Age of Kings

by A bag of plums

115 - Clash of Shadows

“Down there!” Spectrum shouted as she ducked behind a stone crellenation. A volley of arrows flew up and broke on the squire’s piece of cover. “Streak! I’m almost out! I need more arrows!”

Guard Streak nodded and threw a quiver of arrows to his friend before popping up and shooting one of his own at the Canterlotian soldiers below. He did not see if the shaft found its mark or not, but it wasn’t as though they were counting anyway. This was war, not a game.

Posey was dashing from place to place, sliding behind stone outcrops and sprinting to various squints and murderholes to empty her quiver into the enemy. She had gone through almost three quivers by now, but in her eyes there was no waste; every single one of her shots struck home. Her bowstring sang among the other viking archers, who did their best not to look jealous at Posey’s skill.

Spectrum Song and Guard Streak followed her example as best they could, even though they were using unfamiliar viking bows. The draw was heavier, but that came at the cost of needing more muscle to pull back the string. They did not feel tired, though, for the thrill of battle invigorated them. Spectrum didn’t want to admit it, but there was a certain excitement in fighting that made her feel more alive, and not food or drink or even music could match it. She knew that this was where she was meant to be.

“You watch! I’ll make a knight yet!” Spectrum leaned out from behind her hiding place and fired a shaft down miraculously into the eye hole of an enemy knight’s helmet. She spied two knights about to fire at her with their arm crossbows and ducked back behind cover just as the bolts barely missed her head.

A viking came running up the stairs to the battlements with a large wooden crate.

“Ho there!” he greeted in a thick Northern accent, ignoring the swarms of flying arrows and the shouts of the combatants. “Them robed women wanted these delivered here.”

The two squires turned to look at the crate. The top was open, and inside were about three dozen bottles that smelled strongly of alcohol. Rags had been stuffed into the necks of the bottles, and they were filled with a liquid that was definitely not mead.

“What do we do with these?” Spectrum asked.

The viking took a bottle from the crate and touched the rag to one of the torches that kept the battlefield lit. He then hurled it down into the mass of enemy knights. The glass bottle shattered onto the Canterlotian army, spreading burning liquid everywhere and causing some of the knights to falter and try to put the flames out, distracting them long enough for Posey to expertly nail two more of them with arrows to the throat. Posey watched with satisfaction as the lights in their eyes went out.

“Liquid fire! Those mages sure know how to work their magic.” Spectrum took one excitedly and lit it on the fire.

Tossing the firebomb down, she grinned as the liquid fire exploded over another patch of knights. On top of distracting and harming the knights, the fire bottles also lit up the night, making it easier to land a head or neck shot.

“Nice throw!” Guard Streak cheered as he sent a speeding shaft into the arm of an enemy, causing him to drop his weapon.

“Yes, very good,” Posey came sprinting back to retrieve more ammunition for her bow. “I must have slain at least fifteen knights by now, and crippled many more, but I cannot tell how many of the foe lurk in the darkness. I only hope that King Sombra and Emerald manage to complete their role.”

“They’ll get it done,” Spectrum reassured the archer. “Em’s never let us down before, has she?”

Hearing this seemed to lessen Posey’s concern, and she set her face in a look of determination as she dropped her now-empty quiver and strapped on a full one, cinching the harness tightly across her body. “Then we will do our part, too.”

And with that she ran off again, stopping only to shoot an arrow at a knight who had tried to grapple up onto the top of the wall. He fell from the battlements silently, not even making a noise as he crashed into the ground with a crunch of metal and bone.

“She’s a marvel, isn’t she?” Guard Streak said as he watched Posey’s retreating form.

“Didn’t know you were into older women, Streak,” Spectrum teased, fitting another arrow to her bowstring.

Guard Streak flushed red and fumbled with his bow to hide his embarrassment. “N-No, I just w-wanted to com-compliment…”

“T’was merely a jest,” Spectrum winked at her friend and hurled another fire bottle down in an arc, her smile widening as she heard it shatter. “Now let’s give these mindless tin soldiers what for!”

