The Hordes of Chanakra (Knights of Aerioch) (16 page)

"You speak rightly!" Kaila said. "I must set workers upon it at once.  But..."

Her voice trailed off as she peered into the distance.  Kreg squinted and saw what had attracted her attention: a spot of color that soon resolved into a horse and rider.  The horseman carried a banner.

"An' I not mistake," Kaila said, "that is the herald of Prince Keven.  This likes me not."

"Trouble?"

"Aye," Kaila said. "Keven is fighting the war in the west.  He would not send his herald hither lest he and the army follow.  Thus, they must be in retreat."

Kaila sent word to have the gates opened to the herald.  She led Kreg to the council chamber to meet him.

"Keven comes," the herald reported. "He retreats in good order.  His rearguard continues to harass the enemy and slow their advance."

"And the enemy?" Kaila asked. "What numbers have they?  What are their tactics?"

"There seem numberless, My Lady," the herald said. "They attack in waves.  We charge to meet them and scatter one wave, but when we give chase the next comes upon us and we have to retreat.  We take only light losses but their hosts outnumber us three to one.  If we continue much longer, they will wear us down."

She turned to Kreg when the herald had gone. "There are evil tidings.  Our armies can scatter the enemy but..."

Kreg grinned sardonically. "You win the skirmishes and lose the battles."

"That seems the way of it," Kaila said. "We have called to service all there are to call.  Schah can replenish her warriors with spellcraft.  If it is that the wars continue for long, then shall Aerioch fall."

"But they only have one tactic." A glimmer of an idea began to form in Kreg's mind. "Useful only against a cavalry charge, heavy cavalry at that."

"And yet," Kaila said, "our armies are cavalry and how else to use them but at the charge?"

"How else indeed," Kreg mused.

#

Kaila greeted Keven in the council chamber later that evening.  From her childhood spent largely at court, she knew Keven’s habits well.  Keven would first see to his men and then their horses.  Then Keven would bath and change into clean clothes.  Only then would he meet with anyone from court.  When she saw the lines that fear and concern carved into his face, she was grateful that she had allowed him his old habit.

"It liked me not," Keven told, "to spend the army in futile effort as the army of Shendar was spent."

Kaila poured a cup of wine and handed it to him.  The two of them were alone in the council chamber. "You did well, Keven, as I am sure the King your father will agree."

"There were just too many." Keven seemed not to hear her. "Just too many.  And we fled before them."

"Keven," Kaila said. "Lately my head is filled with strange thoughts.  The Nomad shaman we met told me that I must be like the coyote, not the wolf.  And Kreg, with his 'Way of Yielding.' It has taught him a strange mode of thought, where one can defeat an enemy by fleeing before him.  I would not have believed had I not seen it happen.  Yet these thoughts fill my mind and I do not understand them, but one thing I do understand.  You did no evil turn to save the army to fight another day."

"'The Way of Yielding'?" Keven asked.

"It is a form of wrestling that Kreg learned on his world," Kaila said, "Or perhaps it is more than that, I do not know.  And yet I see what he does.  He counsels us to flee before enemies, and I see in his eyes it is not fear that prompts this counsel, but a greater wisdom than I have wit to understand.  Kreg..." she paused, searching for the right words, "bends, in a way unlike any I have ever seen.  He bends not to whim or...or...his bending is not like the whisperer, who tells each what he wishes to hear.  It is..." She sighed. "I do not know."

Keven sat back in his chair, and sipped at his wine.  His eyes were half-lidded, hiding any thoughts that Kaila might read in them.  After a long time, he said, "Tell me more.  I would hear of what you have seen of Kreg and his 'Way of Yielding'."

Kaila sat back in her own chair, picked up her wine and sipped before beginning her tale.  She told him of meeting Kreg, a stranger in Trevanta, with no more wit than a babe and yet who faced danger alone and unafraid for the sake of another when he might have passed by.  She told him how Kreg's eyes had grieved with her at the loss of the coyote pups.  She told him how Kreg had refused to accept Shillond's death from the spell of the winds, and had with no more than his hands and his breath, restored him.  And she told how Kreg had counseled to flee before the guards at the place of power that returned them to Norveth, and how that very flight had led the guards to give chase, leaving the place unguarded upon their return.

