chains and crystal shards. As she knelt, trails of light began to drift over her body, slipping from one silver chain to the next, then swirling around the shards. as though driven by a breeze Doranei couldn’t feel.
The dancing strands of light became a flurry, changing from white to yellow and orange and as Ebarn raised her arms as though in supplication, fat coils of flame raced up them. With a shout, she threw her arms forward and twin lances of flame streaked away towards the monks. One was caught full on and consumed, and as he fell back into a comrade, he too was set alight. The other streak of flame hit the ground and a fiery barrier sprang up across the enemy’s path. As the monks stopped for a moment the Narkang archers took advantage, catching one more in the throat.
The monks turned and began to make their way around the flames.
‘First squad to the left flank,’ Count Reshar called in a hoarse voice, ‘second squad up on the peak.’
Doranei looked at the ground where they would meet as Ebarn unleashed more scorching magic to thin the enemy ranks further. The archers were on an outcrop that dipped away steeply in front, but a curved slope arced round that up to their left, the natural path up the slope and the one the monks were making for. They had their heads down and their legs were pumping as they struggled up the hill. It was madness for them to keep coming - but they were doing it all the same.
‘Better you than us,’ he said aloud, ignoring the look he received from Count Reshar as he unshipped the large weapon slung on his back. Aracnan’s sword still felt oversized and awkward in his hands, and its speckled black surface looked unreal in the afternoon sun. Behind the monks the Menin legion had been spurred into activity, breaking into defensive regimental blocks, the first of which had already disappeared out of sight around the hill. The rearmost block dissolved and began to follow the monks, but laden with armour and shields they’d be even slower to get to the battle ground.
‘They’re sending the cavalry around,’ a sergeant called from the right flank.
Doranei looked behind him. There were two score cavalrymen left, and he doubted they’d try and ascend the hill - that would leave them no room to manoeuvre, and even the shallow part of the slope would prove treacherous on horseback.
They’re going to try to slow up the garrison, he realised. We’re both trying to make the other side hesitate.
Veil appeared on Doranei’s left, weapon in hand, as the count waved forward the two squads of recruits. They assembled behind the archers, waiting until the monks were no more than ten yards away, then Doranei yelled for them to charge. With spears levelled they ran into the group, screaming wildly, with Doranei at the fore. He smashed aside the halberd of the first monk, cutting through the shaft with blinding speed, but the monk didn’t hesitate, dropping to the ground and hammering the shaft into Doranei’s shin as the King’s Man slashed down at his face. Doranei took the blow on his greave and beheaded the man with his next blow. He almost overbalanced as the magic-imbued sword parted flesh with frightening ease, just avoiding being spitted by one of his own men.
Veil appeared in his lee and deflected a halberd down into the ground with his shield, only to be kicked in the ribs by the Menin monk. He staggered, his full weight keeping the halberd down, while the enemy tugged at it, desperate to free it. Doranei never gave him the chance, and hammered the pommel of his sword into the man’s face. The monk fell without a sound, but Doranei was already throwing himself at the next man.
Yells from either side told him the flanking squads had engaged, but he was too busy with the remaining two monks ahead of him. He dispatched them both with savage ease, looked around and saw one remaining monk behind him, desperately fending off Veil - only to be spitted by a recruit. Half a dozen more were reeling under the assault from the right and as they faltered, the recruits couldn’t resist what looked like an easy target and charged forward wildly.
One monk died in the initial rush, but the others exploited the gap in the line and began to lay about them with their halberds, felling four