The Complete Twilight Reign Ebook Collection (287 page)

Read The Complete Twilight Reign Ebook Collection Online

Authors: Tom Lloyd

Tags: #Fantasy, #Science Fiction, #Vampires, #War, #Fiction, #General, #Epic

BOOK: The Complete Twilight Reign Ebook Collection
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When the Menin were eighty yards away Doranei felt a tremor run through the earth rampart of the fort. Behind them he could just make out the oversized shape of Cetarn on the circular earthen platform they had built. The air above him was shuddering as though it were being assailed and the iron chains running from the mound into the ground lifted, taking the slack as cracking loops of energy ran through them.
‘Piss and daemons,’ Doranei breathed, watching the tortured air crackling. With a final flourish Cetarn dropped to one knee and slammed both hands to the ground and a great crash reverberated as a burst of energy surged towards the enemy lines and into a Chetse legion.
Half of the first rank were thrown from their feet, but they were the lucky ones. A boom like distant thunder rumbled out, and the rear ranks on one side of the legion disappeared in a great cloud of dust. Doranei gaped as he realised the ground had opened up underneath them, swallowing several hundred men.
‘Karkarn’s horn,’ Veil breathed, ‘I didn’t know the old bugger had it in him!’
‘He didn’t,’ the king said grimly. He was now wearing a steel helm detailed in gold - for the first time. His flamboyant feathered hat he’d tossed over the rampart, declaring to the amusement of all that he’d fetch it later.
‘What — ?’ Doranei hesitated. ‘He has a Skull? You’ve ordered him to sacrifice himself?’
‘I’ve done what I must,’ the king said sharply, ‘Endine and Cetarn as are much of the Brotherhood as you or Sebe and they know their duty just as well. Cetarn may be the only mage here capable of this, he knows it, and he volunteered for the task.’
Doranei ducked his head in acknowledgement. He’d blurted it out without thinking; not out of a desire to question the king’s decision. ‘Of course - I just realised why Cetarn made a point of toasting the Brotherhood two nights past. Wish I’d known.’
‘Aye,’ said the king, ‘normal men aren’t built for channelling so much power. He knows he’ll either burn himself out with the Skull, or he’ll become Styrax’s principal target.’
‘Is that why — ?’ Doranei looked back at Cetarn and the troops guarding him. ‘Never mind - it’ll just make my head hurt.’
The king smiled briefly at him, a flash of teeth showing behind the steel grille visor. ‘There’s a lot doing that right now - let’s just try to survive the day.’
‘Here they come,’ Coran growled from behind the king, his huge mace in one hand, a spear in the other. He circled his shoulders, stretched his arms, and got ready to drive his spear all the way through the first man to reach him.
The Menin were fifty yards off.
Doranei heard the order to charge, followed by a roar of hatred from the thousands massing and almost immediately the Chetse moved ahead of the more-disciplined Menin infantry. The King’s Man raised his sword and looked down at the rampart. A spiked ditch at the base of an earth wall, propped by wood. Their climb would be difficult, but far from impossible.
The first Chetse berserker raced up to them and threw himself across the ditch, stabbing a dagger into the earth wall to brace himself as he swung his axe.
The blow was never finished. Coran leaned forward, teeth bared in fury, and drove his spear into the man before the closest defender could move. In his ferocity the white-eye spitted the wild-haired Chetse in the side, ramming the spear deep into his ribs. The Chetse was thrown back into the ditch below as Coran wrenched the weapon back out, his snarl of bloodlust drowned out by the shouts of the men around him. Then the rest arrived like a breaking wave and Doranei saw only the shrieking horde. He lunged and felt his blade bite the first.
*****
Daken hammered the butt of his axe into the Chetse’s face and felt bone shatter. The impact left blood spurting over his face as the soldier fell, but another was immediately in his place, aiming a hefty overhead swing at Daken’s skull. He reached up with his axe and caught the descending shaft before it had built up speed, then kicked his attacker square in the midriff. The Chetse was bowled over by the force of the kick and Daken stepped into the gap, growling like an animal and hacking left and right into the unprotected flanks of those on either side.
‘Daken, back in line!’ Osh roared from somewhere behind. It was the second time he’d needed reminding and with a hiss of frustration the Mad Axe stepped back between the spear-points of his comrades.