---

Emerald did not need another reason to like the snow, not since it reminded her of Equestria, but if she had to choose an additional reason, it would be that the soft white layers masked the footfalls of her and her group as they left Nidaroats’ central castle through a side postern and went in a roundabout path to catch the enemy off guard from behind. She figured that without the usual ongoings of life, there was no one available to dust the snow from the streets and it had all been slowly building up in the days since Morn’s Unified began their siege.

“We must not let them use their swords,” Emerald had stressed before they had left the castle. “Not only are the Round Table Knights extremely competent swordsmen, but the powers their blades have been blessed with will be most deadly. Surprise must be our most powerful weapon.”

“We do not need surprise.” High King Magnus Rein raised his golden axe. “The enemy will beg for their lives for the crimes of invading the Frozen North!”

One knight ran out from around a building, trying to stab the high king, but the large man blocked it with his axe, then cleaved it right through the knight’s helmet. Magnus pulled the axe back out, ignoring the blood and gore that trailed from the blow.

“Advance!” Stronghorn raised his weapons and rallied the fifty or so vikings, leading them past Emerald and towards the main bulk of the Unified’s forces.

“That’s our cue to get the generals.” Sombra said as they watched the two knights on horseback. “I will engage the one who you call Agravain.”

“Agramane, Sombra,” Emerald corrected.

“Yes, that one. With his darkness and my shadow, I believe our battle shall be legendary.” The Saddle Arabian smiled and his eyes glowed green in the night as his entire body darkened.

The other Knight of the Round Table beside Sir Agramane wore a mixture of purple and silver armor, and his helmet had a single horn at the forehead. Emerald knew him well.

“Sir Boercival,” she breathed.

Now it made sense. The knight had always referred to his blade as the ‘Wand of the Woods’. The roots that destroyed the town gates must be his doing. But if he could control nature itself, that was going to pose a problem.

“Well, one thing is certain,” Sombra stared at the two knights. “They will have to dismount to engage us properly; in these narrow streets, being on horseback is not an advantage.”

Golden light flashed in Agramane’s visor and he turned his horse to face King Magnus and his group. The knight drew his dark sword from his side and pointed it at the high king. The message was clear.

“So, he wishes to challenge us,” High King Magnus said slowly. “Well I say we give it to ‘em! There’s two of them and more than fifty of us! Charge, men! For Foalhalla!”

High King Magnus let out an ear-splitting shout and charged towards Sir Agramane. He readied Hel to strike, but before they could reach him, Agramane thrust his sword into the air, summoning forth a cocoon of shadows to engulf himself and his horse. When the shadows cleared, he was no longer there.

“What devilry is this?” Magnus exclaimed, slowing his charge to a halt. “Where did he go?”

There was a flicker of darkness from behind, and one of the vikings shouted in surprise. Agramane had materialized behind them, shadowy fog surrounding his sword in the shape of a lance. He had impaled the rearmost viking on its length and as the others watched, he swiped the weapon to the side, throwing the body into the wall of a nearby house.

“Still think that being on horseback isn’t an advantage?” Emerald asked Sombra.

“It does not matter. I will handle this infidel. You go after the other knight,” Sombra gathered the darkness around his palm and shot it out as a whip, pulling another viking away from Agramane’s deadly lance just in the knick of time. “Go, do your duty.”

And he disappeared into a ball of darkness and shot towards Agramane. On the other side, the Canterlotian army, comprising of knights, some townsfolk from Canterlot and the Frozen North, charged into battle, and the high king’s men yelled war cries and ran towards them, all while Sir Boercival continued to sit there atop his horse, Longstride, doing nothing. Every now and then an arrow would strike him, but Boercival’s armor was thick and strong, and none of the missiles hurt him, nor did he make any attempt to move.

Without any way to see Boercival’s face, Emerald wasn’t sure what he was thinking. She gripped her weapons in her hands and waited to see what would happen.

