Энтони Райан - Queen of Fire

He turned to Erlin and Wise Bear crouched nearby. “You will take no part in this,” he told Erlin, noting the hatchet gripped in his fist.

“Iʼve fought on many occasion, brother,” Erlin replied. “It could be Iʼve seen more battles than you.”

“Even so, remain in the rear. If the day goes against us, take yourself off, perhaps circle the world one more time.”

“And watch it fall to ruin as I do?” Erlin shook his head. “I think not.”

“You will be needed.” Vaelin met his gaze, feeling the guilt surge anew. I will not do that… “Stay in the rear.”

He turned to Wise Bear before Erlin could speak further. “Are you prepared?”

The shaman glanced to the east where the peaks were starting to take on the golden hue that heralded a new day. The sky was clear today, the air possessed of a pleasing freshness, coloured by a faint floral tint from the heather that covered the valley floor. “The green fire not seen here,” the shaman reflected with a faint note of regret then sloshed through the river to where Iron Claw waited. The great bear issued a low rumbling growl as Wise Bear climbed onto his back and turned him towards the bank.

Vaelin beckoned to Lord Orven and hauled himself onto Scarʼs saddle. “If all goes well, there should be a decent gap in their ranks,” he told the guardsman. “Concentrate on the Varitai if you can.”

“I shall, my lord.” Orven gave a salute, standing straight as the current flowed about him. “At this moment Iʼd trade everything I own for a horse.”

Vaelin grinned and reached over his shoulder to draw his sword. “I expect thereʼll be plenty to choose from when weʼre done.”

He kicked Scar into motion, splashing free of the river and waiting as Astorekʼs wolves took up position in front, the other packs swarming from the banks to close in on either side. Mishara padded through the throng and sank to her haunches at his side. Vaelin looked down to meet her gaze, wondering if Dahrena saw him through her eyes. Mishara merely blinked and licked her fangs before turning her attention to the Volarians.

The camp sat about three hundred paces distant, silent beneath the pall birthed by the dead fires of the previous night. Vaelin could see the pickets moving through the morning haze, their gait leisurely and free of any alarm. He waited as the sun grew warm on the back of his neck and his shadow faded into view on the ground ahead, a long dark arrow pointed at the Volarian host.

Nortahʼs words came back to him as he took a firmer grip on Scarʼs reins, Youʼre not going to do anything foolish, are you?

He gave a soft laugh and kicked at Scarʼs flanks, the warhorse issuing a shrill, joyous whinny as he spurred to the gallop. The wolves surged forward with them, keeping pace with ease and voicing a collective growl no doubt birthed by the excitement of their shamans. Vaelin saw the pickets start to react, running to form a ragged line as discordant bugles sounded throughout the camp, men stumbling from the tents and scrambling to gather weapons and armour.

Naturally it was the Varitai who reacted first, two full battalions, probably kept awake to guard against a surprise attack, forming up to bar his path with their customary efficiency. They stood in two ranks, the first kneeling and presenting a hedgerow of spears. However, for all their unconscious discipline, even they were not immune to the sun. Vaelin saw many lowering their heads as the sun rose free of the mountains. It caused a certain ripple in their ranks but was not enough to disrupt them; for that he required something more.

The first spear-hawk streaked past his ear, close enough to feel the wing-tip brush his skin, dozens more following on either side an instant later. They struck the centre of the Varitai line in a tight black swarm, streaking out of the blinding sun too fast to dodge or duck. The centre of the Varitaiʼs line became a roiling mass of thrashing birds and men, the hawks rising from the melee trailing blood and flesh from their steel talons, hovering for a brief second then diving back down. By the time the wolves joined the struggle the Volarian ranks had already been broken.

Vaelin took Scar directly through the chaos, seeing a Volarian officer dragged down by a trio of wolves, his throat torn out in short order. The Volarians had formed more battalions beyond the Varitai, Free Swords standing in much-less-well-ordered ranks. They seemed younger than the Volarian soldiery he had fought before, many youthful faces betraying shock and outright terror at the sight of the horde of beasts wreaking havoc before their eyes. The bulk of the wolves tore into them without pause, the closest battalion falling to pieces under the onslaught in the space of a few seconds. The neighbouring formation fared better, forming itself into a tight defensive circle and managing to cut down many of the wolves that assailed it. They had no answer to the spear-hawks, however. Having dealt with the Varitai, their shamans re-formed their flocks and sent them against the Free Swords, streaking down in a black rain as the wolves continued to attack, running forward in pairs to fasten their jaws on the legs of the Volarians and drag them from the ranks.

Vaelin caught sight of a battalion commander on horseback nearby, sword raised high as he rallied his men, veteran sergeants running to his side and barking orders. He angled Scar towards the commander, Astorekʼs wolves loping ahead to bring down his horse. The man leapt clear as the horse screamed amidst a welter of blood, coming to his feet in time to turn and take Vaelinʼs sword full in the face. He galloped on to scatter the partly rallied men, cutting down a sergeant who unwisely chose to stand his ground.

Vaelin reined Scar to halt, glancing around to find Iron Claw pounding an unfortunate Volarian to death with his massive paws, Wise Bear appearing almost comical as he bounced on his back. Beyond him Vaelin caught glimpses of a vicious fight as the tribesfolk tore furiously at the northern perimeter. The tumult arising from the south and west indicated the plan had worked, at least initially. The Volarians were now assaulted on all sides and their ranks broken in the east. But the camp was not overrun and they were still fighting, too many regiments were formed and moving with the automaton rhythm typical of Varitai. This battle was far from won.

He looked to Mishara, finding her standing stock still, low to the ground and nose pointed at the centre of the camp where the densest mass of Varitai could be seen. He wheeled Scar about and spurred him to a charge, hearing Iron Clawʼs eager growl as he followed, the wolves soon striking out ahead, ignoring the wounded or dazed Free Swords wandering about.

The spear-hawks re-formed once more, circling the Volarian centre in a dense mass. They were fewer in number now, but their ferocity seemed undimmed as they rose and fell in a ceaseless, deadly spiral, raining blood as eyeless men staggered from the ranks, Free Swords screaming and Varitai lashing out at thin air in dumb obedience to their conditioning.

Vaelin saw them then, a knot of men at the heart of the Volarian ranks, flickering glimpses of red amidst the roiling black. He angled Scar towards them, the wolves massing around him to tear a hole in the wall of Varitai. He struggled through it, parrying spear-blades and hacking down any who strayed too close.

The first two red men appeared before him as he slashed his way clear of the throng, both mounted on tall warhorses and wheeling in a tight circle, their swords blurring as they cut spear-hawks from the air. Vaelin charged straight for them, the closest whirling towards him, face livid with hate-filled recognition. He spurred his horse to the left whilst his companion went right in a coordinated attack. Vaelin leaned low, half-hanging out of the saddle as they closed, parrying the stroke from the left as the other missed by inches. He regained the saddle and wheeled, hauling Scar to a halt as the two red men turned for another charge. They paused, seemingly puzzled by his immobility, staring back as he waited, meeting their gaze in turn, fixing them.