Here it is folks, the latest of my short stories. I am currently writing another tale about Fendreg Of Senagra, but this was the first of the warrior's stories. Lovers of Conan the Barbarian may enjoy The Fall Of The Witch-King.
The Fall Of The Witch-King
Shaun Kilgore
Copyright © 2012 Shaun Kilgore
Published By Founders House Publishing, LLC
All Rights Reserved.
The Craven-born attacked the walls with their hands of fire, battering the stones, searing them, and melting them down. They came by the thousands to the walls of Hanbare, city of the East, driven there by the will of their master. The acrid stench of molten stone burned Fendreg’s eyes, but he rallied the Hanbari archers. The roar of his commands launched volley after volley down onto the seething mass of the Craven-born. Scores died, their arrow-riddled flesh bubbling and blackening as they screamed. Still, they came at the wall, the eerie glow of their hands lit up the waning night like a thousand flames. Fendreg drew back his long bow, took aim at the slack faces of the Craven-born, and searched their fierce, bestial gazes for even a spark of humanity. There was nothing.
Fendreg screamed his anger to the gods, let loose his iron-tipped arrow. His aim was true. Two of the creatures were pierced. He drew more arrows from the pile at his feet. The twang of the arrow string was echoed a hundredfold by the Hanbari.
A rumble pierced the din of men’s screams, an ominous sound. Fendreg ran along the top of the wall, rushing past the archers continuing their methodical work. The clatter of his armor plate pounded in counterpoint to his hurried steps. He still had the longbow gripped in his hand; a half-used quiver dangled at his hip beside his short sword. Again, there was a deep rumble followed by a tremor in the stone beneath his feet. Fendreg doubled his pace. Ahead Hanbari gathered in a tight knot, their attention fixed below at the outer gate.
"Move! Move you curs, let me through!" Fendreg growled. "I swear to the Two Mothers, I’ll skin you alive!"
The Hanbari gave way. Fendreg climbed onto the stone of the rampart, leaning over so he could see. At that moment, another rumble issued from directly below. The tremors were stronger. Loose flecks of stone dropped off into another force -- mere men this time -- below as they maneuvered an enormous battering ram made of oak topped with the iron face of a dragon.
Fendreg cursed. He searched the writhing heap looking for Argrell himself, the Lord of Devenar. The sorcerer-king was nowhere in sight. Fendreg pulled free an arrow, readying his bow to shoot. In moments, he had launched several shafts at those who labored with the ram, striking legs as often as heads. No sizzling or bubbling this time, just the flow of red blood pouring out on the flagstones, only to be smeared by the feet of the other soldiers. As he watched, others took up the places at the ram, paying their fallen comrades no mind whatsoever. This time Fendreg could hear the creak of the wood as it started to give way. The groan reverberated through the stones. The Hanbari who had been watching looked at Fendreg. They waited.
"Archers, I need more archers now!"
Thirty Hanbari archers rushed forward at his command, their bows poised and ready. They crowded along the ramparts and took their positions with practiced precision. Fendreg firmed his grip on the wall just as ram pounded against the thick gates. The shuddering of the stone was a deep, groaning sound.
Drawing his bow, Fendreg bellowed, "On my command, put every arrow into those men on that ram, then hit those positioned directly around. I want that blasted thing stopped before they breech the city."
Below, those running the battering ram prepared for another charge. Fendreg counted the steps to their approach. "Ready...ready...fire!"
The hum of arrows in the air was a sweet sound. The twang of bows strings continued. On the ground the aggressive attack destabilized the patrol manning the battering ram. As the Hanbari kept up the barrage Fendreg watched the soldiers scatter, leaving the ram on the ground. The men cheered at the routing. Meanwhile Fendreg watched the milling mass, wondering how long it would take for the Craven-born to come at the gate. It was a desperate attempt at delay. He needed to keep moving if he wanted to save Hanbare.
Fendreg raced back to the portion of the wall where the Craven-born concentrated their efforts. The fighting was hot and enemy archers had joined in, sending down their own rain of arrows on the Hanbari. Those wearing the precious gaden-armor were protected from the barbed tips; the others made due with shields, cobbled armor plating or just chain mail. As he arrived, several of the Craven-born had made it to the top, their fiery fingers sinking in to the stone itself. Several of the Hanbari had abandoned bows to strike out with swords and axes, hacking away whole arms or beheading the abominations where they hung on the walls.