And, finally, she told of how Kreg had stood before a krayt and through some magic she did not understand, slew it.

When she was hoarse and could talk no more, Keven smiled. "And where is Kreg now?

"He is with Shillond," Kaila said. "My father asked his assistance in solving the riddle of the changeling spell.  I know not how Kreg may help, but Shillond was adamant."

"I should be jealous of him in your company." Keven opened the door and motioned Kaila to precede him.

They walked the corridor together. "Keven..."

"No.” Keven pressed his fingertips against her lips. "I have seen his eyes.  He cares for you more than he will admit, even to himself."

Keven stopped, a hand on Kaila's arm, restraining her.  He turned her to face him. "And you care for him.  More than you will admit...even to yourself."

"We have shared adventure and danger," Kaila said. "And owe each other our lives several times over.  Yet e'en so, ever have I remained faithful to you."

"I know."

"Keven." She stared at the floor. "We must marry.  My duchy..."

Keven smiled. "Will just have to wait for another generation to have its loyalty problems solved."

"But..."

Keven sighed. "Kaila, you have never loved me, nor I you.  We planned to marry for the sake of the kingdom, no more.  Perhaps this is a time for Kreg's 'Way of Yielding'."

"But, Keven--" Kaila stared at the floor. "--there is nothing between Kreg and me.  We are boon companions, no more."

"Truly, Kaila?"

She looked at him, moisture blurring her vision. "Of a truth."

"Kaila-–“ Keven smiled wanly. "--You know not your own mind in this.  How can you claim to know Kreg's?"

"Keven–“ A tear rolled down her cheek. "--he loves me not!"

#

Kreg sat on a stool in Shillond's study.  The idea of using the Schahi changeling army's tactics against them would not leave his mind.  He rubbed his temples--fatigue, not headache--and tried to push his thoughts aside.  If he tried to force the idea, it would probably be stillborn.  His effort was only partially successful.

"My grimoires were silent regarding the changeling spell," Shillond said. "I must, therefore, seek the source of magical knowledge directly."

"Huh?"

"Sorry, Kreg," Shillond said. "Just step into the pentacle.  We have a journey to make."

"Kaila..."

"She has her own work here."

"Yes, but shouldn't we tell her if we're going anywhere.

Shillond laughed. "Not quite, Kreg.  We won't even be leaving my workroom."

"We have a journey to make, but we aren't leaving the workroom, huh?" Kreg grinned. "I'm not sure which, but one of us is very confused."

Shillond grinned widely. "Ah, Kreg, removing the curse has improved your wit as well.  I will explain."

"Please do."

"The pentacle is focus for a special spell," Shillond said. "On it we journey to an...other place, not part of this world.  Thus, in this world, we never leave this room.  But we go somewhere else."

"If you say so." Kreg nodded. "Me, I'm just along for the ride."

"There will be dangers," Shillond said. "The pentacle will protect us from demonic forces.  I will deal with the magical, and you with the physical threats."

"Me?" Kreg yelped. "Now I know we need Kaila."

Shillond turned to Kreg, his expression serious. "No, Kreg.  The Gods have bound the Demon Baaltor in how much strength he may bring against those who challenge him, but he is able to bring more power each time someone faces him.  Kaila fought hard when last she journeyed with me and I fear that the next time she would be overborne.  You have not faced the demon before so he must start afresh with you.  And you have another advantage over Kaila.  I need not protect you from magical forces as I would have to protect her...to my cost."

"What?"

"You are not affected by magic unless you will," Shillond reminded him.

Kreg blinked in surprise. "As you say."

"Then stay close." Shillond raised his hands then paused. "Kreg, most spells cannot be cast except by one who has defeated Baaltor according to the laws.  The spell I am about to use is not one such.  Further, it will stick in your mind like no other.  I must implore you not to use it.  Without many years of training as well as the strength of youth, you would be overborne."

Kreg nodded.  Shillond raised his hands again and spoke.

