The Vitalis Chronicles: Steps of Krakador (45 page)

And then the little red-haired things spread out. He could see their gray skin from under their loose black plates of armor now, their long hooked noses protruding down to their chins and making their solid black eyes appear even more beady than they were. They slung sticks off their backs and then reached for arrows.
Arrows?

They weren't carrying sticks at all, but bows.
Oh God...
But before Phelts could even think to grab a wireless or yell and warn whoever could hear him over the cacophony below, a storm of the short arrows were unleashed from among the columns of advancing troops.

Hundreds of missiles swarmed into the sky. They crossed paths and swirled in the wind so much that they looked like a rising plume of smoke before they reached their apex and dove for the ground. They almost came on in slow motion, short gray shafts accentuated by red plumes on their tails, and plunged into the front rows of Elandir's soldiers. The men below Phelts died in droves, their armor not designed to protect from above. Most survived by the grace of their helmets or the lottery of war, but many died with arrows deep in their necks and shoulders, slitting arteries and organs alike.

Phelts wanted to scream, wanted to draw them back or throw them forward but not watch as the soldiers of his great city were slaughtered like helpless children. More arrows flew, the momentary lightening of the gunfire giving the columns of advancing monsters a chance to gain speed. Suddenly the clashing of tide and shore, that had moments before seemed preventable, again became inevitable.

These are only the first few ships of hundreds...
The weight of that thought rested on him unbidden.
This isn't even a full first wave.

Long jagged, daggers were drawn from undersized waists as the second wave of arrows descended on the soldiers below. The massive monsters bellowed their own strange cry and barreled forward at the sight, covering the last twenty yards at a run. Their tiny legs pushed them onward, their shoulders swaying dramatically as they lowered their heads and rammed their way into the men in their path. For every blade or bullet that found its mark, another was turned aside by the rock-hard skin of the monsters.

The monsters began their bloody work, hacking and stabbing and advancing as a unit. The men below Phelts faltered, wavering in their confidence as they were hammered by such a vicious assault. Phelts could see them beginning to break, and though he could hardly blame them, he knew that the end of their world was nearing as a result.

“
C
AN'T YOU DO ANYTHING RIGHT,
H
EMBRODY
?” Sir Bramblethorn sat on his massive destrier, peeling a banana he had plucked from the supply cart nearest him. He laughed as he threw the peel on the ground, sounding even happier than usual to heckle Hembrody. “These are cows and carts on a single road. It's not like you've got cross traffic knocking them about.”

Hembrody ignored the fat tribune and continued to study the wreckage of the cart that had overturned in the middle of the road. Its wheels on one side had simply come off, he noted, but somehow the entire cart had overturned. The cart immediately behind it had also come apart in the chaos, its heavy cargo of chain and plate now blocking the road as his men scrambled to clear the wreckage.

“
I warned the young king about putting you back here,” Bramblethorn was still talking as if Hembrody cared. “So I suppose I should thank you for proving me right yet again!”

Hembrody had been forced to put up with Bramblethorn before, but this was aggravating, having to ignore his endless ravings and insults while he tried to figure out why everything that could go wrong was. More importantly, why everything that seemed impossible to go wrong was.

“
The axles are actually intact, my lord.” One of his quartermasters came back around from the other side of the cart. “The side is cracked, but the entire thing seems either in fine condition or easily repairable.”

“
How did it flip?” Hembrody's characteristically short tone was only sharpened by his frustration. “It's not possible.”

“
I don't know, but it's the third in the last few days to do so.”

“
Get it off the road.” Hembrody turned to mount his horse. “If you can repair it before the rest of the train moves past, fine; if not, leave it behind.”

“
Leaving the king's goods behind, then?” Bramblethorn reined in next to his hated rival. “That's not so befitting the office of the mightiest quartermaster in all the realm!”

Bramblethorn's laugh gave all the thorn to his name. His father, Brambleweed, had been far less irritating. Hembrody ignored the nuisance and spurred toward the rear, wanting to check on his rearguard before the day's march began.

Bramblethorn began to sing from behind as he kept pace. “Hembrody, Hembrody, was a good king! Ladies did love him, and minstrels did sing! But then he awoke, as Lord Renault spoke, and found it had all been a dream!”

“
I've heard better songs from wailing infants,” Hembrody growled through grinding teeth.

“
Perhaps,” Bramblethorn's impetuous smile came through in his voice. “But you have to admit, Hembrody, it is rather droll for my first stab.”

“
Fools may enjoy the droll nature of life, while drunk under tables inflated by song. The wise recognize the true strength in strife, and profit from idiots all the day long.”

“
I'm glad I could bring you some profit today, then, my good lord.” Bramblethorn laughed. “Now if only you could profit our good king in your service instead of creating delays and losing his precious supplies.”

“
As you have seen, Sir Bramblethorn, things have not exactly been occurring in logical or sensible fashions.”

“
I've seen some broken carts and massive delays through pointless investigations.” Bramblethorn had apparently produced an apple from somewhere on his rotund person, as he now seemed to be talking between crisp crunching noises and through a muffling mess. “I haven't seen anything particularly out of the ordinary where you're concerned.”

The rearguard was just ahead, their march stalled by yet another stop in the baggage train. They kept a distance of a few hundred yards, prepared to form up and protect the army from any attacks from behind. If the Relequim were to attack them here, at the distance that had been growing between themselves and the main army, they would be hard pressed to hold their own until relief arrived.

