The Eternal Darkness (32 page)

Before the man could bring the hammer down, Daen appeared out of the fighting.  His armor was rent and he was bleeding for several wounds, but he charged the man, slamming into him with his shield, knocking him back.  The man took a couple of steps backwards, and then recovered and swung his hammer.

As if time slowed, Marcus could see that Daen was too off-balanced to respond in time.  Even as Daen desperately tried to raise his shield, the hammer sailed past and smashed into his head, dislodging his helm and sending him tumbling to the ground.  Daen shuddered slightly, and then went still. 
Daen!

With a savage yell, the man again approached Nathen, who was struggling to get up, and brought the hammer back up.  However, Daen’s sacrifice had allowed Marcus to close the distance.  He reached Nathen and swung his shield, forcing the man to retreat.  A cold wrath fell over Marcus as he confronted the man.  His injuries and exhaustion temporarily forgotten, he fought like a man possessed.  Ducking and moving, he avoided the man’s blows while he stabbed and slashed with his sword, drawing blood.

His teeth clenched with rage, Marcus dodged a sweeping blow and stepped forward, stabbing downwards, hitting the man in the back of his thigh.  With a brutal yank, Marcus hamstrung him.  The man cried out and fell backwards, and Marcus drove his sword into the man’s chest, striking with all of his fury and strength.  The man shuddered and collapsed, his warhammer falling from his hand.

Kicking the mortally wounded man off his sword, Marcus stood over Nathen and Daen, staring at the nearby enemies, daring them to attack.  Instead of attacking, the men looked dumbfounded by their commander’s fall and daunted by the fierce fire in Marcus’ eyes.

Sudden horns sounded and, with a rumble of hooves, Sir Alleon, his notched battle axe in his hands, came over the slight rise with a group of knights and charged into the remaining enemy soldiers, scattering them.  Cheering, Marcus’ soldiers surged into the gap the knights created and pushed forward.

Alleon rode back over to Marcus, who had dropped to his knees next to his friends, exhausted and heartbroken.  “My prince, we feared you dead.”  He extended a hand.  “You are needed at the command tent.”

“I can’t leave my friends,” Marcus stated hollowly as he rested a hand on Nathen’s shoulder and stared at Daen’s body.

“We will take care of them, my prince,” Alleon said sympathetically.  He gestured for some nearby soldiers to come over.  “You are needed, Prince Marcus,” Alleon repeated more forcefully.

Tears streaking his face, Marcus nodded and rose as the soldiers gently picked up Nathen and Daen.  Taking Alleon’s hand, he swung up behind the knight.  Alleon spurred his horse and they raced back towards the hill, passing through the broken carnage of war.

When they arrived at the tent, Marcus slid wearily off the horse and entered.  He saw Helgrant standing next to the map table with Brother Trence, whose robes were scorched in places, testimony to his participation in the fighting.  With them were two people Marcus had never seen before.  One was a short dark-haired older man, armed with a sword and armored in chainmail, and the other was a tall attractive woman, wearing a breastplate and a sword, with a green cowl hanging behind her head.

“Praise to the One that you are alive, Highness,” Trence said when he saw Marcus enter.  The woman, nearest to the tent entrance, turned and saw Marcus’ injuries.  Golden light surrounded her as she stepped forward and laid a hand on his cheek.  Marcus felt the cleric’s healing warmth spread through his body and all of his aches faded away, except for that hollow feeling of loss.

“My prince, this is Commander Railan, the commander of the Beragan army,” Helgrant said, indicating the man.  “Sister Lilli leads the Beragan clerics.”

“Sister Lilli, Commander Railan, be welcome to Sanduas,” Marcus said formally.  “Your arrival is welcome and fortuitous.”

Sister Lilli smiled slightly.  “It is not as fortuitous as you think, Highness.  Weeks ago, Chief Cleric Kal received a letter from Brother Jonas, warning him of the possibility that the demons may move against the Keep.  We began to gather our strength.  Our scouts reported back when the demons arrived.  We mobilized as many soldiers as we could and prepared to march south, ready to attack the enemy as soon as we located them.  Refugees came to Beragan and told us of your army’s pursuit of the demons’ forces.  Since the demons are the enemies of all mankind, we came to assist you.”

