soldiers; they faced Rhovann’s runehelms.
“Here they come,” she breathed, and allowed herself a humorless smile. She’d soon see whether the creatures were as dangerous as Geran feared, or not.
The runehelms, sixty or seventy strong, marched into Wester’s line. Black halberds rose high, and then fell with sickening power. No shield or mail could withstand the blow of weapons that heavy driven with such remorseless power; in a matter of moments, two score Hulmaster soldiers were cut down by the hideous strength of the creatures. The constructs advanced a few more steps, drawing back for another blow. Brave Shieldsworn darted inside their reach, driving spears into gray claylike flesh or hacking furiously with axe or sword, but the runehelms seemed almost impervious to their attacks. One of the monsters staggered as a big Shieldsworn fighter flung aside his shield and hewed at its knee with his war axe in a two-handed grip, carving a notch in the creature’s leg as if he had a mind to fell a tree. But the runehelm he attacked struck him a backhand blow with its left hand and sent him flying through the air. Before he could rise again, the monster buried the blade of its halberd in his chest and wrenched it free. The center of the Hulmaster line buckled under the runehelm’s inexorable assault.
So much for the hope that they might be easier to kill a few miles from Hulburg, Kara thought darkly. The only defense against the things was to not be standing wherever that halberd was coming down.
“Damn it all,” she snarled. Her Shieldsworn weren’t giving an inch to the Council Guard on either flank, but the runehelms were destroying her center before her eyes. If Wester’s shield broke, the battle might be lost. In desperation, Kara motioned to her standard-bearer and Brother Larken behind her. “To the center!” she cried. “Follow me!”
Spurring Dancer forward, she rode up into the furious melee where Wester’s shield struggled to stop foes that seemed unstoppable. Then the chaos of battle engulfed her and her bodyguards. In the space of five heartbeats, Kara found herself in the thick of the fray, unable to think about anything more than the enemies immediately around her. Her sword darted and flashed, batting away massive halberds, leaping out to find a gray throat, blurring in a brutal arc as it took a council soldier’s arm at the elbow. Dancer’s hooves lashed and struck as the big mare plunged through the fighting.
A few steps behind her, Sarth abandoned his horse and took to the air, shielding himself with a golden halo that deflected the occasional bolt or spear hurled in his direction. The sorcerer had no skill for fighting from horseback, and he knew it. From his vantage he scoured the enemy ranks with great blasts of fire, only to catch the attention of several merchant company wizards. A furious spell battle erupted in the air over the confused melee as the tiefling traded lightning bolts and brilliant darts of magical force with his adversaries. A gray-bearded mage in the colors of the Jannarsks lashed out at Sarth with a rainbow-colored ray that shattered into individual beams when it struck his spell-shield; a glancing touch of the orange ray singed a path across Sarth’s chest, blackening his robes and raising a wisp of smoke from his smoldering garb. Sarth shrugged it off, as his race was little affected by fire of any sort, and replied with a barrage of deadly ice darts that skewered the Jannarsk mage several times through and cut down a number of the Jannarsk soldiers near him as well.
Kara wheeled around, trying to assess whether she’d downed any of the runehelms in her countercharge, but the automatons still pressed forward. No blood seeped from opened throats or deep stabs in their gray flesh. “How in the Nine Hells do you slay these things?” she growled to herself. The warrior who’d chopped at its knees might have had the right idea-a shield wouldn’t help anyway, and if the things could be immobilized by cutting their legs out from under them, they’d pose little threat.
“Strike at their legs!” she shouted to her soldiers. “Give ground and slow them down by hacking at their legs!”
