Douglas Niles: The Crown and the Sword

“No! They will be crushed!” Ankhar insisted, his expectations overruling the evidence of his eyes.

For, indeed, it seemed like the elemental king was anchored fast. It roared the mightiest bellow yet-even the echoes hurt Ankhar’s ears-but it could not lift either foot off of the ground. Bending at the waist, the gigantic being swept a granite fist across the front of the spear-wielders. But instead of smashing them to the ground, it collected them, like a shaggy dog collects burrs. Each warrior met the elemental’s blow with an upraised spear, and the weapon drove into the monstrous fist and remained embedded there. The stony warrior, in turn, held unfailingly to the spear, so when the king raised his fist again, he had a score or more of the gray-colored warriors dangling from the limb.

And the following ranks of the bizarre attackers continued to advance and fight similarly. All around the king circled a ring of these stone beings, and the later ranks climbed over their fellows-who remained stuck fast to the monster’s feet-to thrust and plunge their own spears into its ankles, its calves. In moments the being was skirted all about, and the things continued to climb, to stab, to cling.

Strangely, these newcomers did not seem to be dying, though the elemental king struggled to kick with its massive legs and continued to smash downward with clublike arms. The massive torso twisted back and forth, flexed and leaned, and quivered violently. Yet the burrlike warriors remained fixed to the huge shape, every place they touched it, and still more of them climbed up, stabbed, and held on. Another great forearm smashed to the ground, but when the king raised the limb, nearly a hundred of the stone warriors dangled from it, like a strangely decorative fringe.

The stone warriors continued to attack, to stab with their spears, and to lodge their weapons in the monsters. The king roared and thrashed but didn’t seem capable of destroying the attackers. Ankhar blinked, growling deep within his chest. So strange and unexpected! What in the world was happening? Even when the monster lashed out, each of the stone warriors struck by an elemental limb seemed to grab onto it, until the lower extremities of the monstrous being were wrapped in a skirt of stone ornaments.

The stone warriors rattled and clattered as the huge being shook, banging together and swinging about, but still none of them broke free. Instead, more came on, climbing, stabbing, clinging.

And the weight was clearly dragging the monster down.

Thrashing desperately, the king of the elementals seemed to shrink, its lower limbs slipping into the ground. The attackers affixed to the feet and lower legs disappeared, vanishing through the bedrock of the valley floor, and the king sank with them.

More and more of the spear-carrying warriors closed in, climbing on top of each other, swarming like ants higher and higher up onto the shoulders of the massive being, even as the king continued to shrink down closer to the ground. Almost waist deep now, the monster fought desperately with its arms, twisting its torso. But each blow only attached more of the mysterious spearmen to the creature’s immortal form. Spears stabbed into the great vault of the king’s chest, while more of the enterprising stone warriors-moving nimbly, despite their stiff facades-scrambled onto the creature’s collar, nape, and neck.

The attackers scrambled and stabbed, and finally they completely covered the elemental king. Ankhar could see no sign of the fiery eyes, the craggy shoulders, the stormy arms and legs. His great monster was just a huge, shaggy pile of stone creatures that coated the being, inexorably dragging it under. Still fighting, thrashing, convulsing, the massive form continued to sink under the ground.

Now it was chest deep in the solid bedrock of the valley and sinking deeper still. It roared once more, but even that was a hollow sound, coming as though from very far away and sounding more like hellish pain than fury. Even as the king howled, the stone attackers climbed into its gaping mouth, stabbing with those spears, dragging it down, down. Now only its shoulders and head remained above the ground, and even those moved sluggishly, totally overwhelmed by the stony weight of the spear-carrying attackers.

Within a few moments, the elemental king had sunk out of sight, bearing with it the heavy weight of the mysterious stone warriors. Still they piled on, spears pointing down into the ground now, the attackers stabbing, following the force of their thrusts into the ground, and descending from sight.

They continued until, at last, there were none of them remaining on the surface of the world.

Only then did Ankhar glance elsewhere, taking note of the human warriors, suddenly rallying under the command of their lord marshal and a general wearing the sigil of the Rose. The few goblins on their wolves who had followed closely behind Ankhar were being cut down by companies of mounted knights, the men refreshed and heartened by the defeat of their monstrous foe. Trumpets sounded, and the whole of the Palanthian Legion started forward, pushing the scattered remnants of Ankhar’s horde before them.

“I think,” Hoarst said with a low, rueful sigh as he started to climb down from the shelf of rock, “that we had better get back to the army.”

The Palanthian Legion led the counterattack, emerging from the mountain valley with a vengeance, sweeping into the scattered companies of Ankhar’s horde. Jaymes and his Freemen rode with General Weaver at the forefront of the charge, though the army commander immediately dispatched messengers from his bodyguard to his other retreating troops.

Within an hour the men of the Rose, Crown, and Sword were streaming back to the field from the west and north. Word of the elemental king’s defeat infused them with new energy, fueling the strength of a fresh charge. The barbarians and monsters of the half-giant’s horde, recognizing imminent disaster, began a flight to the south and east.

It became obvious that the shattered enemy army would continue routing all the way to Lemish. Exhausted and drained, the humans of the Solamnic Army finally abandoned the pursuit as night cloaked the battlefield in darkness. Too much had happened during this momentous day for any soldier to keep fighting. The enemy was clearly defeated, broken, and demoralized.

Annihilation would have to wait for another campaign.

‘The adamites’ sole purpose was to guard the elemental king, to prevent it from journeying to the upper world and wreaking the kind of destruction of which it was capable. They must have been stationed there many centuries ago-perhaps even during the Age of Dreams.”

Jaymes was explaining the situation to Lord Martin as the two of them rode to Solanthus, accompanying the withdrawing army of Solamnia. Thousands of troops marched with them, before and behind, all proceeding in a massive column. The joy of a great victory propelled them, but it was tempered by the memory of the many grievous losses, men and women slain, cities sacked and burned, during the three years of Ankhar’s war.

“We must offer a prayer of gratitude for whichever of our ancestors, or our ancestors’ gods, had the foresight to assign them to that ageless duty,” remarked the nobleman of Solanthus. “Without them, our cause surely would have failed.”

“Not just our cause,” Jaymes noted. “Imagine if that creature was free to roam the surface of the world. No city could stand against it. Even the greatest dragons might have had no choice but to flee or die.”

The army was marching westward, finally, away from the battlefield and the Garnet foothills. Of course, scouts and outriders were closely watching the area around the great force, and the men still carried their weapons at the ready. But all reports indicated the enemy was thoroughly broken, scattering to the southeast, and even the lord marshal allowed himself to relax a little.