Sinister Eyes

     
 

Battle Cry
 

Roland sighed. The enemy had come more quickly than anticipated and his troops were not properly prepared. Neither was the enemy, he realised as he saw the disorganised troop of goblins run towards the villagers, driven more by fear than bloodlust. A murmur started as fear threatened to take hold of the villagers. The commander knew, most of them had fighting experience, either from adventures, or having served in some army. "Steady," he said. "Stay on your post and they will break on us like water on rock. We do not fear a horde of goblins.

"They will fear us. All of us have been hardened in the wars of this world. A horde of goblins driven only by fear will not frighten us!" The villagers cheered and raised their shields, closing the phalanx. Roland had positioned the troops into relatively loose ranks, knowing that compact units were easy prey for magic. The second rank was several steps behind the first, the third several steps beyond that, up to the fifth. When the first fighters were tired, they would retire, letting the enemy run into the rested second rank, and so on. At the time the original first rank came to the front again, they should be rested enough to continue fighting.

Presently the goblins crashed into the wall of shields, its strength breaking the charge, as Roland had expected. They only had only lost one step to the assault. The man feared it would not stay that way. These goblins were only shock troops to soften up the resistance. He sighed. Roland had to do with the troops he had. Most of them were villagers, who were hardened more by farm life, their last fight many years ago.



Nirhar looked at Lonewolf, her normally clear grey eyes changing to wolfish yellow, as the sound of the battle outside intensified. He had to turn away, unable to stand her gaze. "Time to hunt," she said. Nirahr shivered as she stalked out of the room like a hunting beast. He followed her with the easy grace of a trained warrior, but his wife always made him feel strangely weak and inadequate. Nirahr wondered, if she would go berserk, or if Lonewolf would be able to use her magic, which was more valuable.

Lonewolf was thinking among similar lines, as she walked towards an area, were her primal senses told her, more enemies would be. The village was attacked from several sides. One was defended by Roland and the villagers, another by her. She could only hope, Ishra would look out into a third direction. Most likely Braktus and Dak'Yzal were scout for snipers and killing them, if necessary. This place had not been built with defence in mind.

There had been a sacred aura until recently, the young mage reflected, but it was being desecrated right now. She had the impression, that not snipers, but ghosts were in the bushes, commanding the troops. Many of them resembled former village elders, distorted in a tangible way, which was barely visible. They sent an unorganised horde of goblins first, as they had against the other defenders. Usually goblins relied on numbers rather than quality, but Lonewolf suspected, she would see more organised units, before this battle was over.

A branch cracked nearby, alerting Lonewolf and Nirahr to the direction of the impending attack. He thought, he heard the clash or arms in another stand of trees not far away, but the noise from the main battle drowned most other sounds. Only Lonewolf's barbarian instincts and Nirahr's warrior's sense were able to filter unnecessary sounds. No more subtle warning was necessary, as goblins poured out of hiding, charging the two lone fighters, threatening to overwhelm them by sheer weight of their numbers.

Closing her eyes, Lonewolf concentrated on her lands, drawing chaotic energy from the mountains of her home. She felt the energy burn in her veins, eating and destroying her from within, a feeling she was all too familiar with. She had to release this energy in uncontrolled bursts of magical fire, making her a threat to all around her. She had chosen exile, receiving tutelage later, in a land far away from her home. Lonewolf had learned to control her energy, channelling it into prescribed spells.

Mentally she summoned the image of minotaurs, releasing the mana into mystic pathways, calling the bound creatures to her position in space and time. She opened her eyes, seeing the troop materialise. They were wild and powerful creatures, imbued with a strong sense of honour. Lonewolf felt strangely empty and burned out. She just pointed at the goblins, her voice failing. She summoned energy more judiciously this time, adding the peaceful white mana of plains to the strength of the mountain. A bolt of energy surged through her form the ground, revitalising and healing her.


Braktus thought he heard his wife wishing him luck, but his mind was already focussed on the task ahead. Silent as a shadow he slipped through the village unseen. He scouted into several of the stands of trees, but they only contained standard troops. Only after looking into the seven other possible hiding places did he actually find one, were archers and soldiers with crossbows had been positioned. A crossbow could only be fired once, but its bolt could be released instantly, when it was loaded.

He was an efficient assassin. Those with crossbows died before anyone realised what was going on. Braktus had a harder time with the archers, alerted by the death of their comrades. He had to hide with great skill, move utterly without sound and pick them off one by one. Leather armour would only keep so much harm away. Finally the sounds of battle became loud enough to make his task easier. He finished the unpleasant business as quickly as he could, moving on, once he was done.



