The One Rider (Ashandor Chronicles) Page 16

  The Morts continued their advance. Arrows flew thick through the morning sky. Each one found its mark, but for every Mort that fell another leaped across his fallen comrade and charged ever closer. The rebel forces rode through the ranks of archers at the last instant and slammed into the Mort army. The elves shouldered their bows and raced forward, swords gleaming in the morning sun.

  “Form up behind me,” Galdor called as he led the men into battle. He rode hard and slashed first on one side and then the other. His cavalry sword severed arms that threatened to pull him down. Repeated cuts dropped the enemy on all sides as he charged deeper into the throng of Morts.

  “I see you saved some for me,” Cortain shouted as he hacked his way forward to join Galdor at the front of the battle.

  “There seems to be enough for everyone,” replied Galdor. He gripped the reins and tightened his knees as his horse stepped to the side to avoid a rather large Mort that barred the way. Galdor’s sword made quick work of his adversary, removing head from shoulders. The two friends carved a path through the horde of monsters that swarmed around them, and the other men rallied behind their gallant leaders. The horses took their own toll, trampling fallen Mort soldiers and striking down others under their flashing hooves. Spittle flew from the horses’ mouths as they charged and pranced their way deeper into the Mort army. Their breath came hard from the labor of battle.

  Valaron raced to Draegon and flew west into the mountains along the edge of the battlefield. They flew across the tree tops until they were directly alongside the center of the Mort army. Draegon swooped out of the trees and darted across the middle of the enemy ranks. The Morts scattered as the black dragon’s shadow fell over the field. Valaron cut a path of destruction as Draegon sped just above the heads of their enemy.

  Draegon muscled his way high above the battlefield, and the dragon Battle Song filled the air. All fighting ceased as dragon and rider sang the melody of war from ages past. The Battle Song carried over the plain, and every eye was fixed on the massive form of the dragon. Draegon circled the field as he harmonized with Valaron, countermelody moving around the tune by a precision that defied description. The two voices echoed over the battlefield. Enemies stood side-by-side, transfixed by the awesome horror of the winged threat.

  Draegon dove to the far side of the field and flew across once again as the fighting resumed. The dragon dodged arrows while Valaron hacked his way through the center of the Mort army. Draegon snatched Morts from the field and ripped them with his talons. He crushed others in his massive jaws as he fought his way across the sea of monsters, tossing Morts high into the air to fall dead on the field. Valaron cut and sliced the enemy from his saddle. A line of destruction slowly opened up across the center of the Mort army. The two warriors flew low over the battlefield, and an ever-widening gap separated the enemy forces into two groups.

  “Now to unleash our serpents,” Valaron said as they turned north at the edge of the forest. They flew low over the trees. Valaron spotted Klan’d’ron’s army gathered at the edge of the tree-line near the city and signaled them to attack. The elves raced out of the forest where they had remained hidden overnight. They attacked the Morts from the rear. Klan’d’ron’s archers fired deep into the ranks of Mort soldiers that spread across the plain. The ancient King led his elves into battle, his long silver hair blowing behind him as he ran.

  The rear flank of the Mort army turned to face this new threat, and the elven archers dropped hundreds of the brutes before charging into the enemy ranks with swords drawn. Klan’d’ron and his army slammed into the rear flank of the Morts and pushed them toward the center of the field. The elves killed with grim determination, and the Morts struggled to keep from being overwhelmed.

  Galdor and Cortain continued to make progress as they led their company of mounted troops deep into the center of the enemy. They hacked and stabbed as their horses’ hooves cut down the enemy. The foot-soldiers followed close behind to drive a wedge deep into the enemy’s position.

  “Push harder,” shouted Galdor. “Open up their ranks,” he yelled as he hacked at the enemy that pressed around him. The Mort army was being divided into three parts as Galdor’s charge separated the front half of the enemy. Valaron and Draegon were widening the path that split the army in half from side-to-side, and Klan’d’ron led his elves from the rear in a bloody fight against those Morts close to the palace.

