'It is enough that it ends now,' Doranei said, as he and the king began to walk back towards the stair where Coran was waiting.
As he passed Rojak's chair, Doranei let the burning length of timber fall into the minstrel's lap. The flame gave a crackle as it caught on the stained material.
'Send our regards to the shadow,' he called over his shoulder, cer¬tain that Azaer was watching them only too closely. 'When the time comes we will be there to end that too.'
CHAPTER 32
Isak gave his head a violent shake, almost dislodging his helm in the process, but failing to remove the sweat dripping into his eye. He blinked again, and hissed in irritation, which did even less.
'My Lord,' called Vesna as he barged his way past a pair of Devoted lancers, 'we can't hold out much longer. We don't have the numbers.'
The mob stood some fifty yards away, and whilst they were hardly human any more, showing no sign of noticing the defending soldiers using their last few arrows, some basic instincts remained and they had retreated momentarily from the slaughter. The central phalanx of heavy infantry faced them, ready to return to the killing at a moment's notice, while the remainder were heaping the enemy corpses high, retrieving what arrows and javelins they could and expanding the barricades protecting them.
Still, Isak knew that Vesna was right. There were simply too many of them, and they wouldn't give up, no matter how many died in the process. The weight of armour and weapons was wearing his men down, and they weren't able to kill the mob fast enough to make enough of a difference.
Isak watched an impatient Sir Kelet wrenching arrows out the hands of every man he could reach, not trusting anyone but himself to make every shot count. The white-eye turned to the loitering mob and saw the arrow slam neatly into the chest of a tall bearded man. At that range the knight had his pick of targets and Isak realised he was killing the loudest and most animated; anything to give them a few moments' rest, no matter that it would never be enough. Anything to slow the frenzied return.
'Pull back to the temples?' Isak suggested quietly. 'We'll only have Tori's cavalry to cover our backs.'
The Temple Plaza was quiet enough that he could hear the zip of Sir Kelet's arrows cutting the air, and the sounds of fighting in other areas, but it was strangely quiet. There were no cries of pain or pleas for help. When a soldier was pulled out of the line or hamstrung by a rusty knife and brought to the ground, he was set upon by the mob like rabid jackals. They didn't stop, even when any sane person could see their victim was dead. Those few soldiers who had been dragged back away from the line and managed to struggle free had still found themselves surrounded, and though they'd killed several of their at¬tackers, they'd all been brought down in the end.
'Could you manage a diversion?' Vesna was as out of breath as the men he now commanded. His helm was scored and battered from rocks and the wild blows that had evaded his shield.
'I'm going to have to, aren't 1? There's no sign of General Lahk and we're not going to last much longer. I can't think of anything that'll do us much good right now, and our friend isn't saying any¬thing.'
Vesna looked confused for a moment before he remembered Aryn Bwr. 'Is there no way you can tell if the other troops are coming? I can't believe the general hasn't ordered a pursuit. That they're not here means they must have met opposition on the way.'
Isak nodded. 'I've tried to reach them, but I can't sense anyone. I don't have the skill to scry for them, but I think I would be able to find Ehla or Fernal if they were anywhere close. There's just this huge black cloud covering the entire city.'
'They must be on their way,' Vesna said confidently, 'so we need to buy ourselves time. If we pull back to the Temple of Death we'll need a few units in place there first. The only thing that's keeping us alive here is a strong line, and we won't have time to reform that before they catch us up.'
'So we need that distraction.' Isak looked over to what he could see of the other pockets of defence. The ring of shrines and rough barricades had held better than they could have expected, but the numbers at each picket were thinning fast.
'You,' he shouted to the nearest of a squad of Farlan cavalry who were positioned ready to ride down any unexpected intruders, 'go to Suzerain Tori and tell the other troops we're pulling back to the temples. He's to cover their retreat and then join us.' Isak saw that the torches set as markers down the line to illuminate the weaker points were burning low. The last thing they needed was a breach to go unseen.
He turned back to the count. 'You're right, Vesna, we can't delay. Take as many as we can spare from here and get ready at the temple for when I come running with the rest.'
Vesna raised a hand to cut Isak off and slammed down the visor on his helm. 'Not yet, they're coming again.'
Isak turned, sword already rising as the soldiers began to shout to each other and the clatter of steel rang out. Those men still shifting bodies dropped them and scrambled back. Isak's eyes ran along the main rank; a slanted line of thirty men pressed tight against each other with spears held above their shoulders, with two more ranks behind them, ready to brace and drive. Tight knots of soldiers with spears and axes flanked them, ready to chop at the edges of the charging mob. They didn't have the numbers to hold line all the way across the gap, but this was the widest break in the ring of shrines.
This time the onrushing mob was tighter, and came on at a slower pace, not getting in each other's way so much. Vesna saw the change and barked an order, relayed by sergeants at the tops of their voices. Immediately the rear ranks of the phalanx stepped forward and turned their shoulders into the back of the man in front, ready to take the impact. From his higher elevation Isak saw the leading attacker brandishing a cleaver above his head. He opened his mouth, ready to shout, when an arrow caught him in the throat and spun him around into the man beside him. They both crashed down and were trampled by their fellows, but it didn't slow the rest. Isak guessed they still num¬bered well over a thousand, even with the many hundreds his men had cut down, and now he saw determination in their eyes instead of the previous wild and all-consuming fury. There was a new focus that chilled him.
A bright light flared in the middle of the crowd. Isak looked over towards Mariq, still perched up on his pillar, and saw the mage with one arm outstretched, his face a picture of concentration. On the ground someone burst into flames, and all those nearby fell away, their hands held up to protect their eyes from the sudden heat.
Isak listened to the mage's laughter echoing over the plaza as he dropped to one knee and placed his hand flat on the stony ground. He knew fire wasn't what they needed here; there were too many attack¬ers to kill each one individually, but he was wearing himself out.
Closing his eyes, Isak took a long slow breath to clear his mind of the sounds of battle. He felt as much as heard the impact of the mob crashing into the phalanx, followed by a collective groan, drowned out by the sounds of sergeants roaring at their men. The ground seemed to react to his touch, a faint tremble rising up from deep below him. A familiar thrill raced through Isak as his senses were absorbed by the immensity of the Land, dulling the aches and cares of his mortal body. For a brief instant he felt his limbs made of rock and earth until his senses reasserted themselves.
He withdrew with a smile on his lips, a faint memory of that greater mass lurking at the back of his mind, reminding him of the battle in Narkang. He'd killed a mage there by doing just that, tearing open a grave under the woman's feet. It took little skill, nothing that needed formal schooling, only an instinctive understanding of the flows of energy running through the Land. What they needed was an obstacle to protect themselves against pursuit – and where a wall would serve, so would a ditch.