The HaRT Knight Decaverse

Heir of Magic

Chapter 41

The Battle for Pensilisurbis

Thunder sounded from the gathering clouds above as the army of Pensilisurbis stood before the slightly closed gates of its city, open only wide enough for men to retreat slowly back should the abomination army overwhelm them. Cain’s army was already visible on the horizon, a black mass like a giant colony of ants. Alexander stood before the third legion; his sword clutched tight in his hand. He had faced worse odds before, but never anything like this. Despite the overwhelming odds, he was as calm as he strode up and down the flanks before his men.
“You know, this is usually the part where the hero of the story gives a big impressive speech to inspire his men,” Merrick said next to Alexander, a grin on his face.
Of course, he’s thrilled at these odds, it’s a death-wish come true, Alexander thought. Aloud, he asked, “What makes you think I’m the hero of the story? Who says it isn’t you?”
Merrick shrugged. “Could be, but I’m far too sober for public speaking right now.” In a more serious tone he added, “You should say something to them. Anything to stop them from pissing themselves.”
Alexander looked back at the soldiers behind him. They all looked frightened at the sight of the approaching army. He could even hear the metal clinking of men shivering in armor.
Alexander thought hard for a few minutes as he tried to think what he could say to help these men—many of whom would undoubtedly die in this battle—keep heart.
“Did you know,” Alexander said in a loud voice that carried across the silent battlefield. “Several months ago, I was on the city of Moondrake.” He turned to face his men. “I was there the same night that city fell, the night an army just like this one attacked it. But Moondrake fell, not because they were outmatched or outnumbered, but because unlike you, the moondrakes hid instead of fighting. You could have been like them and hid behind the city walls, but you are braver than that, you’re here, in front of those walls and ready to fight.”
The soldiers bellowed together to further demonstrate their bravery.
“Not only are you far braver than the people Cain’s armies usually face, you have something more. You have Grand General Kohr. The Silver General has defeated the Red General every time they have met. The Red General is so desperate he even had to ask the other two for help.”
The men laughed at this but cut off as the sounds of war horns sounded from the other side of the battlefield. The ground began to vibrate with the thunderous sound of the charging army.
Alexander looked over at the first legion where the king’s polished armor shone bright. I might as well take advantage of his stupidity. “Those bastards charging down on us right now don’t think you’re much of a threat, but look over there.” He pointed at the king. “Your King is so confident, that he stands here with you on the front-line. It shows you how he trusts in the strength of his men. Now, who will you prove right? Your King, who thinks you can conquer the greatest of odds? Or those scum, who believe you to be nothing?” As Alexander mentioned the king, every eye in the army turned to stare at their ruler. Their resolve turned to iron as they took in his image and they all shouted like beasts ready to prove themselves worthy of the trust their king had placed in them.
Alexander turned back to face the charging force closing in on them. He decided, in that instant, that there was no longer any use in hiding. He split his legendary wolf-marked sword in two, held the blade into the air on either side of him, and igniting the blades with golden flames. From behind it must have looked like he had just spread two wings of golden fire.
“You have the strength within yourselves, you have Kohr, you have your king—” He cut off as he sliced forward with the flaming swords, sending two air arrows covered in golden flames flying across the battlefield and at the charging abomination force. The flames made contact and exploded into beautiful fountains of molten gold that tore two massive holes in enemy ranks. Alexander yelled at the top of his lungs, “And you have me!”
The charging abomination army stopped to stare wide-eyed at rivers of molten gold where their comrades had been and silence fell over the Pensilisurbis legions. A charging troll was too clumsy, or too slow-witted, to stop in time with the rest of the army and it trampled several abominations into the ground before coming to a halt. When the troll finally stopped, it stared at the bottom of its feet, not understanding what had just happened.
“Now!” Alexander shouted, and the war began. The army of Pensilisurbis charged forward in a wave of steel and fury, a wave that broke upon the bodies of the abominations.
Alexander struck down four of the abominations before they even realized what was happening. As Cain’s army began to fight back; they were met with even greater force from the Pensilian army. The smell of blood and shit filled the air within seconds as fallen warriors bled out on the stone plain of the battlefield and their lifeless bodies released their bowels.