“And now the battle is almost done,” Railan stated with a look at Helgrant, who nodded.  “Our forces have linked up and are driving our remaining adversaries back.  Some have retreated up the road towards the Keep while others have holed up behind the town’s walls.”

“We have destroyed many of the demons,” Trence said.  “Working in coordination with the hundred clerics that Sister Lilli brought, we have been able to overwhelm the demons every time they attempted to gather.”

“We must address the enemy in the town, Highness,” Helgrant added.  “Speaking with Railan, we agree that we must pursue the enemy up into the mountains and free the Keep, if possible.  However, we cannot leave a sizeable enemy presence to our rear.  With the losses we have sustained, we cannot leave the number of troops behind to keep the enemy bottled up in the town nor do we wish to risk more casualties fighting house to house to clear the town.”

“What do you suggest, Commander?” Marcus asked.

“I would like your permission to fire the town,” Helgrant said.  Out of the corner of his vision, Marcus saw Railan nod slightly.  “We know that the citizens had already fled before we arrived.  We will use fire arrows and burn the town to the ground.  Any enemy that tries to flee will be captured or killed.  Once that is done, we can begin our movement towards the Keep.”

Marcus hated the idea of destroying everything in the town, thinking of those who lived there.  If they survived this war, they would return to find nothing left.  But he also knew that Helgrant was right.  He sighed, and then straightened his shoulders as he looked at Helgrant.  “You may fire the town, Commander.”

…

As night fell, Marcus and Nathen sat wearily on the slopes of the hillside, looking down at the town of Numaria.  The command tent and the others were below them.  Nathen, who had been healed when he was brought to the rear, lifted the wineskin he had somehow found.  “To Daen, the stubborn farm boy.  I will miss his presence more than I can say,” he said, voice breaking.  He took a deep swallow and handed Marcus the wineskin.  “To Daen, our friend,” Marcus said quietly and took a long drink.

In the distance, streaks of fire lit the sky as the archers began their destruction of Numaria.

C
HAPTER
E
IGHTEEN

Under the soft golden light of the glowing spheres of fire, Moshanna made his way through the hall of the Keep after checking on the doors, deep in thought.  Since they had taken the courtyard, the demons had made sporadic attempts to breach the Keep’s doors, but had not sustained any attack.  The only real damage they had done was tearing down several of the buildings near the gate walls and to burn and trample the garden to dust and ash.

During the attacks, his forces had destroyed at least one battering ram.  In the lulls between assaults, he had seen the enemy soldiers working on several pieces of siege equipment, even trying to construct a catapult.  What they thought it would do against the solid rock of the Keep, he did not know.  Standing on the overhang, he had seen it come apart when they had tried to lob some of the stone from a destroyed building, killing several soldiers. 
Why have they not made a serious effort to take the Keep?

The other thing on his mind was Tomaris.  After one of the attacks had been repelled, they had met in his dining room for a meal.

“We must discuss something that you will find unpleasant, my son,” he said gently to Moshanna as they sat at the table, a fire burning in the fireplace behind them.  “As a soldier, you know that unexpected things happen in battle.  Several times now, the demons have almost gotten the better of me.  I am old and we must consider that I may die in one of these encounters.”  He stopped Moshanna’s protest with a gesture.  “We cannot discount that it may happen and it is simply prudent to plan for this eventuality.  If I should fall, I have prepared letters with instructions on how the Keep will be overseen.  You will find them in my office.”

“If you fall, I don’t believe that there will be a Keep left to oversee,” Moshanna told him.  “We only have the two clerics and they will not suffice to stand against the demons.”

“Even with my power, we may not be able to hold the demons back,” Tomaris said.  “You cannot concern yourself with my safety, my son.  I will do as I must, as you will.  Remember that your primary task is to protect the people of the Keep.  Physical things can be replaced, but every one of them is precious.  We have chosen to act as their protectors and we must honor that commitment.”

“I understand, Tomaris, but you must try to remember that you are the heart of the Keep,” Moshanna replied.  “We need you as well.”

“You make my heart glad, Moshanna,” Tomaris said fondly.  “I am honored to be held in such high regard.” 

Since then, he had been locked away in his study.  When Moshanna had knocked, seeking to speak with him, Tomaris had gently sent him away.  The behavior was unusual for him and it concerned Moshanna.

