Asgoleth the Warrior

chapter SIXTEEN

Demos sneered at the glittering ranks of the Draskian army drawn up in its battle lines to oppose him. He saw doubt in the faces of his own men for the Draskians had been forewarned of the Akonite advance and had had more than enough time to mobilise their entire army. Unlike the assault on Torr, this time there would be no element of surprise. No toppling towers to demoralise and cow their foes.

The Draskian army outnumbered the Akonites by at least ten thousand men and they were confident that they could repel the invaders.

The two armies faced each other across the wide, shallow, Red River that marked the border between Torr and Drask. Soon now, as it had many times before, its waters would run truly red with the blood of the fallen as two armies merged together in savage conflict.

There was no doubt on the face of Demos as he stared at their glittering, confident, ranks. The Draskians were there in such force because he had arranged it so. He it was who had sent word ahead into Drask to warn them of the Akonite advance. He knew that the Draskians would rush to defend their borders and so they had done. There before him waited the full military might of a proud land ready to give battle. He felt like laughing out loud at the fools.

Ordinarily it would have been a daunting sight but not to Demos this day. He wanted them just where they were. When he unleashed the power of his Deathbringer, their army would wither and perish and with their finest soldiers destroyed the people of Drask would be helpless before him. Word of his power would spread to other lands and all would learn that it was pointless to resist him.

He patted the shining assembly of crystal and steel that composed the Deathbringer and smiled a ghastly smile as he looked upon the Heart of Ra embedded deep within it. Such power it held; power enough to destroy all his enemies and make him master of the world.

He turned his attention back to the Draskian army and waited. He knew that the Draskian king and his generals would soon give the order to attack. They would be sure that the Akonites, outnumbered as they were, would have no choice but to fight defensively. They would be confident of victory over their arrogant, foolish, foes. Suddenly the harsh blare of the war horns rang out and now Demos did laugh out loud as the Draskian infantry surged forward.

Into the wide, shallow river they ran, their weapons glittering in the sun and their war cries ringing from their lips. The Akonites on the opposite bank braced themselves to meet the charge and many cast anxious glances back at their terrible commander. When would he unleash his great power against the enemy?

Demos watched the Draskians cross the river. Saw their heavy cavalry trotting close behind the infantry, awaiting their moment to charge forward and smash the Akonite ranks into red ruin. At last he looked at the Heart of Ra and concentrated the evil power of his mind upon the glowing jewel. The glow grew stronger and stronger until the entire weapon pulsed with ruby hellfire.

Then a beam of light leapt forth from the thick central rod of the Deathbringer. Straight towards the Draskian infantry and mounted knights it sped until it struck among them with the force of a thousand thunderbolts.

In seconds the Draskian advance was brought to a halt as men and horses perished in the blast. The surviving infantry looked back in horror as their heavy cavalry was wiped out, men and horses reduced to smoking piles of charred bone and melted armour.

Again and again the beam lashed out and where it touched men died. Against such sorcery the Draskians knew they could not prevail and one by one and then in hundreds men threw down their weapons and raised their hands in surrender. They had no desire to lose their lives and perhaps their souls as well to black sorcery such as this.

Some however were not easily cowed and Demos frowned as he received a report that his left flank was coming under heavy attack. He snarled angrily,

‘Fools, don’t they know they are beaten?’

He snapped an order to the messenger,

‘Return at once to your commander and tell him to withdraw towards me. When he lures the enemy within my sight I shall destroy them.’

The messenger galloped off and Demos cursed and resumed his attack upon the Draskian cavalry who, unlike the infantry, continued to regroup and charge again and again. Inspired by their courage many of the infantry picked up their weapons once more and charged back into the fray.

Now his own men were taking casualties and Demos snarled in fury at the Draskians insolence. He sent blast after blast of devastating destruction into their ranks but despite this the Draskians fought on and many an Akonite fell to their frenzied assaults.

Sweat poured down the tyrants face as he slew his foes, then disturbing news reached him. Those who had attacked his armies left flank had suddenly withdrawn before coming within sight of him. They had learned quickly that terrible as this unholy weapon was, it had limitations. If Demos couldn’t’t see you, he couldn’t slay you.

They swiftly adapted to their new tactics of hit and run and soon were taking a heavy toll of Akonite lives. Demos snarled with fury as he saw the looks of fear and doubt on the faces of his men. Unless he could defeat these Draskian scum soon he would start to lose, not only the battle but the fear in which he was held by his subjects.