Meanwhile, Sombra darted around Agramane, who made attempts to skewer Sombra with his lance. However, Sombra was too quick and agile to be caught by the knight, and he pelted Agramane with shadowy bolts.

Agramane swiped his sword to the side, dispelling the lance. He stabbed his weapon skyward, and a barrage of arrows fell down around himself. Sombra barely had time to conjure a protective dome around himself to defend himself from the sudden downpour of deadly shafts.

“So, that’s how the game is.” Sombra stood and glowered at Agramane. The knight’s face remained as unreadable as ever, though the golden glow behind his visor did not waver. Sombra knew that he would have to show no mercy to this foe, for he himself would receive none.

Meanwhile, Emerald and the high king charged at Boercival and the lower ranked knights who stood by him. Sir Boercival raised his sword, pointing it at his opponents. With a crack of breaking stone, twisting roots burst from the ground, lashing out at the oncoming vikings. Many of the Northerners were caught up in the thicket of thrashing roots, stopping them in place and knocking them down with their own momentum.

Emerald, for her part, vaulted over the tendrils and kept running at Boercival. When he summoned another wave of roots to ensnare her, she ran alongside the wall. She wished Posey could see her right now. Emerald clambered up onto the roof and kept running for Boercival, dodging an arrow as she went. Grateful for the way that Northern houses were built, Emerald found little trouble sprinting along the crossbeams of the buildings. The roots could not reach her up here.

Suddenly four knights sprinted out of a side street and took up position next to Boercival, raising their wrist crossbows at Emerald. However, she had been expecting something like that and simply dropped into a slide, watching as three of a buzzing quarrels flew straight over her head. The fourth one hit her shoulder armor and glanced off, leaving a smear of iron on the protective plate.

Behind and below her, High King Magnus shook himself free of the roots and brandished his axe, which began to glow brightly.

“A fancy trick, Knight of Canterlot,” Magnus shouted as he hacked down a stray root next to himself. “Let me show you one of mine!”

“Oh, no,” Emerald muttered, recognizing the stance that Magnus was taking. She cartwheeled behind a chimney for cover just in time. The high king opened his mouth and gripped his axe, bellowing out a deafening blast of sound at Boercival. The cone of noise hit the knight front on and sent him flying out of the saddle and into a nearby wall. Boercival was silent the whole time, even as he fell onto the ground after the sound wave ceased.

High King Magnus sagged, breathing heavily. He managed a grin. “And that, my friends, is how…” He stopped. “No…”

Boercival got to his feet, the golden light inside his helmet flashing brightly. He picked up his sword and pointed it at the high king. Out of a side street came about ten knights, carrying two large identical pieces of machinery that Emerald recognized from her time in Canterlot as a Knight of the Round Table.

Spear launchers. They were capable of shooting short lances like arrows at a rapid speed, and the projectiles could punch through all known armor. They were heavy and difficult to aim at moving targets, but this was a narrow street with nowhere to take cover.

At the other end of the street, Sombra wrestled with Agramane, clashing his curved scimitar against Agramane’s broadsword. Shadows swirled around them and blasted off at random directions, pitting the area around them with small, smoking craters.

Sombra was confident in his power, but he did not want to go all out, as it could hurt people nearby. Instead he stared into the golden glare of Agramane’s helmet’s eye holes, searching for anything inside that might still not be under control.

“Listen to me, Knight of Canterlot,” Sombra exclaimed, pushing harder. “You are being controlled! A dark magic grips your mind like a vise, but you can break it!”

Agramane made no move to stop, and shoved Sombra back a step.

“You must have been a good man once,” Sombra persevered, feeling his sword clashing against his foe’s. “Emerald would vouch for you. If you do not break free of this witchcraft, we will be forced to kill you.”

The glow in Agramane’s helmet seemed to flicker, then glared even brighter, forcing Sombra to squint. Agramane then headbutted Sombra with his helmeted head, knocking the Saddle Arabian king backwards. The knight dismounted his horse and thrust his blade at Sombra.