Alexander shouted commands to his men as he fought, having trouble making himself heard over the sounds of clashing steel and cries of death. A deep growl like an avalanche of stone made him turn his attention to the approaching danger. A troll made its way towards him, the abominations giving it a wide berth as it swung a tree trunk like a club above its head.
“Move around it. The troll is mine,” Alexander shouted as he cut down two more abominations before making his way to the approaching troll.
The troll growled and raised the tree trunk over its head as it saw Alexander approach, his two swords gleaming with blood. He had faced trolls before, they were very strong and rage-filled beasts, but they were slow and not too bright.
The creature brought its tree trunk club down, and Alexander sidestepped it. It was a close thing, the bark from the tree trunk brushed his nose as it moved past his face. As the club met the ground, it smashed the stone and sent splinters of wood and pieces of broken stone flying through the air. Alexander moved quickly and placed his hand with the sword still clutched in it against the tree.
About two weeks earlier, Dante had told him about how the angelians back home could always apply the principles of geoturgy to plant life. The only difference was to remember the plant was a living thing, unlike stone. After that, Alexander had tried to manipulate the plants in the palace gardens once, but with no success. Now, however, he had come of age, and his powers were far greater than they were back then.
Alexander concentrated on sending his energy into the tree trunk before him, focusing on everything Jared had taught him and just adjusting it to the living thing.
Instantly, roots began to shoot from the tree trunk and into the ground, digging in deeper and deeper with every second. Vines shot forth from the end the troll had in its hand, and within seconds the vines were wrapped around the troll’s arm, binding it to the ground.
Pleased with himself, Alexander slowly and methodically made his way to the troll’s legs. The creature was so preoccupied with the sudden development with its club, it completely forgot about the true danger it faced. It was reminded fairly quickly, however, as Alexander sliced through the beast’s knee with Ghost. The creature sagged down to one knee with a howl of pain, its leg useless now. The wide berth the abominations gave the troll made it fairly easy to walk around the beast and leap onto its back. The creature still struggled with the club that had dug itself into the ground. The giant bald head of the troll bobbed up and down as Alexander moved up the troll’s back. With a grin on his face, he brought his swords together in a scissor-like motion, the magical blades cutting through flesh and bone as if they were nothing more than water.
The head of the troll fell to the ground, forever silent. Gracefully, Alexander landed back on the stone floor of the battlefield and saw the expressions of the surrounding warriors. The Pensilisurbis warriors looked impressed and inspired to fight harder than before, but the abominations looked frightened and unsure of what they had gotten themselves into.
Alexander leaped forward, his two swords slicing through the air with a melody of death.

Fabien stood in the saddle of his steed to get a better look at the strange sight ahead of them. The fools from that city were planning to fight outside the walls, about three-thousand men against sixty-thousand.
Let the fools die. Let their blood drench the ground.
“This makes no sense,” Fabien said as he sat back down, ignoring the voice in his head.
“It seems to be madness,” Peramier agreed.
“Don’t underestimate them. This is one of Kohr’s mad plans. There will be a reason for it,” Guerra said, not taking his eyes off the army before them. He put his giant stone arm into the air and shouted, “Hold.”
The army immediately stopped.
“First wave!” Weapons were being drawn, making a musical sound of scraping metal. “Attack!”
War horns sounded and the first ten-thousand abomination warriors charged forward.
“You always begin with the pawns until the enemy’s strategy is revealed,” Guerra grumbled to the two Generals on either side of him.
“It seems to me they have opened with a knight instead,” Fabien said, his eyes locked on the company of soldiers to the right. Disgust and hate were so clear on his face that even Peramier looked worried at the statement.
The voice in his head had gone mad, repeating the same two words over and over again. It’s him. It’s him. It’s him.
“What do you mean?” Guerra asked.
“The one leading that company on the right, he is the one I fought outside the Palace of the Pride,” Fabien snarled.
“The demigod?” Peramier asked curiously, craning his neck to get a better look.
“I never said he was a demigod!” Fabien snapped.
It’s him. It’s him. It’s him.
