The Caverns of Kronos

The Battle of the Wilton Bowl - Part 5

     The battle was far from over, though. The Beltharans and Skorvosians combined were still outnumbered almost two to one and the Shadowarmy still had the advantage in magical power, an advantage that they exploited ruthlessly, killing and maiming vast numbers of the new arrivals now that they were out of the protection of the city. The most disorganised and chaotic of the Shadowsoldiers had fled, but what remained was the hard core of the most disciplined soldiers, mainly humans and shologs, and although they were tired after a long night’s fighting they were still skilled, dedicated fighters who would take a lot of beating.

     Also, some of the zombies were beginning to arrive as their controllers finally took matters into their own hands and led them towards the battle. Zombies were of limited use in a melee, though, as they simply attacked any living soldier they came across, no matter what side they were on. Their controllers had to direct them individually to each enemy soldier. Drake looked hopefully for Resalintas, expecting him to be among the new arrivals from the city, but he failed to find him and feared that something had happened to his old mentor. He put it out of his mind with an effort and went back to the fighting.

     The battle went on and on, and the trampled ground became spongy with blood. A glow on the eastern horizon told them that dawn was not far off, and the slavers, weary from continuous mind blasts and the more mundane physical efforts of the battle, wrapped themselves up in their heavy black cloaks and left. The last of the spiritual undead was destroyed and all the enemy wizards had long since run out of magic. Those capable of teleportation had returned to a prearranged fall back position while the others were trying to creep unseen to the edge of the battlefield. The only fighting still going on was of the mundane variety. Sword against sword and spear against shield.

     Finally, the battle began to wind down and Drake found himself with no living enemies in his immediate vicinity. He saw Fletcher sitting on one of the broken treetrunks that had been part of the encampment’s outer palisade and went to sit down beside him. It was either that or just collapse face down in the mud.

     “How do they do it?” asked Fletcher, indicating the Shadowsoldiers who were still battling on although they must have been almost unconscious on their feet.

     Drake had no breath to reply at first, and it was nearly a full minute before he could speak. “The power of, of the Shadowlord,” he gasped. “He won’t, won’t let them stop so long as they live. They’ll die fighting.” He took another minute to get his breath back and then stood up. “Come on,” he said. “No rest ‘till the battle’s over.”

     Fletcher sighed and stood as well, and the two men walked wearily back into the carnage.

     The sky slowly turned a rosy pink and Drake knew that, on the other side of the hills, the yellow sun was already above the horizon. “The sun is risen!” he shouted out loud to everyone around him. “The time of darkness is past! All shadows are banished! Rise up now and wipe out this taint of evil that stains our land!”

     The men around him were stirred to new effort, and they pushed the Shadowsoldiers back towards the eastern hills, where they were met by the Skorvosians who’d reformed behind them.

     Now it was the Shadowsoldiers who were surrounded, and the last fragile remnants of their organisation and discipline collapsed as panic set in. An army that had devastated an entire nation had been reduced to a milling, chaotic crowd of assorted humanoids who were now fighting only to survive and escape. Drake guessed that whoever was in charge of the Beltharan army would be half inclined to just let them go to spare the lives of any more of his men, but the Skorvosians were having none of it. War, to them, was an act of worship, and they were going to sacrifice each and every one of the Shadowsoldiers to the greater glory of the bloody God of Conquest. Tempted though the Ilandian commander would be to pull his men out and let the two evil armies destroy each other, therefore, Drake guessed that it would be politically impossible for him to do so. He couldn’t tell the Emperor that Ilandia had been saved by worshippers of Skorvos.