She decided to put her own advice into action, spurring back to meet the nearest of the creatures. She guided Dancer away from a monstrous sweep of the runehelm’s halberd, and then spurred past the creature, leaning down from the saddle to hew at its thick leg. She felt the hard shock of her steel meeting bone-or something much like bone-just above the monster’s knee, and bounded out of its reach as it turned awkwardly and lunged at her. Her standard-bearer darted in from the other side and distracted the creature, gaining its attention before backing out of its reach, and when it lunged after Merrith, Kara raced back in again to deliver another blow across the back of the same knee she’d just struck, hamstringing the runehelm. It might not bleed and it might not feel pain, but the creature was still limited by its physical nature; somewhere in its gray flesh its frame was held together with something like bone and sinew, and when those were damaged, its limbs couldn’t work. The runehelm floundered to the ground as its leg buckled, but now more of the gray monsters pressed in from all sides.
“Kara!” Sarth shouted. He alighted again, smoke streaming from his cloak. “The runehelms are surrounding you! You must pull back!”
“It can’t be,” she murmured. She veered around several Shieldsworn working together like a wolf pack to bait and dart at another of the runehelms, and rode clear of the fighting to take stock of how the battle proceeded beyond her own small piece of it. With a sick shock, Kara realized that the sorcerer was right. Despite the desperate efforts of Wester’s shield and Larken’s too, the runehelms had simply plowed through the Hulmaster soldiers and were turning to one side or the other, systematically cutting down all in their path. The Council Guards following the runehelm assault poured through the breach, shouting in triumph.
For a moment, Kara hesitated. Part of her insisted that by redoubling their efforts, holding where she now stood regardless of the cost, she might yet throw back the runehelms and the Council Guard … but her center was smashed beyond repair. If she pulled her army back, she’d lose the encampment at the very least, and the retreat might very well turn into a rout. Without supplies or shelter it would only take a day, perhaps two, before her army disintegrated entirely.
Sarth read the indecision in her eyes, and came to stand at her stirrup. “Kara, there is always tomorrow,” he said. “If Geran and I succeed tonight, we will defeat the runehelms for you, but we will need your army to deal with the Council Guard.”
“Perhaps you’re right.” Kara looked around a moment longer, hoping that she’d find some opening or opportunity that would let her salvage the day without abandoning the camp-but each moment she delayed, she knew that she decreased the chances of getting an intact army away from the battle. With a growl, she wheeled and waved her sword over her head. “First and Third Shields, pull back! Icehammers, pull back! Back to the rallying point! Brother Larken, I want the Second Shield to hold in the camp. You’re our rearguard!”
The cleric glanced over at Kara, and gave a grim nod. Not many of his soldiers would fight their way free, but if they could slow the runehelms and the Council Guard enough for the remaining companies to break off, their sacrifice might be worth it. Brandishing his mace, Larken turned back to the fray, shouting orders at his soldiers; Kara wondered if she would see him again.
More of Rhovann’s constructs flooded forward; Sarth and Kara had to back up to stay out of their reach. All around them, Shieldsworn were yielding ground, an orderly fighting withdrawal through their own camp. “Thank Tempus that we practiced this in maneuvers,” she breathed aloud. So many battles ended with one side or the other in panicked flight. “Sarth, see if you can’t persuade the merchant cavalry to keep their distance. I don’t want our soldiers ridden down as we retreat.”
The tiefling nodded. “Will you be able to hold on your hilltop there?”
“What choice do we have?” Kara answered. “We’ll hold somehow. Now go!”
Sarth leaped into the air and arrowed off toward the Icehammers as they withdrew before the merchant coster riders. Kara swallowed her bitter disappointment at the outcome of her first meeting with Marstel’s forces, and turned her attention to the challenge of extricating her army from the murderous strength of the wizards’ runehelms. She’d lost the day, but the war wasn’t over yet-the next move was Geran’s.
TWENTY-TWO
Dusk was falling over Hulburg as Geran led his horse into the small barn behind Mirya’s house and quickly stripped off the saddle and harness. He knew he ought to give the animal a good rubdown and look after it with more care, but he had little time to spare and he doubted he’d need to come back for the gelding. If he needed a mount in the next few hours, he’d borrow or steal one close at hand.
By the time he finished with the saddle and blankets, Mirya was waiting in the yard with a shawl around her
