Richard Ford - Lord of Ashes

So much for glory. So much for making a legend of your name. Just another rotting corpse for the carrion crows.

There was a blinding flash of light, and Regulus felt the branches suddenly release him. He fell to the stone parapet, his armour clanging as he landed. The limbs that had tried so effortlessly to pull him apart fell dead beside him.

For a moment all he could do was heave breath into his lungs as the battle raged all around, and before he could stand a robed figure came to kneel by his side. At first he thought they might offer aid. Then he saw the face of an old woman, her expression bereft of sympathy.

‘Find the wytchworker that controls the beast,’ she said slowly, as though Regulus were some kind of simpleton. ‘Kill him and it will destroy his conjuration.’ At first he thought he should be offended that this old crone would talk down to him in such a manner, but as he gazed into her eyes he found himself strangely drawn to her, irresistibly compelled to do whatever she asked of him.

‘Don’t just sit there,’ she said, and waved him off.

Regulus leapt to his feet, sword still in hand. ‘To me,’ he cried as he ran past his warriors, hacking at a branch as he went. The rest of the Zatani pulled themselves away from combat, following as Regulus ran blindly towards the lip of the battlements. He didn’t pause as he reached the edge of the wall, leaping over the lip and grasping one of the limbs that had crawled up the hundred feet from the ground. With his warriors close behind he began to climb down the mass of foliage, jumping from branch to branch with the sure-footedness of a forest animal. He passed several Khurtas making their way up the wall as he did so but he paid them no heed — the words of the red-robed witch were still at the forefront of his mind. He had to find this ‘wytchworker’ and despatch him. That was all that mattered.

Ten feet from the bottom of the wall, Regulus could see a huge gathering of Khurtas making their way towards the base of the foliage. He paused, his eyes following the green mass of branches as they snaked from the base of the curtain wall and past the waiting Khurtas.

In the distance he could just make out a single figure kneeling in the dirt. He was surrounded by a guard of around a dozen huge warriors, bigger than any other Coldlanders Regulus had ever seen.

‘There,’ he said, pointing through the night, showing his warriors their target. ‘Kill the shaman.’

Before any of them could move, Hagama gave a howl, leaping from the greenery and into the mass of bodies waiting at the bottom of the wall. Akkula was quick to follow and Regulus felt his heart begin to race before he also threw himself into the fray.

The last thing the Khurtas had expected was to be attacked at the base of the wall, and Regulus took delight in the fact he had cut down half a dozen of their number before they realised what was happening.

Though they fought with fury, Regulus could still see no way through to the shaman. For the most fleeting of moments he wondered whether he would die here, cut down in a flurry of Khurtic blades, until there was a tumultuous noise from above. Blue fire cut the sky from atop the battlements, searing a corridor through the Khurtas. It blasted them aside, cooking flesh and blackening the earth.

Now Regulus could see a path to his target.

Before he could move, Janto cut his way through the lightly armoured Khurtas, heeding Regulus’ words and making for the shaman who still knelt in the dirt. Regulus was quick to follow, reluctant to allow Janto the glory of killing the wytchworker.

As Hagama, Kazul and Akkula vented their ire on the Khurtas, Janto and Regulus ran forward. The branches that ran along the ground from the base of the wall began to converge, pulsating with unnatural life as they snaked back towards the shaman.

As the Zatani warriors raced towards him, his bodyguard began to move forward. They lumbered into Janto’s path, hefting their massive warhammers, their faces showing no emotion as they created a phalanx of bloated flesh and muscle.

Janto threw himself against them, howling as he charged, axes raised high. He ducked the laboured swing of a hammer, which thudded into the ground sending a sod of earth flying into the air, and buried an axe in the thick skull of the first giant. As it fell he wrenched his axe free, turning to face his next foe as another warhammer swung in at him. This time he was not so quick, and barely had time to dodge away as the hammer came in. He took a glancing blow to the shoulder but it was still enough to fling him back, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Regulus took advantage as Janto fell. The Sho’tana warrior could take care of himself; there were still enemies to slay.

As Regulus neared the shaman he saw his emaciated arms were buried deep in the earth. From where they dug in, foliage sprouted from the ground, running in a pulsating thread towards the curtain wall. Where his flesh ended and the branches began was impossible to tell, and something about it turned Regulus’ stomach. He fought back bile as he raised his blade. The shaman didn’t look up, so completely was he transfixed by his own sorcery. While Janto took on the bloated bodyguards the shaman was undefended. Regulus did not pause, hacking down and severing the shaman’s arms at the elbow. The old man screamed, reeling back, raising his stumps high as they spewed white blood into the air. Another swipe of Regulus’ blade saw the shaman fall headless to the ground.

Janto roared, and Regulus turned to see he had defeated another two of the gigantic Khurtas. His dark armour shone in the moonlight, slick with blood, and his sky-blue eyes peered from behind his helm as he searched the night for his next victim.

Already the branches that had sprung from the arms of the shaman were beginning to wither and die. They blackened, crumbling fast, and Regulus could see their way of escape would be cut off if the foliage that had grown up the curtain wall did likewise.

‘We have to go,’ he shouted, running past Janto. Regulus didn’t wait to see if the Sho’tana warrior heeded his warning, but sprinted for the base of the wall where his other warriors still fought.

The Khurtas had massed now, and Regulus took solace in the fact their screams rose high. His own warriors only roared back in fury as they cut down the savages who swarmed all around them.

Regulus fought his way back to the wall and Janto added his bulk so they could push their way through the mass of bodies. Those Khurtas that did not relent were hacked aside. When Regulus reached Akkula, Hagama and Kazul he turned, his back against the wall.

‘Climb!’ he bellowed. ‘And climb quickly, we don’t have much time.’

Kazul was the first to leap up onto the branches. Already Regulus could see that they were blackening, going brittle, and he knew they would not hold for long.

Akkula was next, climbing the wall like an ape, as the three remaining Zatani defended the bottom of the wall. The Khurtas were wary of attacking now after seeing so many of their kind slain, but still they jabbed in with their spears, eyes wide with fear and bloodlust.

Regulus turned to Hagama, about to bellow at him to move, when an arrow hit the warrior in the throat. Hagama fell to his knee, blade falling from his grip as he grasped the black shaft protruding from his neck.

Before Regulus could rush to his warrior’s side, Janto grabbed the pauldron of his armour.

‘He’s gone,’ growled the Sho’tana.

Regulus shook off his grip, moving forward to aid Hagama, but the Khurtas were already taking advantage of the stricken Zatani. One stabbed forward, finding a gap between the black plates on the warrior’s torso, the curved blade sinking deep.