The Immortal Mystic (Book 5) (21 page)

“It is a magnificent weapon,” Maernok said.

Gulgarin smiled and placed it back into the harness upon his back. “Go, Chief of the Tiger Tribe, and knock upon the enemy gates with your bow. If they fail to answer Szelevo’s call, then I will be sure to break the wall down with Rombolo.” Gulgarin placed a hand on Maernok’s shoulder and Maernok returned the gesture.

“May Khullan smile upon us this day, and award honor and glory to the valiant.”

At that moment the two officers returned with the requested goarg. Maernok inspected the special lateral rails that were affixed to the saddle and straddled the goarg’s large hips to accommodate hanging thin, long quivers filled with arrows on either side of the animal. Maernok leapt atop the beast and paused to look over his troops. He thought of saying something to rally their spirits, but as he looked over the proud, strong faces he realized no words were needed. He spurred the goarg on and the beast leapt onto the road leading through the burnt forest toward the gate. A chorus of cheers and roars erupted from the army behind him.

Galloping down the road he prepared his first arrow. He knew that the goarg would respond to subtle movements with his legs, there was no need to hold the reins so long as he remained in the saddle. No sooner did he emerge out onto the battlefield than he pulled the bowstring back to the corner of his mouth, breathing in and holding it for an instant as his eyes scanned the walls before him. Had this been a normal bow, he would have been well out of range, but Szelevo was anything but normal. The very spirits of his ancestors had blessed it when it was made, and the arrows it sent flew farther and faster than the wind itself.

A pair of archers stood talking to each other upon the battlement near the gatehouse. One leaned back upon a merlon, and the other stood before him.

Maernok smiled and directed his arrow. He let loose. The arrow silently shot out, straight and true, toward its target. Maernok watched the missile fly until it sank deep into the back of the first archer with such force that it tore him from his spot and slammed him forward into the other archer. A moment later they both fell over the inside of the wall. Before any of the nearby archers could raise the alarm, Maernok dropped three more sentries with his bow. Each one flew from the battlements to land inside the courtyard.

Shouts and cries went up from inside the walls. The orc nudged in with his right knee. The goarg turned left and galloped in a line parallel to the wall, deftly leaping over and around the many bodies littering the field. He readied another arrow and looked up to the battlements. A score of new archers rose up and moved into the crenellations. They each took aim and let loose. Maernok answered by picking off one of the archers in the middle. He didn’t worry about the arrows raining from the sky, however, as they landed far away from him.

The alarm bells rang out through the towers until the whole field reverberated with the mixed sound of brass bells and hurried shouts and curses. For every volley of arrows the humans fired, they would lose three archers. Szelevo devoured them, teasing them with its superior range and power. Maernok, just to keep it interesting, would run his goarg for three hundred yards in one direction and then cut in toward the wall ten or twenty yards before galloping in the opposite direction. Each time he moved in closer, he could hear the archers frantically shouting for more support. He was close enough to keep their attention, but not close enough for their arrows to reach him at all.

He continued his maneuvers for some time, until finally he saw what he was waiting for. The gates opened and out rushed a group of pikemen and archers. He turned his focus to them, punching through them second after second with his arrows. Still, on the enemy came, fanning out as soon as they exited the gatehouse. Behind them came a trio of horsemen. Each was armed with a bow and a long spear. Maernok smiled and let loose his arrows at the horsemen. The first caught an arrow in the chest and tumbled back over his horse’s rump to crumple on the ground. The second somehow managed to dodge the arrow meant for him, and the third held tight to his seat, despite the arrow piercing through his armor and stabbing into his left shoulder.

One of the foot archers leapt atop the empty saddle and spurred the horse into a gallop. Soon there were arrows flying back at Maernok, and these were close enough that he had to maneuver effectively to dodge them. He slammed in with his left knee twice, turning his goarg toward the forest. As he did so, he twisted to face the charging horsemen and continued to fire at them while they gave chase. The wounded horseman was the first to fall, after taking two more to the chest. The foot archer was next, though he did manage to duck under the first arrow sent his way, the second lifted him from his saddle as it sank deep into his heart. The two horses scattered in opposite directions.

