The Black Sword Trilogy: The Poacher (38 page)

              Kenner fought like a man possessed.  He spun and twirled, swinging his blade in seeming a hundred directions at once.  Every time his blade met the body of a beast, it fell to its doom.  The men screamed and cried sounds of victory and death and the Wolfen barked and growled like hounds from hell.  The cavalry circled the malaise killing any creatures that strayed from the fight in the center.  Despite the courage and valor of the men, the Wolfen were proving to be too much for them.  There were simply too many.  Still they fought on as soldiers, not surrendering an inch to their beastly foes.

              Kenner alone must have slew a hundred Wolfen and the dead piled up around him.  Every time a Wolfen came within mere feet of him, it died.  But he was starting to tire.  The sword began to feel heavier and he felt himself beginning to slow down.  But then, he saw that none of the Wolfen were coming near him.  He looked for an enemy to fight, but nothing would approach.  Then he heard a strange whistling in the air behind him.  He turned just in time to see the axe flying towards him and only just in time to deflect it.

              It flew back into the hand of Grail, who then charged at Kenner, raised the axe high and brought it down with a force that Kenner had never before known.  He parried the blow and then he and Grail dueled in a cloud of dust so thick they could barely see each other.

              Kenner fought ferociously, slashing and blocking blows from Grail’s mighty axe.  Neither man seemed to have an edge over each other and the speed of their stabs, slashes and parries could barely be seen.  Soon the cloud began to clear and both armies could see the epic duel go on.  They then stopped fighting each other and began to watch their two leaders fighting in such rhythm and speed, it almost looked as if they were one man.

At one point, Grail kicked Kenner in the gut and he started to fall.  He let himself hit the ground and then flipped back onto his feet; a move his father had taught him.

“I see you have some skill with a blade, boy!” Grail called to Kenner and then renewed his attack.

He hacked and sliced, but Kenner gave no hint of lessening.  Again, Grail stepped back.

“That sword makes you stronger and faster and in the right hands, it could win this battle on its own.  But yours are not the right hands!”

He threw the axe at Kenner again and again, Kenner deflected.  When it returned to Grail’s hands, he had leapt into the air and came crashing down on Kenner.  Again, he absorbed the blow, spun around and hit Grail in the chest with the pummel.  Grail rolled with the blow and came to a standing position a few feet from Kenner with the axe held in a guard.

              “And I suppose your hands are the right hands!” Kenner spat at him defiantly and charged.  They exchanged a dozen blows and then spun away from each other.

“No!” Grail called back to him.  “But there is one, only one who can bend the Sword to his will.”

This time, Grail did not charge.  Instead, he held the axe behind him defensively, but held his left hand out as if offering it to Kenner.

“Come with me.” He said to Kenner’s surprised.  “A gifted warrior as yourself should not be wasted on a field such as this.”

“Have you completely lost your mind?” Kenner shouted.

“Don’t be a fool boy!  You will be a general in my army!  You will share equally in all that we will win!  You can rule a kingdom of your own if you wish!”

“That’s not exactly what I have in mind.”

“You idiot!” Grail shouted at him.  “You don’t know how to use that sword.  You will never master it!  Come with me and help rule an empire!”

“No!  Sorry!  I have other things in mind!”

And Kenner attacked again.

             
This time, his fatigue began to take over him again.  He fought with as much skill and courage as he had, but every blow and every cut was met by Grail’s axe.  Then Grail’s blade hit Kenner in the chest and sent him flying.  He landed and rolled a few times.  His ribs hurt and burned after the hit, but as he rose, he saw that he was mostly unharmed.

“I see you have Farraday’s armor as well!” Grail called out to him.  “It will only delay your end!”

             
Suddenly, Kenner noticed that the Black Sword was glowing blue.  He looked at Grail and noticed that the axe was also glowing blue.  And then he knew.

“You’re right!” He called to Grail.  “I don’t know everything about using this sword!”

He then reached out his left hand.

“But I’m a fast learner!”

The Silver Axe then appeared to jump out of Grail’s hand, flew in the air and then landed perfectly in Kenner’s empty hand.

              Kenner saw Grail stumble and then another idea came to him.  He plunged the axe into the ground.  Waves like water ripped through the field and the ground shook violently.  The ground underneath Grail then ripped open and he fell into the chasm.  The enemy forces then howled and yelped in fear then ran as fast as they could from the battlefield.  When the earthquake ended, there was a sudden stillness; almost as if there hadn’t been a battle at all.

              The Walechian soldiers all looked around themselves, stunned.  The battle was over and they had won.  Thousands of bodies both human and Wolfen littered the ground and the ground was soft with blood soaked into the soil.  All the men looked at each other; no one knowing what to say.  Then one soldier looked to Kenner.  He was standing on his own with both the Black Sword and the Silver Axe in his hands.  The crack in the earth was just beyond him and they could see the remaining beasts flying for their lives behind him.

“Hail Captain Kenner!” The soldier cried.  Several others joined him.  He shouted again, “Hail Captain Kenner!”  Then half the army cried out “Hail!”  He shouted again and all the voices of the soldiers still alive shouted as loud as they could, “Hail!”

             
The men cheered and sang.  As many as could get close to him embraced him and then they lifted him onto their shoulders.  Feeling nearly exhausted and his chest still hurting, Kenner almost went limp in their arms.  Then a familiar voice shouted above the crowd.