The Chetse were charging raggedly from the trees, any semblance of order gone as they pushed their way through the thick forest. One group had barrelled straight into the side of the pikemen, but a company of Kingsguard had rushed to cut them down. Osh had sent a division to bolster the tree-end of the main defensive line, and lend their shoulders to the press.
The Menin heavy infantry had reached their line now and were battering away at the longer pikes, desperate to make a hole they could exploit. Thus far only a few men had got through, and they had been dispatched relatively easily, but the closer they got the more were able to evade the twelve-foot weapons.
‘More of ’em!’ Daken shouted joyfully as another hundred Chetse raced from the trees, screaming murderously.
The first few slammed bodily into Daken’s defensive line. One rebounded and was thrown off his feet, others were impaled on the lowered spears, but two managed to slip through the line and hack down into the blue-painted wooden shields. Daken saw one chopped in half, and the man holding it fell screaming as the axe bit into his arm. Suddenly there was a terrific roar from the forest and the sound of something crashing against the trees. The roar was joined by a second: deep animal calls that, given the enemy, could mean only one thing.
Daken felt a shudder of fear run through his troops and sneered in disgust. A pair of Chetse saw him and came directly for him, one, bearing a massive circular shield, charged straight on to smash the spears out of the way, but the white-eye jumped forward and swung his axe like a club, catching the flat steel boss on the edge with such force he heard the man’s arm snap. The blow knocked the shield aside, into the other soldier, and caused them both to stumble. Daken felled one with a blow to the neck and was about to run the other through when he was beaten to it by one of his men.
The trees ahead shook and in the darkness Daken saw a massive shape looming. Behind it came a second, an enormous club in its grip. The minotaurs caught sight of him and scrambled forward, ducking under branches and bellowing furiously.
‘Shift yourself, bitch!’ Daken shouted, thumping a fist against his own chest.
A dozen bluish wisps, faint in the daylight, flashed out from his body like misty tentacles. They raced forward and merged into a figure gliding at head-height through the air: a slender female figure with long hair that danced like snakes.
Litania, the Trickster was on the loose.
The first minotaur swiped at the Aspect of Larat, but its crudely shaped axe parted only air. The beast turned to follow the movement, confused by the ghostly shape, and Daken, following Litania’s path, reached the minotaur in a few paces.
The beast was still tracking Litania and didn’t notice Daken until the white-eye braced himself and threw his whole weight behind his axe. The weapon bit deep into the minotaur’s knee, crunching into bone and causing it to howl with agony. It swiped one enormous fist towards Daken, but he’d already thrown himself clear and as it took a step forward the injured leg buckled.
Daken rolled to his feet and charged on, trusting the infantry to deal with the fallen one. He could hear Litania’s high, girlish laugh as she danced in the air before the face of the second minotaur. The beast tried to grab at her, its clumsy fingers grasping wildly, and failed. Litania laughed and darted back, rising high above the minotaur’s head, and it lurched forward, trying to follow —
— until it was suddenly jerked back by the head, almost losing its footing entirely. The minotaur had somehow managed to hook one of its curling horns on a low branch, and while Litania giggled in malicious delight, Daken stabbed the beast through the armpit. The spike went all the way in, driving towards the creature’s lung, but he didn’t hang around to see if the blow was mortal; he tugged out the weapon and chopped at its ribs, gashing through the minotaur’s thick flank.
The monster reeled from the impact, wrenching its head violently enough to splinter the thick branch, but still unable to disentangle itself. Blood poured from its wounds; Daken realised they were both grave, but the beast was not yet dead. One spearman got too close, and it smashed him in the back so hard his spine crumpled.
Daken moved further around the minotaur, glancing over his shoulder to check there were no Chetse waiting to do the same to him, then raised his axe high above his head and stabbed the spike into the beast’s neck. It grunted and squealed in pain, ripping the branch from the tree trunk, but as it turned on him it got three spears almost simultaneously in the back.
Daken hoisted his axe again and hacked furiously at the minotaur’s face, cleaving it open. The beast arched its back and as it began to fall, Daken threw himself bodily at the toppling beast and delivered another enormous blow to its face before its shoulders hit the ground.