There was a brief moment of stillness as Gram stabbed into Sombra’s chest. Agramane went to pull his sword out, but Sombra’s face grew into a grin. He had transformed the area around the stab into shadow, and the sword had gone harmlessly through him. Now it was stuck as the shadows wrapped around the knight’s sword.

Sombra drew back his sword. “Got you.”

Then he stabbed it into the gap between Agramane’s breastplate and his helmet, the scimitar plowing deep into his enemy. To his astonishment, the knight simply stepped aside and the blade phased through his neck, his demon sword’s jewels gleaming with a dark purple now as shadows began to swirl around his armor.

“Fast learner you are.” Was all Sombra had time to say as a wave of purple brilliance blasted out from Agramane, hard enough to send the Saddle Arabian king flying.

On the other side of things, Emerald had been dodging tendril after tendril that Sir Boercival was sending her way, but one eventually caught her around the torso, lifting her high as thorns scraped against her armor, with some piercing through her clothes to draw blood from her skin. She hacked at the roots, eventually cutting herself free with her axe, but more came her way.

From above, vials of magic flew down from the walls and crashed against some of the roots. They began to freeze or wither immediately, giving Emerald some time to recover and plan her next attack. Boercival was human and being empowered by Morn or not, he surely could not keep using his magical powers like this. She would have to find the moment when he would tire himself out, but even then, her former brother-in-arms was still a formidable combatant with his blade.

What made things worse was that the spear launchers that Boercival had brought in were now firing down the street. The vikings ducked and covered, but there was only limited cover and none of them seemed to be able to climb up out of range. That was one advantage, Emerald thought, of having been born and trained in fighting as a pegasus. A battleground to her was a three dimensional space, not a two dimensional one like the landbound humans were used to.

Emerald leapt onto the second floor balcony of a house and pulled herself up out of reach of the vines. There were shouts and cries as the spear launchers started to drop the vikings like ninepins. Well, drop was quite the watered down version of it. As the spears hit the vikings in the chests, they were sent flying back until they could be impaled on walls, if they were lucky. Some were just torn in half on the spot.

Those weapons have to go, or they’ll cut us all down like a scythe through wheat. Emerald thought. She looked at Boercival, who seemed to sense her gaze and turned his helmeted head to meet her eyes.

“Just you and me, Sir Boercival,” Emerald muttered and broke into a sprint. The bewitched knight stood his ground and aimed his blade at Emerald. On cue, the knights manning one of the spear launchers left the weapon and aimed their wrist-mounted crossbows at her.

But Emerald had been expecting something like that. She easily avoided the volley of quarrels and cut down a root that tried to ensnare her legs. She slid down off the shingled roof of a house and rolled to dampen the impact as she landed on the street. She was now less than twenty paces away from Boercival, and closing.

At the same time, Sombra clashed with Agramane, the former having knocked the latter from his steed. The two smashed into one another like a pair of dark meteors, shaking the ground with each impact. Glints of steel could be spotted amidst the shadows as Sombra’s scimitar met Gram in a ferocious duel.

High King Magnus cut a spear out of the air with Hel, spinning around to dodge a second projectile. He bellowed a war cry and charged at Boercival, who still did not move.

The ground exploded in front of Magnus as more roots came up, wrapping around the high king’s arms and legs and immobilizing him.

Sombra watched this happen and gritted his teeth together as his blade smashed against Agramne’s. His was of no special property and the wear on it could already be seen. It was not wise to continue facing this knight so directly. He needed to find another way. With the high king now in trouble from the other Knight of the Round Table’s attack, Sombra planted a foot under Agramane and launched him off as the knight fell back in a haze of dark smoke.

Planting both hands on the ground, Sombra blasted himself towards the king and slashed at his bindings as he passed. The speed of his blade against the roots shattered his weapon, but cut deep enough to free Magnus. The high king turned back and yelled into his weapon just as Agramane approached from behind. The force of his shout sent the knight swirling back into a building, smashing through its wooden wall and disappearing into it.

