Chapter 24

Clack! Clack! Clack!

The sound boomed across the battlefield as Virden’s army pounded their weapons against their shields. The men-at-arms and rabble shouted out jeers as they began to slowly march forward.

“Steady!” Griffin called out.

Loosing their arrows at this juncture would have been futile.

Thomas retreated into his own thoughts for a moment. He implored the Knowledge Stone for guidance as to what he should do. He received something unexpected: he was calmed. It was as if the stone was urging patience, telling him that everything would be fine.

He nudged Fury to the water’s edge and turned to his men.

Off in the distance, Thomas heard the sound of hooves. He closed his eyes and reached out with his magic. Two more contingents of Virdenese heavy cavalry were on their way to hem them in on both sides. The Royal Rangers must have really pissed off King Doyle to have him commit so many of his troops to kill only twenty men and a direwolf.

When he heard Frost snarl a warning, Thomas opened his eyes and surprised his men with a genuine smile.

“We might die here today, but that’s all right because I plan to take as many of them with me as I can. I’ve always thought that the best heroes were the ones that died. They were the ones who gave their lives to protect what they cherished. Some, if not all of us, will make that sacrifice today,” Thomas said and then paused to let them absorb the reality of their situation.

A pinched expression settled on his face as he looked at each man and mentally said goodbye. Then his smile returned.

“I want you to know that I couldn’t be prouder of all of you.”

“Thomas,” Griffin said, trying to get his attention.

He could hear the worry in Griffin’s voice but ignored him.

“It all started for each of us when we left home to join the guard. Everything we’ve trained for has brought us to this day.”

“Thomas!”

The heavy cavalry appeared and began their charge.

“Stay calm. Let your training take over. Make every arrow count. And make them pay!” he shouted.

Thomas turned to see the Virdenese cavalry falter. The meadow’s soil had softened. This was a natural flood area and the reason Jacob had picked it. The ground began to give way under the weight of the destriers and their fully armored riders. One, then another, stumbled and went down as their hooves sank into the mud.

The gods must have been smiling down on them because the cavalry was soon slowly wading forward. There were sucking sounds as hooves struggled to pull free to take another step. They were as good as mired in quicksand when the cavalry slowed to a walk.

Griffin looked over at Thomas as if to ask whether he had known this would happen.

“Loose!”

The foot soldiers saw their cavalry begin to be decimated. The all-but-stationary targets were easy for the Rangers to find. Thomas caught one of their men-at-arms raising his hand to give the order to charge. Thomas didn’t hesitate to try the impossibly long shot. His smile grew wider when the arrow plunged into the man’s throat before he could give the order.

Someone else gave it, and a deafening roar went up as five hundred men on foot began their charge. Being lighter than the cavalry, the meadow’s ground held.

“Thomas!” Griffin shouted.

“Hold your ground and keep shooting!”

Thirty yards out, the Virdenese foot soldiers discovered the caltrops left there by Jacob’s men. Rabble and men-at-arms began to go down, but the rest pressed forward in the heat of battle. After another ten yards, they began to slow as they figured out what was happening. Another five, and they stopped. It was like shooting fish in a barrel as barrage after barrage of arrows were fired at close range.

“Keep shooting until you no longer have arrows!” Thomas growled.

Then his magic warned him. There was danger in front of him. When he looked, Thomas spotted the archers. But that wasn’t all. There was danger behind as well. King Doyle had sent a force that must have traveled during the night. It would encircle them completely. They were on the other side of the hill, threatening Jacob’s forces and cutting off his men’s escape route.

“Retreat!” Thomas yelled.

Alek didn’t hesitate as he turned his horse and galloped for the game trail Jacob had found. It ran along the edge of the cut to the grasslands to the north.

Frost began to howl to warn everyone. Thomas saw that the Virdenese archers had gotten in place and were about to unleash a hail of arrows.

“Faster!”

He watched in horror as the sky darkened from arrows arcing over the battlefield. Four of his Rangers died a moment later, including his good friend Jason.

He was the last into the forest. He heard the second wave of arrows crash through the trees with resounding thunks as they hit branches or trunks. By some miracle, the rest of his Rangers escaped.

“Hold them at the top of the hill,” Thomas ordered.

There was a small clearing that afforded them a view of what they’d accomplished. The devastation was far greater than they could ever have hoped for. Scattered across the meadow were dead and wounded Virdenese. You could hear the cries from the ones who needed tending. Along with the men, several horses looked to have broken legs and would have to be put down.

Thomas took it all in and then put it out of his mind. They still had to deal with the force marching to cut them off.

“When we go down the other side, Virdenese foot soldiers will be waiting for us. Go as quickly as you can and rearm yourselves,” Thomas began and then went still.

He looked down at Frost.

“Maeve may be in danger. Go protect her.”