He looked up to discover he was standing on the minotaur’s shuddering stomach, now slick with blood, while the beast heaved its last breath and his soldiers watched in horror.
‘What’s wrong with you lot?’ he rasped, throat tight as the bloodlust coursed through his body. ‘Not enjoying yerselves yet?’
Doranei punched forward with his shield, not even seeing what he caught, and swung his black broadsword blindly. He felt it part armour and continue through flesh, followed by a cry of pain as he yanked the sword back and felt the attacker fall away. He paused to gulp air, while the Land seemed to recede from around him. Cocooned by screams and the clash of metal, Doranei found his eyes drawn to the neat arcs of spattered blood on the inside of his shield, each one curving around his closed fist but leaving his glove unstained.
The King’s Man was still staring at his fist when something smashed into the side of his head and black stars burst before his eyes. Doranei crashed sideways and collided with someone’s legs, bringing them down too. He flailed drunkenly at the figure lying across him, unable to see through the blur in his eyes. He dropped his sword, got one arm underneath the man and pushed up. His vision cleared as the weight was lifted from his chest and he recognised, Daratin, a young Brother, who’d fallen on him.
Daratin had barely got to his feet when a Menin spear slammed into his chest, straight through his armour, and Doranei watched in horror as his mouth fell open as he was driven back. The scream was cut short as Daratin’s knees gave way and he collapsed. Still holding the spear, the Menin soldier heaved his way into view, shield raised high to ward off a blow from Veil. Doranei scrabbled on the ground for his sword, but Coran was already leaping to his rescue.
The big white-eye charged past Veil, roaring like an enraged lion, and smashed his mace down onto the Menin’s shield. The man crumpled under the terrific impact, his arm and shoulder shattered, and fell at Coran’s feet. The white-eye stamped down on his spine and Doranei heard a wet crunch as he struggled up, pushing himself forward to protect Coran’s side as the white-eye raised his mace once again.
Completely indefatigable, Coran hammered his mace onto another Menin head and Doranei saw the neck snap under the force of the blow, but such was the white-eye’s speed he struck the next Menin barely a second later, and felled him too.
Doranei looked over the rampart. It was a chaotic mess beyond their lines, the Menin and Chetse enemy advancing steadily behind their large shields, through a rain of arrows and blows. He chanced a second pause to check on the king, and saw his monarch was striking and dodging with the deftness of a duellist, red sparks bursting from the impact whenever his enchanted axe met steel. On his other side was Suzerain Derenin, the burly lord of Moorview Castle, and the veterans in his service, all fighting furiously for the families who’d refused to be sent away and now waited to tend the injured.
As Coran backed off to return to his place in King Emin’s lee, Doranei punched at a Chetse with his shield, catching the man a glancing blow on his shoulder and knocking him off-balance. A second Chetse saw the opportunity and jumped up, one foot on his comrade’s back and the other against the gouged earth rampart. Doranei swung at the man but missed and had to turn his sword horizontal to take the impact of the man’s axe. The magical weapon met force with force, cutting into the axe-head and absorbing most of the blow.
Doranei didn’t waste time being surprised, he wrenched the sword back and tugged the axe from the Chetse’s hands; his second strike across the man’s face cut bronze helm, flesh and bone with equal ease.
From overhead a pair of steel grapples dropped down right in front of him, catching on the logs supporting the rampart; he cut through the rope of one quickly enough, but before he could get to the other, one end of the log was dislodged in an explosion of earth and tugged towards the Menin lines.
He watched a small trail of soil patter down onto his boots, and it momentarily increased as the ground shook beneath him. Doranei sensed everyone hesitate, and for a half-second silence fell as a heavy reverberation ran forward across the moor. On both sides the men of the Brotherhood recovered quickest and ran through their opponents, but most eyes were on the tremor shuddering through the Menin ranks. A great tearing sound rang out as a circle of ground thirty yards across dropped suddenly away beneath a tightly packed Menin legion, taking a hundred or more men with it.

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