Part 4 (1/2)
CHAPTER FOUR.
”The kindreds of Nymraif and Caidath failed to hold the intruders. They were barely able to delay them.”
Thalos Stormwind glowered as he heard the scout's report. It had taken time to muster his kinband, to draw out his allies from the trees. He had been depending upon them to hold the skaven at the edge of the forest until he could bring his full army there. Ywain had impressed upon him the threat to the forest if anything evil should come into contact with the Golden Pool, particularly during the Hour of Shadows, when the strength of all dark magic was in flux. He glanced over at Ywain, noting the flicker of worry that disturbed her composure. The spellweaver had warned that Huskk's magic would be strengthened during this dark time, but Thalos had been unwilling to accept the magnitude of the ratman's power.
Thalos pressed his palm against the wooden hilt of the Dawnblade, rea.s.sured by the feel of the sword. He turned his head and regarded the n.o.bles gathered around him in the clearing. They watched him with expectant eyes, waiting to follow his lead. Looming above them all was the treeman Daithru, the ancient's gnarled face imperturbable as it observed the elves' war council.
”We will send riders to warn the other kinbands,” Thalos decided, his voice grave. The entire forest would already be aware of the skaven intrusion. There was no need to warn anyone about this. The message Thalos would send was more shameful. He would have to warn the other lords of the forest that the skaven intrusion was something his own warriors might be unable to repulse. It was the duty of any highborn to protect the lands under his charge. To fail in that obligation was among the worst dishonours a highborn could bring upon himself.
Saith shook his head in disbelief, colour rising into his cheeks. ”You cannot mean to do such a thing!” he objected. ”The other lords will demand another n.o.ble a.s.sume leaders.h.i.+p of your domain!”
Thalos smiled at his friend's loyalty. ”Thank you for your confidence, but I cannot allow my own fate to endanger Athel Loren.”
”It is only a filthy ratkin!” Saith cursed. ”Such creatures have menaced us before and always they have been exterminated!”
”Do not underestimate this one,” Ywain cautioned. ”The kindreds of Nymraif and Caidath already made that mistake.”
”The root-chewer has great magic.” Daithru's groaning voice thundered across the clearing. ”It is never wise to take a wizard lightly.” The treeman's body shook in a great sigh. ”And this one has bound a strange creature to its will, a monster whose kind has never before threatened these lands.”
Ywain shuddered as she listened to the treeman's voice, her insides twisting into a knot of guilt. If she thought her words would do any good, she would have implored Daithru to leave the fighting to the elves. But a treeman's mind, once decided, was as immovable as the Oak of Ages.
Thalos paced among his n.o.bles, picturing the line of march the ratmen would take. Ywain had tried to persuade the fey to intercede, to conceal the paths and lead the skaven astray, but such tactics had failed. There was no way to deceive Huskk as to the location of the Golden Pool. The necromancer could smell such a source of sorcery from hundreds of miles away. Trying to block the trails and impede the speed of the invaders had likewise been frustratingly impossible. There were many forest spirits that resented the presence of the elves. These had taken it upon themselves to render aid to the necromancer, acting in subtle ways to help Huskk's progress.
The highborn considered the speed of Huskk's advance. There were only a few places where an army could close upon the skaven. The usual tactic of whittling down the invaders through the use of scouts and waywatchers had proven too costlya”Huskk's infernal monster was able to annihilate every ambush the elves set. True, the c.o.c.katrice wouldn't attack until after the elves had started their a.s.sault, but trading one elf for three or even four skaven was an exchange Thalos found unacceptable, even more so when he learned that the necromancer was using his sorcery to resurrect the fallen ratkin as zombies.
No, they would have to meet the invaders en ma.s.se, try to destroy the enemy so quickly that Huskk's magic couldn't undo their losses. More importantly, they had to do something about Huskk's d.a.m.nable monster! The c.o.c.katrice had proven immune to bowfire. It would have to be met head-on, a prospect which could only result in hideous losses.
”There are only two places where we can intercept the invaders,” Thalos decided, ”the Glade of Sorrows and Hawk Heath.” An idea came to the highborn as he spoke. The Glade of Sorrows was farther away, a battle there would keep Huskk away from the Golden Pool. Hawk Heath was nearer, but offered a possibility for destroying the c.o.c.katrice.
Thalos turned to Saith. ”Do you think Scraaw would consent to aid us?” he asked the n.o.ble.
Saith followed his lord's line of thinking, a grim smile appearing on his face. ”The hawks will fight for their eyries,” he said. ”I am certain they would fight with us.”
Thalos closed his fingers about the grip of the Dawnblade, feeling the sword's power flowing through him. The Warden of the Wood had given the weapon to him for a reason. Perhaps this was it. ”Request Scraaw's help. We will fight the invaders at Hawk Heath. Ask Scraaw if one of his flock will consent to carry me into battle.”
Ywain gasped. ”You are no hawkrider,” she reminded him. ”Saith has flown with the warhawks before. Allow him to fly with them.”