Bramblethorn was rambling off another nonsensical rhyme when they finally rode among the soldiers at the rear. Over half of his remaining men were here, the rest spread out along the line itself to guard it from thieves among the camp followers as much as anything. The closer they had drawn to the Desert Mountains, the more incidents of theft were being reported along the train. Even open brawls had broken out at night, all of it leaving Hembrody to wonder if the Demon wasn't somehow influencing the weaker minds among them from afar. Things were certainly deteriorating quickly regardless of the cause.

“
My lord.” One of the light cavalrymen rode up to meet him as he walked his horse along the outside of the infantry.

“
Anything to report?”

“
Our scouts return to us in good form, no contact or sightings of any kind.”

Hembrody frowned at the news.

“
Displeased, Hembrody?” Bramblethorn was an ever-present annoyance. “Had you been hoping your master would make his appearance so soon?”

Hembrody finally turned on Bramblethorn at that. “I have a mind to punctuate each and every insult you sputter with an arrow.”

“
If you want to shoot yourself, feel free.” Bramblethorn grinned his stupid grin. “I won't stop you, Hembrody. You'd be doing us all a favor and saving me some time.”

Hembrody ignored the threat, letting the conflict drop before it escalated out of hand. He turned back to the cavalry scout. “Something's not right; I want you to redouble your search. There is something out there waiting for our guard to drop, I can feel it. I want you to find it.”

“
Of course you can feel it,” Bramblethorn said as Hembrody continued to walk his horse down the line. “You're one of them, aren't you?”

Hembrody could see it in the faces of his men; they were growing tired of the insults too, angry even. Ever since the fat tribune had arrived the day before, he had caused nothing but strife with his accusations and insults. Bramblethorn's cruelty and temper had grown progressively worse in that time, even beyond his usual levels of annoyance. Hembrody had to figure out a way to rid himself of Bramblethorn's persistent presence before he drew a fight from among his own men.

“
Your son was, in the end, wasn't he?”

Hembrody turned his horse at that in a quick rage. “What did you say?”

Bramblethorn had stopped his horse a few lengths behind, tossing a finished apple core to the side and licking his fingers as he smiled knowingly. “Your boy; bastard tried to kill our young Renault. They said he was under the Demon's influence, and I doubt the sprout took root far from the bush.”

Hembrody drew his sword, his veins flaring along his neck at the desecration of his son's memory. “I should cut you down as an act of mercy to that poor horse you're crushing.”

“
Horsey's fine, Hembrody. It's a traitorous boy and his surreptitious father that I'm concerned with.”

Hembrody grit his teeth, clenching the hilt of his sword so tightly he could hear the leather stretch under his grip.
Damn it all...
“No, Bramblethorn.” He left his sword in its sheath. “I won't give you what you want.”

“
What is it you think I want, then?” All humor was gone from Bramblethorn's voice now, though Hembrody tried to ignore him altogether as he walked his horse a little ways farther on and dismounted. “You think I want a fight, is that it Hembrody?”

“
The baggage train should be back up and moving within the hour,” Hembrody addressed the captain of the infantry who had walked out to meet him. “I want your men close behind them and ready to fight. We won't be left alone for much longer.”

“
I just want you to show your true colors, Hembrody!” Bramblethorn was a difficult man to ignore, especially as hysteria began to creep into his tone. “I just want your treason unmasked before it's unfettered, and why shouldn't I?”

Hembrody's captain was having an even more difficult time ignoring Bramblethorn than he was. “How is morale?” He almost had to slap the man to get his attention. “How is morale among the men?”

“
Not good, my lord.” The man had to blink to regain his focus, Bramblethorn now openly inviting his master to a fight in the background. “We've had more fights breaking out, especially when we're encamped like this, waiting for orders to move. Discipline is breaking down.”

“
The same has been happening along the line.” Hembrody looked back up the way where the camp followers and stragglers made for a mess of a crowd in the distance. He had to work to ignore Bramblethorn's nearly constant flow of threats.
He's gone mad,
he thought as the fat man gestured towards his sword and bellowed another challenge.
This is the enemy's work... this madness will consume us all.
“
I need you to maintain discipline at any cost. Execute men for fighting if you must; I won't tolerate it.”

“
My lord.” The man bowed, disturbed by the order but unwilling to displease his commander. “What they need is an enemy to fight.”

“
I'm afraid they'll have it all too soon.” Hembrody said.

“
And why not give it to them sooner?” Bramblethorn shouted as his horse approached from behind. Hembrody turned in time to see the glint of steel catching the sun above him. There was a crack as Bramblethorn's blade struck him in the side of the head, the sky turning into exploding stars and bloody ruin as he collapsed to the ground.

The world slowly faded with the receding noise of hoofs as his men gathered around him, unable to keep him from dying.

“
S
IR
B
ELDIN
.”
R
ENDIN
R
ENAULT SAT AT THE OAK TABLE OF HIS FATHERS
, studying maps he knew to be more misleading than trustworthy. “Please, come in.”

Sir Beldin had been standing at the entrance to his tent for only a few moments, but Rendin was finding it difficult to pull himself away from the questions that plagued him. It was impossible to know where to go from here, not with any certainty at least. Rain had seemed so certain of where Krakador would be, but in the end they didn't even know what it would look like.

Was it a castle? A fortress built into a mountain? It could very well have even been built on top of one of these flat-topped monoliths, inaccessible save for some treacherous staircase. There was no way of knowing until they stumbled upon it, but he was afraid there wasn't enough time for a proper search. Rain had already been gone a full day, since the morning before, and already he wished he could consult her on a dozen things.