“He seems to have a way with the men,” Guerra admitted as the army behind the young battle mage began to yell their approval. “That is the sound of men willing to die for the man leading—What is that?”
The galatea spread two wings of golden fire to either side and flapped them forward. There were two golden flashes and the battlefield seemed quiet for a moment as everyone stood still and stared at the long trails of molten gold that tore through the ranks of abomination. Hundreds, dead in the blink of an eye.
It’s him. It’s him. It’s him.
“Now!” the galatea yelled and the Pensilians charged.
“I’ve never seen magic like that before,” Peramier said with wide eyes of shock.
“What?” Fabien asked with venom in his voice. His hatred for the galatea was getting the better of him, and he tried to compose himself again as he asked. “You know all there is to know about magic, how can you not know it?”
“You flatter me, Fabien.” Peramier shook his head. “I have been around a long time, and yes, I have seen almost every form of magic there is. That was either brand new, or else it was extremely old.”
“He’s a skilled fighter as well,” Guerra said, still watching the galatea on the battlefield.
It’s him. It’s him. It’s him.
Fabien turned his gaze back to the battlefield. The galatea was cutting down abominations almost two at a time. “He’s even better than when I faced him. What is he doing now?”
The galatea moved to meet a troll in single combat. The troll swung its weapon at him, but he sidestepped the blow with obvious ease. The galatea only stood still for a second before moving forward again, a calm, arrogant stride about him. With a casual flick of his sword, he sent the blood of the troll into the air as he cut clean through its leg.
“Why isn’t the troll moving?” Fabien asked.
“Your demigod did something to the tree trunk; it’s binding the creature to the ground,” Peramier said, an expression of worry on his face. “His magical aura is terrifying.”
“There is something else.” Guerra pointed at the galatea. “Those are not normal swords.”
Fabien squinted at the swords in question. The galatea was on the back of the troll now, swinging both blades at the creature’s neck from opposite directions. The head of the creature fell to the ground, and the troll was dead, defeated single-handedly by one man.
“Troll skin is as hard as a stone, yet those swords cut through the troll’s skin, flesh, and bone like it was nothing,” Guerra added.
“He didn’t have those when I last fought him. He only had one back then and it was silver and covered in runes. These are black and white.”
The three Generals stared in silence at the galatea as he led his men forward through the army of abominations, killing almost as much as the entire army all by himself.
“It seems you were right, Fabien. Your demigod could become a problem if left unchecked,” Peramier commented after a while.
“Then we should take care of him while we can,” Fabien said, taking up his bow and pulling an arrow from the quiver.
“No.” Guerra held out a hand before Fabien. “We have our orders. Cain wants us to take him alive.”
“Does he look like the type to be taken captive,” Fabien snapped.
Guerra closed his stone hand around Fabien’s neck. “We have our orders.”
He let go, and Fabien sank to the ground coughing, a look of hatred aimed at Guerra. The Red General ignored him and turned back to the battle. “His regiment seems to be causing a bit of trouble, though. If you want to kill someone, aim at that one in the middle.”
Fabien stood up slowly, the voice in his head screaming for Guerra’s death. Without a word, he turned to the indicated man, nocked an arrow, and fired. The arrow flew true and straight through the air. It struck the old general full in the throat, and the man crumbled to the ground, dead.

Alexander shouted for his men to hold as he cut a large abomination down while Merrick, who was close-by, slit the throat of a vicious looking one.
“What’s the matter, brother?” Merrick shouted over the sound of the battle as he threw the dead creature to the ground.
“Our group is moving too far forward. Uthor’s group is being pushed backward. If we continue, we’ll find ourselves surrounded,” Alexander replied as he dodged an arrow and stabbed a close-by abomination.
The battle had been long and hard so far, and Alexander had lost track of time long ago but seeing as the clouds were becoming black, he guessed that the sun behind them had already set. No wonder he felt so tired, his limbs ached, and his arms and face were covered in scratches, dirt, and blood.
They had survived three more waves after the first, and Alexander had to bring down four more trolls. So far, his regiment was the only one that looked like it was not taking a beating. He could understand Johan having some difficulty as he was not used to commanding an army, but even the King was managing better than Uthor’s regiment. Uthor had been placed in the middle because he had the most experience leading armies to victory, yet somehow his regiment has been performing the poorest of all three. They were faring so badly, in fact, that they were almost backed into the gates, a dangerous position for Alexander and the King’s men to find themselves in.