Thalos shook his head. ”It is my place to lead the battle. The Warden has entrusted me with that duty. I must go where the Dawnblade is needed.” He turned away from her before she could make further protest.
”Gather your kindreds,” Thalos told his n.o.bles. ”We meet the enemy at Hawk Heath.”
The enemy emerged from the cover of the trees and into the open field of the heath. The front ranks of skeletons and zombies paid no heed to the change of environment, but the skaven who followed behind them squealed in fright. After hours tramping along narrow forest paths, trees pressing upon them on every side, the air close and heavy, the ratmen gazed up at the starswept sky with a feeling of utter horror. A breed of agoraphobics who spent much of their lives crawling about subterranean tunnels, the skaven preferred even the haunted forest to the terrifying open sky.
Concealed among the trees bordering the heath, the elves watched their enemies creep out into the benighted field. Ywain frowned as she saw the ma.s.ses of undead marching before and after the skaven. It was a testament to her adversary's powers that he had been able to stir so many from their graves. Or perhaps it was a sign of how vast the necromancer's powers had grown under the baleful influence of the Hour of Shadows. The spellweaver could sense her own weakness, the drain on her own powers. She could only imagine what the reverse experience must feel like, the sorcerous strength that must be flooding through Huskk's body.
Ywain could see the loathsome necromancer striding alongside his terrible c.o.c.katrice, surrounded by a guard of walking corpses. If she could loose a spell against that vile abomination, the battle would be won. The death of Huskk would end the threat to the Golden Pool and break the will of the invading army.
The spellweaver shook her head, bitterness and frustration filling her. If her powers were at their full, she might risk such a spell, but she knew it would tax her strength to attempt it in her present condition. Worse, with his own powers so greatly increased, Huskk would be able to break her magic with a counter-spell, rendering her effort worthless.
As much as she hated the danger to Thalos, Ywain understood that his plan was the best chance they had. Force of arms would have to prevail against Huskk and his army. They had to pick away at the necromancer's forces, destroy it piecemeal so that its vast numbers couldn't be brought to bear and overwhelm them. But to do that, they had to be free to strike and fade. Whatever the danger, the c.o.c.katrice had to be destroyed before they could stand any chance of attacking Huskk himself.
The invaders' march brought them very near the middle of the heath. It was here that Thalos planned the destruction of the enemy. Concealed in the gra.s.s, hidden in spider holes, a dozen waywatchers suddenly erupted from the earth, loosing a vicious volley into the oncoming skaven. Squeals of pain echoed into the night as ratmen fell to the vengeful arrows.
Following the plan, the waywatchers did not linger after their first volley, but immediately turned and started to retreat across the field. The skaven chatted and snarled at them as they fled, but none of the ratmen gave chase. They had become accustomed to the tactics of their new warlord and were antic.i.p.ating the unique spectacle which they would soon witness.
Huskk snapped a command to the zombie ratman beside him. The creature removed the leather hood covering the c.o.c.katrice's head. Warbling a ghastly cry, the loathsome monster took wing, rising up into the sky. Cackling savagely, the monster dove towards the fleeing elves.
As it neared the elves, there was suddenly a burst of motion from the treetops. Immense hawks, the smallest with a wingspan of fifteen feet, rose up from the forest. Shrieking their deafening hunting calls, the giant birds streaked across the night sky.
Screams of utter panic sounded from the skaven ranks, many of the ratmen casting down their weapons and fleeing into the trees. Here was one of the primordial terrors of their race, one of the nightmares ingrained upon the soul of every skaven. Mighty birds of prey soaring through the vast sky, ready to swoop down and seize the exposed ratkin in their talons and bear them off to their rocky eyries! Even Huskk Gnawbone was seized with horror, cringing against the ground and covering his head with his paws.
But the warhawks had no interest in the ratmen cowering below them. Their interest lay with the intruder flying above their hunting grounds.
The c.o.c.katrice was too absorbed in its own hunt to notice the warhawks until one of the raptors dove down upon it, slas.h.i.+ng its side with steely talons. Ywain watched as the monster faltered in midair, falling a dozen feet before it corrected itself and rose once more into the sky. Whatever magic guarded the beast, it wasn't proof against the attentions of an enraged warhawk.
A second warhawk dove down upon the c.o.c.katrice, slas.h.i.+ng its wing. The monster hissed angrily as its attacker darted away, then was forced to wheel away as a third warhawk attacked it. Confronting the c.o.c.katrice from all sides, the warhawks were preventing it from concentrating on any one of them and fixing them with its petrifying stare.
Ywain fought back a feeling of fear as she watched a fourth warhawk dive upon the c.o.c.katrice. The brown bird with white markings was Scraaw himself and upon his back rode Thalos. The warhawk shunned attacking its enemy with its talons, instead twisting about in midair so that the elf might slash at the beast with his sword. The Dawnblade flashed at the monstrous creature, but the amber blade failed to strike its target. Thalos did not have Saith's experience when it came to fighting from the back of a warhawk.