  Rebel soldiers continued to race into the path that Galdor and his men had opened. The villagers forced a split in the front half of the Mort army, The Brotherhood closed behind. They took out stragglers and those separated from the main groups. Franklin was in the lead as they charged in from the rear. By the time the sun was climbing overhead, the rebels had cut their way deep into the Mort army.

  “It’s the smell,” said Cler’d’roh as she fought near the front of the battle line. She wielded her sword with deadly efficiency. “Don’t you smell it?”

  “No,” answered Pen’d’roh as he fought close by her side.

  “The stench is overwhelming,” Cler’d’roh complained as she killed with a broad sweep of her sword. “I can’t believe that you don’t smell it.” She turned to face the charge of an overly large attacker. “Don’t these creatures ever bathe?” Ducking, she slipped behind and ran him through before he could turn. She pulled out her sword and flipped it over. A backward thrust stopped the monster that charged from her rear.

  “I still don’t smell it,” replied Pen’d’roh. He surveyed the ring of Morts that had him surrounded. The circle slowly rotated as Pen’d’roh turned, his sword outstretched in his hand. “Make your peace,” he growled. Morts fell one after the other to the lightening speed of his flashing blade. “Follow the horses,” he called to Cler’d’roh. “Help them push deeper. We must split the front ranks to weaken their position.” The two elves fed on the hatred that they felt from the Morts. They channeled their growing anger into the rage of battle. They moved quickly forward slashing with blinding speed and dropping their enemy on every side.

  “Stay in close,” shouted Franklin. He led The Brotherhood against Morts trying to circle around and trap the rebels from behind. “Keep the rear open. We must not allow them to close off our retreat.” The Brotherhood was tucked in close behind and took their own slow but deliberate toll. Franklin and his men fought hard to keep the rear from closing in behind them. Their short daggers flashed in the sunlight. The Brotherhood’s infighting techniques were surprisingly effective. They stepped close inside the Mort’s defenses, slashing throats and stabbing deep into vital organs.

  #

  Praelix watched the battle from high on the city wall. He was accompanied by five of his personal guard. The Morts were anxious to join the fight, but they kept their place guarding the King. Praelix watched Klan’d’ron and his elves butcher the rear of his troops. The King clenched his fists in rage as Valaron and the black dragon opened up the gap that separated the two halves of the Mort army. Praelix signaled one of his guards who waved a black and red standard. The flag rumbled and snapped in the stiff wind.

  #

  A shout rose over the battlefield when Kragh and his garrison suddenly bolted out of the forest in answer to the King’s signal. They raced toward the rear of the rebels, and Galdor quickly realized that they were in danger of being surrounded.

  “There!” he shouted to Franklin, pointing at the approaching Morts. “Stop them or they’ll cut off our rear.”

  Franklin turned to look and was cut down from behind. He fell to the ground and rolled over. Quintas stood over him holding his dagger covered in Franklin’s blood. “Now!” Quintas yelled. The Brotherhood turned their weapons on the rebels just as Kragh and his garrison closed off any hope of retreat.

  The Brotherhood’s treachery allowed Kragh to cut off the rebels only avenue of escape. They were trapped in a circle of Morts. The enemy pressed hard against the villagers as the traitorous Brotherhood joined Kragh and his garrison. Praelix smiled as he wat
ched from the top of the city wall.

  Valaron looked on helplessly as the traitors turned on the rebels. Draegon roared and swung around wildly in the air, his wings beating hard to cover the distance. Klan’d’ron’s elves were busy fighting at the rear. There was no way they could reach the trapped rebels in time to help.

  “Form a circle!” shouted Cortain as he and Galdor whirled their mounts to race back to the rear guard. “Form a circle and push to the rear,” he screamed. The two experienced cavalrymen cut into the Brotherhood and hacked their way into the press of Morts. Swords flashed in the sunlight. Blood flew from their blades. The enemy pushed harder in an attempt to push the rebels inward.

  Draegon swooped low with Valaron hanging from his saddle, his deadly scimitar hacking at the enemy. The dragon took his own toll using jaws and talons. “There,” shouted Valaron, pointing. Draegon reached out with single-minded determination and snatched Quintas in his jaws, crushing him as they flew across the battlefield. The traitor was carried over the mass of warriors as the dragon climbed higher and higher. Draegon released his hold from several hundred feet and Quintas’ lifeless form landed in a sickening thud among the throng of Morts.

