The End Times | The Curse of Khaine
- Автор: Торп Гэв
- Год: 2014
- Язык: английский
- Год: Black Library, Games Workshop Ltd.
- ISBN: 978-1-78251-676-7
- Жанр: Боевая фантастика
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The Chracians formed one flank of the attack, driving a wedge into the darkshards and corsairs to the north-east, while the maiden guard formed a solid line to the north-west, their wall of glittering spears keeping knights and dark riders at bay while their bows took a toll of the same with relentless volleys of white-fletched arrows.
More archers rained arrows from a secondary line, targeting the druchii war machines and beast handlers. These were aided by several mages, including Ystranna. Malekith could detect the swirling winds of magic where the spellcasters summoned energy for their enchantments. Scything, razor-edged leaves swept out of the trees to slash through a regiment of shades that were trying to go around the flank of the asur force, while muddy behemoths rose up from the ground to wrestle with hydras and dragons. More traditional fireballs and magical lightning betrayed the presence of at least two Sapherian mages assisting the handmaiden of the Everqueen.
The western approaches were no less embattled. Overnight Alith Anar and his shadow warriors had stalked within striking distance and dawn had marked the start of the attack. The first volleys had cut down lookouts and patrol captains, silencing any alarm that might have been raised. The shadow warriors had stolen into the encampment and sliced the throats of hundreds of warriors in their sleep before the contingent from Karond Kar had finally been roused. Their leaders assassinated, enemy in their midst, the Ghrondians had retreated piecemeal to higher ground and were now being whittled down by deadly archery from an enemy hidden by surrounding gullies and boulders.
The Caledorians were slow to assemble, the princes fatigued by the previous day’s labours scorching the lower slopes. The crackle of dragonfire was intermittent as some of the Caledorians sought to counter the awakened woodland bearing down on their camp while the horns of other princes summoned their steeds from their slumbering.
The speed and ferocity of the enemy attack was almost overwhelming. After endless days of chasing shadows, the druchii army had been taken unawares by the sudden change in strategy.
‘What are your orders, my king?’
Malekith realised that his host was in danger of being overrun before it was fully mobilised. Kouran’s question snapped Malekith from his contemplation.
‘Give ground,’ he said. ‘Consolidate. Our line is too long, and we need to draw their archers out of the trees. Summon the tower captains of your regiment to stop it turning into a rout, and tell them that we must make an orderly withdrawal three hundred paces. Tell Imrik to form his dragons into two wings, one to act as a reserve to cover the withdrawal and counter any enemy breakthroughs, the other to harass the shadow army to the west. The two asur forces must not be allowed to link up, despite the retreat.’
‘As you wish, my king,’ said the captain. ‘And the mages?’
Malekith could see a pair of sorceresses supporting the Ghrond army, but they were ill-matched against the handmaiden and Sapherians. Drusala had, of her own volition, left with Malus Darkblade’s army of Hag Graef, which left only one other option.
‘Leave Ystranna and her cantrip-pedlars to me.’
Before Malekith could say anything else, another armoured figure approached, her helm dented, breastplate scored and scratched by spear blows. There was the broken shaft of an arrow jutting from her shoulder. She buried her axe into a tree stump as Kouran took a step towards her with Crimson Death raised, and approached unarmed. Her name was Aravenna, and she had been in charge of the Clar Karond host for only two days.
‘Deepest regrets and apologies, your majesty,’ she said, bowing before Malekith. ‘We expected the Anar army to attack first. They were the better positioned for such an assault. I regret that we fell for the enemy ploy.’
‘You believe it was a mistake to redeploy our forces to the west?’ Malekith asked, turning his full attention on the newly promoted commander. She averted her eyes, shoulders slumping.
‘In hindsight, that would seem the case.’
‘The order for the redeployment came from me, Lady Aravenna.’ Malekith’s quiet words dripped with threat. ‘Do you think I was outwitted by one of the Everqueen’s soppy tree-lovers and a group of peasant hunters?’
‘I…’ Aravenna looked at Kouran, seeking support or perhaps a swift end. He gave her neither, replying to her plaintive stare with a casual shrug.
‘Answer your king, Lady Aravenna,’ said the captain. He flexed his fingers on Crimson Death. ‘Swiftly and with brevity.’
‘It was an impossible decision, your majesty,’ the commander said, the words coming so quickly she was barely comprehensible. ‘Nobody could know that the attack from the forest would come first, but to ignore the Anars would have been equally ill-considered, but given all that we know of the shadow warriors’ hatred for us it would be reasonable to conclude they would seek the greater part of the bloodletting, and that a handmaiden of the Everqueen would be loathe to commit to battle.’
As Aravenna paused to take a breath, Malekith held up a hand to stop her.
‘It hurts to know you have such a lack of faith in my abilities as your military commander,’ said the king. Aravenna started to tremble, a reaction that clearly embarrassed her. A look of such self-disgust moved across her face that Malekith almost laughed.
‘Return to your army and prepare for a counter-attack,’ Malekith told her. ‘The enemy are far more stupid than I had hoped.’
‘Your majesty?’ Aravenna clenched her jaw, conflicted, fighting back tears though she fought also to stop a smile of relief twisting her lips. ‘I do not understand.’
‘I deliberately weakened the eastern defence to bait the enemy into this bold venture. They have surrendered all of their natural and strategic advantages to face us in open battle, and now we will punish them for their lack of warcraft. I cannot imagine Ystranna ordered the attack, but some Chracian prince has made a fool of himself. Anar has been forced to move in support, though I believe he would have far rather preferred to kill us one at a time, never revealing himself. We must destroy them before they see the error of their assault.’
‘As you command, your majesty.’ Aravenna hesitated, her gaze lingering on the Witch King.
‘You have a question?’
‘How will we stop the enemy simply retreating back into the forests, your majesty? I do not wish to fail you again.’
‘That is not your concern. Trust me in this matter as you failed to trust in my grander strategy.’
‘Yes, your majesty. I have one other question.’
‘You test my patience, but the thought of putting these wretches to the sword lightens my mood, so ask your question.’
‘The Karond Kar army will likely be heavily mauled.’ She shook her head, disbelieving, as she looked westwards. ‘You knew this, your majesty? You sacrificed them to draw out the Chracians?’
‘Your observation is correct, general. Be thankful that the host of Clar Karond was not in their place.’
Aravenna bowed again and hurried away, pulling her slender axe free as she departed. Malekith watched her run back down the slope to where her regiments were mustering behind the army of Karond Kar, which had taken the brunt of the Chracian assault as Malekith had planned.
‘You spared her,’ said Kouran, apparently so surprised by this fact he forgot to say ‘my king’.
‘She may not survive the battle, but if she does she will fight doubly hard to prove her loyalty, and from now on she will not question my orders. If I kill her I will simply have to repeat the lesson with another.’