him open too. If he couldn’t end this woman then more of his friends would die. It was true, those that lived through battle were haunted by those they lost.

Castor retaliated with furious strokes, blood trickling down his sword arm. She countered all but one with her scimitar, her wrist flicking from side to side. The one that landed nicked her arm and Castor twisted the tip of his blade to make her scream.

Cursing, she pulled away as a Kyzantine soldier barrelled into Castor and knocked him from his horse. Castor wondered where on earth he had come from as his vision filled with blue sky, then brown dirt, then blue sky again. Castor kept his shield between him and his opponent as the Kyzantine dismounted and started pounding his sabre down toward his body. The man was pushed from behind, nudged by a Murukan boot, and fell forward on top of Castor’s shield. Dropping his sword, Castor grabbed his dagger and drove it into the man’s neck without hesitating. Brown eyes stared back at the realisation of what just happened sunk in. Blood spewed out over Castor’s face as the dead weight started to crush his body.

With an effort and a deep breath Castor rolled the dead body off him. Gaining his feet, Castor grasped his sword and rammed the dagger back into his sheath. His battle hunger demanded he seek the woman out and he found her off in the near distance. Rage boiled within, his arm throbbed with pain. By the time he found Virtue it was too late and the Kyzantines had fought their way out of the pass, the woman gone with them.

Mounting Virtue, Castor trotted over to Hydrus and Volans who were talking to the commander of the garrison forces.

‘They got away Duncan,’ stated Hydrus, a look on his face that demanded to know the reason why and wasn’t going to take any fucking excuse.

‘Not to worry. The ones we missed will come back soon enough and we can kill them then,’ the older commander replied, patting the younger on the shoulder.

‘The same tactic won’t work again though. Did you notice the standard?’ Hydrus asked.

All three of the men nodded but it was Volans that answered.

‘Pyxis Jorgh, youngest spawn of the Emperor. One of the best cavalry commanders that the Empire has to offer and a master tactician.’

‘Well, that girl has probably studied more on tactics than you have boy,’ Duncan said jokingly to Hydrus.

‘More than all of us together,’ Volans interjected, aiming his comment at the others.

‘She was quick with the blade too,’ Castor muttered, his eyes drawn to the blood trickling down his arm as he spoke, drawing the others’ attention to the wound.

‘That looks nasty Castor. I thought you were better with the blade?’ Hydrus commented smugly.

Volans recognised the look on Castor’s face, the anger rising behind his eyes. ‘Castor is better than you Hydrus, one of the best in the unit. If it was anyone else up against her, they wouldn’t have just been wounded. They'd be dead. I saw the blows, the battle. Their blades blurred Hydrus, blurred because they were so fast.’

The group stood there in silence, not really looking at each other. There was still tension but also a sense of awe.

‘I could have taken her,’ Castor said quietly, interrupting the silence.