Battle SeerChapter 14: Death of a Seer
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Table of Contents Chapter 14, part 1 appears in this issue. |
Palance did the only thing possible. As both women lunged, he dove into a roll and came up right between them. Both blades missed him by a small margin. Soaked to the skin, covered in mud and blood, suffering from the pain of losing his beloved Andina, battered and bruised by twin sisters trained obviously by the best, Palance searched deep within to find some resolve. It was the way of the warrior. It was his duty to himself, to his family, and to his Nation to stay alive.
The women swung about as one. He was running out of time. They came forward. What would Ian do? And he had his answer. Like a serpent, he lashed out with his sword. He held it with one hand as he reached for his belt and produced his dagger. Eliana dodged his blow and side stepped, but Sherelyn was surprised. With his other hand, he lashed out at her and sliced her check with his razor sharp dagger. A thin red line spread open across the side of her face.
Palance wasn’t a great fighter with two weapons, but he had seen Ian do it plenty of times. As Sherelyn grabbed her face, Palance regained his confidence. He spun about, dropped the dagger, and charged Eliana. His fury took over and he leaped on her like a wolf on a rabbit that hadn’t eaten in days.
He slashed right. Sliced left. Eliana backed up, matching him blow for blow. He continued unperturbed. She had killed Andina. Now or never, he swung high. Then swung low. She parried one and had to jump back to avoid the second strike. Her foot slipped in the mud and fell back to the ground.
Palance didn’t hesitate. He jumped high into the air and brought his sword over head. She barely rolled over to avoid being impaled by his sword. Palance’s strength drove his sword to its hilt into the ground. Grunting, he pulled it out and turned to face his prey. Eliana was already coming to her feet.
Palance was in the warrior’s zone. He could take on an army now. The prince rushed her like he had never rushed a soul in his life. She lunged back, side stepped, took a swing and had her sword knocked out of her hand. Palance continued with his charge, spun about as he came in close to her and impaled her. She screamed in agony once before grabbing him feebly by his shoulders. Blood spilled from her mouth as she stared into his eyes in shock. The prince shook her off as her eyes glazed over.
Suddenly the pouring rain rushed back into his ears. He was aware of sweat and blood covering his body. His chest hurt from the panting. His arms were cut up and his lip was bleeding from a split he didn’t know was there.
Up from the hill where Andina should have been, light flashed and a sizzling bolt of energy sliced through the rain. Palance rolled to the ground thinking it was aimed at him. The hair on the back of his neck sizzled from the energy and felt the magic slam into someone behind him.
Fearing another rune man, the prince sprang to his feet ready to fight again. He came up in time to see the red haired woman slump down to the ground, her clothes singed and smoldering from the magic. Andina’s mage had to have done that.
“Well, done,” he heard from behind.
The prince turned. The last man with the silver-lined sword strode forward. He was a tall man with black hair and dark skin. He held his sword in one hand. The man wore a tight red shirt with black leather pants and no armor.
“You are responsible for all this,” stated the prince, pointing.
The man bowed. “Yes, of course,” he replied. He looked up to the dark sky. “The rain seems to want to dampen our meeting.”
Palance noted the man’s graceful movements. He would need to be careful. “Who are you?“
“My name is Alysses Slighthand, leader of this infamous army.” The man looked around unconcerned. He pointed to the dead black haired woman. Somewhere to Palance’s right the prince heard someone stir. Sherelyn. “It’s not every man that can come into my occupied area and defeat Eliana Bantikoff. She was one of my best. You also took on the twins and won. The only other man to ever do that is myself.”
Palance stepped back aware of the man’s calculating eyes. Alysses. He would remember the name. This was the man ordered to kill Andina, then. Alysses was responsible for giving the order to fire the arrow. The prince felt his despair lessen and his anger sharpen.
The prince lifted his sword. “Prepare to die, Alysses Slighthand. As outlaw prince of Acrene Tarrynth on foreign soil, I charge you with the deaths of these people, enemies and friends alike. I charge you with the murder of a Seer from Stonegate and with the power invested in me by the Nations, I hereby ordain you to die by my sword!”
Lightning and thunder split the sky to accentuate his words.
“Rally!” came a shout from Andina’s carriage. “Rally, to me!” Palance felt his heart sink. It was a man’s voice.
