“Get the archers,” he told his vanguard. “I want them shoving every last body into the ditch. We’ll charge across the dead, both theirs and ours. Rob, Ash, ride to either side and find out just how far that ditch goes. I want them flanked come our next charge.”
The two knights saluted and obeyed. As the archers rushed forward, and his men reset their lines, he glanced back to see how long until Nicholls returned. Instead, his mouth fell agape at the sight. The fire had spread, ignoring the wind as if it were possessed. Already a quarter mile of grassland burned. Gregane swore at whatever sorcery had to be involved. A second fire appeared to have erupted at the feet of his charging knights. Every which way he saw horses sprinting, some with riders, some without. The leather of their saddles, and sometimes their very bodies, burned. Those that had survived appeared locked in combat, though he was too far to know how that went. Amidst all this strangeness was a strong blue light. No matter where his knights rode, no matter who struck at it, the light never faded, never broke.
“Sir,” said Rob, returning from his side. “It goes on for at a tenth mile, though most of it appears unguarded.”
“They’ll shift over should they see us moving,” Gregane said, but he eyed the stretch of forest with a thought. “We have numbers, though. They can’t cover it all.”
Ash returned, the young knight telling of a similar setup. It seemed in what time they had, Arthur had done nothing but build the enormous ditch, hoping to use it as a killing ground. With the trees to hide them from the arrows that could break them, the strategy was simple but sound.
“Pull back two squads,” Gregane said. “Send one to each side. March until you see no one guarding the ditch, then wait for my signal.”
“Yes, sir,” said the two knights before riding off to do as they were told. Gregane watched the forest a while longer, until it was clear little combat occurred. Steadily the archers grabbed bodies, and guarded by his shielded footmen, hurled them into the ditch. Outnumbered, and with their own ditch between them, Arthur’s men couldn’t dare charge. Body by body, their only defense vanished, and from three sides Gregane would strike.
Assuming the fire didn’t come to consume them all. Another glance back showed it getting closer, though it’d still take an hour to reach them. He shuddered to think how quick it might have spread if the wind had been toward them instead. As for his knights, he found himself stunned at how few their numbers had become. More stunning was how they turned and bolted in retreat. Anger grew in his chest, and when Nicholls came leading, Gregane let out his fury.
“Armorless bandits?” he roared. “My best-trained, defeated by mere peasants with clubs?”
“They hurled fire like sorcerers,” Nicholls said, refusing to lower his head or show weakness at the outburst. “And armorless or not, they wielded heavy weaponry, and struck at our horses. The fire alone spooked them, and they had a wizard whose very words sent our mounts running at random. We could not control them.”
“The blue light,” Gregane said, trying to calm down. “What of that?”
“Shield of a paladin,” Nicholls said. “A skilled man. He stands like a mountain, and nothing moves him. I saw Oren ram his horse straight into that shield, and it was the horse that fell.”
Gregane was stunned. He looked about, counting, and couldn’t believe it.
“A hundred dead?”
“Thirty to the fire,” Nicholls said. “The rest to the brigands. We killed as many as we lost, but know I mean it when I say that paladin cannot link up with the rest of Arthur’s men, or we will all suffer.”
Gregane looked to the forest, suddenly fearful of a strange sorcerer and a holy warrior of Ashhur both guarding the line. If they could ward off mounted knights in open field, what could they do in such close combat?
“You say the wizard could disturb the horses?” he asked.
“He did. They turned and startled every which way. No rider can fight like that.”
“Then don’t ride. All of you, dismount. If my own vanguard cannot defeat them, we are not worthy to call ourselves knights. Now go! Come back with that paladin’s head, or not at all.”
Nicholls saluted, but Gregane could see the hesitation in his eyes. Damn fool. They would outnumber them near two to one. How could they lose? Only the fire posed a threat, a fire that continued toward them like a crawling monster. Struggling to keep his patience, he once more turned his attention to the forest. Alone, he marched toward his troops, drawing his sword. Enough of giving commands. Soon the ditch would be full, and both Ash and Rob would have their hundred men in position. It wouldn’t matter how many casualties he suffered in the long run. Once Arthur fell, the North would remain Sebastian’s, now and forever.
Gregane could only hope that such an honor, of killing Lord Arthur, would belong to him, and him alone.
16
Valessa waited with Mallak in the lower portion of Deer Valley. Ever since waking that morning, and seeing nothing but distant campfires miles away, she’d had a nagging fear they’d been betrayed. The only question was by whom.
“Velixar would never lie,” Mallak said when she voiced her fears. “Not to us. Not to anyone. If someone lied, then it was to him. Let us be patient, and see what becomes of this.”
Valessa spent the time sharpening her daggers and imagining them plunging into Arthur Hemman’s eyes for what he’d done to Claire. Mallak cooked their morning meal, and she ate, tasting nothing of the nuts and salted pork slivers. The sun rose, and still they heard no sound of marching feet, saw no sign of approaching armies. Time crawled along, until at last Velixar and Darius appeared in the distance, walking into the valley by themselves.
“No one is here,” Velixar said the moment they were within earshot.
“As it seems,” said Mallak. “But this is where the armies were to meet, didn’t Sir Gregane say?”
Valessa watched Velixar’s ever-changing face harden into a visage of smoldering anger.
“He plays a dangerous game if he thinks to interfere with Karak’s doings.”
“Might they be delayed somehow?” Valessa asked. Already she knew the answer, but it amused her to see the prophet flustered so. In the daylight, he was far from the intimidating specter he was at night. His skin seemed paler, his bones visible through his stretched skin. Even the fire in his eyes was but a dull red glow.
“Be silent,” he said, closing his eyes and lifting his hands. “I will find them.”
They waited as the prophet cast his spell. Valessa used the time to steal a glance at Darius. She noticed the mark on his hand was gone and felt her stomach tighten at that. Such a sure sign of Karak’s forgiveness was hard to dispute, crushing her hopes for a chance to take his life. It was because of him Claire had died, a direct result of his lapse in faith. Karak might welcome the return of the faithful, but Valessa was not her deity. She wanted blood. Darius himself looked tired, still drained and lifeless as he had been when she first saw him at Velixar’s side.
Champion of Karak, she thought. Such a joke.
“The fool,” Velixar said, suddenly opening his eyes. “They are in the Gulch, many miles away.”
“We’ll not make it in time,” Valessa said. “We’ll have to trust Sebastian’s men to achieve victory.”
Velixar looked at her as if she were a child.
“The shadows are my doorways,” he said. “We will arrive, though not as fast as if at night. Come with me, all of you.”
Velixar hurried them toward the closest copse of trees near the edge of the valley. On their way, they saw smoke rise to the west, first thin, then shockingly heavy.
“Have they set the entire gulch aflame?” Valessa wondered, but none had an answer for her.