Chapter 11

Whatever the mercenaries moving from the scrub expected, it wasn’t the Rachtelinian rearguard response, as suddenly a hail of arrows fell upon them. This caused them to halt and fall back in panic as they discovered there was no surprise to be had from the Rachtelinians. This was, however, a feint as three other men slipped from the scrub away from the main thrust and hurried to the Rachtelinian lines, only for two of them to go down with arrows in their backs. This caused the third to turn and charge at where the arrows had come from.

“I’ll deal with this,” Darras said to Traskis. “You pick off any stragglers”

“Of course, the last thing I’d want is a vengeful god going after me,” Traskis chuckled.

Traskis slipped away as the wrathful champion of Colanthus burst into the small clearing where Darras awaited him. Darras drew his sword and stepped forward to meet the man, studying his build and how he held his sword, looking for clues about his fighting technique.

“The spawn of Erren, I might have known,” the man growled, his eyes glowing an eerie red.

“Who else?” Darras smiled.

“This is where you die, this vessel has far superior skills to you.”

“You haven’t seen all my skills,” Darras replied. “Nor are your own that great.”

“Pathetic boasting,” the man yelled, launching a blindingly fast assault on Darras.

“Yes, you were,” Darras laughed, fending off the blows with seeming ease, though he did realise the man was far more skilled than previous champions of Colanthus he’d faced, including the god himself.

Darras also realised that the man was using a modified bastard sword that had been shortened slightly to aid its use for one-handed combat, but was still heavy enough to drive Darras’s sword away to the side when they impacted. Though troublesome on occasion, Darras was not overly worried as the momentum his opponent’s sword had also exposed him for a second. However, Darras had not yet taken advantage of that moment.

The two men fought furiously, but despite the aid Colanthus was giving his champion, it was apparent the man was tiring with his heavier armour and sword. Darras took advantage of this, landing several blows upon him, though not as yet debilitating. The moment Darras had been expecting came when Colanthus took complete control of his champion. The man’s speed increased and the blows became heavier, though again, not to the level of the muscular form of Erren that Darras had faced in the past. The end came suddenly, when Colanthus took a maddened swing at Darras, only for Darras to lightly dodge and thrust his mithril blade into the wide-open champion, killing him on the spot.

“Curse you!” the still standing spirit of Colanthus railed at Darras ... or possibly Erren.

“I told you before,” Darras replied with a grim smile. “You just aren’t that good.”

There was a moment when Colanthus almost became substantial, before he suddenly flickered away. Darras turned to see the spirit form of Serulon fading away for an instant, giving her a polite nod.

‘Well done, my love, ’ Erren congratulated her man.

“I don’t think Colanthus realises you train me constantly and few mortals are ready for that,” Darras smiled.

‘True, but you need to get back to the task at hand, keeping an eye on the battle.’

“Is it going well?”

‘Yes, but there’s the potential for a massacre growing as Tobil is foolishly leading the third battle straight into the Rachtelinian lines, ’ Erren replied. ‘They’re yelling no quarter, and it won’t go well for them as Jertin and his second are sorting out the disruption the mercenaries caused to their rear.’

“No one to call for restraint in the counter?”

‘Yes.’

“I’ll get Jertin back to where he belongs,” Darras replied, as Traskis joined him.

“All who are left are routing,” Traskis confirmed.

“Good, now, let’s get to Jertin as he’s going to be needed soon,” Darras replied.

The pair set off at a jog, being observed but not interfered with by the Rachtelinian troops. They soon found Jertin and his second, sorting out his archers and getting them to deal with their few captives.

“You’ll be needed at your post to prevent a massacre, my friend,” Darras said as he approached.

“A massacre?” a puzzled Jertin replied.

“Tobil’s leading a death or glory charge and won’t stop. You need to get your men to show restraint.”

“Damn the man,” Jertin snarled, moving swiftly back to his command post as Darras and Traskis followed.

The party reached the command post just as Tobil and his men, riding blindfolded horses, slammed into the pike wall, their momentum causing a breach. This enabled the knights to dismount and prepare to take advantage of it even as the Rachtelinian lancers approached their rear. A cohort of swordsmen from the Rachtelinian reserve met the Fordelian knights, bringing their advance to a halt. Darras soon spotted the issue, in the noise and clamour, no one could hear any commands to surrender or dared lay down arms, so, along with Jertin and Traskis, he raced to the fighting and bellowed out “A ransom! A ransom!”

This was heard by the surviving Fordelians who started chanting the same cry in desperate tones, finally getting through to the battle-maddened Rachtelinians who suddenly saw riches coming their way, not men with swords.

“A brilliant move, Darras,” Jertin said as the Fordelians were disarmed.

“The Fordelians will be the younger sons of rich families,” Darras replied, following mental instructions from Erren. “More riches will flow Rachtelin’s way as they’ll also parole themselves.”