The c.o.c.katrice twisted about, trying to find its latest tormentor. Before it could pursue Thalos, however, another hawkrider swooped down upon it. Saith had better luck than Thalos, stabbing his spear into the monster's side.
Then the hawkrider's luck ran out. A bolt of green lightning leapt up from the ground. The malefic energy crackled across Saith and his warhawk, burning them both from the sky. Ywain could see a second skaven sorcerer, a horned creature in a grey robe drawing power into itself. The creature lacked the magnitude of power she had sensed surrounding Huskk, but the grey skaven still seemed to be benefiting from the magical flux to some degree.
Ywain knew there was nothing her magic could do to stop Huskk Gnawbone, but against this second sorcerer, she might stand some chance. Even if she didn't, she couldn't stand by and watch the vile creature use its magic to burn the warhawks out of the sky. Closing her eyes, the spellweaver opened herself to the eldritch forces of the forest, absorbing the magic of Athel Loren, channelling it into the form she desired.
The grey skaven was raising its staff, sending another bolt of green lightning into the night when the ground about its feet suddenly exploded in a tangle of th.o.r.n.y roots. The sorcerer's staff fell from his paw as the roots swept upwards, winding about his body. In the blink of an eye, the ratman was trapped in a coil of crus.h.i.+ng vegetation.
Ywain concentrated upon the coil of roots, causing it to tighten. Her intention was to crush the evil ratman, but before she could bring the coil tight enough to achieve her purpose, a pulse of dark magic repulsed her spell. The roots shrivelled and died, falling from the grey skaven's body in a clump of desiccated splinters. The sorcerer leapt away from the debris, scrambling for his staff before retreating to the side of his rescuer.
Huskk Gnawbone had recovered from his fright, unleas.h.i.+ng his deathly magic to free his confederate from Ywain's spell. The necromancer glared maliciously at his companion, then turned to direct his energies to the battle raging in the sky overhead. Ywain saw the Black Seer raise his paws, the skull of Nahak blazing with aethyric power as the necromancer invoked another spell.
One of the warhawks attacking the c.o.c.katrice was suddenly hurled back, swatted from the sky as though the fist of an invisible giant had slammed into it. A second warhawk was similarly repulsed. The thwarted attacks gave the c.o.c.katrice the respite it needed. Wheeling about, it brought its terrible gaze to bear upon one of the warhawks. The enormous bird cried out in pain as its body stiffened and its feathers turned to stone. It plummeted from the sky, shattering as it struck the heath.
Most of the warhawks turned about, retreating before the malignant c.o.c.katrice. Only one of the great birds remained. Scraaw, with Thalos upon his back, dove straight down upon the c.o.c.katrice. The monster fixed its gaze upon the mighty warhawk, the bird slowly petrifying as it hurtled towards the c.o.c.katrice. The beast's attention, however, was not fixed upon the elf sitting on Scraaw's back. As the paralyzed warhawk hurtled past, the Dawnblade slashed out, ripping through the monster's leathery wing.
Scraaw crashed to the earth, his impact digging a deep furrow in the field, ploughing through the ma.s.sed skaven and undead. The c.o.c.katrice smashed down beside the warhawk, its torn wing unable to keep it in the air. The monster flopped and flailed in agony, shrieking in pain. The sound roused Thalos. The highborn had been thrown to the ground when his mount crashed. Now he glared vengefully at the grotesque monster that had killed so many of the asrai and their allies. Tightening his grip on the Dawnblade, he charged towards the c.o.c.katrice.
Ywain wasn't the only one who saw the fight. Huskk Gnawbone's eyes stared malevolently at the highborn who had wounded his monster and now thought to finish the beast. The spellweaver sensed him conjuring a murderous spell. The magic might not strike down Thalos before the elf killed the c.o.c.katrice, but there was no doubt in Ywain's mind that her lover would not have long to savour his victory.
Desperately, Ywain threw all of her flagging energy into a single conjuration. She opened a tear in the corporeal world, pus.h.i.+ng Thalos through the tear and across the hidden path between reality and dream. The highborn vanished as he was translocated to another part of the forest. With such a hasty spell, Ywain had been unable to send him very far, but at least it was far enough to escape Huskk's spell.
For the moment, that was enough.
With the c.o.c.katrice incapacitated, the elves hidden among the trees began to loose arrows into the confusion of skaven and undead filling the heath. Skeletons shattered beneath the withering volleys, ratkin were skewered upon the avenging missiles. Hundreds of the invaders were shot down, skaven blood staining the heath.
All at once, a fell wind exploded across the heath, knocking arrows from the air, toppling saplings and dislodging archers from their perches in the trees. Ywain could sense the cold, clammy taint of sorcery. She could see Huskk's body fairly burning with magical energy, blazing like a live coal against the darkness. Bolts of aethyric energy crashed all around the necromancer as the spellsingers allied to Thalos' kinband turned their magic against the ratman. Huskk slapped aside their best efforts with a wave of his claw, evoking a counter-spell as easily as drawing a breath.