Alysses Slighthand shifted on the balls of his feet. He gripped his sword tightly, but didn’t lift his sword. Palance took a step forward and felt the man tense. Good, he thought, he had this Slighthand’s respect.
The rain lessened for a heartbeat and through the dimness he heard the clash of steel. He heard men’s cries and shouts, and the whinnying of horses. The battle was coming towards them. It would be over soon. Soon.
Alysses swung his sword once. “Come meet your doom, prince of Acrene Tarrynth.”
“Rally!” came the voice again. “To the hill!”
Amongst the fighting, like an under current below a stream, Palance heard the barking of dogs. They were coming.
Raindogs.
He charged.
* * *
Renson watched the hunter of wolves speaking with the prince of Acrene Tarrynth. To his right, he could see the fighting still going on. “Rally!” he called again. He wove a quick incantation and yelled again. “RALLY!” This time his voice carried over the ground, cutting through the lessening rain.
He looked down at the two men. They were about to engage in battle. Staring hopelessly, Renson watched in futile helplessness as Palance charged.
The Iinnin Lodar would never make it in time. Despite all the men he had cut down around the hill and carriage, despite the scorch marks of lightning bolts and blazing fire he had shot forth, he watched as Andina’s fears came to fruition right before his eyes.
“Go and help the prince, Kendel,” he said to the silent figure next to him. “It’s not our job to interfere, but in this we must.”
Kendel stared back a moment. “I haven’t seen anyone deflect magic like that since the Conquest, Renson. I’m not sure that even I can take him.”
Renson nodded. “Go.”
Kendel nodded. “Once again in a thousand years we ride forward, you and I. I’m not sure if I like it. But it will be great, I know that.”
Renson only watched as the horseman rode down the hill as quickly as he could.
* * *
Eliath Camil, commander of the Iinnin Lodar, watched the battle progress. Coran and the Iinnin Lodar left behind at the beginning of the battle were dead. There were no signs from any of them. That left only two groups now to take on the enemy, the Seer’s horsemen and his Iinnin Lodar. Thirty-seven men in black and blue out of two hundred had survived.
Thirty-seven to fifty of the enemy had been killed. Things could’ve been worse, he figured. The enemy had started with three hundred. The enemy was being whittled down. It was the best he could hope for. Skill alone had defeated the enemy. The Iinnin Lodar were ferocious, mean, and down right good fighters, men trained since birth.
Eliath watched with trained discipline as one of the enemy was taken down by an arrow to the chest. Another man in red broke through the ranks and charged straight at the commander only to be taken from the side by Larson. The two guards, Larson and Soulcryst, were hawks out on the field. Both took two men at a time. Half way into the fighting, the men in red would go out of their way to avoid the pair.
Eliath inspected everything with cold calculation. His eyes missed nothing, his ears heard everything, and his mind figured what to do next even before it was happening. He was contemplating joining the fight when he heard the first traces of real danger; barking and growling coming from the rain.
It was time to withdraw. He didn’t need to see the glowing red eyes or the faint outline of wolven bodies by the bouncing of rain off its thick unseen fur to know what they were and that they were there. Like shimmering substance, he saw them come through the rain. Long strides and leaps brought the invisible raindogs with red eyes into the fight.
They came in from Eliath’s far left and struck men in red first. A clear swath was cut right into the enemy as rider and beast went down under jaw and bite of the horrible beasts. The commander knew he was lucky, they all were, for the beasts had attacked the opposition first.
“Withdraw!” he yelled. Immediately his Iinnin Lodar fell back.
And that’s when they all heard it. “Rally!” It came to them from out of the darkness. A beacon of hope that they had won. It also brought a sense of apprehension. Was Palance in trouble? Had they almost defeated the enemy only to lose their prince? Eliath cursed himself. Had his Iinnin Lodar fallen? Was Palance alone, captured, or dead?
It came again. “Rally! To the hill!”
“It’s Renson.” the commander heard a couple of men in blue say to each other. They charged off into the rain and gloom.
Eliath turned to Larson. “Our prince might be in trouble. Go!” Larson galloped without another word. “Soulcryst! Gather the men! Leave the scoundrels to the rain and its beasts. To the hill!”
And with that, the commander of the Iinnin Lodar charged away from his men.
