The Crown and the Sword

CHAPTER TWENTY — SEVEN

For several breaths Jaymes Markham was utterly speechless. He simply stared at Moptop, stunned by the kender’s appearance on the battlefield. The pathfinder’s air of utter nonchalance was incongruous against the backdrop of death and mayhem, and it took the lord marshal an act of will to shake his head and convince himself that he was not imagining the bizarre scene as the kender ambled cheerfully down from the rocks toward the army commander.

A glance over his shoulder showed Jaymes that the monster was pressing the advance, as if it sensed the helplessness of the trapped humans. Another bellow exploded from the elemental king, this one a thunderous convulsion that shook the ground and caused a small rockslide in the valley. The noise finally startled his tongue into action.

“Moptop! What in the name of all the gods are you doing here? Where did you come from?” the lord marshal demanded when he finally regained the power of speech.

The kender grinned happily. “Well, I found another path. But it’s not like it looks-I mean, I didn’t just magically walk through the rocks, like we did at the Cleft Spires. I went back underground like you asked me to, and I had to look around for a really long time. But I found my way back out again!” He chucked a thumb over his shoulder, indicating the tumble of large rocks at the base of the cliff. “See, there’s a cave down here, and I came out of the hole.”

“Of course.” The lord marshal thought quickly. He looked up and saw the looming form of the elemental king, its black shape etched against the sky and two fiery eyes fixed upon the milling soldiers of the Palanthian Legion trapped here in this valley. They were hard up against the cliff. There were several thousand men in here, many hundreds of them on horseback. Brave and willing to fight to the last man, they were nevertheless incapable of battling the looming monster. Their only hope of survival was escape.

Looking at the sheer cliff, the rock wall looming a hundred feet in the air, capped by a cruel overhang that would have prevented even a skilled climber from attaining the top, Jaymes could see there would be no further retreat on the ground. Even though the kender claimed to have found a cave at the base of that precipitous barrier somewhere within the great pile of large boulders, Jaymes couldn’t spy any opening.

“You say there’s a cave in there. Is it large enough for these men to escape into it?” Even as he asked the question, he felt the looming presence of the giant elemental and knew it was a futile hope.

Moptop confirmed that knowledge with his first words. “Not really-it’s pretty small and narrow. If they left these horses outside, they could go in there one at a time, I guess, if the cave wasn’t filled with adamites. But they pretty much block the whole thing up.”

“Adamites?” Jaymes felt a flickering of hope. “So you found them? And they came with you?”

“Yes-and you were right! They all followed me right along, the whole army of them, after I told them what you told me to say. They’re lined up down there right now. Here they come!”

The lord marshal saw the proof emerging into view even as the kender spoke. Grayish white, the color of naked rock, the first of the stony warriors came out of the hidden cave to appear between a pair of large, square boulders. The stone-skinned warrior slid nimbly down the shelf to stand at attention on the floor of the valley. Another warrior came behind the first, and still another followed, both of them dropping to the ground to flank the first of the statuelike warriors.

The file of adamites emerged from the cave in eerie silence, their heads capped by the antique, bristling helmets, each bearing a small round shield in its left hand and the stout, sturdy spear in its right. But they came quickly; in no time at all, there were more than a dozen standing there, and this rank took a step forward as still more emerged to fill out a second rank just behind the first. The second group marched to the side to take up a position beside the first, extending the front to some twenty-five warriors-and twenty-five sharp, sturdy spears-while more and more and more of them continued to climb out from the narrow cavern.

“My lord!” cried General Weaver, approaching with his sword in his hand. He glared worriedly at the adamites as the first rank took another few steps away from the cliff wall to make room for yet more of their comrades. “Are we being attacked from behind, as well?”

“No, General,” Jaymes replied, holding up his hand to dissuade nearby knights who had turned about to face these new arrivals, their weapons at the ready. “If I have guessed correctly, we’ve just been reinforced.”