If they saw that he could be defeated, that his magic was not invincible, then they would eventually rebel against him. He could keep control of his generals he knew but soon their soldiers would start to desert and without an army to command, what use would his generals be?

He cried out in frustration and anger as he realised that no matter how great his magic was, he still had to back it up with force of arms. If he lost control of the army, if they faded away into the night, then with them would go all his dreams of empire. He could not let that happen. He would not allow himself to be beaten by these Draskian scum.

He fought off his growing fatigue and brought his will to bear on the Heart of Ra which pulsed and glowed within its crystal and steel cage. He called upon the mighty power of the unearthly gem and it responded to his commands by sending out bolt after bolt of destruction. Men died where those bolts touched and the air was full of screams and smoke and the stench of burning flesh but no matter how many he slew their place was taken by others, all of them determined to stop the Akonites here at the border. They had heard the horrible stories of what had befallen Torr under their rule and they were desperate to prevent the same thing from happening to their homeland. Despite the mighty and terrible magic of their sorcerer king the Akonites were going to pay a terrible price for conquering Drask.

A sudden charge by the Draskian cavalry succeeded in breaching the Akonite lines. The riders laid about them with their long sabres and heavy spiked maces to deadly effect. Akonite warriors fell to the blows of their enemies and began to stumble back, away from these mounted madmen.

Demos cried out in rage and struggled to bring the Heart of Ra to bear on the battling men. A wave of dizziness swept over him as fatigue began to exact a heavy toll from him. He leaned against the weapon for a moment to regain control and as he did so he wondered where general Valshin and his troops were. He was supposed to have met the rest of the army here at the border when he had destroyed the Torran rebels. Had he been defeated? Demos shook his head, he couldn’t’t believe that the Torrans had prevailed over a large, well armed, Akonite Army. No, Valshin would arrive soon and then these Draskians would be defeated.

Grimly he resumed his task of destruction, determined to smash his enemies down. Yet ever they defied him and struck back again and again. His soldiers, disheartened by the ferocity of their foes, fell back before the continued assaults. They were far from home and they knew of the peril their homeland faced from her enemies and they wished to return there. They had no real desire to give their lives for Demos and his dreams of empire. Only their fear of his demonic magic kept them at their posts.

They could see now though that their sorcerer king was not as all powerful as he had led them to believe. For despite his magic and the terrible weapon he controlled, the Draskian army remained undefeated and here and there along the lines of battling warriors gaps appeared in the ranks as the Akonites started to turn and flee from their enemies.

Demos saw what was happening and snarled an order to general Dremin who stood beside him.

‘Dremin, take your reserves down to strengthen the front ranks. Go now!’

General Dremin looked at the melee and frowned.

‘My lord I do not think my reserves will make any difference to the battle. Why not order our men to fall back and regroup. With less ground to defend we will stand a much better chance. As it is, our men are being slain to no good end.’

Demos shrieked with fury,

‘Dog! Animal! Do as I have commanded or I will kill you where you stand.’

Dreaming blanched with terror as he saw the tyrants ring begin to glow.

‘I go at once, my lord.’

He leapt into the saddle and galloped off towards the fighting followed by his men.

Demos watched them as they rode forward to grapple with the enemy. Many fell to the deadly sting of Draskian arrows before they gotten anywhere near the fighting. Dremin, more afraid of Demos than he was of the Draskians led the charge, urging his men to follow until they merged into the distant, milling throng of battling warriors. To his satisfaction Demos saw the Draskian forces fall back before that frenzied assault.

Somewhat recovered, Demos turned once more to the deadly weapon he had created. Once again he started sending bolt after bolt of red death among his enemies. He saw a group of Akonites throw down their weapons and turn to flee pursued by triumphant Draskians. His eyes glittered with malevolence as he swung Deathbringer around to face them. Again red death spat forth and this time both Draskian and Akonite fell before it. Demos laughed madly as he watched men burst into flame and fall shrieking to the ground. Now the rest of his army would know the fate that awaited them should they break before their foes.

Then another wave of dizziness swept over him and he staggered and clutched on to Deathbringer for support. His aides rushed forward to help him but he shook them off with a savage curse and straightened up. Yet despite his determination to continue to deal death he knew that he was almost spent.

Drawing upon his last reserves of strength he turned again to the Deathbringer. Sweat glistened on his face as he concentrated and once more the weapon sent forth its bolts of destruction. The roar of battle filled his ears and a black surge of fury filled his soul as he saw that, despite all his efforts, The Draskians were gradually forcing the Akonites back.