Magnus yelled a roar of triumph, then fell to a knee. Being human, all his uses of his mystical weapon was taking a toll on his strength and now, he could barely stand.

“Your majesty, we must get you someplace safe.” Sombra rushed to his side and tried to help him.

“Nay, King from Over the Mountain. It is weak of me to abandon my people and flee the battlefield.” Magnus waved him away. “As High King of the Frozen North, I shall fight to my last breath.”

With Sombra’s weapon gone and the high king almost unable to stand, the knights began to close in, with the only resistance now being the archers and mages on the walls and Emerald Edge, who threw herself at Boercival, stabbing her blade deep into his side. The knight fell back a step, but then gripped her by her armor straps and threw her off him.

Emerald landed in a roll next to Sombra and Magnus, rubbing at her arm.

“Things are not looking great.” She looked around, trying to see what was left of their group.

Stronghorn still lived, fighting a trio of knights at the side with another five of his vikings, but she spotted no one else. No one living, that is.

She faced Boercival again, who was still standing at the opposite side of the street, clutching his side as blood stained his armor. He pointed at them with Laevateinn, then stalked off around the corner behind some buildings. The knights there wheeled the spear launcher nearer, then positioned themselves behind it.

“We need to take cover.” Emerald gestured to her companions. “Those things will tear us in half. Where is Sir Agramane?”

Sombra pointed to the building with its new gaping hole in it. “He is there. He must be weary by now, but no less dangerous.”

“I will finish him off. He was my brother-at-arms. I will do this.” Emerald gripped her axe tighter.

“Aye, then this siege weapon, we shall handle.” Magnus clapped the side of his axe against his breastplate. “Come, king, you and I will do battle.”

“Then go, Emerald.” Sombra gave her a pat on the back. “Make it quick.”

The spymaster nodded and ran in the opposite direction as the spear launcher fired its first volley. The three of them darted out of the way as one slammed right into the stone floor they were standing at, while another flew right past Emerald and into the house on the other end. Magnus dodged another and yelled with Hel close to his mouth, releasing a blast of air that knocked a fourth out of the air.

Emerald quickly threw herself into the building at the end before the knights began loading more spears. At once, a wave of something dark hit her and she was slammed against the side wall, knocking the breath from her lungs. Agramane rose from the shadows and stabbed Gram down towards Emerald’s face. The spymaster unsheathed one hidden blade and parried the attack as she rolled to the side and back up on her feet.

She could see Agramane was not as agile on his feet as he was before the battle began. These swords, not actual artifacts themselves, probably still took a toll on their users. But Emerald was done trying to talk to them. She knew that no matter what she tried to say, Excalibur’s enchantment on them was stronger and she could not get past that with nothing but her voice. She would have to do what she had set out to do in the first place.

The spymaster lifted her axe and waited for the knight’s next move. It soon came in the form of a beam of darkness from the tip of his sword. Emerald was already expecting something like that and hopped out of the way as she swung the Axe of Jorgjafylki up to his face. Gram was lifted to counter her attack and Emerald next swung to his right, but it was easily deflected again, but this time, Emerald removed her sword from its sheath and cut up. That caught Agramane by surprise and it clashed against his leg armor, knocking him off balance.

Golden light flashed from Agramane’s visor and he began to dissolve into shadowy vapor, the darkness taking on the appearance of a wall of swords. The dark blades shot at Emerald, who broke into a run as the ground and wall behind her exploded into shards of debris. A stray piece of flying stone nicked Emerald’s face, but she didn’t flinch, and her armor protected her from the rest of it.

Agramane reformed a short distance away and raised his blade. However, Emerald was faster and drew back her left arm, tensing it for what she would do next. As Agramane lowered his weapon to strike, Emerald whipped her hand downwards and sent the Axe of Jorgjafylki hurtling towards the Knight of the Round Table.