“Put that officer down!” Yelled Captain Krall.

The men put him down and then Krall and his remaining cavalry rode to into the center of the crowd of men.  Krall looked down on Kenner, his face covered in dirt and blood.  Then he did something Kenner thought he would never see this Captain do.  He bowed.  Kenner then grabbed his leg and shook it.  Krall looked up at Kenner as proud as a father.

“You bow to no one.” Kenner told him.

Kenner then handed the axe to Captain Krall whose eyes bulged in surprise.

“Are you sure?” He gasped.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” Kenner replied.

              Kenner then carried himself, step by heavy step back up the hill from where he had led the charge.  Standing at the top with her hands on her hips was Terri with all of her archers behind her.  When he finally reached the top of the hill, she embraced him and kissed him hard on the cheek as she had done in Kallesh.

“Damn I wish you were a woman right now!” She said shaking him.

Chapter Forty Seven

             
The battle was over; but now the reckoning would come.  At Kenner’s orders, the soldiers began to dig a massive pit.  Still other soldiers began collecting the bodies of the dead Wolfen and piling them like garbage.  Meanwhile, the Walechian dead were laid out in a single line and the names of the dead were written down by the men who recognized them.

“I want every name written.” Kenner commanded.  “There will be no unknown soldiers from this battle.”

Secretly, Krall went to the, still open chasm in the ground where his brother had fallen.  He looked down the rip in the earth and could see nothing.  Seeing that no one could see him, Krall wept openly for his lost brother.

             
Kenner and Terri were helping to dig the pit when another Captain approached them.

“The King is dying.” He said to Kenner.

Terri looked at Kenner and told him, “You’d better go.”

Kenner then followed the Captain back up to the King’s tent.

             
In the tent, Kenner saw two bodies on the ground covered in white sheets.  Those must have been the two Generals, he reasoned.  Lying on a bed of straw was the body of the King.  Kenner approached and then stood over the man he had been raised to hate and distrust.  Looking down at the dying man, he felt all of his hatred and anger leave him.  This was not the man who had ruined his father so long ago, he thought.  Here was merely an old man dying from a wound suffered in battle. 

              The old man’s tired and nearly lifeless eyes opened and focused on Kenner.

“I can’t move.” He groaned.  “Nor can I feel my body.”

“Then you are in no pain.” Kenner said gently.

“No.” King Philas said in a weak voice.  “I am in pain; but not from a wound from this battle.”

His voice was so quiet, Kenner had to kneel beside his face.

“I suffer now,” He continued weakly, “because I know now who you are; who you really are.”

Kenner felt a wave of excitement begin to grow in him, but he swallowed it down.  This was not the time.  But he still asked, “So you know who my father is?”

“Yes,” The King moaned.  “I knew your father.”

             
The old man’s voice creaked and Kenner could hear fluid in his throat.

“Your father was the best man I ever knew,” His voice crackled.  Then a smile formed on his lips.

“To see his son be the man you are today is my redemption.  Destiny has forgiven me.”

              Kenner now struggled with himself.  His anger returned and he wanted to shake the man beneath him.  He wanted to shout at him and pull the answers out of him as to why he had done what he had done.

“Why?” He heard his voice say.

The old man said nothing.  Kenner looked into his eyes and saw nothing.  The King was gone.  The soldier attending him pulled a white sheet over his face.

              Kenner came out of the tent and then looked over the field.  The pit was complete and the bodies of the Walechian dead were being lowered in as carefully as the surviving soldiers could manage.  With the sun setting in the west, the burning bodies of the enemy dead began to light the coming night.

              That night, somber songs were sung and the men told stories of their fallen comrades.  Every soldier was given a cup of ale, but it did not sooth their pain.  The wounded were loaded on to carts as gently and as comfortable as possible.  Even Shela was helped into a special litter to take her back to the White City along with the rest of the army.  When the songs and tales were finished, the earth was then made to cover the dead in their final home.

              With all the activity from the aftermath of the battle taking the full attention of the army; no one noticed Erlot and Lord Mayor Thillis escape to Mobrey.  They paid for a room at an inn, insisting that the room have a fireplace.  After hastily building a fire, they sat nervously staring at the flames deep into the night.  Just as Thillis was starting to doze, the flames turned blue and the face of their master appeared.

              “What is it?” His voice hissed.

“That battle is lost, Master.” Thillis told the face.  “General Grail is dead, the Silver Axe is in the hands of the enemy and what was left of the Wolfen army has scattered.  It is over.”

Suddenly, Thillis found himself unable to breath.  He gasped desperately for air, but choked as if swallowing a bone.

“Have you no faith?” The face in the fire said calmly as Thillis continued to struggle for air.  “Do you not believe that I have foreseen these events?”

When Thillis was nearly dead, the dark master released him and he crumbled to the ground.  Erlot looked on silently trembling.

              “This turn of events is unfortunate but not fatal.” The face said to Erlot.  “It is time to shift our plans.”

Still shaking, Erlot still had news that he knew his master must hear.

“There is more, my master.” He said to the flames.

“More?”

“The Black Sword has been found.”

For a moment, the face was silent while Erlot waited for his own punishment.

“Has it?” The face finally said, almost casually.

“Yes, my master.”

“Then the two of you are no longer necessary.”

A blast of flame shot out from the fireplace engulfing the two traitors and incinerating them.