As if in confirmation of their success arrows began to fall around him, speaking of the nearness of his foes. His aides were being struck down by the whistling death and curses sprayed from his lips. It could only be a matter of time before his army broke and ran and then it would be all over. He knew he could expect no mercy from the Draskians if they should capture him.

Behind him a long cry rang out and he glared around to see a young page boy running towards him. The boy was smiling and Demos grinned, knowing the news he brought even before the lad spoke.

‘My lord, look! General Valshin and his men approach. We are saved!’

Far off Demos could see the approach of thousands of men. They marched beneath Valshin's banner and he heard cries of joy from his soldiers on the battlefield as word of the reinforcements spread. Heartened by this news the Akonites surged forward driving the Draskians back. The Draskians knew that they faced almost certain defeat now but still they battled on. They would die as warriors and take as many of their foes down into the underworld with them as they could.

Demos rested as he watched valshin and his men draw near. It had been a near thing, too near. In his arrogance he had underestimated the valour and courage of his foes. The Draskians were mighty warriors indeed and he would not make such a mistake again. He had learned this day that he had placed too much faith in the Heart of Ra. It was truly a terrible weapon but even so, he had almost been defeated.

His empire would be built not only by his magic but by the strength of his soldier’s sword arms, by the ruthless might of the army he commanded. He grinned at the thought. Other empires had been forged with men alone and so too would his be built. He would only use the power of the Heart of Ra to protect himself in future. As long as he commanded that power his generals would obey him and their soldiers would obey them; as long as he reminded them of his power occasionally.

He shook his head in self recrimination as he realised that he had no need to take the risk of going into battle himself. Not when he had thousands of soldiers to do it for him. So keen had he been to display his power that he had actually risked defeat and death at the hands of his enemies. That would not happen again.

The battle raged on as the Akonites grimly pushed the Draskians back. He saw Valshin and his men draw ever nearer then he frowned. Something did not look right about the rapidly approaching army. Then he cursed as he saw the standard bearers throw down their burdens and draw sword and mace and axe. Each of the approaching warriors swiftly attached a white strip of cloth to their Akonite helmets then they urged their mounts forward into a charge.

Loud cries of dismay and fear rang out as the Akonites realised they had been fooled. This was not general Valshin and his men. Thundering towards them came the Torran army, fired to fury by the lust for revenge.

Before any defence could be mustered the Torrans were among their enemies, dealing death with every blow. The Akonites tried to rally but their efforts were smashed down by the rampaging, ruthless Torrans. Demos glared at this new threat and cursed as he saw that to the front and rear his men were being slaughtered. Before the combined assaults of both the Draskian and the Torran armies the Akonite forces were being overwhelmed and destroyed. All around him his men were being killed and Demos saw his dreams of empire dying with them.

Then his eye fell upon a familiar, hated figure and he howled with fury. There at the forefront of the Torran army was a mightily muscled savage who fought with deadly, ferocious skill. Each slash or thrust of his sword claimed yet another Akonite life as he forced his rearing warhorse in among his enemies. It could only be that accursed barbarian Asgoleth.

Demos snarled his anger as he hauled the heavy mass of the Deathbringer around to face his hated foe. If he could but unleash one bolt into the barbarian’s mighty heart then his looming defeat would not be complete.

The heavy weapon resisted his efforts and he turned to snarl at his aides for assistance. The words died on his lips as he saw that he was alone. All of his aides had fled or had been slain by the arrows of the enemy. Soon their cavalry and infantry would sweep over his position and he would be caught between two enemy armies. He felt the grim spectre of death hovering at his shoulder and he glared at the Calthian with murder in his heart.

‘You will not escape me, you dog!’ he cried and returned to his task with the strength of a madman.

He slowly forced the Deathbringers ugly snout around until at last it was pointed straight at his enemy’s heart. Gasping and giggling and with a froth of spittle upon his writhing lips he concentrated his mind upon it until once more it glowed a deep and menacing red.

Asgoleth chopped downward with his blood smeared blade, splitting the skull of the Akonite who had tried to unhorse him with a spear thrust. He tore his blade free and lashed out with his boot sending the man hurtling to the ground to be smashed to red ruin beneath the flashing steel shod hooves of his warhorse. As the powerful beast crashed back to Earth Asgoleth’s gaze met that of Demos.

He saw the hatred and insanity there saw the red glow of the Deathbringer that was pointing right at him and he snarled a savage curse. Death was about to reach out for him but he would not give the tyrant the satisfaction of seeing a Calthian warrior trying to flee for his life. With his blood chilling war cry on his lips he kicked his steed into a gallop and charged straight towards his madly grinning foe.