Three more groups attacked the village, before her allies were done with the first. Lonewolf sighed and reached for her mana, for the power. She stopped herself, remembering the warning of her mentor to summon the spells first, then tap into the energy. When the pictures of both creatures were secure in her mind, she called the mana and directly released it into the magic. This time, it did not burn her. It only flowed, as it should. Why did she forget her most important lessons in the heat of battle?

One of the units ran into a Wall of Swords, unable to stop their charge. The whirling and dancing blades sliced through them easily, quickly turning the attackers into bloody pieces. A shriek heralded the coming of a mighty flying creature. Above a drake with scales like alabaster lazily flapped its wings, then it dived into the second group of attackers with snapping jaws, swishing tail and sharp talons. Goblins were mangled, broken, tossed into the air and pierced by claws.

The third unit threatened to flank the original defenders. It would soon reach them. Lonewolf was overwhelmed by a feeling of ferocity. She wanted to draw her swords and kill them. She wanted to hunt, to fight in ferocious melee. The young mage sighed and tried to concentrate. "Remember your lessons," she muttered.


Ishra had been following the battle since Braktus had disappeared into the shadows. She knew he would circle the actual field of battle and try to kill possible snipers. She had seen the appearance of the minotaurs and the drake, as summoned by the young mage. Lonewolf was obviously more powerful than Ishra had anticipated. Then she began to feel another rising of magic, slowly but strongly, as though someone was calling a great amount of energy. Reality was soft for the most powerful mages, but even small changes in the very fabric could render a world uninhabitable.

Slowly an almost inaudible hum rose, which slowly registered as a chant in the superhuman language of magic on Ishra's mind. It rose to a crescendo, then the energy was unleashed. A single compressed thunderclap reverberated through the ground. Ishra heard the scream of thousands of souls unexpectedly swept into the planar pathways, into their afterlife. Instinctively she knew that all of those killed had been thoroughly evil. She shivered. What kind of creature was capable of unleashing such power?



Egania Visad had returned from planar adventures to hunt down an assassin. Only two days back in her own world, she had noticed the familiar feeling of broken divinity. She had faced former and would-be gods before, knowing all too well, how dangerous and powerful these creatures were. A look into her pocket crystal ball had revealed that her daughter was in danger. Egania had tirelessly travelled to the area near the village, riding her great winter wolf night and day. Before she reached her goal, Egania ran into a huge army of goblins, hobgoblins, orcs from Arghia and other foul creatures.

The fiefdom of Jundar, once part of mighty Ionien had declined, all forces withdrawn to the great cliff wall, were griffons lived. Coreanus, once central province of that empire still had a powerful army, but they would never be here in time, if they agreed to come at all. Not even the dragon legion of Esgara, which existed mostly to be deployed abroad would not make it. There was only one other option left. The risk was great, but Egania liked Lonewolf. She sighed and searched her mind for the magic she had to do.

Normally a circle of wizards would be necessary to perform the spell Egania had in mind. She took several hours of preparation time, knowing there was no margin for error. Finally she began the spell, carefully chanting each rune clearly. The first part of the ritual protected her from attacks, so that the vast amount of energy would not be released in an uncontrolled burst. As the ritual continued, flames started to lick at the globe of protection surrounding the Eternal Wanderer. The chant rose to a crescendo.

Egania spoke the last rune, sending waves of flame over the plains, where the army had gathered. No-one needed an army that large to conquer a small village, even when most of its inhabitants were retired soldiers and adventurers. The flames swept through the encamped troops, burning them to ashes in moments. Egania slumped down, drained and exhausted from the incredible magic she had just unleashed. She picked up her small crystal ball. The face of her old friend Antonia Numinus appeared inside.

"What the hell did you do?" she asked. "Saving my daughter's life," Egania replied. "If she did not already kill herself," Angelica said.


The sheer effort of will, it took Lonewolf to rely on her magic instead of going berserk, was tremendous. She reached for one of her most valuable resources, a maze of canyons deep within the mountains she had grown up in, allowing her to summon creatures at almost any time. It had to be powered by other mana to work, but time was running out. Lonewolf focused her thoughts on a strange rider, she had met in a land far away, relying again on red mana, which came to her most easily. As the man appeared, he in turn flanked the goblins, charging them with his lance low. It impaled many of the creatures, until he had to drop it and rely on his sword.

Just at that moment the minotaurs killed the last goblins. It had taken them longer than Lonewolf expected. Their leader, a champion leading two curved swords walked to the young mage. "This is insulting," he said. "Why did you summon us?" Lonewolf said: "These were just the shock troops. Elite units will follow, which may be more than you have bargained for." The creature growled and attacked Lonewolf. The Swords of Fire and Ice leapt into her hands.