“Merrick! Sound the retreat! We are falling back!” Alexander shouted to Merrick.
“Why? We’re winning, aren’t we?” Merrick asked, looking cocky and full of himself.
Alexander shook his head; even he would have said that if it hadn’t been for Kohr’s training. If the abominations completely defeat Uthor’s men, Alexander and the Johan’s men would find themselves surrounded from three sides and divided from one another. They would be slaughtered within minutes. “Just have Oni sound the horn, Merrick,” Alexander said after stabbing a recklessly charging abomination through the heart.
Merrick vanished through the crowd of fighting men, off to tell the emokin warrior they were now retreating. It felt like an eternity before Alexander heard the horn sound from somewhere behind him.
Slowly, the men began to retreat through the city gates, taking one step back every second while still fighting as hard as they could against the creatures in front of them.
Alexander took a deep breath before he struck one of his swords into the ground before him. Fire shot up in a giant wall, stopping all the charging abominations in their tracks.
Before pulling the sword free from the ground, he combined his aeroturgy and pyroturgy and the flame wall between him and the abomination army expanded in a gale of flames. As soon as the sword was pulled from the stone, the wall of flames vanished, leaving only the screaming forms of the abominations he had set ablaze.
With the enemy’s advance halted, Alexander made his way down the middle to Uthor’s regiment. He couldn’t let them be pushed back any further than they already were, or the results would be catastrophic. King Johan and his men were also making their way slowly back to the gate, just as planned for when one legion sounded the horn for a retreat.
“Where is General Uthor, soldier?” Alexander asked a particularly disheveled looking soldier that was covered in blood from head to foot.
“General Uthor is dead, Commander! Shot with an arrow by the Black General.” The soldier pointed towards the other end of the battlefield where Cain’s three Generals stood surveying the battle.
“Why didn’t you sound the horn for retreat as soon as Uthor fell?” Alexander asked indignantly.
“Uthor always insisted on being the horn bearer himself. His body was lost within seconds of dying, along with the horn. We sent a message to the king, but he said we should just keep fighting, he would end the battle any minute,” the soldier explained. Alexander sighed in disbelief.
“Well, the middle needs to hold. We need to give the others a chance to catch up.” Alexander stared at the man. “Signal the men to stand, soldier.”
“I’m not an officer, sir,” the man said.
“I’m making a battlefield promotion, soldier. Now signal them.” Alexander turned and cut down four abominations with one combination. As he ducked and weaved through the mass of bodies, his eyes constantly strayed to the three generals that stood on the other side of the battlefield.
A knot formed itself in his stomach. He had expected it when the soldier had pointed them out, but now, he was sure. All three pairs of eyes were fixed on him, not on the battle, but him. They watched him closely, almost studying him like he was some newly discovered and fascinating wild animal. Movement stirred next to Alexander, the fallen general’s men were pushing forward for the first time, the presence of a new leader driving them to fight harder.
The blood-covered soldier Alexander had just promoted smiled a crooked smile then shouted to the men behind him, “Forward!”
Alexander grinned at the man. He moved forward with Uthor’s regiment, pushing back the abominations. Every now and again he would spare a glance for the three generals who continued to examine him, that is, until the Black General once again drew his bow, aiming another arrow, this time in the direction of King Johan.
Realization of what they were about to do dawned on Alexander. “Hold this position for a count of three-hundred and then move back through the gates!” he shouted as loudly as his voice allowed. It seemed like most of the front-line heard the order at least, and they would let the rest of the regiment know what was happening soon enough.
Alexander did not pause as he set off to the right, pushing soldiers and abominations alike aside. Every face on the battlefield seemed like a blur to him, and only one face was important to take in at that moment.
