Illengond Read online

  As for the men he commanded, only half of them were trained soldiers. Some were not even men. Siyen seemed capable with a bow. She had fought the Daegmon. Yet she had also abandoned her previous company out of fear. Corandra could wield a sword well enough, but she had never been in a real battle. And she was so young. How would she fare when she had to kill somebody? Or when somebody came at her intent on killing her? Cathwain and Jhonna should have been a thousand miles away. Jhonna, for all the boldness and courage she had shown at times, now stood whimpering and cowering in the cave. Dhan knew little about Cathwain or Gaelim, except that neither of them had ever wielded a weapon. And Lyn was already off hiding somewhere.

  Other than his officers and the old veteran Kayam, the only two whom Dhan had any real faith in were Thimeon and Armas. Duke Armas, at least, was as strong as a plow horse and as courageous as a mongoose. But though he had trained for a short time as an officer—as most nobility did when they came of age—he had no experience in battle. Not against human foes. Neither did Thimeon.

  At least his present task was one Dhan was confident in. He had felt almost useless for the past several months, especially since his escape from the dungeons. He was a military officer. He had fought rebel bands in the south and northeast of Gondisle, and done battle with armed bandits. No more than a half dozen officers in Citadel could a wield a sword better than he. Nor were there many who could best him in strategies of the battlefield.

  He had no experience, however, that prepared him to lead an untrained, disparate, scruffy company of women and men with strange mystical powers and magical weapons across the wilds of the highlands. And what could prepare anybody to fight a giant winged beast that breathed flames and seemed nearly impervious to normal weapons?

  So as desperate as his current situation was, at least he could be useful now. He could do something in this insane war—a war at least partly the fault of his own father.

  “What do we do?” Armas asked.

  “Wait,” Dhan replied, without even turning to look. “And save our arrows until they can do some good.”

  A few arrows had already flown back and forth, but to no avail. Dhan had told his own people to stop shooting. El-Phern seemed to have issued the same order to his soldiers because no more arrows flew up the hill. He was massing his men, moving them about for whatever strategy he was concocting. Three lines of blue uniforms now stood partway down the steep snowy meadow about seventy-five yards away. Dhan’s defensive position was good, he knew. They had plenty of cover and held the higher ground. Whenever the opposing captain gave the order to attack, his men would have to wade uphill through snow—at least on the first assault until they had beat trails. There was only one narrow path already beaten in the snow from where Dhan’s own people had come the previous night.

  The one thing El-Phern had, however, was numbers. He could afford to lose ten men for every one of Dhan’s. And Dhan knew that El-Phern wouldn’t hesitate to let his own men get slaughtered if the sacrifice would buy him the hill. In the battles they had fought side-by-side against the southern rebels, that had always been the main contention between Dhan and El-Phern. That was when Dhan was still the prince and could ultimately have his way. Now nobody would stop El-Phern.

  He turned to Armas. “Keep watching. They could attack any moment. Or they might just keep moving around below us for the rest of the day.”

  Dhan moved to the other side of Armas and Siyen, and stepped between Thimeon and Jhaban who together guarded the mouth of the gully. Jhaban, he knew, wasn’t much use with a bow, but there was none better with a sword. While he stood there, Thimeon, Siyen, and Armas would likely get off several extra shots at close range before having to wield their own spears or swords.

  Dhan had not come to speak with Jhaban, however. He came for Thimeon. A new fear had crept up on the prince, and it disrupted his confidence. “The Daegmons,” he asked in a quiet voice, almost in Thimeon’s ear. “Will they come?” Dhan didn’t want to cause the others to panic, but he needed to know what to prepare for. Though how he could prepare for a Daegmon attack, he didn’t know.

  Thimeon signed deeply. “I don’t know. In the past, I always had Elynna to warn us. I have no power to sense their presence.”

  “Beware!” Jhaban suddenly cried out.

