The Cor Chronicles: Volume 02 - Fire and Steel (3 page)

After she related her tale, Cor told Thyss of how he came to own his own weapons. She did not stare in wonder at him, as he did when she told her tale, but he could see flickers of interest spark within her eyes when he related the battle with the giant spider. He described the building in which he found Ebonwing in great detail, both inside and out, and this brought a number of questions from Thyss as she tried to understand what magic was at use in its construction. At this, Cor regressed back to the vision Soulmourn had granted him, reciting both weapons’ history as well as he could remember it. Thyss merely nodded at this in understanding, but made no further comment.

They rode at the head of a ragged band of mostly children, and as such, -they had to stop regularly. The children simply were not prepared for the hardships of a journey, and the weather turning colder as autumn deepened did not help matters. Cor worried about the infant almost constantly; at times he could hear the babe crying from behind him. The wet nurse had chosen to accompany the group as she had no family of her own, and the baby needed someone to care for him. And beyond that, nothing other than continued slavery awaited her should she stay.

Cor did not fear pursuit; in fact, he knew it was inevitable. Emperor Nadav would send someone, likely a small, swift moving force to Taraq’nok’s castle, and of course, the slaves and overseers that the group left behind would point the pursuers in the right direction. But Cor knew, that even with swift horses, the emperor’s trackers were a good ten days behind, if Taraq’nok’s statement as to the distance of Ghal was accurate. He estimated that, if they could not pick up their pace, it would take five days to reach the Loszian side of the Spine, and there he would somehow have to face Lord Menak.

Cor endeavored to puzzle through this problem, but he could not come up with a clear or obvious solution. When they stopped for the night, the group huddled closely together for warmth, as both he and Thyss thought it a bad idea to light a fire. Cor strayed from the others and walked alone in the dark some distance from the meager camp. There was no chance that Menak would simply allow Cor and his refugees to pass the gate into the mountains. Despite Menak’s apparent wish to avoid Loszian politics, he would not miss such a chance at glory - the killing of over two dozen Dahken. Also, to allow them to pass would no doubt forfeit his own life, and if Cor was certain of one thing, it was that the Loszians value their personal survival over all else. Cor heard quiet footsteps approaching from behind, and he stopped his slow pacing.

“What are you doing Dahken Cor?” came Thyss’ voice, almost a whisper.

“I don’t know how I am going to get these people through Menak’s garrison,” he answered, turning to face her.

“Oh, I think your only course is plain,” she said, still approaching. He could see that one corner of her mouth was slightly upturned in a knowing smile. “You are going to have to kill the Loszians.”

“There are hundreds of them - warriors, crossbowmen and a necromancer. What chance do I have?” he asked. Even as he put forth the question, he could feel the urge to spill blood grow within him in response to Thyss’ suggestion. Cor suspected from where the urge came, and he pushed it away for now. The time would come.

“Perhaps you should have considered that before setting out in this direction,” she answered him. “But you have me, and I have never been conquered. Somehow, I am sure Loszians burn as well as anybody.”

Cor continued to work on the problem over the course of the next day. He could admit to himself that he was no master tactician, and in fact, his actual experience in combat was somewhat limited. But so far, he had been outnumbered in every battle he had fought against men, and he prevailed in all of them. Surprise and a quick first strike was no small advantage in any of his victories, and he would need to rely on them again here. His only chance was to come at the garrison at night; the few guards and pickets about would be protecting from an attack from the other side of the wall, not from behind. Perhaps, if he struck quickly enough, he could get his Dahken to the other side and into the Spine before the Loszians even knew what was happening. Something told him it was foolish, but he saw few options.

“Well of course,” Thyss said. “Even I am not so suicidal as to attempt a direct attack in the middle of the day. We will need to scout their positions. If we know precisely where Menak’s men are posted, our gambit just may succeed.”

“I know something about sailing, farming and fighting, but I don’t know anything about scouting,” Cor retorted darkly.