“What in the name of the gods are they?” Weaver said.

“I don’t know if we can call them allies, but I do believe they’re the sworn enemies of that thing,” the marshal replied, pointing up at the elemental as the monster took another step closer. One of the cyclone legs kicked into a formation of legionnaires, knocking the men of Palanthas down like stacks of straw. Horses neighed shrilly, rearing and bucking. A volley of arrows flew from a company of archers, vanishing without effect against the great swath of the elemental king’s belly.

The human troops closer to the adamites backed away to make room for the great, swelling block of troops, already numbering several hundred. Swordsmen muttered curses and exclamations, and archers raised their bows-holding their arrows-as more and more of these lifelike, but clearly stone, beings sprouted from the narrow cave. The adamites marched quickly, forming up in single-file ranks in an ever-expanding front around the concealed aperture at the foot of the cliff. There were hundreds of them now gathered and more still marching out of the tunnel. The front was a hundred paces long by now, and every yard of it was preceded by the wicked, spade-shaped spear points.

“They hate that elemental,” Moptop explained, looking curiously up at the looming monster. “I think they want to catch it and take it back where it belongs.”

Already the adamites were marching forward, ignoring the human warriors who scrambled and stumbled to get out of the way. The spears never wavered; the line did not bend, even as the magical warriors flowed around trees and rocks, splashed through the shallow stream that meandered through the valley floor. Moving away from the cliff, spears held level at shoulder height, they tromped steadily toward the massive elemental king.

“How will they… oh, never mind,” Jaymes said. Spinning around, he barked at General Weaver. “Open your line all the way! Let them through without trouble!” he ordered.

The soldiers of the Palanthian Legion pulled back hastily, more than willing to allow these weirdly unnatural warriors to pass without hindrance. The adamites continued their advance in a tightly packed formation bristling with spears, their feet stepping in cadence as they marched smoothly past the Palanthian troops and on toward the horrific giant. Marching with steady, exacting precision, their feet crunched over the ground in an increasingly audible rhythm.

Stony spears extended, the adamites, numbering at least a thousand strong by this time, stretched across the valley floor. Lines from the rear marched to the sides, faced front again, and expanded the ranks with perfect discipline and formation. They continued to march forward, long spears extended, closing rapidly on the king of the elementals.

As yet that awe-inspiring monster showed no fear of the new arrivals. Instead, the twin cyclones of its great legs kicked faster, and the monster waded heavily into the first rank of the adamites, uttering another bellow with enough force to break three or four shelves of rock loose from the overhanging wall of cliff.

“It will crush them there; they can retreat no farther!” gloated Ankhar the half-giant as he and Hoarst hurried around the shoulder of the valley wall. The army commander gazed almost rapturously at the gigantic being as it closed on the trapped Solamnic army. The sheer wall with its lofty overhang formed the perfect trap. The milling humans, trapped against the steep, precipitous barrier, had lost all formation, showed none of the cohesion and discipline he had come to expect from the knights.

“The whole army will die here!” he crowed.

The half-giant and the Thorn Knight had hastened after the monster as it pursued the fleeing Solamnics, the pair moving far ahead of most of the army. Most of Ankhar’s troops were behind them, still reeling from the chaos of the battle, though several hundred of his goblin warg-riders had formed up and escorted the pair in their pursuit. Ankhar had insisted upon rushing ahead of the bulk of his troops, leaving even Laka, so he could see all that was going to transpire and revel in his ultimate triumph.

“Hurry up!” he exhorted the wizard. “We will be witness to a great victory!”

Only then did Ankhar notice that Hoarst, his face oddly impassive, wasn’t looking at the monster. His staring eyes were directed elsewhere.

“What are those things?” asked the Thorn Knight, his voice unusually urgent and concerned.

“What things? What are you talking about?”

Hoarst seemed agitated, and this irritated Ankhar. Why could he not just relish this great moment, this historic success? But the human, ignoring his commander’s frown of displeasure, turned and rushed to climb some rocks that had tumbled to the foot of the nearby valley wall.