  Dhan stepped forward and gazed down the hill at the line of shadows. A small group of soldiers on each side of the opposing line plunged several yards forward with shields raised over their heads. Dhan gripped his blade and readied to give the order to shoot, but held off as he peered into the dim light for some detail that might reveal El-Phern’s plan. Then he saw it. It was a simple plan, but a good one. A large group of archers stepped in behind the protection of the raised shields. Suddenly the air was full of arrows flying toward the companions.

  “Beware!” Dhan shouted, echoing Jhaban’s earlier warning. He leapt out of the opening and stepped back to his place. All around him, his followers were doing the same. The rain of arrows fell harmlessly into the snow and rocks. However, while the steady rain of arrows held Dhan’s men at bay, another group of soldiers started charging right up the path.

  “Archers,” Dhan shouted. “Return the volley.”

  Despite the rain of incoming arrows, Dhan’s followers obeyed. They stepped into the gaps in the rocks, and using what protection they had, they shot back. Siyen had time to release two arrows. Armas got off three. Further away, Thimeon also seemed to be drawing and shooting his bow rapidly, and all up and down the gully and from the rocks nearby more arrows flew down the hill.

  Dhan saw five soldiers fall over backwards. A few others stumbled forward or to the sides clutching arms or legs. Then, much quicker than Dhan had expected, the first soldiers who had raced up the beaten path were upon them. Jhaban dispatched the first one quickly enough, and the second fell to an arrow from Thimeon’s bow from just a few feet away. But more kept coming, charging up the trail or breaking new trails on either side.

  Dhan dropped his bow and drew his sword. He spun toward the mouth of the gully just as four enemy soldiers appeared there. Jhaban was busy with one. Thimeon barely had time to get his sword out, and might have fallen had not Kachtin and Banthros leapt out of the rocks on the other side crying the Anghare battle cry. The next several moments were too busy and confusing for Dhan to follow it all. He thought Siyen and Armas were continuing to shoot, and others of his companions also appeared to be wielding their bows. The only work with swords was right in the center at the gully mouth, where he, Thimeon, Jhaban, and the two Northlanders kept busy for a good two or three minutes. Then Corandra appeared out of nowhere. A minute later it was over.

  Their work had been grim but efficient. The prince had not boasted idly when he had said that the men with him were as good as any five that El-Phern could throw against them. Jhaban had felled at least four enemy soldiers, including two he fought at the same time. One foolish soldier had caught a glimpse of Corandra entering the fray and took her for easy prey. Her blade moved so swiftly he might never have known what befell him. The Northlanders Kachtin and Banthros made up for less finesse with sheer strength and ferocity, and had actually carried the battle ten yards down the hill. Dhan himself had felled one enemy soldier. But as he looked down the slope toward the retreating line of El-Phern’s men, he understood what had really won the first round. In addition to the eight enemy soldiers now dead by the mouth of the gully, at least two dozen more lay pierced with arrows, wounded or dying on the slopes of Mount Illengond unable even to reach the gully. If his archers had not managed this feat, they eventually would have been overwhelmed by swords. Of course if their swords had not protected the archers, they also would have fallen.

  Kachtin and Banthros turned and strode back to the gully, apparently forgetting that the enemy had archers also. Jhaban shouted a warning, but too late. An arrow caught Banthros in the back of his right shoulder.

  Jhaban le
apt out and helped Banthros back down in the gully while Kachtin guarded against more arrows. Dhan kept half an eye on the enemy line and half on Banthros as Katchtin took a look at the wound. The arrow had pierced Banthros’ heavy leather jacket and drove to the bone of his shoulder blade. He cursed as his cousin pulled it out. “Careless,” Banthros mumbled.

  “What next?” Armas asked.

  Dhan looked around. Though Siyen and Corandra were both white, and several of the companions had beads of sweat chilling on their brows, nobody else had been hurt. “Gather the arrows,” Dhan replied. “They have resupplied us with one thing we were lacking.”

  “And then what?” Armas asked. “Maybe they’ll shoot food at us next time.”

  “More waiting,” Dhan replied.