“Aye true and we’ve destroyed their army,” Jertin nodded. “Both the first and the second battle were bloodied and left in no condition to reform and counter-charge.”

“We’ve found their commander,” a lieutenant said as he approached. “He’s badly wounded, though he may survive.”

“Get the healers and priests forward,” Jertin ordered. “The more we save, the more we make.”

“Aye, sir!”

“Quite the incentive,” Traskis chuckled.

“One of only a few battle-maddened troops will respond to,” Darras replied.

“I’ll remember that for the future,” Jertin chuckled. “That and not assuming my opponent will respond rationally.”

“Erren’s pleased with you so far and is glad you are learning still,” Darras smiled.

“No more champions of Colanthus?”

“No, I suspect he will think again about selecting one for Fordel,” Darras replied. “He almost had Lady Serulon involved with his actions at the end, so will likely retreat ... for a while.”

“The judge?”

“Aye, the gods follow rules too, or there are consequences,” Darras replied. “The judgment of Serulon being but the first of them.”

“I am grateful the gods don’t take a hand physically,” Jertin nodded.

“You should, considering some of the powers Erren says they can throw around,” Darras chuckled.

“All of them?”

“Some have greater power than others, some are tied to the number of worshippers they have, and others like Erren, Serulon and the Dark Lord tap directly into the power of the Allfather,” Darras explained.

“And Doriel?” Jertin asked.

“Friend and ally of Erren and a lot more ‘hands on’ than other gods, though still follows the rules.”

“Glad she’s on our side, so to speak, it makes this ... chastisement a lot easier,” Jertin chuckled.

“Erren reports the people of the woods have seized Fancina and driven the Darmelans out,” Darras informed Jertin.

“Will they need our assistance?” Jertin asked.

“No, it’s close enough to the woods for defence or retreat,” Darras replied.

“I somehow doubt they’ll need to retreat,” Jertin chuckled.

“As do I,” Darras nodded. “I rather suspect Fordel has bigger problems now.”

A day later, a herald arrived from the Fordelian government asking to discuss terms. A list of these and the ransom demands was handed over as the Rachtelinians sent various levies east to cut off the Fordelian sea trade routes.

“They cannot be serious!” Zanthrul, the high priest of Darmela, roared when the terms were presented to the council of the Netas.

“I believe they are deadly serious,” Fermanilk the Netas replied. “And I believe you know why this is, Zanthrul!”

“Pah, a minor mistake in the past is not grounds for bankrupting the temple,” Zanthrul snorted.

“A mistake you have yet to apologise for,” Fermanilk countered. “Nor would the burden fall upon the temple alone.”

“Surely we can buy them off more cheaply?” a sullen Shurmun, the senior advisor, asked.

“We robbed them blind for years, we house their government in exile and several national treasures, we also murdered the priests of their religion,” Fermanilk replied. “Do you really think getting rid of them will be cheap?”

“Can we raise the sum from the common folk by higher tithes?” Zanthrul asked.

“Where are they going to get that from? You’ve squeezed them dry for years,” Fermanilk replied in exasperation. “The only people with gold are the merchants, the temple and the crown protectees.”

“Their love for Darmela will see them find a way,” Zanthril huffed self-righteously.

“They don’t love Darmela, you fool!” Fermanilk exploded. “Her temple robs them blind!”

“Most of them only turn up at her temple to avoid being openly called out by your priesthood and fined,” Shurmun added. “All the true capital of Fordel is in the nobility, mercantile class and the temple, not its people.”

“It admittedly works out well for us,” Fermanilk added. “Or did, until the Rachtelinians came demanding restitution.”

“I find your lack of faith in the goddess disturbing,” Zanthrul hissed.

“Your hypocrisy is a bigger problem,” Shurmun hit back. “I’ll ask what it will take for the Rachtelinians to go home, but I warn you now, it will not come cheap, and our common folk will not have enough to pay it.”

“Make sure they know they can have their national treasures back as part of the price ... and their former council,” Fermanilk added.

“Assuming they want them,” Shurmun grimaced.

“True.”

“Best be prepared to dig deep, Zanthrul,” Shurmun added, looking at the high priest. “They see your temple as the problem, and you’ll need to be prepared to rescind the ban on worshipping Erren.”

“The people will not stand for it!” Zanthrul raged.

“Won’t they?” Fermanilk chuckled. “Where have you been living?”

“Do not blaspheme!” Zanthrul screeched.

“I suggest you go to your temple and implore Darmela to help,” Fermanilk retorted. “Perhaps she’ll intercede for us.”

“After we killed the Errenite priests?” Shurmun asked.

“Never said it would come cheap,” Fermanilk shrugged. “Both the mercantile class and the priesthood are not in favour with the Rachtelinians.”

“You would drag the merchants into this?” Shurmun’s eyes narrowed.