Wrath of a Mad God ( The Darkwar, Book 3)

From what Miranda had reported about her captivity by the Deathknights, he knew that this probably wasn’t merely an invasion site, but the point at which they would begin to transform the world, to turn this entire planet into a habitable world for the Dasati. And every Midkemian present knew that it was literally only one step away from Kelewan to reach their own homeworld.

 

‘Soon,’ said Erik. They were far enough behind the lines that they would face Deathknights only if their plan failed totally, but Erik drew his sword out of habit. He had stood in the line in too many battles over the years not to feel the need to have it in his hand.

 

Miranda and the Tsurani Great Ones had removed themselves to a position on a high hill to the west of the invaders, from which vantage point Miranda could make out most of what occurred. They were waiting until an agreed-upon signal to attack the rear of the Dasati column and inflict as much damage as possible on the Deathknights and Deathpriests. Opposite them, in a small vale hidden from sight, waited the Tsurani cavalry, six thousand horsemen ready to strike from behind when ordered.

 

Alenburga said, ‘They’re coming!’

 

The Dasati began to move forward, but rather than their previous mad charges, they moved in lock step.

 

‘Good,’ said Erik. ‘They’re accepting the gambit.’

 

Alenburga said, ‘Let’s hope none of them plays chess.’

 

Kaspar grinned, ‘Let’s hope our young Tsurani lord can keep his forces from acting like Tsurani and they play their part.’

 

Slowly the Dasati advanced towards the waiting Tsurani.

 

‘Archers!’ shouted the Supreme Commander, wishing he had a host of catapults and trebuchets here as well.

 

A flag was waved and a company of Lashiki bowmen responded, launching a volley of arrows high into the air. It was as if the Dasati were ignorant of archery as an element of war. The arrows rained down and hundreds of Deathknights faltered, impaled by shafts. Those behind merely shoved the wounded aside, or stepped on the backs of the fallen. Onward they marched.

 

‘Wait,’ said Kaspar as Alenburga was about to give another order.

 

The Supreme Commander looked at him. ‘How long?’

 

‘Another minute.’ Kaspar paused and at last said, ‘Now!’

 

Alenburga signalled to Jommy, who waited on a horse at the base of the hill. Jommy nodded once, then turned and put his heels to the barrel of the animal and raced to the rear of the waiting Tsurani. He had one job and he knew exactly what it was to be, yet that didn’t diminish his concern. Where he was going was about to become very dangerous.

 

Another flight of arrows rained down on the Dasati as Jommy reined in next to Lord Jeurin. ‘Orders from the Supreme Commander, my lord! Now’s the time!’

 

The young ruler of the Anasati shouted. ‘Advance in order! Advance!’

 

The Tsurani had been given detailed instructions as to their role in this battle. They knew that those in the centre of the line were the most likely to die today, but to a man they stepped forward briskly and marched head-on towards an enemy more powerful and harder to kill than any foe they had ever faced; an enemy, moreover, determined to kill every living thing on this world.

 

From his vantage point on the hill behind the lines, Kaspar turned to his companions. ‘Now it begins,’ he said softly.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER NINETEEN - Counterstrike

 

 

PUG SIGNALLED.

 

He had used his ability to send his sight upward one more time: the way ahead was clear and without any apparent traps. ‘It’s time,’ he said to Valko. It was now or never.

 

Martuch, Magnus, Hirea and Pug had made the dangerous journey from their hideout in the Grove of Delmat-Ama to Valko’s staging area, a vast chamber, easily able to contain the thousand or more Deathknights of the White who had gathered there. Even now as they prepared to launch their assault on the TeKarana, dozens of stragglers were finding their way into the chamber.

 

Their orders had been simple, but for those Dasati who served the White they had been hard to accept. They had been told that when word came they had to go to ground, not to fight, but to hide. As if they were children or females, they were to hunker down and wait until they were told otherwise.

 

Trusted Lessers who served the White had been given the critical task of spreading the word. And despite all the years of preparation it had almost been too late. Haifa dozen key messengers had been swept up in the massive drive to bring sacrifices to the Black Temple and were assumed to be lost. Another hundred or more Deathknights had died fighting the TeKarana’s palace guards. They had been given no choice, for any Deathknight found in the city after the call to muster was presumed to be of the White; all others were many miles away awaiting their orders to invade Kelewan. The only warriors in the city not the TeKarana’s men or Temple Deathknights were enemies.

 

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