King Johan, surrounded by seven heavily armored warriors, stood above an abomination that had an arrow in the leg. The King held his arming sword high over his head and brought it down on the cowering abomination. Alexander leaped forward and turned just in time to see the poison covered steel tip of an arrow flying right at him. He conjured a gate key on the ground at his feet and a barrier of energy blocked the arrow's path. Alexander froze for a split second at the sight of the dimensional gate spell. His magic aura which had always been ruby and azure had changed. The pentacle key on the ground was blue flecked with snowy white, while the barrier was black with red cracks running through it.
You can ask Dante about this later, survive now and worry about this then, an oddly calm part of Alexander yelled at him in his head.
Alexander looked over his shoulder at Johan, his seven guards forming a wall with their bodies in front of him.
“Commander, well done,” Johan called from behind his men. “Though I assure you, had I wanted to, I could have deflected that arrow out of the air with ease.”
Alexander moved quickly to avoid two attacks from abominations who were attempting to take advantage of his distraction. Cutting both his attackers down, he turned his attention back to Cain’s three generals. The Black General looked absolutely deranged as he struggled with the Red General who was trying to stop him from doing something.
While they were distracted, Alexander shouted, “Your Grace, the signal for retreat has been sounded. I suggest we move back.”
They fell back with the rest of the regiment and almost made it behind the gates when Johan stopped.
“What are you doing?” Alexander yelled.
“Look,” the king said, pointing at the Reg General who was racing across the battlefield on his scorpenox.
“Your Grace, we have to run, now!” Alexander yelled.
“No. This is it. I’ll do what not even Kohr could do. I’ll kill him,” Johan said, walking away from the gate.
“You egotistical maniac, you’re going to get yourself killed,” Alexander called after him.
Johan spun around, his face a deranged mask as he shouted, “How dare you speak to me like that, you unremarkable upstart. I am the king! Who do you think you are—?”
The king continued to rant but there was no longer any time for argument. The red general was on top of the king. Despite the man being an intolerable asshole, he could not leave him to die. Alexander reacted and slammed his foot on the ground, sending a wave of thaumaturgic energy into the ground and tearing the stone ground apart in a tectonic explosion that flung the Red General off his scorpenox.
The Red General hit the ground and rolled for a few feet before coming to a rest. King Johan charged at the toppled general, swinging his sword like a fish out of water.
“No!” Alexander yelled, but again it was too late.
Just as Johan closed in on the Red General, the disfigured man leaped to his feet and struck out with his oversized right arm. He struck the king with enough force to fling him through the air and against the city wall.
“Get the king behind the gate, we’ll hold him off,” one guard yelled to Alexander before charging the Red General.
Alexander raced to Johan. He pulled his crumpled helm off his head and threw it to one side. His armor was dented and blood gushed from his nose and right eye.
“You idiot,” Alexander placing a hand under the king’s armpits as he dragged him towards the gate while staring at the clash between the Red General and the Royal Guards.
The Red General swung his giant sword at the first guard and cleaved open the man’s throat in a fountain of blood. The second guard tried to block a blow from above, but the massive cleaver-like sword was too large, and the wielder’s arm too powerful. The guard’s sword snapped and the clever sunk a full foot into the man’s abdomen.
“Get off,” The Red General grumbled as he swung his sword, still stuck in the guar’s body, and threw the body at the third guard. The two guards flew into a mob of abominations who literally tore the two bodies apart.
One of the remaining guards seemed to realize his limitations and dropped his sword as he turned and ran for the gate.
“I don’t think so,” the Red General said in a gravelly voice. With all the strength in his arm, he flung his cleaver blade through the air and it sliced through the fleeing man’s spine.
With the Red General unarmed, the fifth guard tried to capitalize on the situation. He charged at him and drove his sword hilt deep into the disfigured man’s side. The Red General, however, showed no sign of noticing. He wrapped his massive right hand around the guard’s helm and squeezed. The poor man didn’t even have a chance to scream before he was dead.
The last two guards closed in on the Red General who pulled the sword out of his side with his skinny left. The three men clashed and immediately it was obvious the Red General was more than brute force, he also had skill. He outmaneuvered the two men with ease.
Alexander and the king finally made it through the gate and he handed the king to the men on the other side. He placed a hand on both gates and using geoturgy, forced them closed a lot faster. As the crack closed, Alexander saw the hungry look in the Red General’s eye as he killed the last of the Royal Guards.