  As his companions picked what arrows they could out of the snow and rocks, the prince spoke aloud. “El-Phern was testing us. That was merely a feint, a tactic to probe our weakness.” As he spoke, a strange sense of fear and dread came over him. He tried to explain it with words. “Soldiers are just objects to him—weapons to be gathered and spent in battle. He can afford the losses. We cannot.” With each word his fear grew. He struggled to think strategically, and outguess is enemy. “He’ll play the waiting game. It might be wise—”

  Dhan never had a chance to finish. A shout from the entrance to the cave caught their attention. He turned to see Jhonna pointing to the sky, her face white with horror. He followed her gaze to see a pair of massive dark shadows slowly circling above.

  All Dhan’s confidence fled. He turned to Thimeon. “What do we do?”

  Thimeon, however, looked as lost as Dhan felt. “I don’t know.”

  “We defeated them at Gale Enebe,” Dhan said. There had to be some hope, he thought.

  “We surprised them there,” Thimeon shouted back in obvious frustration. “And we had the help of Chal-char—and of whatever other power was at work there.”

  Dhan was dismayed. Thimeon had always had a plan. And he had always had hope. The expressions of the others around him showed the same dismay.

  “But you had some power too,” Dhan shouted back.

  “Yes,” Thimeon replied. His voice was quieter now and he seemed to be struggling to keep it under control. “I have the book still. But I have no idea how to use its power. And even if I could, it was barely enough against the Daegmons with Chal-char’s aid. Here we must fight the humans as well. And the Daegmon can sense the power of the gifted. It knows that Cathwain and Gaelim are here. It can find them wherever we go, so even if we could flee it would not avail us.”

  “But there must be something,” Dhan said.

  Thimeon took a deep breath. “We defend ourselves against whatever attacks us, and we hope.”

  “Hope for what?” Siyen asked. “We can barely fight the soldiers.”

  “And here they come now!” Armas shouted.

  Dhan had no more time to worry. No time to ponder what deliverance might come to them. Several frantic seconds passed as he moved his followers back into position and prepared for the next assault—hoping all the while that the Daegmons would not join in, and that the oppressive fear would not overwhelm him. Banthros, despite his wound, drew his sword and took his place again. The archers drew their bows.

  Below came the line of approaching soldiers. This time they did not dash up the hill. The front line held their shields and the line of archers came behind, shooting between the shields as they came. Dhan waited until they were twenty yards closer and then gave the order to return fire. A volley of arrows flew down the hill. Two soldiers fell. Two more ran forward and took their place.

  A shout from down the gulley caused Dhan to turn. Lyn flew out the mouth of the cave yelling desperately as he came. Dhan had no time for him. He turned to face the advancing line of soldiers. He was aware as Lyn bolted past him and grabbed Thimeon by the shoulder. The fool was going to get himself killed. Or worse, he might get Thimeon killed.

  “The cave,” Lyn shouted at Thimeon. “It’s a tunnel: a passage into the mountain. I followed it at least half a mile. It just keeps going. We can escape that way.”

  29

  ROCKSHAPER

  Dhan turned and stared at Lyn. A tunnel? An escape? Could it be true?

  Ssscrack! An arrow caught the rock just inches from Dhan’s head, and whistled as it skidded past toward the far side of the gulley. A shout lifted up from below. The front line of soldiers who had been approaching slowly and methodically, suddenly broke into a charge.

  “Fall back!” Thimeon shouted. “Back to the cave! Everybody back.”

  No! Dhan thought. If Lyn was wrong, or if he was deceiving Thimeon, then a retreat was disaster. Once inside the cave they would never regain this position. But it was too late. Kachtin and Banthros came hurdling almost over Jhaban’s head, back down into the gulley. A foot to Dhan’s right, Siyen released the arrow on her string and then turned and ran toward the cave.

  Kayam also charged out from behind the boulders with Rhaan only a few steps behind him. Kayam crossed the short open distance and slid past Thimeon.

  Rhaan was a stride too late. Before he reached the gulley, the first three soldiers were on him.

