L. Modesitt - Colors of Chaos

Fydel shrugged and slipped back beside the High Wizard.

More shafts arched from the top of the Spidlarian emplacements, falling in among the remaining Gallosians and Certans and touching the advancing ranks of the Kyphran levies. The Kyphran armsmen surged upward, before the gold banners slowed at the second line of trenches, stalled by a redoubled volley of arrows.

Cerryl watched as the Gallosian heavy lancers appeared and charged the southwestern side of the hill, sweeping up the Spidlarian flank.

WWhhsstt! Whhhstt! More firebolts flared across the higher trenches, the trenches that sheltered the blue archers, and the volleys of arrows faltered and died away. With fewer arrows striking them down, both Kyphran levies and Gallosian horse moved uphill steadily, the levies taking the second line of trenches and the horse nearing the sides of the upper emplacements.

The Gallosian cavalry turned the end of the upper Spidlarian earthworks, sabres beginning to cut down the blue foot from behind.

“Good! Good!” Jeslek beamed as he saw the second line of blue defenders being swarmed under from above and below.

Yet, seemingly from nowhere, two companies of Spidlarian heavy horse charged downhill and struck the Gallosian horse from behind, bringing down perhaps a third of the purple lancers on the initial sweep. Even from across the field, Cerryl could see and sense the blond giant who led the force-Brede.

Because of the chaos of confused and mingling forces, the White chaos fire died away, and as it did, blue archers reappeared, and more of the deadly shafts poured into the Kyphran foot.

“There! There’s that Black wastrel!” Jeslek pointed, gesturing to Anya, then to Cerryl. “The middle of the upper works there, by that little pine. Chaos fire!”

Cerryl mustered chaos and flung it across the small depression that was too small to be a true valley, his bolt splattering along the back side of the earthworks just before Anya’s.

“More!” ordered Jeslek. “More!”

Cerryl threw another firebolt, as did Anya, and a smaller bolt followed from Fydel.

Had they caught the Black armsleader? Cerryl doubted it.

The Kyphran levies continued to slash upward and through the second line of Spidlarian emplacements, more slowly because the Gallosian horse had turned and fought back the blue cavalry.

Only scattered blue horse remained between the Gallosian lancers and the uppermost line of blue defenders when another company of blue riders appeared, charging down at an angle toward the purple lancers.

Cerryl moistened his lips, seeing the large blond-haired figure leading the blue charge, a figure who once again stood out somehow even from where the mage watched from hundreds of cubits south. The blues knifed through the remaining Gallosian horse, and sunlight glittered on their blades, blades that rose and fell with swiftness.

Another volley of arrows cut through the Kyphran levies still assaulting the middle earthworks.

“More chaos fire! On those darkness-damned archers!” demanded Jeslek.

Cerryl took a deep breath and loosed another firebolt. His was followed by ones from Anya and Fydel and an enormous firecloud from the High Wizard.

The fire seared the space between the second and third blue earthworks, turning most of the blue horse-and a few remaining Gallosians-into torches. Oily black smoke circled skyward, clouding the afternoon sun.

“Now! Attack!” Jeslek’s commands were more screams than orders, but the trumpet picked up his intent, and the thin, piercing notes signaled another assault.

The Kyphrans, backed now by Hydlenese levies and horse, continued uphill, cutting into and slowly pressing back the last thin line of Spidlarian defenders.

“Chaos fire-on the right!”

Cerryl obliged, trying to ignore the growing headache, the knives that cut through his skull with each new attempt at flinging chaos fire.

The White horse, now a mixture of forces from Certis, Gallos, and Hydlen, charged up the left side of the hill toward the crest. A few scattered arrows flew toward the lancers, but only a handful of riders fell.

Jeslek summoned another firecloud, searing the area of earthworks to the northeast from where some of the remaining blue archers had loosed shafts. No more arrows rose from blue bows.

Just as the mixed White Lancers neared the crest of the hill on the southwest side, a squad-or less-of blue horse, led once more by the giant Brede, appeared from behind a berm and swept westward. For a time the White forces fell back.

“Chaos fire! The leader!” ordered Jeslek.

Cerryl, Fydel, and Anya obliged, but more than half the blue horse had retreated before chaos fire splashed across the ground short of the last line of Spidlarian defenders. Still, a handful of Spidlarian mounts and riders were torched, and more black smoke circled upward.

The levies from Hydlen almost merged with those from Kyphros, and one wing had turned the right flank of the upper line of defense. The combined White cavalry regrouped and moved uphill, close to encircling the last of the blue forces.

“Now! More chaos flame. In the center!”

Whhsttt! Whhst!

The order trumpet sounded; the horse of the combined Fairhaven forces began the charge, the charge Cerryl knew, somehow, would be the last.

The White forces barely reached the top of the low hill when, again, the opposing blond commander appeared at the head of the smaller force of blue lancers, a force that split the White horse like a shimmering blue arrow.

A small pocket of Spidlarian archers appeared below and behind the White horse and began to cut down White Lancers from the rear.

“There!” snapped Jeslek.

Three quick firebolts silenced the last blue archers.

With few blue lancers and no archers to blunt their advance, the Kyphran and Hydlenese foot cut through the last of the trenches, then continued upward toward the crest of the hill.

Only a handful of blue lancers remained, then but one, and yet none of the Gallosians seemed able to bring down the tall blond figure.

“Enough!” Jeslek hurled a last firebolt.

Cerryl held his breath as the huge firebolt seemed to arc ever so slowly over the hundreds of cubits that separated High Wizard and Black commander. Fire splayed everywhere, rolling out from the flame-splashed figure of Brede and enveloping the nearer Gallosian lancers as well. Even as the Black commander flared toward ash, his blade spun end over end…and buried itself in a Gallosian lancer.

Cerryl blinked…and swallowed, knowing he should be relieved. But are you? Do you know that Jeslek is a better person? He shook his head. No matter how gallant and skilled the Black commander had been, he had been defending the wrong side.

“It’s over,” said Jeslek.

Cerryl massaged his neck and forehead, not certain that such was the case. Stars flashed intermittently before his eyes, and his head throbbed and throbbed.

“We need to see what remains,” Jeslek declared. “Find your mounts, and we will follow Eliasar.”

“Little enough remains,” said Anya. “Little enough.”

Cerryl walked down the back side of the hill to look for the tie-line that held the gelding, ignoring Fydel walking beside him.

“He was too good to be an exile,” Fydel stated, “the Black warleader.”

Cerryl did not reply, realizing that he could not sense the Black mage, Dorrin the smith. Yet he knew that he would have known had the other died in the battle. So where is he, and what will he next do?

“How could he have been an exile?” asked Fydel once more. “They wouldn’t have exiled anyone that good in battle.”

“Maybe that’s why,” Cerryl answered. “He had to be an exile. Why else would he have fought as though he had nowhere else to go?”