* * *
Alysses Slighthand stepped aside, sure footed even in the mud, spun about and with reflexes of a serpent slashed Palance across the back as he stumbled past.
The prince felt the pain of the blow even though his armor stopped the force of it. An expert fighter himself, he kept from showing the pain and regained his footing. Alysses was waiting for him. Palance slashed once and had to jump back to deflect three strikes. He parried two more times before he could take a swing. Then he had to retreat again. The man was too quick, too fast. Twice Alysses’ silver sword came close to ending Palance’s life. It was the prince’s resolve not to die so easily that kept him alive. Andina’s memory deserved for him to live.
Roaring with anger, Palance gave himself to the fight. He would die fighting this man. It was as simple as that. Honor. Duty. Love. None of it mattered unless this man’s heart was pierced by N’evindor. Palance struck fast and hard. One. Two. Three strikes. His sword rang out every time it hit blades touched. Slash. Strike. Pierce.
None of his blows hit.
Alysses kept up with him. For every strike, the man parried. For every rush, Alysses was ahead of the prince by a second to move out of the way. The worse part of it was that Palance was getting tired. For every strike and parry that Alysses did or gave, Palance was getting hit. The prince could feel his arms and hands stinging. His right leg was slashed badly and his left hand was going numb. His gripping hand. His chest burned and he was beginning to feel lightheaded. All the while Andina kept running through his mind.
It could have served as inspiration but the fact of the matter was he was outmatched. Andina only kept his mind clouded and kept despair always threatening to swallow him. In a last effort, Palance took a deep breath that wasn’t hardly enough and resolved to finish this fight he had started.
Alysses came in quick. He slashed down, cut Palance, feigned up, and stabbed the prince in the gut. It brought Palance to his knees as he splashed down into the mud. The rain kept his wounds clean as he bled to death with his head bowed.
Failure ran through his mind. Andina’s death brought shame to his heart. Alysses stared down at him with cold black eyes. The man was barely panting. His chest barely heaved from the thrill of war. Despite not wearing armor, the man wasn’t cut. The only blemish on this superb fighter was the sweat that mingled with the droplets of rain that continued to fall from the sky.
Palance hated him.
“I’ve killed a king before,” began Slighthand. “I’ve killed men worthy of entire kingdoms. I’ve killed women and men. Dremions fall easy at my sword. Men, women, and children have never stood a chance. I’ve even killed mages and now a Seer.”
Palance tensed even though he had nothing left.
“Ah,” came the slithery voice. “Don’t do that. Raindogs are coming. Don’t make me leave you to them alive.” Alysses shifted over to stare down at Palance.
“Drop your sword, prince.” Alysses knocked it out of Palance’s hands. “You know what my specialty is? Werewolves. I hate them. I hate them as much as I’m sure you hate me. For killing my twins, after I slay you, I vow to go after everyone you hold dear to you, your family and friends. Prince? That means I go after your father, and then the kingdom.”
Alysses stepped back easily away from Palance’s futile grab.
Then, like a shadow out of the darkest nights, a form came charging out of the rain. Alysses turned away from the prone prince and readied his sword. A man wearing a black cape with long black hair came roaring into the scene.
Alysses deflected the man’s saber easily and slashed back. The stranger met it just as easily. The two men circled each other with a speed Palance would never posses.
Back and forth they went. Palance recognized the other man’s dress as one of Andina’s horsemen. He too was beginning to tire. The prince felt himself starting to faint. Alysses got the upper hand and drove the other man back towards Palance. With his saber, Andina’s man aimed a blow at Slighthand’s neck. It was a distracting blow, not one meant to hit. When Alysses went for it, the man stopped short, reached for his belt and produced a crossbow.
He fired.
Alysses staggered back surprised. The bolt had imbedded itself all the way through his shoulder blade. When he hit the floor, the man in the black cape was already coming to Palance’s aid.
Palance heard the sound of approaching hooves coming his way. He was bleeding to death. It would take a Shining One to stop the blood from spilling from his open wounds. He tried to speak as the man knelt down to help him but nothing came out except a gurgle of pain and red crimson ooze.
“Don’t speak, my prince,” he looked up for a moment. “Over here!” he yelled. “Help is on its way, my lord.”
Palance, prince of Acrene Tarrynth, crossed over to the other side.
To be continued...
Copyright © 2005 by Julian Lawler
