Odyssey

CHAPTER 12

There was a stillness to the air around the camp. Lieutenant Kirtar sat in his tent wondering if he dare look into the orb he had won in Cabal City. The globe brought visions, dreams of glory and control. He had imagined such possibilities throughout his life. He ached to smash the power of the Cabal, to finally order the restless mages of the Pardic Mountains to the southwest. Everything seemed possible if he just had time to investigate the orb, experiment with it. His huge hands clenched as he restrained himself from digging through his baggage for it. The visions became so compelling that he lost himself, and he could not afford the time-these meaningless patrols along the forest.

Kirtar stood suddenly and went outside, breathing deeply to calm himself. A fragrant breeze brought him a whiff of the forest, and his face pinched at the smell. Give him the cold, clean air of the plains, he vowed. He moved to the camp perimeter, absently accepting hails from his soldiers. The forest had always been chaotic, unstructured. He regarded the line of trees with a deep ambivalence. The tribes and races of the forest interior cut themselves off from the rest of the world. Kirtar felt contempt for such behavior. The world cried out for a firm hand, he thought, and his knuckles cracked as his fists tightened once more.

"Lieutenant," said a soldier bringing wood in from the trees. The fires for the night were being laid. Another day spent here.

"I saw bison moving deeper in the trees," the soldier volunteered uncertainly, obviously new to the unit. Kirtar wondered that the sergeants had not beaten such hesitation from the new recruits. Let the lower ranks police themselves, he thought to himself.

"Bison are no danger except when surprised or in breeding season," Kirtar reassured the soldier.

The sentry still looked nervous, but the bird warrior ignored him and walked on. The anxiety in the lower ranks was quite disgusting, the aven thought. He must admit that the sheer number of attacks, sometimes from animals well known for their timidity, was unsettling, and the frequency seemed to be increasing. Nevertheless, it was no excuse to be a coward. Nature was chaotic, and it was only natural that it must, occasionally, be curbed.

The rumble of thunder made him look to the darkening sky. No sign of rain clouds. The rumble became stronger and more continuous, never breaking. He turned to the forest. The soldier he left dropped the gathered wood and ran for his gear. The bison came out of the trees, a dumb relentless tide.

"To arms!" Kirtar yelled, echoed by others throughout the camp. The Order tents and animals were atop a small rise, and the lieutenant could look down to the forest's edge. As far as he could see in the dimming light animals were coming out, not driven by the weather or any sign of fire.

"Stand your ground," Kirtar bellowed, as he move to the line of men and bird warriors forming in the path of the bison. The beasts were coming up the rise, slowing but still advancing. Why, he wondered. A raypen launched himself into the sky, his wings spreading in the setting sun as he flew over the camp.

The sergeants in the line began chanting, a song of the Order's glory. Magic flared as warriors united their will and cloaked themselves in power. The bison slowed but still came closer, the leaders not pushed by those behind but advancing on their own.

"They are only dumb animals!" Kirtar cried as he strode to the head of the line. The mass of animals seemed a personal attack after his words to the sentry, and he responded as he would to any attack. The magic flowed to his hands and left them as golden birds. The power flew to the leading bison and struck like a catapult burst, killing the animals instantly. There was a moment of silence as others looked at him.

"Attack!" Kirtar yelled, and other projectiles followed. Arrows and javelins arced into the air, but the dead were lost in the mass of new animals, and Kirtar howled in anger, determined to stop the assault. Perhaps if the ground were better, he might have succeeded, but the animals lapped around the growing bulwark of corpses.

Kirtar's cries to his men were lost in the noise and confusion of battle. Bison circled through the camp, their humps more than eight feet off the ground. Calves bawled and tripped, finding their feet with difficulty as the torrent of animals ebbed and flowed like a river.

Kirtar wondered how thousands of animals might remain unseen in the forest. They continued to leave the trees, all apparently aimed for him and his men. The beasts were disorganized and showed little of the frenzy of previous attacks, but the sheer number of bison made them dangerous.

Ten-foot-tall elen stood with long pikes set, a steadily growing wall of corpses protecting the hooded bird warriors. The massive soldiers were proving useful, despite their lack of magic. Simple muscle might carry the day.

The line of soldiers contracted as sergeants tried to form a perimeter. Now relentless pressure spilled bison into the lines. Trapped bulls gored the men who turned to oppose them. Kirtar watched a soldier fall to the ground, the sudden thrusts of the heavy horns splintering the man's chest. The lieutenant leaped forward, his fist encased by power, and broke the bull's spine. He called out in triumph as he stood over the beast he killed with a single blow. However, the victory was lost in the unrelenting tide of animals

In the skies above, the raypen swooped and dove. Kirtar could see them exulting in their flight. The flyers swept down and plied their long maces and lances before rising again, untouched by the sprawling chaos below. The rumble of hooves made speech impossible as the animals milled, fresh reinforcements constantly coming to test the camp's defense. Aven were lost in the midst of the herd, occasionally appearing atop animals they killed, but soon disappearing back into the crush of bodies. Kirtar felt a thrill of pride at how the bird warriors succeeded while the other races vanished under the milling hooves.

A group of bulls threw themselves up a pile of bodies and forced their way among the elen. Now long axes rose and fell, two feet of heavy-edged steel hewing its way through bone. The raypen congregated over their land-bound brethren, and darts showered down more heavily. The giant bird warriors rolled the bulls back down the pile of corpses surrounding their position.

The lieutenant saw it all from his perch at the center of the camp. Poised on top of a light wagon, a steady stream of power flowed from his hands in the shape of golden sparrows. He directed the magic to support his fellow aven, a flock falling suddenly to create barriers of cooling flesh. The buffalo still flowed over the rest of the plain, their numbers seeming endless, as he was forced to direct more attention to protecting himself.