Fendreg rushed in, bearing his own short sword just as a Craven-born clambered over. He struck hard and fast. As steel met molten hands, white sparks flew. He kept the blade moving not wanting the Craven-born to get a firm grip. The steel would be reduced to slag. For a tense moment, the creature evaded his strikes. The Craven-born lashed out like a viper, leaving jagged score marks on Fendreg’s armor plating. Redoubling his efforts, Fendreg maneuvered the Craven-born closer to the wall. The creature reacted like a mountain cat, bearing its teeth and hissing. Fendreg watched it. Only a glassy, emotionless stare reflected back.
"Die you pathetic wretch, may the Two Mothers forgive you! Raaa!"
With all of his strength, Fendreg swung the short sword. His cry was lost in the roar of the battle. The Craven-born leaped forward straight into his attack. The blade was buried to the hilt in the creature’s chest. The putrid stench made Fendreg gag. The Craven-born’s blackened blood boiled and the skin blistered. Its howl was terrible. Fendreg struggled to avoid its hands. Still, as he shoved the body over the wall, he saw that his cloak was burning in places and the interlocking links of his mail coat were melted together.
There was a momentary lull, the kind that came when armies regrouped in order to launch another attack. It was unexpected. The Craven-born were like blunt instruments, flung about with little regard for subtlety or finesse. He’s down there. Argrell is directing them. Fendreg wiped his blade clean and recovered his bow. He rushed to the wall. In the pre-dawn light, he looked out at the lands beyond Hanbare’s walls. The armies had trampled them. Black smoke drifted up from the remains of the settlements that had cropped up around the city proper over the years.
Fendreg tracked the movements, watched as the Craven-born were drawn away as though by unseen leashes. The low moans of horns directed Argrell's forces. The regular soldiers that made up the armies of Devenar formed into ranks and withdrew and gathered amid the charred settlements. Ragged cheers went up among the Hanbari on the wall. Some were convinced they were retreating. Fendreg knew better. The lord of Devenar was a canny leader. Many of the eastern kingdoms learned that dreadful lesson as their fortifications crumbled, their cities burned, and their people were killed or enslaved. No, Argrell was preparing for a new assault.
As he watched those below, a Hanbari officer approached. He saluted Fendreg. "My lord, my compliments to you. You’ve done well with the battlements. The demon-spawn have been repelled. I see they regroup in the Vallange. I’ve brought surgeons up to tend those suffering minor injuries. We will also carry down the more seriously wounded."
Fendreg nodded. "That will do, Captain Alvelan. We have to be ready for their next attack."
"Yes, my lord, but that is not all. My messengers have brought word that Lord Mallar wishes to see you."
Fendreg frowned at that. The fool was always making such requests at the least appropriate times. "Now, when we may be facing a fresh assault? I am needed here among the archers, at the walls."
"Lord Fendreg, it is not my place to inquire into the governor’s reasons. He wishes you to appear before him in the high chambers. I have been instructed to take your place here until you return. That is all."
Fendreg bit his tongue. There was no reason to shout at the Hanbari. Alvelan was a capable leader. He also knew his place and where his loyalties rested. Fendreg saluted again and headed for the steps. Fendreg knew he would have to move fast to get Mallar's quarters.
He entered the damp corridor at a jog, rushing past the torches, dodging stray servants who had remained behind to attend the surgeons and the needs of the wounded. Taking the steps two at a time, Fendreg winced as the heavy plating dug into his shoulders. In another corridor he paused as servants bore a stretcher carrying a bloodied soldier into one of the chambers designated a field hospital. The moans of the wounded and the dying mingled with the raw scent of death. The smells of blood, vomit, and worse flooded the halls. Fendreg steeled himself and pressed on.
After a time, the sounds of fighting grew dimmer and the moans of the dying faded. Fendreg knew his destination well. Mallar kept apartments in the central part of the fortress, insulated from much of the unpleasantness of the city. He had come to consider the man with deep contempt, the worse sort of noble. Calling him away from the battle now would earn the petulant man a white-hot rebuke. This stoked Fendreg's frustration, lending speed to his gait, propelling him through the hallways.
