Golden Age (The Shifting Tides, #1)

The archers broke, leaving the backs of the hoplites exposed. As the dozen creatures reached the infantry the soldiers turned to face this new threat, reducing the massed force that supported those in front. The line wavered.

Nikolas knew that in moments the ranks would shatter. The soldiers of the sun king would advance and the center of his line would break, splitting his army neatly in two as the giants and ogres reached the soldiers in yellow.

When that happened, it would all be over.

He signaled an officer on the flank, where the fighting was less relentless. He pointed at the army’s rear with his sword, desperation in his movements. The officer called out and a score of soldiers broke away, pushing through to join him, but in the confusion of battle they would arrive too late.

Knowing he had to do something, Nikolas left the hill and ran toward the creatures smashing through the back of his army. ‘Hold the line!’ he cried to his men in front.

Those in the back were struggling against the long arms that could smash through two men at a time, knocking aside spears and shields and crushing bodies in a single blow. A Xanthian spear in a giant’s hand thrust into a red-cloaked soldier’s abdomen and then tossed his body into the air behind him before penetrating another warrior’s chest; the man gasped in agony, writhing as the wooden spike tore at his innards.

Nothing could prepare Nikolas for the carnage as he reached the scene. Setting his jaw he leaped over a body and raised his shield to block the overhead swing of a pair of fists. The blow, from arms as large as a big man’s leg, shattered his shield into pieces, nearly breaking his arm in the process.

Stars sparkled in his vision as he barely managed to evade the next blow by lunging to the side. He struck the ground and rolled onto his back. The giant snarled as he loomed over him. Nikolas knew he was a dead man.

But something huge swooped down from overhead. Wings the size of a boat’s sails framed a lithe body that was all bone, muscle, sinew, and scale. A pair of reptilian jaws clasped over the giant’s head, biting down hard, crushing the creature’s skull. The wings flapped and the dragon tore the giant’s head from its body, once more rising into the air. Nikolas saw it had a scar on the side of its face in the shape of a crescent.

The giant fell to the ground, toppling like a tree. Nikolas climbed back to his feet as he saw another dragon plunge down on the enemy with claws outstretched to grab an ogre, claws rending its shoulders and jaw turning sideways to tear open its victim’s throat. Two furies picked up another giant by the armpits, flying high into the sky. Nikolas followed them with his eyes until they were distant figures, the ogre struggling in their grip. They finally let go and the ogre came crashing to the ground with earth-shattering force.

Flying creatures were suddenly everywhere, ripping into the once-indomitable force at the rear of Nikolas’s army. He watched in wonder, uncomprehending how or why they were here. Then he shook himself and turned back to the line.

‘Reform!’ he cried. ‘Shield to shield!’

With the threat from behind gone, the discipline of the Xanthian hoplites’ training came to the fore. Nikolas ran to join them, pushing through the ranks and roaring for them to hold.

The line came together. But the sun king’s men sensed victory and pushed on relentlessly. Nikolas had lost his spear and shield and now had only his sword. The enemy pushed forward. The Xanthians gave ground. The tide would turn one way or another at any instant.

A screaming warrior came at him, thrusting a spear at Nikolas’s head. Ducking under it, Nikolas lunged forward and slashed at his opponent’s unprotected knees. The warrior’s screaming changed pitch as he fell. In a momentary lull, Nikolas saw that there were no longer any giants or ogres fighting with the sun king’s men. He looked up. Winged creatures were fighting each other in the skies, writhing and rolling as dragon fought dragon and fury fought fury.

Bodies were everywhere. The ground was stained red with blood. Nikolas suddenly found himself fighting two men at once, and when he looked for help he saw that every man around him was occupied as each force tried to make one final surge and achieve victory.

He pushed a spear away with his sword and lunged, feeling the blade bite deeply as he struck a stocky Ilean’s throat. But then his second opponent, a man as muscled as Nikolas himself, slashed down with a curved sword. Nikolas managed to avoid the blow, but he felt sudden fire as sharp steel sliced the back of his sword hand.

His sword dropped from his fingers. Seeing his enemy without shield or weapon, the big warrior’s eyes lit up with triumph as he prepared to make a final killing strike. Nikolas waited for the end.

Then, swift as a bird, an arrow flew past Nikolas’s ear. The Ilean cried out and put his hands to his face, trying in vain to clutch at the shaft that sprouted from his eye. As he fell and another enemy took his place, a second arrow tore into the next Ilean’s face.

‘Forward!’ came the cry from one of the officers.