“It’s simple. You have to get close enough to see them, and if they see you, you’re dead,” Thyss responded, and she laughed heartily at the disdainful look on Cor’s face. “Leave it to me, Dahken Cor.”

The group traveled better this day than they had yesterday, crossing more miles in the same amount of time. It impressed Cor how well this group, mostly children, had adapted to this new hardship, and he wondered if it had something to do with most of them being of slave stock. He estimated that they would be within a few miles of the Loszian fort by the end of their fourth day. Thyss would then go ahead alone to glean what information she could, and they would spend the next day formulating the specifics of their attack. Cor did not sleep well.

* * *

Queen Erella of Aquis had been here before she was sure, but it seemed to have been long ago. She stood on a massive plain, populated with plush, knee high grass that stretched in all directions as far as the eye could see. Massive mountains adorned one horizon, but she could not judge in what direction of the compass they were. The sun overhead was completely obscured by massive, stone gray clouds. She remembered it had been a dream long ago that she had seen this place, and it occurred to her that she dreamed again.

As Queen Erella looked across the plain, she knew she would see the black armored warrior with his sword and fetish. He wore steel plate legguards, the plates connected by chain links, a hauberk of solid plate and a bulbous black helm, all of which gleamed even in the subdued light. This time, Dahken Cor did not stand alone, but with over a score of other armored warriors. She knew they were a formidable fighting force, and she could feel their strength and power emanating toward her. But somehow, she knew this was not so; the rise of a group of Dahken warriors had not yet happened.

From the direction of the mountains came a massive and frightening host. Thousands upon thousands of marching feet stamped the ground as an incredible army marched towards the Dahken band. The front lines of this army were the walking dead, those corpses that the horrible Loszian necromancy had forced to rise again and do their master’s bidding. Queen Erella shuddered both in revulsion and anger at the desecration the Loszians wrought upon the dead.

Behind them came live foot soldiers, the first ranks of which were a downtrodden lot, dirty and wretchedly thin. They wore no armor; in fact few wore clothing of any sort, and carried crude wood clubs for weapons. Then came the true soldiers. There were two ranks of armored professionals wearing black chain mail and plate armor, and they carried their swords, axes and maces in ways that one was certain they knew how to use them. Immediately behind these men-at-arms was a line of armored crossbowmen. These weapons had less range than the West’s longbows, but were feared for their ability to punch holes into armor. They also required less flexibility of movement, allowing their users to wear heavier armor.

Riding chariots, the robed figures of Loszian necromancers brought up the rear. They were all long of limb, tall figures, none shorter than perhaps six feet and many as tall as seven or more. All Loszian necromancers are lords of some level in their own right, and most wore dark colored silk robes carrying seals, crests and other emblems of their rank and title. Each Loszian seemed to have his own small group of soldiers surrounding him or her, a personal guard to protect their lord from direct attack. Though this was not a likely scenario, as they were in the rear of the army, far from where the battle would take place. It occurred to Queen Erella that these elite guards protected their masters from the treachery of fellow Loszians, rather than the army’s foes.

The great army marched onward, a huge dark mass that seemed to engulf the grassy plain as it inexorably closed the distance to the Dahken. The army stopped short of the Dahken only a few hundred feet away, and the corpses, slaves and soldiers began to spread out on either flank. They thinned and stretched the ranks in either direction, slowly forming a circle around the Dahken until the small group of warriors was fully enclosed by the forces of darkness. The scene held still for several long moments before the Dahken drew their weapons and arrayed themselves in their own circle, defiantly waiting for the impending attack.

The risen came first. The innermost circle of the Loszian host shambled its way without haste for the Dahken. No other Loszian soldier or slave moved a muscle as the corpses waded into the ring of defenders. They were no match for the warriors as the Dahken hacked through bone, sinew and flesh to bring down body after body. At times, it appeared the mass of corpses might overwhelm the Dahken, but the blood warriors would suddenly surge to regain their place. If a Dahken went down, it was only a matter of moments before he or she were again standing to the fight. Hills, and then small mountains, of bodies stacked around the Dahken’s defensive ring as the Loszians power over the walking corpses was broken one by one by Dahken sword blows. A horn blew, and the remaining risen, now reduced to half their original number, pulled back from the Dahken and returned to their original positions at the front of the army.