  Thimeon and Jhaban leapt out of the gulley and charged to Rhaan’s aid. Dhan turned for a moment and spotted Banthros. “Take Kayam. Guard the cave and protect our retreat.” He turned to Lyn. “Go with them. If you have deceived us, I will kill you.” He spun back toward the battle. “Kachtin and Armas with me,” he cried. He charged toward the line of advancing soldiers, now only ten yards away, trying to buy Rhaan’s retreat.

  Arrows no longer flew. Dhan’s own archers were gone or had drawn their blades. Enemy archers couldn’t shoot without hitting their own men. It was all sword work now. Blades flashed against a backdrop of rock, snow, and ice. Soldiers in blue fell away as Jhaban, Thimeon, Kachtin, and the prince himself fell on them from above. But Rhaan had already been driven several steps back to the other side, away from aid. Three soldiers surrounded him. Rhaan slashed wildly, warding off blows. He was the best scout in the army, but he had never been a great fighter.

  “Help him,” Dhan shouted, but he didn’t know whom he was shouting at. The words were barely out of his mouth when he was beset once more. To his left, he saw Jhaban finish off his own opponent and charge to Rhaan’s aid. Dhan dealt a savage downward blow at his own enemy. The soldier caught the stroke with his blade, but under the force of the blow he stumbled backward down the hill.

  Dhan turned toward Rhaan, readying to rush to his aid. A jab of Rhaan’s blade took down one of the men facing him, but before he could withdraw his weapon the other two fell on him. Dhan shouted in warning, but too late. His warning cry turned to a cry of dismay as Rhaan fell. Jhaban arrived an instant later, in time only to exact a bitter revenge, but not to save Rhaan.

  “Back,” Thimeon yelled again. “To the cave!”

  “Fall back,” Dhan yelled, trying to be heard over the din of battle, and hoping his men could find a way to obey. He tried not to think about the loss of an officer and friend. He realized that the press of soldiers below him was denser now. More of El-Phern’s men were arriving by the minute. Only the narrow space and the steepness of the slope kept more from engaging in battle. “Stay with me,” he shouted. He backed up the slope as he yelled, but he couldn’t turn and run without exposing his back.

  Then a new blade appeared at his side. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Corandra enter the fight once more. He was at once relieved and dismayed. He wanted to order her back to safety, but he needed her. She fought furiously, wielding her blade so quickly that enemy soldiers leapt back away from her, some with missing fingers or hands.

  A loud shout arose from above—an inarticulate battle cry in which Dhan recognized the voice of Armas. Enemy soldiers looked up, and several cowered backward. A huge boulder, easily three feet across, hurtled over Dhan�
��s head and crashed into the line of soldiers with a sickening crunch of breaking bones. The front most soldier crumbled backward into the man behind him, and together they tumbled down the hill knocking several others off their feet, or taking their knees out from under them. Dhan glanced back in awe to see that Armas had managed to climb one of the boulders behind them without getting shot. Now he leapt down with another fierce shout that caused two more enemy soldiers to step backward.

  The effort opened a gap between the defenders and the attackers. That was all Dhan needed. “With me,” he cried. He grabbed Corandra by the arm and pushed her ahead of him, then raced after her back down the gulley with Armas at his side. As he ran, he was aware both of Jhaban and Thimeon following right behind him and of pursuers chasing them. Halfway to the cave—guided by some warrior’s instinct—he stopped and spun around. Enemy soldiers were just two strides behind. As Jhaban and Thimeon rushed past him, Dhan stepped forward to meet the attackers. At the same time Kayam stepped unexpected out of a crack in the gulley wall just to Dhan’s left. Kayam held his blade in one hand, and in his other a heavy branch that he swung like a club or shield. He parried a blow with his sword and brought the club down hard on a blue hood. The man wearing the hood crumbled. The other, now facing Dhan and Kayam alone, retreated at once. Behind him more blue uniforms dropped down into the gulley, but it was too narrow for more than two abreast to move quickly.

  With Kayam now at his side, Dhan backed quickly toward the mouth of the cave. He was five steps from the mouth when a loud screech shivered his spine. He almost collapsed. The call had the same effect on the approaching soldiers who stopped and cowered in their tracks with terror. Some flung themselves on the ground.