Kellanved's Reach

But it came not as he’d expected it – an explosive burst of despairing shouts and screams – rather, all the Nom Purge mounted officers in view slewed their horses over to the forested east and Orjin knew that the rest of the Quon Talian forces had just revealed themselves. And done so too far from the engagement.

‘Ready weapons!’ he bellowed to his troop.

The impact of the charging Quon Tali forces came as a menacing roar and a shudder beneath their feet. Orjin knew the Purge forces still had a chance – as long as they held fast and resisted. One break, or routed company, however, could very well crack the entire dam. He and his force awaited the outcome, whichever it may be, in the rear.

After a good twenty minutes of pitched battle back and forth, Nom Purge infantry appeared, running past them, some even throwing down their weapons as they went. Orjin sought out the company mage, the Dal Hon shaman, Yune, and gave him a nod. The hunched old man pounded his raven-feather-strung staff to the ground – once. That blow communicated itself to all Orjin’s forces, its meaning prearranged: Tighten up.

Mounted Nom Purge nobles then appeared, battered and bloodied, pushing their horses through the milling infantry to charge past Samarr’s unit.

‘Where is Elath?’ he yelled as they thundered by. ‘Dammit! What’s going on?’ All ignored him. Orjin spotted a harried and wild-eyed Baron Ghenst Terrall among those abandoning the field and charged towards him, pushing aside fleeing soldiers as he went. He waved the nobleman down.

‘Out of my way, damn you!’ the baron shouted.

‘Rally the troops – while you can!’ Orjin shouted back.

Ghenst attempted to yank his mount around him. ‘Word of this must reach the queen, dog!’

‘And what of the woods?’ Orjin demanded. ‘The Quon forces came out of the woods!’

For an instant their eyes met, and the baron glanced away, his face flushing. Stunned, Orjin let his arms fall. ‘You Hood-damned bastard …’

Ghenst took that moment to spur his mount past.

Orjin’s troops found him there, motionless, still peering after the diminishing figure of the fleeing nobleman. They surrounded him, using the flat of their blades to push back a rising tide of refugees from the front, all clamouring for protection among Orjin’s tight unit. The giant Orhan came wading through the press. ‘Orders?’ he rumbled.

Blinking, coming to himself, Orjin gestured to the east. ‘Make for cover in the woods – as a unit!’

Orhan inclined his bald scarred head. ‘Aye, aye.’ He waved his great halberd overhead in a circle, ending the arc to point east. As one, the chevron of mercenary heavies began marching, with Orjin at point.

As they pushed through the rout, Orjin spotted a staff messenger, bloodied from a head blow, staggering almost aimlessly. He broke ranks to take hold of the woman’s shoulder and give her a shake. ‘What happened, dammit to Hood!’

‘We held them,’ she murmured, dazed. ‘We held … but there were too many. Too many …’

‘And Elath? What word?’

‘Fallen.’ She wiped a wet, bloodied hand across her face. ‘We are lost.’

‘Only if you break,’ Samarr snarled, pushing her to the rear. ‘Never break.’

They marched onward. Quon Talian forces now appeared, harrying the broken Purge mediums. Among these came grim-faced heavies in long surcoats that bore a black field adorned by a simple silver crown. The famous sigil of the Talian Iron Legion.

These men and women simply struck a guard, allowing Orjin’s troops to pass; after all, the day was already theirs. Why pursue unnecessary hard knocks?

Orjin answered the salute and continued onward, flanked by Terath and Orhan. In this manner they made cover among the woods and here Orjin waved his lieutenants to him.

‘What now?’ Terath demanded. ‘Our contract was with Elath.’

Orjin shook his head. ‘Technically, our contract is with the queen.’

Orhan rubbed his wide jaw. ‘If Purage falls, we don’t get paid.’

Orjin sent him a glare. ‘I know! With Elath’s expeditionary force broken the passes are open to Tali.’

‘The old keep at Two-River could contain them,’ Yune supplied.

Terath laughed her scorn. ‘That pest-hole? A crumbling stone tower and a wooden palisade! Indefensible!’

Orjin looked to the distant north-east highlands. ‘That’s about two days’ march from here.’

‘Two good days,’ Terath appended.

Orjin gave a curt jerk of his head, pushed back his long grey hair. ‘We’ll march straight through. Beat them there. The Purge forces must be rallying somewhere – it’s the obvious strong point.’

‘A hundred years ago maybe,’ Terath grumbled, and she slammed home her blades.

‘None the less. We march.’ Orjin raised a hand and signed Move out.

*   *   *

Crouched on his haunches, Tayschrenn squinted into the dark gap that remained between the twin monoliths lying lengthways one above the other, and reflected that, as far as instruments of execution went, this was a most ingenious one. Crushing the condemned between two immense slabs of stone – elegant in its simplicity.