“Get up here; we can see better from a higher vantage,” urged the Thorn Knight in a peremptory tone.

Ankhar scowled but followed the irritating man up the loose shelf of rocks. He stumbled and scuffed his hands trying to find solid purchase, and he wrenched his knee when one of the rocks yielded to his weight to tumble loosely down to the ground. Cursing, the half-giant hoisted himself to the ledge where Hoarst stood then turned around to look.

He could clearly see the mass of enemy troops, fractured lines and broken companies huddled against the cliff that barred their progress up the valley. Some of the riders had dismounted and were holding their panic-stricken horses by the reins. It was clear they could find no escape, no route out of the valley save the one they had taken in retreat, and that path was now held by the massive presence of the king of the elementals.

But there was another source of movement down in the valley, something Ankhar had to squint to see. It was like the rocky floor of the valley was slinking forward like a living carpet, a flood of ghostly gray stone spreading out to confront the king of the elementals, to block its path toward its human quarry. Squinting, the half-giant made out an array of spear tips-many hundreds of them-and, with a start, realized these new stone-colored arrivals bore the shapes of men.

“What are they?” he demanded, annoyed by the postponement of slaughter, though still not overly worried about the outcome of the fight.

“I don’t know,” the Thorn Knight replied curtly.

“Strange warriors… and look, they attack the king,” the half giant grunted, amused. This would be good entertainment. He would watch these mysterious newcomers die.

“Whatever they are, they don’t lack for courage,” the man noted.

“Let them die bravely instead of cravenly, then,” snorted Ankhar. But his bravado had an element of bluster to it. After all, what were those things?

He began to feel a little sick to his stomach.

The bizarre newcomers looked somewhat like humans but seemed to be made of stone. and as Ankhar watched with fascination, they swarmed up to the elemental king, surrounding it, thrusting at it with their long spears. The monster advanced right into the midst of that rank, swinging the great columns of its legs, stomping mightily right on top of the stony spear-carriers.

Surprisingly, the new attackers showed an equal enthusiasm for the fray. Holding their spears pointed upward, they marched fearlessly right under the crushing force of the king’s striding legs. The monster pounded downward, burying dozens of the warriors under each foot. But when it tried to move on, the thing lurched unsteadily and remained locked in place.

“Like it stepped into a pit of tar,” Hoarst remarked. “It seems to be stuck.”

“No! They will be crushed!” Ankhar insisted, his expectations overruling the evidence of his eyes.

For, indeed, it seemed like the elemental king was anchored fast. It roared the mightiest bellow yet-even the echoes hurt Ankhar’s ears-but it could not lift either foot off of the ground. Bending at the waist, the gigantic being swept a granite fist across the front of the spear-wielders. But instead of smashing them to the ground, it collected them, like a shaggy dog collects burrs. Each warrior met the elemental’s blow with an upraised spear, and the weapon drove into the monstrous fist and remained embedded there. The stony warrior, in turn, held unfailingly to the spear, so when the king raised his fist again, he had a score or more of the gray-colored warriors dangling from the limb.

And the following ranks of the bizarre attackers continued to advance and fight similarly. All around the king circled a ring of these stone beings, and the later ranks climbed over their fellows-who remained stuck fast to the monster’s feet-to thrust and plunge their own spears into its ankles, its calves. In moments the being was skirted all about, and the things continued to climb, to stab, to cling.

Strangely, these newcomers did not seem to be dying, though the elemental king struggled to kick with its massive legs and continued to smash downward with clublike arms. The massive torso twisted back and forth, flexed and leaned, and quivered violently. Yet the burrlike warriors remained fixed to the huge shape, every place they touched it, and still more of them climbed up, stabbed, and held on. Another great forearm smashed to the ground, but when the king raised the limb, nearly a hundred of the stone warriors dangled from it, like a strangely decorative fringe.