Kirtar had been fighting and patrolling ever since leaving the Cabal. Most of the attacks were over in seconds, and the monsters that destroyed towns were rarely sighted. A series of pickets and militias pushed the incursions back, but these waves of buffalo were unprecedented. Now he received reports of vast herds washing over positions, their numbers absorbing all the power that the Order could bring to bear.

Lines of small trees along the forest's border cracked and were trampled as more of the bison came out of the woods. The raypen swooped and trailed flails behind them. The iron bars rang against the bony skulls, but the stampeding animals came on regardless.

"Use your magic," he cried, and a single bird of power flew to take down a small cow. The raypen wheeled in the air, their feathers dim as they exhausted most of their energy in enhancing their attacks.

"We will bring back aid!" they cried and flew away east. Kirtar cursed them tiredly, though he knew they had spent themselves into impotence. At least the elephantine elen still fought, but he could tell by the turning of their hoods that they watched their brethren flying away.

A fresh surge of beasts threw itself against the wagon, and it tumbled to kindling as the lieutenant fell. His magic now armored his flesh and his fists. He fought his way through the maelstrom to the piles of dead animals killed before they could reach the wagon. A bull took him to the ground, the heavy skull battering at his shield, threatening to crush him. Two strikes of his dagger marked the animal, and it was swept away.

He threw himself between two huge corpses, wondering for a moment if he should just hunker down, wait out the attack and protect only himself. The snapping of tent poles changed his mind in seconds. He should have been unable to hear the sound of breaking ash staves, but some portion of his being had waited for the sound throughout the battle.

The lieutenant's tent had been erected amongst a clump of boulders and by happenstance the silken walls withstood the tide of animals even as warrior mages fell. Now its respite ended, and the structure collapsed, shrouding the bull that had torn its way into the tent.

Fresh strength thundered through the bird warrior's limbs as he thought of the sphere, the wondrous ball whose power inspired such visions. The Order's future-and his as Knight Champion-was in danger. He came out of hiding like a striking snake. A lance of golden power burgeoned from his fists, and the point parted bone as it stabbed relentlessly. Without the power of a steed behind it, the golden spindle still exploded through ribs, the showers of blood churning into the soil as still more buffalo swirled into the combat.

He held the lance high, calling for his warriors to rally, but his brothers were trapped behind the walls of corpses. He was alone, and the herd still tore through the camp. As stubbornly as any bull, he forced his way closer to his former pavilion. The long lance slapped against the ribs of animals in the way, the enhanced spear breaking ribs as Kirtar beat his way closer to his objective.

Then he saw it. His prize, his destiny was being kicked by the wrapped bull. Like some monstrous pillow, the bull inside the tent's fabric rebounded off the ring of boulders, its splayed hooves tearing at what remained of a knight's pavilion. More animals spilled into the ring of boulders, and Kirtar flew to a low stone. The metal sphere, which had glowed with such promise, was duller, its glory muted.

"You've soiled it!" cried the lieutenant and threw his lance through the trapped bull and pinned it to another animal. He dived into the scramble, the sphere tucked behind his feet against a rock. The attack seemed to be dying down, and there was less noise, but he stood furious and with bare hands beat the animals trying to escape. His blows, which once shattered boulders, rebounded from simple bone and hide, but still his arms rose and fell. The ring of corpses trapped the animals. Kirtar's opponents soon dripped blood from their noses and ears. A cow tried to crush the bird warrior against the boulder, but he grappled still, his power healing broken bones even as he killed the animal with an especially frantic blow that shocked the heart into stillness.

A figure blocked his vision, and he almost swung before recognizing the massive form of an elen. The robe enveloping it was torn, and the gray skin was bruised and swollen. The long axe cut the spines of wounded animals, the pain of their broken bones washed away by death. Cries for help sounded throughout the remains of the camp, a surprising number of soldiers still living despite the length of the assault. Kirtar stooped and tucked the sphere into his purse, taking a moment to regard it. It was less brilliant, but the echoes of his former visions lurked in the corner of his soul as he tried to will it to its previous glory.

An aven bird warrior strode over the hills of dead flesh, coming to deliver the report on the survivors. "Sir, the mounts have returned. The outrider managed to save the string and brought them back."

The company's steeds had been hobbled some distance from the camp, and a quick-thinking guard managed to herd them to safety as waves of buffalo swamped the camp. "The wagons and most of the equipment were destroyed though efforts to salvage what we can have begun. The wounded are stabilized and await the efforts of the more powerful mages."

Kirtar laced up his purse and strode away toward the steeds. "We have no time to waste healing bruises," he stated to the officer, who gaped as the lieutenant raised his voice.

"Men, we have triumphed over the forest in spite of its attempts to destroy us. We have lacked only the will to seize our victory."

Most of the soldiers were stunned, but Kirtar could see the lingering battle madness in the faces of his bird warriors.

"It is long past time that we took action against the beasts that disturb our dominions," he announced. "We must recognize our duty and destroy the forces that would overwhelm us!" He pointed toward the disappearing buffalo.

"The herd could not sweep us aside and withdraws to renew itself in the hidden glens. Would you fight it again?" He swept his hand over the destroyed encampment. "Would you fight twice as many beasts when someday there are half as many of us?" The bird warrior drew himself up proudly.

"Tired and exhausted as we are, I know that only by continuing the attack can we win this war." A feeble cheer went up, but it was magnified a thousandfold in Kirtar's visions.

"Mount up and ride into the forest," he commanded. "We will kill until nothing remains to oppose us!"

Ignoring frantic signs from the healers, he took those warriors who could move to the steeds and mounted. He led the charge against the retreating heard. A bestial sea flowed before him, and he vowed to empty it, one sword stroke at a time.