"Four walls--black." Shillond traced out a great square with his hands.  Next he traced the lines of the pentacle. "Magic circle -- white." He held his hands overhead. "By the power of Eranah." He lowered his hands to his sides. "A journey-disk of light."

The lines of the pentacle began to glow with a dim, yellow light that swiftly grew brighter.  When it reached the brightness of the larger of the two moons, the light spread, filling the gaps between the lines.  Kreg and Shillond stood on a disk of yellow light, rimmed in white.

The objects in Shillond's workshop blurred together until they merged into a formless gray mist that darkened gradually: first blue-gray, then purple, finally black.  Blackness seemed to stretch forever, an impenetrable nothingness in which the pentacle, an isle of light, floated.

CHAPTER NINE

Out of this blackness a spot of red, the color of freshly spilled blood, glowed.  It grew as it neared the pentacle, or perhaps the pentacle neared it, Kreg could not tell.  The spot of color grew closer, resolving into a vaguely man-shaped form.  Its head...its head was a horror, seeming the product of a cross between an ox and a boar, with the teeth of a wolf.

Finally, the movement stopped.  The creature loomed a hundred feet tall.  Its teeth were a yard long and sharp as daggers.  Its eyes glowed, twin coals in its face.

Kreg could not suppress a shiver.

"Well, Mage," the apparition boomed.  Tongues of flame licked around its mouth with each word. "You have returned to me at last.  And you have brought me a present, I see."

"I bring no presents, Baaltor," Shillond said, his voice grim. "I come seeking knowledge."

"Again?" The demon seemed on the verge of laughter. "Why, Shillond, it has been so long.  Are you not satisfied with what you have gleaned from me in the past?"

"Come, beast." Shillond gestured and light appeared in his hands. "You know the laws established by the First Gods."

"Speak not of them here, Mage!" The demon roared.  Flame erupted from Baaltor's mouth and washed around the pentacle, encircling Shillond and Kreg, yet touching neither of them.

Shillond laughed. "You know the laws, Baaltor." He drew himself to his full height. "Your demonic might may not be used against us directly."

"Then defend yourself!"

A score of armored soldiers appeared.

"Kreg!" Shillond said.

Kreg sidestepped, placing himself between Shillond and the soldiers.  They moved awkwardly and came at Kreg single file, which led him to wonder if that might be due to some laws of magic--requiring this to be a fair contest.  He felt certain that Baaltor could just as easily have conjured a thousand warriors of Kaila's caliber had he so chosen...or been permitted.

Kreg lunged and caught the first in the throat.  It faded into nothingness and the second advanced.  A parry and counter.  The second soldier's head sprang from its shoulders just before it too vanished.

Kreg spared Shillond a quick glance over his shoulder.  Flames erupted from Shillond's fingertips to wash over the demon.  Baaltor shrugged off Shillond's attack and responded in kind.

The demon noticed Kreg's glance and swung a hand in his direction.  A bolt of light burst from it.

Light flared around Kreg, blinding him.  When his vision cleared, he stood unharmed.  His sword glowed redly in his hand.

"What?" The demon seemed as surprised as Kreg.

"You waste your spells, Baaltor," Shillond said. "My young companion is immune to such."

"Who is he?" Baaltor demanded.

"You don't know?  Now that is interesting." Shillond smiled, a grim smile. "But enough.  Come, demon, we still have unfinished business."

Lightning erupted from Shillond's hands.  Kreg nearly missed seeing the next of the armored figures resuming its attack.  He ducked, losing a few hairs to the sweep of the figure's sword, and countered, striking down the armored figure.

Without warning, the armored figures disappeared.  Kreg stole a glance at Shillond and saw that his battle with the demon had also ended.

"Enough, Mage," Baaltor said. "No more threats am I permitted to send against you.  By the laws They have decreed, you have earned your knowledge.  Go and be done with you!"

"The knowledge, Baaltor."

"You wish a counter to the changeling spell.  Very well.  You will find it in our grimoires.  Now go!"