  Valaron severed Mort and traitor alike with his scimitar. He cut over and over through their ranks, but the rebels slowly fell to the weapons of their enemies. Dragon and rider made repeated passes over the battlefield, but it soon became apparent that the enemies numbers where overwhelming the trapped rebels. The rear half of the Mort army rallied at the thoughts of victory. They pushed Klan’d’ron and his elves back toward the forest.

  “It is too late,” Valaron said as they turned for yet another approach, “There are too many of them.” Valaron and Draegon flew past once again and left a path of dead Morts behind, but more of the enemy simply moved in to replace their fallen comrades. Valaron watched the Morts and the Brotherhood traitors fight side by side, slowly cutting away at the rebel force. Valaron realized that all was lost despite repeated attempts to make an opening for the rebels escape. He watched in horror as his friends shrank under the attack. Humans and elves fell together under the press of enemy soldiers and the daggers of the Brotherhood traitors.

  CHAPTER 32

  "Senduhah,

  Senduhah.

  Clakdinoh

  de la Varnoom.

  Clarduney,

  Clarduney.

  Shlod vrah

  de la Parnoom."

  "Hear it now.

  Hear it now.

  Battle forges

  friends of foes.

  Be it so.

  Be it so.

  The bonds of war

  defeat all woes."

  -Elven Poem

  "Bonds of War"

  translated by

  Cloath the storyteller

  Draegon suddenly turned and flew high over the battlefield. He threw back his head, let out a terrible roar, and veered sharply away to the northwest. “What are you doing?” shouted Valaron. “They need our help.” Draegon ignored him and folded his wings. They plummeted toward the forest at blinding speed. The sharp maneuvers tossed Valaron’s stomach, and his fear of heights resurfaced. He tried to fight off the panic by closing his eyes. A tendril of thought touched his mind as Draegon shared his calm with the young rider. Valaron sensed a growing excitement from the dragon. His fears vanished as quickly as they had appeared. He looked down and saw a mass of bodies moving quickly through the trees like ants swarming out of their nest. The entire mountainside was rolling and moving as though it was alive.

  Draegon opened his wings at the last moment and dove low through the tree tops. Valaron’s breath hung in his throat. Limbs struck his legs, and leaves shot past his face. Looking down he saw the reason for Draegon’s excitement. Out of the mountain and onto the battlefield ran tens of thousands of dwarves, their short bodies moved quicker than Valaron would have ever imagined.

  The stout warriors wore chain-mail coats that hung down to their knees, and many of them were armed with double-edged battle axes. Others carried large hammers with handles that ended in short, curved, full-bellied blades. All of the dwarves wore long beards that were plaited and braided, and their long hair streamed behind them as they rushed forward. They chanted in unison as they flooded onto the plains. “Kanon’d’har! Kanon’d’har!” they shouted, using Valaron’s elven name as their battle cry. The dwarves voices grew stronger and louder when they caught sight of Valaron and Draegon skimming through the treetops.

  The dragon answered their shouts with a deafening roar, and he shot up over the edge of the charging dwarves. Draegon’s wings beat at the air as he climbed straight up into the sky, and Valaron gripped the saddle with both hands. The duo flew higher and higher. At the top of his climb, the mighty dragon arced onto his back, and for an instant dragon and rider hung upside down, motionless against the blue sky. Valaron forgot his fears and threw his hands over his head as he dangled from the thigh straps. He was lost in the moment. Dragon and rider shared a single thought. “Victory!”

  Draegon folded his wings and plummeted back toward the battlefield, rolling over as he fell. Valaron held on tightly to the dragon’s neck. His head spun as he fought to recover his senses. The Dragon Battle Song filled the air once again, and the Morts cringed at the horrible melody mixed among the thunderous battle cries of the dwarves.

  “Kanon’d’har! Kanon’d’har!” the dwarves shouted, slapping their weapons against chain-mail coats. Leading the charge was a group of men on horseback, scimitars flashing over their heads.

