The Ivory Star

Chapter 23

With the light of dawn came the brazen blast of trumpets. Valerion watched from the palisade gate the green serpent banners of Sneev, flapping and billowing in the morning breeze. A light sifting of snow had covered the field during the night, forming a perfect surface of stark, shimmering white, disturbed by not so much as a mouse's trail. The sky was a dazzling tapestry of sapphire and lavender in the morning light, with three close-set sparkling jewels hanging low on the horizon.

Sneev's ranks began to form as the blaring war horns sounded. Valerion's soldiers manned the top of the wooden palisade. Arrow loops perforated the log joints, each manned by a well-supplied archer. A double-bolted wooden gate stood in the middle of the wall. His bravest, most seasoned veterans and Red Dragons stood on the walkway.

Angus MacTavish stood on that wall, shield slung on his forearm with its blazing red Insignia. Robinius stood poised near the gate, his helmet polished and gleaming. His newly honed bastard sword rested point down in his gauntleted hand, padded chain mail coat stiff in the winter cold.

The Ophidian ranks across the way swelled and matured. When they were complete, they began to move forward.

Angus sucked a quick breath. This was it. After all the waiting and training and preparation. His breast swelled at the beauty of the glorious sunrise, and he wondered if he would live to see another. His heart thumped against his breastplate, blood pulsing in his ears. He clenched his battle axe.

The Ophidian host advanced slowly, steadily. Valerion and his father scrutinized the ranks of the enemy. The first rank was a bristling wall of shields and polearms. Behind these marched row upon row of swordsmen, followed by several ranks of bowmen. Mounted officers flanked these. Somewhere behind those lines was Sneev, Valerion knew. His gauntleted fingers flexed as he imagined Sneev's vertebrae cracking and popping in his hands, collapsing his windpipe like a hollow reed. But that was a luxury he must wait for. It was now time for battle.

Gerion took up a long bow, and joined the archers behind the arrow slits taking pot shots at the advancing enemy.

The advancing army trampled the virgin snow under their booted feet. Robinius and Valerion stood together above the wooden gate.

Robinius said, "Not an overly large force, eh, milord. Roughly four thousand, I'd say."

"Aye," Valerion said, squinting against the snow's icy glare. "But large enough to hold us here until the Slayers arrive."

Robinius said, "Every day we can hold out brings the One closer to his goal."

Valerion settled his mighty helm onto his head and strapped it underneath his chin. The polished steel helm snugly fit his head. The dangling camail draped his neck and shoulders. His face was partially concealed by a protective shell, with a T-shaped opening for the eyes, nose and mouth, and stout nasal dropping down between his eyes. His gauntleted fists gripped his heavy, notched broadsword, shield hanging on his opposite arm.

All around him, his men anxiously fingered and clutched their recently sharpened weapons. When Sneev's army reached a hundred paces, Robinius ordered the Armondian archers to commence firing. Arrows arced across the distance, and peppered the Ophidian advance. The ranks of advancing troops buckled as a few arrows found cracks in the wall of shields, and men fell dead, or cried out in pain.

Lord Sneev's army approached to within forty paces, then orders from the rear howled over the ranks, and the Ophidian archers drew their weapons and fired as one volley.

"Down, men, down!" Valerion howled.

The men atop the wall ducked behind their shields as a storm of arrows blasted through them like swarms of angry hornets. From somewhere within the advancing ranks, men with ladders rushed forward, shields held high on one arm, ladders gripped desperately under the other. A second volley of arrows arced from the Ophidian ranks, and several ladder crews burst from the ranks, running toward the wall. No casualties yet from stray arrows, though the ground and nearby buildings were pincushioned. The wall bristled with embedded shafts. Valerion's own archers returned fire from their arrow loops, decimating the Ophidian ladder crews to the last soul.