Baaltor faded into the distance.  The blackness around them began to brighten, lightening to purple, then to gray.  Forms appeared in the grayness, swiftly becoming more distinct.  Finally, Kreg and Shillond stood once more in Shillond's workshop.

"Well," Shillond said, stepping off the pentacle. "That was interesting, even beyond the information we set out to obtain."

He waved a hand and a book floated from a shelf along the wall to land on a podium in the middle of the room.  Another wave and it opened to a blank page on which writing began to appear in letters of fire that quickly faded to black.

"How so?" Kreg tore his eyes away from the book.

"Baaltor did not know you," Shillond said. "And he should have.  He is the primary source of magical energy.  Any spell powerful enough to draw you here from your own world he would notice."

"So how did I get here?" Kreg asked.

Shillond shook his head. "I don't know." Shillond propped himself on a stool.

Kreg shrugged. "So we have another piece to the puzzle, another piece that doesn't fit anywhere."

"Well..." Shillond glanced at his book.  New letters had stopped forming and those that remained had ceased their burning. "Ah.  Let's see what we have here."

The letters were gibberish to Kreg.

"That's bad," Shillond said. "The counterspell requires first restraining the changelings.  It seems we are no better than we were before."

Kreg shook his head. "Damn."

"I erred." Shillond sank back onto the stool. "When Baaltor said 'a' counter spell, I should have caught it, should have realized there might be more than one.  I didn't and, as a result, we get a counterspell that only affects one changeling at a time, and then the changeling must be bound with ropes of human hair."

Kreg nodded. "It's like that old saying about catching a bird.  If you can get close enough to put salt on its tail, catching it is no problem.  And if we could catch and bind the changelings in the first place, we wouldn't need a counterspell."

"Old saying?" Shillond shook his head. "Still, yes, you are right."

"So we go back--" Kreg's eyes narrowed. "--and wring the correct spell from the beast's neck."

"No, Kreg." Shillond stood up suddenly. "I had to use a trick to face him this time and it would not work again.  Baaltor has your measure now, and I...I am no longer the young man who once contested the demon."

#

"...So that is the situation, Majesty," Shillond said that evening.

Shillond, Kreg, Kaila, and Keven were sitting around the council table.  A crystal sphere set in a base of wrought gold sat in the center of the table.  Within the globe floated an image of Marek.  From this image, they could hear his voice when he spoke and--Shillond had assured them--he could see and hear them.  At Kreg's query, Shillond had explained that the council table held a link with the map table the King carried on campaign.

Marek was still with the army in the east and was engaged in an orderly retreat. "Their seeming endless numbers is our gravest difficulty," Marek said. "One wave will strike and rebound from our lines, doing little harm to us, but when we give chase, another will attack.” His image in the crystal shook its head. "We retreat slowly.  I know not how long we can continue to resist."

"They attack in waves?" Kreg leaned forward eagerly.  The King's repetition of Keven's problem had sent his mind racing, an idea springing forth fully formed.

"Yes," Marek said.

"What sort of troops are they?" Kreg asked.

"Medium and heavy cavalry.  Very little infantry.  They have a few archers but their short bows have little range or power."

“The 'Way of Yielding,’” Kreg said.

Keven leaned back in his seat at the head of the table, “What has your wrestling style to do with the battles we have been losing?”

“It’s what the Schahi have been doing to you.  You come to battle.  They yield from before you.  You give chase.  Then they strike.”

“Even so, they do,” Marek said. “So how do we stop them?”

"You make them come to you." Kreg grinned. "Let me tell you a story about a battle that took place on my world, a battle that happened at a little town called Crécy."

Nearly an hour later, Kreg finished the story.  A hint of a smile had appeared on the King's face as Kreg began the tale and had grown as Kreg continued the telling. "Aye. 'Tis possible.  In truth, 'tis possible."

He looked to where Kaila sat. "Kaila, how soon can you and Kreg reach the army?"

"Keep you your present position?" Kaila asked.

"No.  We will be falling back toward Aerioch."

"Can you reach the village of Griselde within ten days?"

"Yes," Marek nodded vigorously. "And the land there is much like that Kreg described at Crécy."

