CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - FIRE AND BLOOD
It was worse than he hoped for, but about what he expected. Julian counted thirty riders approaching. That meant that Isenholf had almost his entire force with him on this excursion, assuming he was not so stupid as to leave his base completely unmanned. And he was not.
Isenholf was taking this seriously, at least. His expression as he slowed his horse to a slow walk and approached the barricade was not the same mocking, amused smirk that he had worn before. Now his face was a mask of focus and malevolent intent.
Isenholf reined in, halting his horse about twenty feet from the barricade. He took a moment to look it over and made no effort to hide his disapproval.
Behind him, his men arrayed themselves in a loose pack. All were armored as before. About half carried spears in addition to the swords on their hips. The rest carried bows.
Except for one man at Isenholf’s right. He wore armor but carried no weapon that Julian could see. Instead, a number of bulging pouches hung from every place possible and he carried a thick leather tome balanced in front of him on his saddle. Unless Julian missed his guess, that would be the mage.
Isenholf completed his survey and turned his gaze on Raedrick and Julian. He nodded in greeting, a politeness that did not carry over to his expression or his tone.
“Baletier. Hinderbrook. You are becoming a true nuisance, do you know that?”
“That’s why we’re here,” Julian replied, affecting a good-humored tone.
Isenholf’s eyes narrowed a bit, but he did not acknowledge Julian’s words. Instead addressing Raedrick, he said, “I have been more than patient. I gave you a chance, yet you continue to provoke me. Why?”
Raedrick shrugged and replied, “That’s why we’re here.” He leaned forward and rested his forearms against the top of the barricade. “This town is closed to you, Theobald. You’ll not get the money you want, so why don’t you just go somewhere else? Somewhere with duller teeth?”
Isenholf snarled, showing his teeth. “Sharp teeth? Is that what you think you have with five men to defend your little wall?” Shaking his head, he went on, “No, I like it here. For the same reason you do: no authorities to come and check on things. A man can live on his own terms in a place like this. I think I’ll stay.”
“It appears we are at an impasse.”
“Not at all. You can ride away right now, and I’ll not chase you down.” Isenholf paused for a moment, then added, “Last chance.”
“Funny, I was just about to say the same thing to you.”
Isenholf shook his head with a smirk, then turned away and rode back to his men.
“Any second now,” Julian said.
They would just take a minute to get organized and then they would come. The barricade would not hold against their rush, and they knew it. He and Raedrick traded glances. His friend grinned and clasped hands with him.
“Ready?”
Julian nodded. “Let’s do it.”
Isneholf turned his horse around. His men gathered their reins. Those with bows nocked arrows. He opened his mouth to order the charge, but Raedrick beat him to it, simply thrusting a fist in the air and shouting, “LOOSE!”
Eight bowstrings snapped in unison: the six hidden on the platforms and the two behind the barricade. Six of Isenholf’s men screamed and clutched at arrows that were suddenly lodged in their bodies; four fell to the ground, but the others stayed on their horses. Julian was actually impressed at the archers’ accuracy.
Stunned surprise showed on every face in Isenholf’s group. They froze for a crucial heartbeat, which allowed the archers to launch another volley before they scattered. Only three were struck this time, though it was not because of poor marksmanship. Two separate arrows flew toward the mage; both rebounded before striking him, as though they had struck a solid object.
A third of Isenholf’s force was down or wounded. The rest darted for cover haphazardly. For a moment, Julian thought Lydelton might have an easy victory.
That hope was short-lived.
Isenholf shouted, “Open it up,” and the mage - the man had not moved a muscle despite the chaos around him - chanted a series of strange words at the top of his lungs and cast an object that he was holding toward the barricade.
Julian could not make out what it was, but when it struck the overturned carriage, a tremendous sound, like a clap of thunder, rang out and the carriage launched backward as though kicked by a giant. It actually rose into the air for a time before falling onto the street and shattering about thirty feet behind the barricade.
Julian was stunned, as much by the noise as by the display of power. He had seen mages work their art before, on the front lines. But never from this close. It was impressive!
The others on the Lydelton side were apparently just as stunned as he, because no further arrows were launched for several seconds, allowing the brigands to surge forward toward the gap in the barricade.
Four men with spears led the charge, riding two by two through the gap. The two men in front threw their spears as they rode through, forcing the two bowmen on the barricade to duck to avoid being skewered. Then they were through, and there was no one to stop them from riding straight on to the center of town.
Except Melanie. She stood in the center of the street, her face the picture of calm, and regarded them with the contempt she would show a bug in her tea.
The brigands in the lead grinned viciously and drew their swords, then spurred their horses forward.
In spite of his knowledge of her abilities, Julian felt a surge of panicked protectiveness. He hopped down from the barricade platform and drew his sword from his baldric. But even as he charged, he knew he would not make it in time to help her.
He needn’t have bothered. Melanie tossed her head, sending her hair flailing around dramatically, and chanted three words while pushing toward the charging horsemen with outstretched hands. Something in her hands flashed into flame, but for a heartbeat that was all that happened.
Julian thought sure whatever she had tried failed, and she was about to be ridden down. Then abruptly the four horses screamed and reared, throwing off their riders, then fell to the ground themselves. The men hit the ground and screamed as well. Man and beast alike writhed in agony as bit, bridle, horseshoes, swords, breastplates, helms, belt buckles - everything made of metal - began to glow as though just removed from the forge. Flesh, clothing, and hair began to burn where it touched the white-hot metal pieces, and the air began to fill with the sickening smell of burning flesh. Within seconds, the charging quartet and their mounts were fully ablaze.
Two more brigands, who had followed the first quartet through the gap, pulled up short of their burning comrades, stunned horror on their faces. Arrows from the hidden archers slammed home, knocking them both from their saddles.
Reminding himself never to make Melanie truly angry, Julian turned away from the still screaming bonfire and hurried toward the gap in the barricade. More men would be coming through, and he needed to stop them.
Raedrick and Selam were already in the gap, each bracing a spear against the paving stones of the street; they no doubt retrieved the spears from where the brigands had thrown and missed. Another two horsemen tried to make it through, but were brought up short as the horses impaled themselves on the spears.
But throwing spears are not designed to hold up against the weight and momentum of a charging horse. The shafts cracked and then split completely, forcing Raedrick and Selam to dive aside to avoid being trampled. Julian heard Raedrick cry out in pain, but could not see what happened to him in the tussle of arms, legs, and bodies as the horses fell forward, sending their riders sprawling.
Julian rushed forward, cutting one of the fallen brigands down before he could extricate himself. The other was more nimble and met Julian with an attack of his own. Julian retreated, knocking the brigand’s sword away as he gave himself more room to maneuver.
A sudden concussion from above drew his attention. The archery platform on the right side of the street blew apart. The men stationed there fell, grasping desperately at the shingles of the roof where the platform rested as they tried to slow or arrest their descent. One succeeded; Julian thought it was Hiram.
But he did not have time to find out for sure as his foe rushed forward, thrusting the tip of his sword toward Julian’s gut.
A sloppy attack. Even the fishing men, novices to the blade as they were, would not have tried it, but Julian supposed the brigand counted on his being distracted by the events on the roof to make it successful.
Unfortunately for him, Julian sidestepped the thrust with ease and brought his blade down onto the back of the hapless man’s neck. As the brigand’s head went bouncing down the street, Julian thought he saw his last expression: a look of almost comic surprise.
Glimmer Vale is the first book of the Glimmer Vale Chronicles, an ongoing heroic fantasy series set in a world of valor and magic. It will be published here, one chapter per week, on Tuesday.
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