Frost didn’t hesitate. Her long stride soon had her out of sight.

“Someday, you are going to have to tell us how you do that,” Alek quipped.

Thomas ignored him.

“Once we enter the grasslands, your only job is to get more arrows. Wait for no one. Griffin, lead us out,” Thomas ordered.

The remaining Rangers wore grim looks, but they knew that they were all but useless without arrows. None of them were any good with their swords.

When they rode out of the woods, Thomas saw a mass of armed rabble led by a man on horseback. Thomas grabbed his last arrow and let it fly. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a bodkin, and it bounced off the man’s armor.

His men began their trek up the road to the supply wagon. Thomas looked to where the battle between Jacob and the Virdenese cavalry had taken place and saw the carnage. Jacob saw the foot soldiers approaching and was off his horse, working to save injured men. He was helping them remount so they could quickly leave the field of battle. His men had won, but at a terrible cost.

Thomas felt some relief when he saw that his Rangers would make good their escape. The feeling was short-lived when his head exploded in pain. He lost his balance and crashed to the ground. Thomas was completely disoriented and couldn’t seem to catch his breath as he heard a roar of triumph come from the charging Virdenese. All he could think was that one of the armed rabble had used a sling to unhorse him.

He tentatively opened his eyes and found Fury straddling his body.

Thomas’s vision began to darken around the edges as he started to lose consciousness. His magic flared as it began to draw from the earth to heal his head.

As the first Virdenese got close, Fury kicked the man square in the chest, lifting his limp body off the ground and flinging it into several of his comrades, knocking them off their feet. Thomas’s warhorse stood his ground as he bit and kicked at the Virdenese men to protect Thomas.

Thomas’s head injury must have been more severe than he initially estimated because he couldn’t get up. He lay there in anguish as the inevitable started to happen: the Virdenese foot soldiers began to score hits on Fury. Thomas felt each strike as it cut deeply into his horse’s flanks. In the end, Fury stood stiff-legged, refusing to go down but unable to fight back when the killing thrust came.

Tears streamed from Thomas’s eyes as he felt the life go out of his trusted mount. Fury collapsed at his side as he died.

Still unable to move, Thomas felt an unbridled rage in the pit of his stomach. His despair at being unable to defend his horse took hold. But it was more than that. He was going to die in the next moment, and his thoughts turned to Catherine.

Their attraction had been undeniable, even from the first. Somehow, Thomas knew that Catherine carried his unborn son. His heart almost broke at the thought of never meeting him, of leaving Catherine to raise him on her own.

Then his resolve returned. He would live.

Thomas looked up and saw a Virdenese man-at-arms above him with a sword. Before he could give the killing thrust, a horse knocked him away. Thomas was startled when a body landed on him. It was Alek. He’d thrown himself over Thomas to protect him.

The Virdenese swarmed forward and began to pummel and stab Alek to try to get to Thomas.

Something inside Thomas broke, allowing magic to flow into his body unregulated. Thomas screamed in pain as it healed him and overwhelmed him at the same time. Then the pain was gone, and a desire to kill every Virdenese within reach came to the forefront.

Alek’s body was unceremoniously pulled aside, and Thomas saw a Virdenese man-at-arms point his sword at Thomas’s neck to deliver the killing blow. Thomas reached over his head and grasped the hilt of Dragon. The blade was hungry. It moved almost too fast for the eye to follow. The tip of his sword plunged into his would-be executioner’s throat.

Thomas was on his feet and acting without thought. He brought Dragon around in a whistling arc, the weapon hot and alive in his hand. The razor-sharp Valyrian steel sliced through flesh and bone as the men closest to him began to fall like he was scything wheat at harvest.

With room to move, Thomas drew Striker for his off-hand. Something long-dormant awakened within the two blades. Thomas slashed with his sword to engage the closest man-at-arms’ sword, the steel flashing with golds and reds. It was like looking at the reflection of a fire. The man-at-arms’ blade was hacked off, causing him to look down in surprise. The life drained from his eyes as Dragon cleft through his helm and deep into his skull, as if it were a rotten melon.

The gold and red hues in the metal of both blades brightened. Thomas felt them come fully alive in his hands. Something old and powerful connected with him, something that matched his rage and fury. Something that wanted to drink the blood of every soul on the battlefield.

Thomas was entirely one with his magic. He danced with a grace, speed, and power that every sword fighter dreamed of. As he moved, Thomas sensed everything around him and anticipated each and every attack. Each time one of his blades snuffed out a life, it would glow brighter.

Thomas blocked, sidestepped, and killed the man in front of him with a single quick thrust. The next wave came at him in a confused rush. Thomas backpedaled to give himself room to work, snapping Dragon back and forth as he parried and blocked. He would then make a quick lunge, and another soul would be harvested.