Shaking his head, he ran up the main stairs to distract himself and went out to the overhang.  The night was cool and the clouds blocked any moonlight as he stepped out onto the stone.  Small fires burned in iron braziers, providing some warmth and light.  He walked around, speaking with his troops and inspecting their readiness.  He checked on the barrels of pitch, heated by fires and positioned near the metal sluices.  Satisfied, he went to the edge to observe the demons’ forces.

He could see their large fires burning near the gate walls.  With that light behind them, he could make out their positions and a general sense of their numbers. 
That is a mistake.
  As he watched them, he saw a horseman race through the broken gates and head towards one of the buildings.  The man leapt from his horse before it was stopped. 
Bad news, perhaps
, Moshanna thought hopefully.

He watched that building, curious to see what reaction occurred.  In a few minutes, he saw men running out of the building and towards the various groups of soldiers scattered along the wall.  He stiffened when he heard horns begin to blow.  The enemy began to gather in hurried formations and he saw the demons massing.

“Sound alert,” he ordered a nearby soldier.  The man ran inside and began to bang on a large drum near the entrance of the overhang.  The deep bass echoed through the Keep.

Moshanna turned back towards the enemy as his soldiers took up positions on the overhang and other balconies along the face of the Keep.  Archers prepared their bows while the spearmen gathered the small spears that they threw with great accuracy.  Soldiers with shields ran out onto the overhang, taking up positions near the archers.  The enemy had showered the overhang with arrows on occasion, so he had improvised a defense.

“I am here, Moshanna,” Halana said as the cleric came onto the overhang.

“Where’s Taric?” he asked.

She pointed along the Keep’s face at a higher balcony a hundred yards away. 
Good
, Moshanna thought. 
I cannot have the magic users bunched together
.

More horns sounded and the enemy formations began to march towards the Keep.  Moshanna saw several battering rams rolling forward, surrounded by men carrying heavy metal shields.  Apparently, this was when they were going to try to breach the gates. 
Why now?

“Prepare to release the pitch on my command,” he told the soldiers near the barrels.  “Order the archers and spearmen to loose when the enemy is in range.”  A solider nodded and blew two quick blasts of a horn.

The enemy drew nearer, working their way between the buildings.  High above him, some of his archers began to fire, sending their arrows out on a high arc, gaining reach due to their elevation.  Moshanna watched as the demons separated from the soldiers and gathered around their leader, the large gray demon.  They came forward as a single group, numbering at least fifty, heading towards the center of the Keep.

His archers and spearmen on the various balconies started to launch their weapons at the demons, whose armor resisted most of the attacks.  Moshanna saw a few fall, but the others began to strike out at the balconies, their dark fire slamming into men and sending them tumbling down, engulfed in shadowy flames.

A streak of golden fire responded to these attacks.  Moshanna saw Taric, glowing in power, begin to confront the demons.  Behind him, Halana rushed forward and added her power to Taric’s.  The demons resisted their efforts, turning aside their magic and responding with powerful bursts of dark magic.

Moshanna threw himself at Halana, knocking her out of the way as the black fire roared past.  “Do not seek to challenge the demons’ might by yourself,” he said tightly to her.  “Attack and move.  Do not give them a stationary target.”  She frowned at him, but nodded.  He helped her back up and ran forward to check on the rams.

Glancing over the side, he saw the rams were nearly to the overhang.  “When they get under the overhang, release the pitch,” he told the soldiers.

In the light from the clash of the demons and clerics, he saw a group of bowmen behind a row of infantry, working their way towards the overhang.  He went to his archers and pointed them out.  His men raised their bows and loosed.  Their arrows sailed over the heads of the infantry and raked the bowmen.  The enemy troops stopped and the bowmen ran up to take cover behind the infantry, who linked their shields into a solid defense.  The soldiers suddenly opened their shields and the bowmen released their arrows.

“Shields!” he called out.  His soldiers swung their shields around, but were not fast enough.  While most of the arrows crashed against the shields, some slipped through.  As some of his men fell back, crying out and clutching at wounds, Moshanna felt a burning pain in his left thigh.  He looked down and saw an arrow shaft sticking out.  His leg unexpectedly gave out and he fell.