He knew that he would never reach Demos before he was struck down but, determined to die striking out at his foe, he drew back his powerful arm and with all the strength he possessed, he threw the great blade at his enemy. As the glittering sword flew from his grasp the Deathbringer pulsed brightly and spat forth a surge of deadly energy. Searing red agony filled him and wrenched him from the saddle sending him crashing to the ground.

He lay there, gritting his teeth against the waves of pain that ate at his flesh. Behind him he heard the ghastly shrieks and cries of horror as that terrible beam ripped through the battling warriors in its path. Above their death cries he could hear the insane voice of Demos laughing and cackling at the carnage he had wrought; laughing at all the death and destruction, laughing at him.

Fury gripped him then, a fury more intense than any he had ever felt before. How he had survived that hellish blast he did not know but he would not waste his luck. Somehow he would continue to live until this mad sorcerer lay dead at his feet.

Suddenly the tyrant’s laughter stopped and was replaced by a shriek of despair. Agoleth shook his head and looked over at his enemy and a grin touched his lips as he saw the hilt of his sword jutting out of the glittering entrails of the Deathbringer. Demos cried and shrieked with mad fury as he tugged at the sword but Asgoleth could see that his efforts were in vain. A flickering red aura enveloped the Deathbringer and jagged bolts of energy crackled and spat from it until, with a deafening concussion and a searing, bright flash, the Deathbringer blew itself into a million glittering fragments.

The blast of the explosion almost deafened the young barbarian as he hugged the ground with his hands over his head. The Earth trembled and shook beneath him and the air was filled with thousands of fragments of whistling death. The noise went on for a long, long time but at last the rumbling echoes of the detonation died slowly away to be replaced by a deep silence. Asgoleth rose slowly to his feet and stared in awe at the destruction that had been wrought.

Where the Deathbringer had stood there was now only a deep crater of charred, fused Earth. Dead men and horses lay all around and then the silence was dispelled by the pain wracked cries of the wounded. Ignoring his own pain, Agoleth drew his long Torran knife and started to walk towards the crater holding the weapon lightly in his hand ready for use.

His eye fell upon a burned and blackened heap lying limply at the craters edge and he spat as he realised it was Demos. It looked as if the tyrant had escaped his blade after all. The horribly burned and lacerated body gave a sudden harsh gasp and rolled over and Asgoleth watched in horror as this thing that should by all rights be dead, climbed slowly and painfully to its feet.

The flesh upon the tyrant’s skull had been burned away revealing the white bone beneath; so too the skin of his hands had been devoured by the flames and it seemed to Asgoleth that he faced no man here but a ghastly animated skeleton. Only demos’ eyes showed any sign of life and they glittered with madness and hatred as they looked upon the barbarian who had brought his dreams of empire to ruin.

A giggle escaped the tyrant’s mouth and a dribble of bloody saliva ran down his ruined chin. Finally he croaked,

‘You fool; did you really think you could defeat me? I who hold the power of a god? You cannot defeat me fool. I shall rise above you and I shall destroy all that you have fought for and all men shall be my slaves. I shall repair this ruined body and I shall live forever and all men everywhere shall worship me. Did you really think you could destroy a god, barbarian?’

He began to laugh wildly, waving his blackened arms in the air and Asgoleth knew that he was truly insane and he had no desire to learn if his magic was indeed as strong as he claimed. A snarl ripped from his lips.

‘Let me see you replace your head, God!’

A savage sideways slash and the mad laughter cut off abruptly as Demos’ head leapt from his shoulders atop a surging spray of blood. The body took a step forward then stiffened and fell to the ground. Asgoleth shuddered as he saw that life still held a grip upon the severed head of the tyrant. A thrill of unease ran down his spine as he stared at the writhing lips, saw the light of madness blaze undiminished in the dark eyes. Could this evil creature really restore his body? Was his magic that powerful? Then to his relief he saw the tyrant’s eyes go wide with shocked surprise as death reached out to claim him.

For a moment their eyes locked together and Asgoleth saw the full horror of realisation in the tyrant’s eyes. All of his dreams of power and great ambition for empire had come to naught, ended by the stroke of a barbarian’s blade. His mouth opened in a silent shriek of unbelieving despair, then, finally, the light fade from his eyes as death closed its tight grip upon him.

For as long moment Asgoleth looked down upon his fallen foe then he reached out and skewered the tyrants head on his blade and held it aloft for all to see. Ragged cheers reached his ears, growing swiftly to a roar of victory. At long, long, last the Akonites had been defeated and Torr was free once more.