She parried the lightening fast attack of the creature and countered with like speed. Both combatants seemed to dance around each other, the clash of swords between them, moving too fast for the human eye to follow. Nirahr stared in disbelief at the tangle of fiery yellow, frosty blue and the shimmering sliver of moonsteel. Just as quickly as the battle had begun, it ended. "You know I am stronger," Lonewolf said with the calm of one who knew she could kill the other with a miniscule movement of her wrist. The Sword of Ice was at the creature's throat.


Before the villagers had time to contemplate the wonder, which had saved them from a disastrous flank attack, Roland called their attention to more attackers. The first line retreated, making place for the more rested warriors in the second line. The former third line took positions behind them. A tightly packed unit of hobgoblins charged them. Unlike their lesser brethren, hobgoblins were militaristic and disciplined. A fireball would be the best way to stop them, but the village's only competent mage was engaged elsewhere.

The former third rank took place behind the phalanx on command. Long spears had been put on the ground, almost invisible for the attackers. Roland steadied his people, giving the command to raise the spears, when the creatures were almost on them. This strategy had originally been developed to stop cavalry charges against infantry troops. It worked quite well against this charge. The first three ranks of the hobgoblin unit impaled themselves on the spears, those behind stumbling over the corpses, falling prey to the swords of the defenders.

Unfortunately the unit regained coherency quickly and launched its counterattack. The phalanx broke into a wild melee all too soon. Order began to break down among the defenders. Roland shouted loud and clear commands. There was no way to do anything for those already involved in battle against most likely superior opponents, but he had to save the rest of his small troop. This battle was far from over.



When the rider had passed through the unit, it was scattered and broken, the creatures panicked and fled. The rider disappeared in a cloud of dust. Lonewolf pointed the minotaur champion at the hobgoblin unit. The creature looked at her for a moment, then it turned and charged. The young mage left out a strange shriek, calling the drake to her. It circled a few times, looking for a landing spot. Finally it landed near the position of the mage, making sure the wind from its wings did not knock Lonewolf down.

The mage and the creature spoke in Saurian. The expression in the face of Lonewolf changed subtly, when she returned. "There are just too many of them," she said. The barbarian instinct to take as many of them with her, as she could, if she had to die, took over. "Take as many down, as you can," she told the drake in the common tongue. "Not all of them are goblin-kin," it said. "I know," Lonewolf told it with a sigh. "See what you can do." The creature rose into the air again, attacking the goblins as commanded.

Nirahr was getting sick of seeing his wife do all the fighting, but he knew quite well, there was only so much he could do. Lonewolf sighed. She surveyed the battlefield. There was another unit she had not summoned any creature to intercept and the drake was dodging arrows from creatures, its innate protection did not shield it from. She would have to dismiss it soon. She looked at her partner, who was still rested. Lonewolf could feel his impatience growing. He would soon join a fight and she would have to save his life.


Ishra had watched the battle calmly so far. Her time in the Blood War had taught her patience. Lonewolf had done better than she had expected, but every mage had to run out of spells or power sooner or later. As the white drake dodged arrows, Ishra realised, that another unit of hobgoblins had left its hiding place in the bushes, threatening to attack, or even flank, the defenders. No creatures appeared out of nothingness to intercept them, no wall rose from the ground. Ishra screamed her battle cry and charged.

She had not intended the shout, which she had composed from an impossible mixture of fiendish and celestial words, to sound, as though it tore the very fabric of reality apart. Lonewolf on the other side of the village was reminded of the scream of a banshee. The sound did almost cause physical harm to all listening. Even Egania Visad, still many miles away, felt the anguish and power of this scream. Ishra crashed into the unit sooner than she had expected, her sword glowing in bloody crimson.

Like a whirlwind of death she tore through the unit, the glowing blade dancing in her hand, drawing trails of blood. She parried some attacks, but most pearled of her invisible armour, or failed to penetrate the toughness of her skin, which was a gift of her unnatural heritage. Once she had passed the unit, she heard its commander shout and restore a semblance of order to the shaken soldiers. Ishra swore and in a fiendish language and charged the commander, brutally breaking through the troops in front of her. Ishra's sword passed right through the leader.



When the defenders of the village saw the lone Ishra in the middle of enemies, a sizeable number wanted to rush to her aid. Roland shouted commands for them to stay on their post. "Stay here and defend your homes," he commanded. "You will only hinder her. She is a berserk. I would not trust on her to tell you from an enemy, as she is raging among them." Roland did look at her anyway. Ishra was a beautiful woman, but he saw clearly how much strength her lithe frame hid for the first time, as she made her bloody way through the hobgoblins.