The rustling of his armor announced his passage to the guards that started appearing at points along the way. Some knuckled their steel-gloved hands to the outlander, acknowledging their respect for the warrior. Fendreg ignored them now. He was gritting his teeth when he arrived in front of the apartment doors. Two soldiers in burnished steel and the colors of Mallar's house were situated on either side of the heavy double doors.
Fendreg simply stared at them, his hand trailing down to the scabbard at his hip. The guards noticed and responded accordingly, moving in a herky-jerky motion to pull open the doors. As the space opened, he bolted through not giving the guards time to announce his arrival.
The room behind was spacious, the walls draped in rich upholsteries and fine gossamer fabrics. Floral patterns and rugged stone carvings mingled in Lord Mallar's inner sanctum. An assortment of plush chaises and broader couches were set nearer to the great stone fireplace. The sitting room table was bedecked with all manner of fruits and the remains of a roasted piglet. A feast was sitting there going to waste while others throughout the city were starving. Fendreg growled.
Reclined in one of the chaises nearest to the fire, Lord Amius Mallar sipped from a golden goblet, the precious stones on his be-ringed hands glistened in the firelight. Other lamps illuminated the shape of a pleasantly plump woman, garbed in scarlet gowns and jewel-encrusted bracelets. Her hair was so light that Fendreg could believe it was white. At present, the woman was kneeling beside Mallar, her head lying upon the noble's lap.
"Hush now, Ilaya, our good friend Master Fendreg will soon put an end to all of this inconvenience." Mallar was brushing the woman's hair like he was petting a cat.
"By Damnation's foot, Mallar, do you think I can sweep the Craven-borne like your servants clear your table!" Fendreg vented his frustrations at the petty little man. He deserved it, by the gods!
Mallar's sweet façade slipped at Fendreg's tone. "I do not think there is any call for that, outlander. I shall not be spoken to in such a manner."
Fendreg glanced at the woman, noting her widened gaze. Her lips trembled and he half expected her to mewl like a kitten craving milk.
"You, my lord, called me to Hanbare to aid you against Argrell's machinations. I have taken command of this city's armies and I have beaten them back time and again, but today that foul beast has called upon darker powers. We fight Craven-born for you, young lordling! This is much more than a simple inconvenience I assure you. Good men spill their blood and you lounge here with that little whore nestled on your crotch! I'll be damned if I let that stand."
Shoving the woman's head away, Mallar jumped, his face contorted with indignation. "You will not speak to me that way! I will have you sent to the depths of this fortress to rot in muck. Guards! Come here at once and seize this man!"
The soldiers posted at the door visibly hesitated, glancing at one another. Mallar noticed. "What are you waiting for you fools? Take Fendreg of Senagra into custody!"
Just as the men were poised to lay hands on Fendreg a dull thud sounded. A moment later it was much louder. The timbers and stones supporting the vaulted ceiling of the chamber creaked, the reverberations from the impact shaking dust and debris loose where it rained down on the people below.
Ilaysa shrieked. "Oh Amius, the whole fortress is coming down on our heads!"
Mallar started to speak, but cut off midsentence as the walls of the fortress groaned from another strike. The impact was powerful. Fendreg cursed and broke free. As he reached the doors, a wave of crushing power blasted through the rooms and the whole structure shuddered and finally buckled. Heavy limestone blocks crashed down along with aged wooden beams, many which had been in place for three hundred years or more. Mallar and his mistress were lost in the dust and smoke. Fendreg was struck by more of the falling stones but many pieces glanced off the gaden-armor. Better sore muscles and bruises than broken bones. All he had to do was get out before his exposed head was crushed.
Fendreg knew sorcery was involved. As he made it into the corridor, another blast jolted the fortress, sending more of it tumbling down around him. He had to leap beneath a tipped column, the thick marble sparing his life. More of the crumbling building poured down, sending Fendreg into a fit of coughing. His eyes burned with the dust and grit. He was completely blind.
There, half-buried in rubble, the warrior's mind turned back to Hanbari soldiers on the walls. What had happened to them? Had Argrell himself come to the foot of the city gates and unleashed his arcane power?