An arrow
zinged
past Maernok’s head. He smiled at the dedicated survivor and then sent an arrow back. It caught the man in the chest. The bow fell from the rider’s hand and he slumped over to the side. His shoulders went slack and his head bobbed uncontrollably. Maernok knew he was dead in the saddle.

He halted the goarg and went to pull another arrow so he could pick off the footmen still charging toward him. His hand grasped only empty air. He looked to the ground, stuck with hundreds of arrows that had been fired from the battlements above, and thought about retrieving them for his own use, but he needn’t have worried about it.

A sudden cry of rage erupted around him and he turned to see his army standing up from the rubble and debris in the burnt forest. They had crept into position while he had kept the enemy busy. Covered in soot and ash the soldiers pushed up from the ground and broke into a sprinting charge over the field. The footmen without the gate shrieked in horror and turned back to the walls. Maernok smiled as he watched the archers upon the battlements call down to the courtyard behind them. The gates opened again.

A young officer ran up to Maernok. “Sir, I have more arrows,” he said as he offered a quiver up to exchange with Maernok. The orc bent low and took the proffered quiver. Without removing the empty one he slung the new supply over his back and reached for a deadly shaft as he spurred the goarg onward.

He let the first arrow loose and then heard heavy hooves pounding the field next to him. He looked to his left and saw Gulgarin, grinning wildly and holding his warhammer with his right hand.

“To the gates?” Gulgarin asked.

Maernok glanced back to the opening gates and saw scores of men emerging. Some ran before the group and hastily planted pikes into the ground, while most formed ranks behind them, shouting at the first group of archers and pikemen to hurry their pace if they wanted to survive. The archers above rained arrows down, forgetting now about their own safety and Szelevo’s reach as they concentrated on protecting their retreating comrades from the orcish horde.

The commander nodded. “To the gates!” Maernok shouted with all of his strength. The two of them raced ahead of the army. Maernok drew back his bow at will, alternating from firing at the archers on the wall to slaying officers on the ground. Despite this, the humans continued to pour out from the main gate.

He managed to fire the remaining arrows in the quick charge, so he hung his bow with a special hook on the lateral rail behind the auxiliary quiver on the goarg’s right side. He pulled his sword and let out a mighty call to Khullan, prodding the goarg to leap headfirst into the fray.

Bone and metal clashed and clanged as the horns blasted through many human warriors. Gulgarin was right beside him, his goarg trampling a score of humans to the ground in less than a second. Spears shot in, but the orcs fought them off. For every spear shaft severed by Maernok’s blade, two humans fell by Gulgarin’s mighty hammer. They pressed into the enemy force, slowed now by the wall of shields and spears directed at them. The goargs lowered their heads and pushed back against the shields, jerking and twisting their horns to get better angles on individuals. Occasionally a goarg would rear back on its hind legs only to slam back down with its horns and run several humans into the dirt. This was when the animals were most vulnerable.

Maernok worked his blade furiously to keep the several spears from finding and piercing his mount’s soft underbelly. Up his goarg went, nearly throwing him from its back, then it crashed down with a heavy snort.
Calang!
Three men held their shields up, but ended nearly flattened against the earth. Next the goarg stomped down with its hooves, ensuring the three wouldn’t rise again as it moved over them to get at the next row.

At that moment, the orc warriors on foot caught up with Maernok and Gulgarin. A great din of clashing metal and horrific shouts of pain tore through the sky and filled the whole of the battlefield. The arrows from above ceased now as the two armies melded together.