While the defenders finally decimated the unit, whose charge they had stopped earlier, Roland saw Ishra drop her sword and throttle one of the members of her enemy unit. She stared into the eyes of the creature, letting its illusion of being an orc of Arghia drop to concentrate on its annoying opponent. Ishra just seemed to look at him, but the ghost shivered and dissolved. Ishra picked up her sword and continued the slaughter. Roland saw the drake disappear. The units it had decimated gathered into a single one. "Steady," he said with a strong voice. "There are more to come."



"Go and share some of the fun with Ishra," Lonewolf told her partner. The man looked at her dubiously. "She frightens me," he said. "So do I," Lonewolf told him. "I will take care of my allies, then I will join you." Nirahr looked at the unit and charged into battle. He fought a bit too recklessly, but Lonewolf had something else to worry about. The battle between the hobgoblin unit and her Minotaurs was going badly. The young mage advanced towards the fight, summoning more mana, giving herself the ability to breathe like dragon.

Not entirely trusting her magic any more, Lonewolf drew the Swords of Fire and Ice. She reached the battle and inhaled more deeply, than a human should be able to. The minotaur champion just parried another blade to save one of his people. Lonewolf exhaled a cone of fire like a golden dragon, frying and killing most of the enemies. "When you are done with the rest, you are released for this day," she said. "I hope you don't mind me helping out." The champion said: "Not at all. You just saved our lives. Once more we are in your debt."

Lonewolf nodded with visible relief, then she turned to the battle with Ishra and Nirahr. Again her husband was getting himself into more trouble than he could handle. This time she let the rage take over.


Ishra watched Nirahr's charge with some amusement. He was an experienced adventurer and thus a quite capable fighter. He burst into the enemy troops, wielding his sword with surprising skill. Ishra did not concentrate on her own fight, knowing those creatures could barely hurt her. She lazily swung her bastard sword, casually killing opponents, chopping them in half and decapitating others. Nirahr should watch his back in the middle of enemies, she thought. Ishra ducked and turned, stabbing a creature behind her. She would not be in time to save the man.

Fotunately the attack pearled of his armour, but it made Nirahr stumble. Ishra ran into his direction, heedless of other enemies. A blade flew into the fray, spinning end over end, radiating a frosty blue shimmer in the sun. It burst through the skull of the creature, which nearly decapitated Nirahr, shattering its target, as though it was brittle ice. The man tried to pick up the sword, but it was already gone. At least he did not forget to continue fighting, Ishra thought. Why are men such fools?

She turned to were she had seen the sword go and saw Lonewolf hitting the unit in full berserk rage. The Swords of Fire and Ice moved around her with dazzling speed, each attack slaying an enemy. Ishra quickly realised the other was a brutally efficient killer. She concentrated on her own fight to get this done as quickly as possible. Barbarian rage lasted only so long and left a warrior drained and exhausted.



The back ranks of the unit engaging the villagers suddenly began to die mysteriously. Feeling the pressure lessen, the other hobgoblins looked around nervously, costing many of them their lives. There was nothing. Panic filled their minds, some turned to flee. Instead of doing so, the troop began to move with the puppet-like quality of zombies. The villagers slaughtered them easily. Slowly it dawned on their drained minds, that there were no enemies left.

Braktus stabbed the leader with a strange ghostly dagger. The hobgoblin collapsed and the spirit of one of the false elders burst out of the body with a scream of inhuman rage. The ghost seemed to rise into the sky, then it was pulled into the earth by an invisible hand. The villagers cheered, the drain of battle forgotten in the euphoria of victory. Roland sighed, as the survivors hugged each other, shouting or crying their joy. He knew the effect the release of tension could have. He also knew that the battle had been won, but not the war.

Lonewolf, Braktus, Ishra and Nirahr seemed to share his opinion. He knew Dak'Yzal would agree, but she was nowhere to be seen. "This was too close," Roland said. "The dying, the pain, the blood and the hatred might have strengthened the evil that lurks here," Lonewolf said. "I will bet that the dead will not rest, but return tonight. We should be far away from here, when this happens." Roland nodded. "We will not survive a battle against the living dead." Ishra said with a clear and powerful voice: "Gather at the inn. Every moment is precious."

"You have the thankless task of organising the exodus," Lonewolf told Roland. "We will gather our travelling equipment and make our way to Siema. There I hope my old mentor Antonia Numinus can shed some light on what is going on here. I have to know more to be able to fight it. I fear that everyone who stays here will be consumed by this evil."

     

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