Shifting the debris about, Fendreg struggled to free himself before the rest of the fortress collapsed around him. He could feel his legs and the tingle in his toes caused by the pressure exerted by heavy stone. The gaden-armor had protected him from any breaks or internal wounds. Slowly, and carefully, Fendreg pulled free, the last hasty motion stirring up the dust. He strained to hold back the sneeze in case Argrell's men were in roaming the broken halls.
Fendreg stayed beneath the column; the creaking in the mess of timber and stone above wasn't reassuring. He waited, resting against the remains of the wall, sheltered in the shadow of the leaning column. The air remained hazy. It would take time for the dust to settle completely.
A hush fell, a deeper silence than Fendreg had sensed before, dropped over everything. He strained for even the slightest sound of battle, the dim clamor of swords and shields, the twang of bows. Nothing. Fendreg rose up and made his way out of the destruction. He kept the hallway and soon left the damage behind. The halls remained empty. Fendreg snuck down the same corridor he had taken just a short time ago. Bodies appeared several paces ahead; all dead not one moan to disturb the quiet. Even the servants who had been working to bind wounds and save the lives of the Hanbari warriors had been cut down. Here and there, Fendreg saw molten score marks in the stone of the walls, and blackened spots in the oaken doors. The Craven-born had been through, cutting a path of death and destruction. The bodies of other Hanbari lay in great piles where they had fallen to the demonic onslaught.
It was as though they had stopped here and then retreated back to some unseen rally point. Fendreg crept further down the hall, just out of sight of the carnage. More bodies were strewn the length. In time, he came to the staircase that led above to the ramparts of the city walls.
Before ascending into the open, Fendreg knelt down to recover a sword from the flagstone floor. He mumbled a prayer for the young Hanbari whose hand he pulled the blade from. The climb was short. The stench of burned flesh and an acrid smoke filled the air, robbing Fendreg of the relief he sought after leaving the dusty air below. He bent down and moved just behind the tops of the ramparts, moving past more slain Hanbari. Inching to the ledge, he peered over to see what waited below. The Craven-born were gathered just before the gates—or what remained of them. They did not speak, nor move at all. Fendreg to make out a soft humming that flitted through the air then was go. Glanced beyond the Vellange and beyond, he saw the cook fires of Argrell's living army; they had settled themselves from the coming night. The last rays of sun were pale and dying; twilight was nearly spent. Fendreg could see no sign of Argrell himself. He dared to hope the sorcerer would be there among his abominations, taking a moment to bask in his ghastly work. Indeed, the city had fallen. And whoever remained alive in Hanbare probably found place to hide and wait for death to come and find them.
Fendreg growled. "Death will come for you Argrell. You will pay for this bloody work."
It was an oath. Fendreg had set his course. There was only one choice. He would seek the sorcerer that very night. The thought made the blood flow warm then hot in his chest, spreading its radiance through to the tips of his fingers and the ends of his toes. The gaden-armor subtly responded to his rage, the mystic plates growing firmer, the scores and rends healing through a peculiar magic. The metal became supple yet somehow harder than stone; Fendreg could feel some its strength seeping into his limbs and torso. He was revived and alert. Gaden-armor was a rare thing. Rarer still, were the warriors who could awaken the ancient enchantments woven there. When Fendreg moved now, the metal plates felt lighter than chainmail, but he knew it could stop most weapons from harming him. He regretted that he had left his helmet back at the barracks that morning. If he survived the night he would recover the missing piece.
Gripping the blade tighter in his hand, Fendreg left the wall and made his way to the courtyard below. Soon he could hear the soft sounds of soldiers moving across the stones, muttering soft commands. They could bleed; these warriors were not Craven-born but they were bonded men. Agrell was an enslaver of men more often than a dabbler in the sort of dark arts that conjured the Craven-born in to being. A different sort of magic entangled these soldiers. The power of greed and desperation were hefty inducements. He had no idea what drove them to serve the sorcerer, but Fendreg didn't care enough to find out.
The warrior burst into the open, surprising a small number of the soldiers as they set about patrolling the streets in search of Hanbari who had retreated inward once the gates were breeched.
"The Two Mothers have mercy on you, you worthless dogs, because I will not!"