Maernok brought his sword down, crushing through a man’s helmet to end his life. A spear came up on his left, he jerked back in his saddle to dodge the deadly shaft. Gulgarin’s hammer connected with the spearman from behind, just between the shoulder blades.
Crrack!
The man fell to his knees and then flopped onto his side, mumbling and groaning something that Maernok couldn’t understand. The spear, still clutched in the man’s left hand, stood straight up beside Maernok. The orc reached out and yanked it free of the man’s grasp. He then flipped it over and began to jab it at enemies on his left while continuing to hack those foolish enough to approach him on the right.

All of a sudden the men broke and ran toward the gate. The whole of the orcish force pursued. Maernok and Gulgarin were neck and neck, trampling and crushing all they could reach. For a moment, it seemed as if the feint would be unnecessary. Then, the human force split like a dry piece of wood under the heavy chop of a sharp axe. From the newly cleared path to the gate emerged a new foe. Seven men with black, pointed and sharply spiked armor came charging at them. Maernok smiled.

“Dragon slayers!” he yelled as he spurred his mount onward. His goarg leapt toward the oncoming foes. Maernok launched his spear forward and simultaneously raised his sword. Everything slowed for him in that instant. The spear seemed to move through water, rather than air, as it soared toward the first dragon slayer. The spearhead
clanged
off the armor and sent the whole of the weapon spinning off in another direction. Meanwhile, a pair of arrows plunged deep into the goarg at the base of the neck. The beast grunted and went limp, still its crushing mass flew through the air straight and true toward the group. Maernok launched himself off the beast moments before the body crashed into two of the dragon slayers, pinning one to the ground.

Blood sprayed out from the goarg as its flesh was torn apart by the spikes on the dragon slayer’s armor, and some managed to splatter onto Maernok, but he paid it no mind. He kept his eye on the dragon slayer below him. A spear came up, Maernok kicked it away with his left foot and then brought his right leg up to plant it on the dragon slayer’s chest as he brought the sword down upon the man. The steel shattered against the resilient armor of Telarian steel. However, Maernok managed to knock the man onto his rump.

Upon hitting the ground, Maernok rolled, swiping in lightning-fast and managing to steal the dragon slayer’s sword from his belt. The orc swung in just as the dragon slayer pulled a short battle axe from a harness on his back. The weapons rang out and sparks flew as the metals kissed. Maernok ducked low under the advance of another dragon slayer on his right. No amount of bladed armor was going to stop the orc. He came up hard kicking the axe-wielder in the chest and sending him flying backward toward the fallen goarg. Then, Maernok turned to counter another attack from the newcomer. He spun wide, letting his sword stop a lateral chop aimed at his hip. He continued the spin, flipping his sword into an upside-down grip and dropping to finish upon his knees. He felt the wind above his black hair as the enemy’s sword
whooshed
over him. Then he drove the point of his sword through the space between the enemy’s shin and knee, where the plate armor had a small gap to allow the knee to bend. The dragon slayer hollered out in pain, dropped his weapon, and flopped to the ground. Maernok pulled the blade free just in time to deflect another incoming attack.

The axe wielder was back up on his feet and coming in wildly. He hacked in diagonally, then switched to jab straight out with the top spike, then slashed again. It was all Maernok could do just to stay out of the way. A mass of fur and horns collided into the axe-wielder from behind, driving him into the dirt before Maernok. A deep snapping sound from within the armor preceded a series of violent tremors and then the axe-wielder went still.

Maernok, not wanting to lose his advantage, quickstepped back to the fallen dragon slayer, but the others had circled around him and were ready to press the fight.

“By Khullan’s toe!” Gulgarin shouted as he dove off the goarg. Maernok barely had time to dive aside himself as a great dragon soared out from the gates and snatched Gulgarin’s goarg in its jaws and crushed the beast. Chaos ensued as orcs tried to regroup around their leader. They poured in from all directions, buffering Maernok and Gulgarin from the dragon slayers and the dragon alike.

Fire spewed out from the beast, devouring scores of orcs at a time and creating veritable walls of flame that blocked off parts of the field.

“We should retreat now,” Maernok said.

Gulgarin shook his head. “A little longer, we have to make them believe we are broken.”