"We shall join you there, Majesty," Kaila said.

"Very well," Marek said.  He nodded, said something that Kreg did not hear, and vanished.

"I don't understand," Kreg said.

"The King is no fool," Kaila said. "You speak of tactics unknown on this world.  You must be there to array the forces and advise the King."

"Me?"

"Aye, Kreg," Keven said, breaking his silence for the first time. "A grave responsibility, I know." His face took on a grim expression. "You may be the only remaining hope for the kingdom's survival.  In truth, fighting as we always have will lose us the kingdom before the winter snows arrive."

Kreg started to reply but stopped at the pain in Keven's eyes.  Instead he nodded and said, "I'll do my best."

"That's all anyone can ask," Shillond said softly, his eyes on Keven.

#

Kreg had finally inured to hard riding.  They had ridden through the plains that bordered Norveth into rolling hillside, dotted with small farming villages.  They had needed to slow as they came to steeper hills further east.  The slowest part of the journey had been the three days walking their horses through a pass in a low range of mountains, then two final days in the hills to the east of the mountains, hills in which villages were more rare and the land was more wooded and wild. 

Kreg was tired, but not overly so, when he and Kaila reached Marek's army.

"Majesty." Kaila bowed as they entered Marek's tent.  Kreg hastened to imitate her.

"Ah, Kaila, Kreg," Marek turned from the table where he had been studying a map of the lands about them. "You are indeed well come."

Marek motioned them to the map.  The village of Griselde sat at the foot of a precipice overlooking a river.  A ridge ran north by northeast for about a mile before reaching a forest.  The map did not say whether the ridge continued into the forest or ended at the edge.  To the east, the land sloped moderately to the river, to the west, gently.

Kreg traced the line of the ridge with his finger. "This is so like Crécy as to be scary."

"My army awaits, Kreg," Marek said. "How shall they be ordered?"

Kreg studied the map. "How is the Schahi army armed?"

"They have a large force of cavalry armed with lance and sword." Marek pointed at a symbol on the map. "Their armor is chain, lacking the breastplates of our own."

Kreg nodded.  Without breastplates, the Schahi would be more vulnerable to archery.

Marek pointed at another symbol. "Here is their force of archers.  As I related in council, they are armed with short bows and lightly armored--hardened leather."

The archers had taken a position north and west of the cavalry, that would have them advancing ahead and to the right. Kreg studied the position. "How long until they arrive?"

"No sooner than afternoon tomorrow."

"Okay, Your Majesty," Kreg said. "I'm not a general; I've had some luck with a sword, but I've never led men in combat.  The best I can do is set you up like Edward at Crécy and tell you what he did.  With a little luck, and more than a little skill, we might just pull this off."

"Aye, Kreg," Marek said. "With Kaila's leave..."

"You have it, Majesty." Kaila bowed.

"Advisor you shall be.  Say on."

"What are your forces?" Kreg asked.

"Of knights I have eight hundreds," Marek said. "Many with squire and man-at-arms.  The total of armored warriors is two thousand.  The northeast provinces are a wild place." He looked up at Kaila who nodded.

At Kreg's puzzled look, Kaila explained. "Zantor, my duchy, is to the north and east.  Only Marquis Dahren rules lands more remote."

A nod and Marek continued. "Many hunters have they.  They have sent four thousands of archers armed with longbow.  Other provinces have sent peasant levies skilled only with knife, or with spear, but they add fifteen hundreds to our fighting strength."

"Not good," Kreg said. "Edward had more archers and the archers are central to the plan."

"Ah, but I had not finished," Marek continued. "Merona has sent us aid of three thousand of their finest archers.  Thus our total is seven thousands."

"But Merona answered not our embassy!" Kaila said.

"Aye," Marek said. "Little love had they for we of Aerioch.  Yet with the fall of Shendar, they saw the danger of Schah's unchecked advance they saw we had common cause.  The archers had but joined us the day of your return from Schah."

Kreg picked up a short length of charred vine and began to sketch, holding it like a pencil. "Here, along the southern part of the ridge, we'll put a line of your armored warriors.  Can they fight dismounted?"