  “To me!” shouted Skarson as he led the Lone Riders into battle alongside the dwarves. The scimitars made short work of the enemy, and the Lone Riders rode deep into the faltering ranks. Morts fell quickly to the dwarves battle axes and mighty, two-handed hammers. The diminutive warriors waded through the enemy ranks with devastating results.

  Valaron surveyed the battlefield from the sky. He watched the dwarves rush over the plain like water spilling onto the ground. When the Morts turned to face their new attackers the rebels cut into them from behind. Mort captains shouted commands to try and regain order on the battlefield, but confusion took over their ranks.

  “Now to finish what we started,” said Cortain. He and Galdor spurred their horses forward. The rebels pushed the remaining Morts into the approaching dwarves who cut them down easily.

  Dwarves continued to file out of the mountain, and their overwhelming force made fast work of the remaining enemy. The war was soon decided. Many Morts fled into the mountains only to die among the trees at the hands of the relentless dwarves. Others stood their ground and were methodically killed. The combined rebel forces made their way across the battlefield. Men, elves and dwarves fought side-by-side, and the Morts succumbed to the onslaught.

  #

  Kragh fought his way through the chaos and rallied as many captains as he could find. They made their way toward the forest where they raced north through the trees.

  “Follow me!” he shouted. They sprinted past the palace and finally ran clear of the dwarves. Kragh and his comrades moved through the trees and turned east into a grove that sat some distance behind the palace wall. They secreted themselves by the mouth of a cave that was hidden deep in the forest.

  #

  Praelix and his guards bolted from the city wall as Valaron and Draegon flew in from the battlefield. The King sprinted for his palace, and the guards followed close behind as the dragon’s shadow fell over the courtyard. Draegon folded his wings. The air whistled past Valaron’s ears as they fell from the sky. The mighty dragon barely slowed his descent and landed hard, killing one of the Morts under his foot, snatching another in his jaws. He tossed the Mort guard high over the wall to land on the battlefield, his head and shoulders crushed.

  Draegon roared and jumped. He landed on another Mort with a sickening crunch just as the King dashed through the palace entrance. The last two members of his guard scampered to climb the steps to safety, but the black dragon jumped
onto the top landing and seized the nearest Mort in his massive jaws. He bit hard, killing the guard instantly. The last Mort dove to safety. Draegon shook his head and threw the dead guard against the palace wall with a sickening thud.

  A band of dwarves formed a living ladder and effortlessly scaled the palace wall. The doorway soon swung open allowing the rebels to swarm the city. They met very little resistance inside the wall as most of the Morts had been gathered on the field for war. The inhabitants of Kalador were locked in their homes, and they came flooding out into the streets. A thunderous cheer broke the air as the rebels stormed through the city.

  Draegon took wing, flew over the palace, and landed in the clearing at the north side of the dragon approach. Valaron slid from the saddle and ran in, scimitar in hand. He made his way through the halls, looking for the King. Valaron raced around a corner and slid to a stop. He found himself face-to-face with Praelix and Grott, the surviving Mort guard.

  “Your dragon will not be fighting for you now,” snarled Grott as he raced toward the young dragon rider. They met with a loud ring of steel. Grott’s sword beat down at Valaron, but his blows were deflected. The dragon rider blocked each one. The Mort lunged. Valaron knocked Grott’s blade down and sliced across the guard’s face. The dragon rider moved past Grott and slashed across his back. The Mort yelled in pain and whirled to face Valaron who was already moving. Grott yelled again as Valaron cut across his side and moved in a circle around the confused Mort. A two-handed blow was aimed at where Valaron had been. The Mort over-extended himself and stumbled forward. The dragon rider struck swiftly, and Grott’s head rolled across the floor.

  Praelix ran back down the hallway with Valaron close behind. The King darted in and out of the many arched doorways that lined the halls. Valaron burst into the great banquet hall outside the council chamber and nearly ran into his enemy. The young dragon rider fell heavily and skidded across the floor. He looked up and saw Praelix charging with sword in hand.