The stone warriors continued to attack, to stab with their spears, and to lodge their weapons in the monsters. The king roared and thrashed but didn’t seem capable of destroying the attackers. Ankhar blinked, growling deep within his chest. So strange and unexpected! What in the world was happening? Even when the monster lashed out, each of the stone warriors struck by an elemental limb seemed to grab onto it, until the lower extremities of the monstrous being were wrapped in a skirt of stone ornaments.

The stone warriors rattled and clattered as the huge being shook, banging together and swinging about, but still none of them broke free. Instead, more came on, climbing, stabbing, clinging.

And the weight was clearly dragging the monster down.

Thrashing desperately, the king of the elementals seemed to shrink, its lower limbs slipping into the ground. The attackers affixed to the feet and lower legs disappeared, vanishing through the bedrock of the valley floor, and the king sank with them.

More and more of the spear-carrying warriors closed in, climbing on top of each other, swarming like ants higher and higher up onto the shoulders of the massive being, even as the king continued to shrink down closer to the ground. Almost waist deep now, the monster fought desperately with its arms, twisting its torso. But each blow only attached more of the mysterious spearmen to the creature’s immortal form. Spears stabbed into the great vault of the king’s chest, while more of the enterprising stone warriors-moving nimbly, despite their stiff facades-scrambled onto the creature’s collar, nape, and neck.

The attackers scrambled and stabbed, and finally they completely covered the elemental king. Ankhar could see no sign of the fiery eyes, the craggy shoulders, the stormy arms and legs. His great monster was just a huge, shaggy pile of stone creatures that coated the being, inexorably dragging it under. Still fighting, thrashing, convulsing, the massive form continued to sink under the ground.

Now it was chest deep in the solid bedrock of the valley and sinking deeper still. It roared once more, but even that was a hollow sound, coming as though from very far away and sounding more like hellish pain than fury. Even as the king howled, the stone attackers climbed into its gaping mouth, stabbing with those spears, dragging it down, down. Now only its shoulders and head remained above the ground, and even those moved sluggishly, totally overwhelmed by the stony weight of the spear-carrying attackers.

Within a few moments, the elemental king had sunk out of sight, bearing with it the heavy weight of the mysterious stone warriors. Still they piled on, spears pointing down into the ground now, the attackers stabbing, following the force of their thrusts into the ground, and descending from sight.

They continued until, at last, there were none of them remaining on the surface of the world.

Only then did Ankhar glance elsewhere, taking note of the human warriors, suddenly rallying under the command of their lord marshal and a general wearing the sigil of the Rose. The few goblins on their wolves who had followed closely behind Ankhar were being cut down by companies of mounted knights, the men refreshed and heartened by the defeat of their monstrous foe. Trumpets sounded, and the whole of the Palanthian Legion started forward, pushing the scattered remnants of Ankhar’s horde before them.

“I think,” Hoarst said with a low, rueful sigh as he started to climb down from the shelf of rock, “that we had better get back to the army.”

The Palanthian Legion led the counterattack, emerging from the mountain valley with a vengeance, sweeping into the scattered companies of Ankhar’s horde. Jaymes and his Freemen rode with General Weaver at the forefront of the charge, though the army commander immediately dispatched messengers from his bodyguard to his other retreating troops.

Within an hour the men of the Rose, Crown, and Sword were streaming back to the field from the west and north. Word of the elemental king’s defeat infused them with new energy, fueling the strength of a fresh charge. The barbarians and monsters of the half-giant’s horde, recognizing imminent disaster, began a flight to the south and east.

It became obvious that the shattered enemy army would continue routing all the way to Lemish. Exhausted and drained, the humans of the Solamnic Army finally abandoned the pursuit as night cloaked the battlefield in darkness. Too much had happened during this momentous day for any soldier to keep fighting. The enemy was clearly defeated, broken, and demoralized.

Annihilation would have to wait for another campaign.