Douglas Niles - The Kinslayer Wars

The Silvanesti bore steel weapons of fine craftsmanship, arrowheads that could punch through plate mail and swords that would not shatter under the most crushing of blows. Many of the elves had some limited proficiency in magic, and these were grouped in small platoons attached to each company. Though these elves, too, would rely upon sword and shield to survive the battle, their spells could provide a timely and demoralizing counterpunch. The Wildrunners also had some five hundred exceptionally fleet horses, and upon these were mounted the elite lancers and archers who would harass and confuse the enemy. They wore the grandest armor, shined to perfection, and each bore his personal emblem embroidered in silk upon his breast. This force stood against a human army of more than fifty thousand men. The humans averaged about twenty-five years of age, the oldest veterans having seen a mere four or five decades of life. Their weapons were crudely crafted by elven standards, yet they possessed a deep strength. The blade might grow dull, but only rarely would it break.

The human elite included riders, numbering twenty thousand. They bore no insignia, nor did they wear armor of metal. Instead, they were a ragged, evil-looking lot, with many a missing tooth, eye, or ear. Unlike their elven counterparts, almost all were bearded, primarily because of a disdain of shaving, or indeed grooming of any kind.

But they carried within them an inner thirst for a thing uniquely human in character. Whether it be called glory or excitement or adventure, or simply cruelty or savagery, it was a quality that made the short-lived humans feared and distrusted by all the longer-lived races of Krynn.

Now this burning ambition, propelled by the steel-bladed drive of General Giarna, pushed the humans toward Sithelbec. For two days, the elven army appeared to stand before them, only to melt away at the first sign of attack. By the third day, however, they stood within march of that city itself. Kith-Kanan had reached the edge of the tree cover. Beyond lay nothing but open field to the gates of Sithelbec, some ten miles away. Here the Wildrunners would have to stand.

The reason for falling back this far became obvious to elf and human alike as the Wildrunners reached their final position. Silver trumpets blared to the eastward, and a column of marchers hove into view.

“Hail the elves of Silvanost!”

Cries of delight and welcome erupted from the elven army as, with propitious timing, the five thousand recruits sent by Sithas two months earlier marched into the Wildrunners’ camp. At their head rode Kencathedrus, the stalwart veteran who had given Kith-Kanan his earliest weapons training.

“Hah! I see that my former student still plays his war games!” The old veteran, his narrow face showing the strain of the long march, greeted Kith before the commander’s tent. Wearily Kencathedrus lifted a leg over his saddle. Kith helped him to stand on the ground.

“I’m glad you made it,” Kith-Kanan greeted his old teacher, clasping his arms warmly. “It’s a long march from the city.”

Kencathedrus nodded curtly. Kith-Kanan would have thought the gesture rude, except that he knew the old warrior and his mannerisms. Kencathedrus represented the purest tradition of the House Royal—the descendants, like Kith-Kanan and Sithas, of Silvanos himself. Indeed, they were distant cousins in some obscure way Kith had never understood.

But more than blood relative, Kencathedrus was in many ways the mentor of Kith-Kanan the warrior. Strict to the point of obsession, the teacher had drilled the pupil in the instinctive use of the longsword and in the swift and repetitive shooting of the bow until such tasks had become second nature. Now Kencathedrus looked Kith-Kanan up and down. The general was clad in unadorned plate mail, with a simple steel helmet, unmarked by any sign of rank.

“What about your crest?” he asked. “Don’t you fight in the name of Silvanos, of the House Royal?”

Kith nodded. “As always. However, my guards have persuaded me that there’s no sense in making myself a target. I dress like a simple cavalryman now.” He took Kencathedrus’s arm, noting that the old elf moved with considerable stiffness.

“My back isn’t what it used to be,” admitted the venerable captain, stretching.

“It’s likely to get some more exercise soon,” Kith warned him. “Thank the gods you arrived when you did!”

“The human army?” Kencathedrus looked past the elves, lined up for battle. Kith told the captain what he knew.

“A mile away, no more. We have to face them here. The alternative is to fall back into the fortress, and I’m not ready to concede the plains.”

“You’ve chosen a good field, it seems.” Kencathedrus nodded at the stands of trees around them. The area consisted of many of these thick groves, separated by wide, grassy fields. “How many stand against us?”

“Just a third of the entire Ergoth army—that’s the good news. The other two wings have bogged down, more than a hundred miles away right now. But this one is the most dangerous. The commander is bold and adventurous. I had to march all night to get in front of him, and now my troops are exhausted as he prepares his attack.”

“You forget,” Kencathedrus chided Kith, almost harshly. “You stand with elves against a force of mere humans.”

Kith-Kanan looked at the old warrior fondly, but he shook his head at the same time. “These ‘mere’ humans wiped out a hundred of my Wildrunners in one ambush. They’ve covered four hundred miles in three weeks.” Now the leader’s voice took on a tone of authority. “Do not underestimate them.” Kencathedrus studied Kith-Kanan before nodding his agreement. “Why don’t you show me the lines,” he suggested. “I presume you want us ready at first light.”

As it happened, General Giarna gave Kith’s force one more day to rest and prepare. The human army shifted and marched and expanded, all behind the screen of several groves of trees. Kith sent a dozen Kagonesti Wildrunners to spy, counting on the natural vegetation that they used so well to cover them. Only one returned, and he to report that the human sentries were too thick for even the skilled elves to pass without detection.

The elven force took advantage of the extra day, however. They constructed trenches along much of their front, and in other places, they laid long, sharp stakes in the earth to form a wall thrusting outward. These stakes would protect much of the front from the enemy horsemen Kith knew to number in the thousands.

Parnigar supervised the excavation, racing from site to site, shouting and cursing. He insulted the depth of one trench, the width of another. He cast aspersions on the lineage of the elves who had done the work. The Wildrunners leaped to obey out of respect, not fear. All along the line they dug in, proving that they used the pick and the spade as well as the longsword and pike. Midafternoon slowly crept toward dusk. Kith restlessly worked his way back and forth along the line. Eventually he came to the reserve, where the men of Silvanost recovered from their long march under the shrewd tutelage of Kencathedrus. That captain stepped up to Kith-Kanan as the general dismounted from Kijo.

“Odd how they work for him,” noted the older elf, indicating Parnigar. “My elves wouldn’t even look at an officer who talked to them like that.” Kith-Kanan looked at him curiously, realizing that he spoke the truth. “The Wildrunners here on the plains are a different kind of force than you know from the city,” he pointed out.

He looked at the reserve force, consisting of the five thousand elves who had marched with Kencathedrus. Even at ease, they lounged in the sun in neat ranks across the grassy meadows. A formation of Wildrunners, Kith reflected, would have collected in the areas of shade.