Black wizards - Douglas Niles [143]
Tristan and the others watched, spellbound, as the mist pressed in and then fell back, locked in its battle with the clean air of Robyn's spell. The struggle seemed to last an eternity, but finally the mist began to dissipate, falling away more rapidly and then vanishing into the air.
"They're coming," said Daryth quietly. In the distance they could make out flashes of crimson, growing more distinct every second. The military cadence of drumbeats grew audible, and soon dozens of ranks of troops could be seen.
"The Scarlet Guard," confirmed Pawldo.
"Come on!" shouted the prince, suddenly leaping down the ladder and running among the scattered defenders. His companions followed him from the rampart as he drew the Sword of Cymrych Hugh and held it high.
"Men of Doncastle, rally to me!" Tristan cried. "The power of the goddess has broken the wizard's spell. Fight for your town, your people!"
But the battle cries of the Scarlet Guard sounded across the gate, long, ululating howls that would have shaken the morale of the stoutest defenders.
"Maybe this isn't the place to make our stand," suggested Daryth. "Look around."
The prince saw that they would never assemble enough fighters to hold a position as wide as the King's Gate – too many had died under the killing cloud, and most of the survivors had fled.
"The river! We have to try and form a line at the river!"
Then something caught Robyn's eye. "Look! The banner of the Red Boar!"
They saw a cautious face peering from between two houses. It belonged to a frightened looking young man who carried a long pole, from which fluttered the standard of one unit routed by the killing cloud.
"Here, man!" called Tristan. Tentatively, the fellow emerged from his hiding place. "Are there others? The rest of your unit?"
The man gestured toward the heart of the city. "All gone," he mumbled. "They ran – I did, too!"
Tristan could think of nothing else to do. "Come with us," he urged. Rally them to the standard!"
Reluctantly, the man accompanied them, holding the banner high. The Red Boar symbol fluttered faintly in the air.
"Men of Doncastle, of the Red Boar!" called Tristan, waving his sword. "Rally to your standard!" He repeated the cry as they moved along the line, and slowly the routed warriors emerged from the shelter of buildings and alleys. Still, there were pathetically few.
"Now we have to keep them together while we fall back to the river. Daryth, can you -" Tristan stopped suddenly.
He heard a thundering of hooves and saw Hugh O'Roarke mounted upon his galloping charger, bearing down upon them. "What are you doing?" he cried. "Why are you not at the gates?"
"The sorcerers sent a cloud upon us – a mist that killed all who breathed it."
O'Roarke's face whitened in rage. He looked around frantically, desperate for inspiration. "We'll have to hold them here! I'll pull the garrisons from the other gates – we cannot give them entrance!"
"That will make the disaster worse!" argued the prince. "Choose good ground – and fight there! Fall back to the river – make a line! We have a chance to hold there!"
"Never!" cried Hugh O'Roarke. "We cannot give up another inch of ground without a fight!"
"If you pull the men from the other gates, you'll have no position to hold, anyway. A second attack by the king's army, and you'll be taken from the rear!"
But O'Roarke was no longer listening. Tears ran down his face as he looked at the remnants of the Red Boar company. He whirled his horse to put his plan into motion. "Men of the Red Boar! Hear me! We will stop the king's legion… here!" He brandished his sword along their line, and a ragged cheer went up from the men.
The bandit lord did not look back as he rode away. He was on his way to pull his men from every other part of the city – to try to hold a line in a place chosen by pride, not judgement.
* * * * *
The diamond rod identified