Out came the sword. Fendreg whirled about the startled soldiers, barely given them the time to register what was happening. When it was done, not one had uttered a sound but the soft gurgles that came before they perished. Fendreg wiped blood from the blade and move outward towards the gates. Argrell was there, somewhere beyond the city.
* * *
Once outside the walls, Argrell pulled in some of the power in his gaden-armor to enhance his vision. A soothing light overlaid the darkness of the night. He could see even on a moonless night. Fendreg could stalk the night without blundering into the perimeter patrols that guarded the camps. As he skirted the clusters of Craven-born, he clenched his teeth, worried that they would somehow sense the magic of his armor. None stirred. The deadly creatures were as still as statues and the low humming continued. Fendreg realized it was coming from the Craven-born. The sound was eerier for that knowledge.
Fendreg did not wish to push his luck any farther; he rushed away and went out beyond the perimeter, ducking in between the ramshackle dwellings of the Vallange until he made his way to the encampment. He knew Argrell was inside the rings of tents arranged around a public well.
The trick would be infiltrating the camp.
Fendreg spied on Argrell's men from an abandoned building, thinking it would better to find a hole in the patrols. Yet there were none. Argrell was brash and arrogant. He believed he had won. Fendreg was ready to disabuse him of that notion just before he removed the wizard's head from his neck. The murderous thoughts burned deep and he fed them into the gaden-armor, letting the power trickle through his limbs so he could move faster and hit harder.
It was time to move.
Fendreg tightened his grip on his sword and rushed out into the night and moved towards the low lights of the campfires. He moved swiftly, his gaden-armor molding tighter to his body, so it made little sound. Entering the first row of tents, Fendreg leaped over the stakes and rush in amidst the slumbering soldiers sleeping beside the fires. A ring of Argrell's soldiers was dead in seconds and Fendreg never slowed. They never uttered a sound and he knew he had surprise on his side for a few precious moments.
Fendreg bounded out of the night, and surprised registered on one warrior's face for a moment before the blade took him through the chest. Empowered by his enchanted armor, Fendreg sheared the wretch almost in half to release his blade. A dozen more died and he moved deeper into the camp. He sought Argrell like a hunting dog, removing obstacles between him and the sorcerer. He felt unstoppable. Fendreg moving among the hapless fools with a deadly grace; his blade stuck and stabbed in a relentless assault. Overcome by his fury, he cried out.
"Argrell, you motherless dog! Come out. I've come for you. Come out and face me. My blade cries for your blood, enchanter!"
The warriors of Argrell's army gathered in around Fendreg, encircling him but keeping their distance. They were wary. Glancing down, Fendreg realized his gaden-armor was glowing faintly with a reddish light. He wasn't nervous at all. His break came slowly and evenly. He would wait, but Fendreg would be ready to move in case the mob rushed in. The minutes passed and all that could be heard was the rustling of the flames and the occasional whisper on the fringes of the circle. The warriors were content to wait too it seemed. The night air was cool on his face, but his body was pouring sweat beneath the armor. The sword remained pointed down at his side.
All at once there was a disturbance at the back as the crowd began to part before their leader. Fendreg saw his first glimpse of Argrell; the witch-king approached with a somber face--not a sign of menace or madness. He seemed sad to Fendreg's mind. It was off-putting to the warrior.
What is he playing at, wondered Fendreg.
Argrell was dressed in loose robes that fluttered in the breeze, revealing glimpses of his gaunt shape beneath. His hollow-cheeked, shrunken face was cast in stark shadows in the firelight making it look like a skull. His pace was slow but steady.
Fendreg waited for the sorcerer to lash out with his mighty power but there was nothing. He came with in a few paces but just stopped remained there. His soft voice drifted to Fendreg's ear on the night breeze.
"Greetings to you Fendreg of Senagra. You are far from the walls of Everhold. Why do you put in your lot with these Hanbari? They are a petulant and spoiled people. There are better uses for their lands and the city. I have better plans for them."
A movement at the back of the crowd caught his eye. The glow of Craven-born hands speckled the night in an evil light. He focused on Argrell again. The sorcerer merely waited, his face smooth and rigid like stone.