Erella could see the soldiers shifting ranks forward and back. She could not see the purpose of these movements at first. It seemed somewhat random until the crossbowmen created a layer directly behind the walking corpses. They positioned themselves so that they could see between the risen and fire their crossbows. Then, the crossbowmen with the walking corpses in front slowly closed the distance between themselves and the Dahken, no doubt to reach the range at which their crossbows would do optimum damage. Erella surmised that the walking dead would provide cover to the crossbowmen should an errant bolt miss its target and cross the field to hit a friend.

The concentric rings of lifeless animated corpses and crossbowmen stopped only a few dozen feet from the Dahken. The scene held still and silent for an eternal moment before a single shout went up from within the Loszian army. A loud “twang” erupted as hundreds, if not thousands, of crossbows loosed their quarrel simultaneously, and steel tipped death shot like gossamer at the armored Dahken. An enormous wall of orange fire exploded around the Dahken, consuming the rain of crossbow bolts as quickly they were fired and then was extinguished. The Loszian crossbowmen were momentarily stunned into inaction, and it took several shouted orders and whip lashings from officers for them to shake off their shock and begin reloading. Even from her hilltop, it was difficult to see due to the massive number of people surrounding the Dahken, but Erella thought she saw an unarmored woman in the middle of the Dahken’s defensive ring.

The Loszians, their focus returned to the task at hand reloaded their crossbows and prepared to fire. Orders were shouted, but from her position some distance off, Queen Erella could not make out exactly what was said. Another order was shouted, immediately followed by the twang of crossbows, but Erella could see that only perhaps a third of the quarrels had been loosed. Again, a wall of fire sprouted from the ground to protect the Dahken, incinerating the bolts in flight. The flame’s roar obscured the sound of more crossbows being fired, but Erella could see an almost constant barrage assaulting the wall of flames. The Loszians were firing their crossbows in groups, which allowed time to reload, but kept a constant pressure on the Dahken’s magical protection. She idly wondered where the Dahken had found such power, but she also knew it wouldn’t matter much longer. In only a few minutes, the wall of flames lost volume and became thin and translucent. Erella knew that without help, the Dahken would soon be at the mercy of the Loszians.

It was with that thought that Queen Erella of Aquis awoke in her plush bed. She thought back to the last time she had such a dream; then it had been more like a nightmare. She had bolted upright in bed, covered in sweat, and she could feel the presence of her god in the room. This time, she was calm and serene, and while she could not feel Garod, Erella knew he had brought her this vision. And oddly, she was fairly certain as to what it meant.

The aged queen arose from her bed and clothed herself in a thick, warm robe to conceal the simple shift in which she had gone to sleep. Wrapping the robe about her body, she then stepped into a pair of soft slippers that she kept at her bedside. She crossed the room to her door with a smooth grace that for her apparent age would have amazed an onlooker. Of course, she was actually much older than she appeared, and she appeared ancient.

Normally, she would have asked one of her chamber guards to find Palius, who would most likely be asleep in his own chamber, and bring him to her. But this time, she felt it better to go to him. She exited her chambers, motioning for the guards to stay at her door so that she may cross the palace alone in her thoughts. She crossed paths with several guards on her way, and they would all straighten quite suddenly upon seeing her approach. Even those who already stood at a perfectly erect posture found a way to stand more so.

Even though he was Queen Erella’s most trusted advisor, Palius’ chambers, like most in the castle, stood unguarded. The old man actually requested it to be so; he said on many occasions that he would not be so presumptuous as to believe he was as important as his queen. She soundlessly opened the door and slipped in, allowing only a small lance of flickering orange torchlight to penetrate the dark interior. Palius’ first chamber was his study and office, and the queen quietly glided through a portal to her right that led to his bedchamber. The autumn had been unseasonably cold so far, and a fire burned to one side, warming the room and bathing it in a bouncing light.