"Not all of these people deserve to be ground beneath your boot, Argrell. I've seen the results of your plans from one end of this realm to the other. Be glad you never brought your Craven-born and your armies into the Vale of Everhold. Not one would leave that sacred place. My people would crush you like the worm that you are, wizard. I came to Hanbare to stop your path of destruction, to give the people of this city some chance. I know your reputation. And you have surely heard of mine."
"Oh yes," said Argrell. "The famous Fendreg, warrior-general of Senagra, High Guard of Everhold. I've heard tales too. My question for you is this: Do you believe you stand a chance against my mystic arts, brave warrior? I shall bring you down with barely a wave of my fingers."
Fendreg smiled. "I await your wrath, Argrell." He laced his words with enough contempt that Argrell could hardly fail to notice.
Without further word, Argrell attacked.
A brilliant swell of light and static coalesced in the air and came straight at Fendreg. Planting his boot in the dirt, he let the discharge hit his breastplate. The gaden-armor absorbed the flow and left it blazing with a golden light of its own.
Argrell muttered a few words and white ring appeared over Fendreg's head and suddenly dropped down, wrapping itself around his arms and midsection. It tightened like a rope about him. Fendreg could feel it squeezing and tensing. The gaden-armor held firm, the golden glow began to shimmer and spark as it reacted to Argrell's magic.
Fendreg felt nothing at first, only the tug and pull. Argrell's mouth was set in thin line. Tiring of the delay, Fendreg drew the power embedded in the armor plating and let it surge out in one large blast. The wave of energy threw the soldiers to the ground. Only the Craven-born and their master remained standing. Now that he was free, Fendreg went on the offensive and rushed the witch-king with his sword. Inches from plunging the blade into his chest, Argrell shoved the blade away with two fingers.
Fendreg let the blade go wild but kept a loose grip on the end. He leapt into the air, the gaden-armor lending him extra height. The wizard struggled to get clear but Fendreg struck a blow to the ribs with his armored leg. Argrell toppled to the ground and the Craven-born reacted as one to come to their master's aid.
Fendreg gave them little time to move. Shining with a furious light, he struck down the creatures before their molten hands could catch him. The other soldiers fled before Fendreg's fury while the Craven-born crowded in the way, keeping themselves between Argrell and he. Severed heads flew through the air as the corpses fountained black blood. The gore sizzled and burned when it hit his arm.
Argrell, clearly injured by Fendreg's blow, limped away.
"Stop running Argrell. Your magic is useless, your devils crumbled before my sword. I will have your head, demon-spawn, by the Two Mothers, I swear it!"
Fendreg battled his way, carving a path through the Craven-born to reach finally reach Argrell. No one remained to defend the witch-king. Once the last of the beasts was slain, Fendreg came in close to stand over the stooped figure. Argrell was dripping sweat, his breathing seemed labored and Fendreg saw red drool on his lips.
Argrell seemed so frail, yet it did not matter. He lifted the blade high and made ready to swing it down at the wizard's head.
"Cubian!" shouted Argrell.
A white flash struck like lightning, dazing and blinding Fendreg. The pain made him drop the sword.
Argrell's desperate cry was the only thing Fendreg noticed. He quickly pulled from his gaden-armor and let it soothe his throbbing eyes. His sight cleared just in time to see Argrell rushing him with a curved knife. With what remained of his strength, he seized the witch-king's arm and in another motion sent the blade deep into his paunch.
Argrell gagged and shuddered. His eyes turned black and bulged from the sockets and exploded. A roar of light and energy soared from the depths of the dying wizard, bathing Fendreg completely. The precious gaden-armor responded and drew in the power. All was light and warmth. The curtain of the night rolled away and Fendreg rode through the surge until, at last, the darkness returned.
Argrell's dried husk crumpled to the dirt.
Fendreg knelt down and simply waited to catch his breath. He felt fresh and well rested. Hunger pangs twisted his stomach. He smiled and sighed in relief. It was done. The camp was empty. During his fight with the Craven-born and Argrell, the soldiers had fled. Looking back toward Hanbare's walls, Fendreg wondered who remained to rebuild the city. He had given them the chance to do it as a free people. It was more than most received.
Fendreg stood up and started walking back. He would search for Alvelan. The man would have the sense needed in the days to come. Once Fendreg had secured the city, it would be time to return to the Vale of Everhold. Home called strongly to the wizened warrior.