It was a miraculous throw. The axe head struck Agramane on his sword hand with enough force to seriously dent the metal, and the shock sent the knight’s arm reeling back, the nerves in his fingers numb. Gram dropped onto the ground, temporarily out of Argramane’s reach.

Emerald gave it about three seconds before he recovered and picked up his weapon. Another two before he could straighten back up and be ready for combat. So she rushed him, keeping her body low in case of any projectile attacks. But it seemed that Agramane’s power over shadows only worked when he was in possession of Gram, and his fingers were still reaching for the blade on the ground.

Agramane’s hand closed around the hilt of his sword, and he stood up tall just in time to see Emerald make a mighty leap and deliver a spinning slash to his exposed throat with her hidden blades. He grabbed for his throat in silence as he fell to his knees. Blood flowed from between his fingers and the light in his eyes began to fade.

Emerald dropped her weapons and held him as he fell back. She ripped his helmet from his head, once again able to see the face of her former comrade, someone whom she once considered a brother. The light in his eyes had gone, and he was now audibly choking on his blood.

In that moment, everything ceased to exist, save for Emerald and the fallen Agramane. The sounds of battle faded from Emerald’s ears and she was struck with an overwhelming sense of solemnity.

Emerald looked down at Agramane, from whose eyes the life was fading.

“I am sorry it had to come to this,” Emerald told him quietly. “But there was no other way. No other path to avert the madness that has seized the land.”

To her surprise, Agramane seemed to be attempting to nod. “Boer… cival….” he said weakly. “Must… stop him… stop Morn Dread… Only you can...”

“I will,” Emerald promised, feeling the weight of the oaths she had already made weigh down on her shoulders like a sack of grain. The knight’s face was now deathly pale, as each beat of his heart forced more blood from the wound in his neck. “Go now, Sir Agramane. Be at peace.”

Agramane slumped backward onto the cold ground, all the light now gone from his eyes. Despite the injury that had claimed his life, the knight looked calm and relaxed in death. At his side lay Gram, but the blade no longer smoked and pulsated with shadow. A good blade, but now nothing more than that.

“...erald!” A voice jolted Emerald back to reality, where she knelt on the snowy cobbles of Nidaroats with a battle still raging around her.

It was Amber Fang who had spoken, the pilgrim kneeling beside her and looking at her with concern on her face.

“Emerald! You did it?” Amber looked down at the fallen Knight of the Round Table. “You are truly stupendous. Truly a skilled fighter to go against the power Morn possesses.” She took Emerald’s shoulder and shook her gladly. “Now, let us go stop the second one, and liberate this land from my son’s madness.”

“What a pity…” Emerald muttered.

“What do you mean, Emerald?” Amber asked curiously.

“What a pity that so many should die to stop one man.” Emerald lamented.

Amber’s face grew soft and she took Emerald’s hand in hers. It was still sticky with Agramane’s blood, but Emerald welcomed the contact.

“It is up to us to return peace to the world, Emerald Edge,” Amber said earnestly. “Your steadfast resolve and unbending will have taken you through your previous trials, but fear not. We, your friends and allies, will be at your back to catch you should you stumble. It is indeed a grievous truth that we must slay so many to put an end to my son’s ambitions, but if we do not, the world will be subjected to an everlasting evil. And I know that the good person you are would rather die than allow that.”

“How do you know?” Emerald sighed almost in despair. “How many more of my former friends must I slay to accomplish my goal?”

“It is not only your goal,” Amber insisted. “It is the goal of all who stand by you today, and of those who have helped you get this far. And it is mine also, far more than anyone can imagine. So fear not, even if the world turns against you, I will still be there to do what I can. So will the rest of your friends.”

Emerald glanced at her and a smile touched her weary face. “I am grateful to have you by my side today, Amber, whether it is a guise or not.”

There was another shout outside, and the sound of something being deflected, but what came after that was even a shock to Emerald. Her insides felt like they were growing warm and she was immediately filled with dread. It could only mean one thing.

“The axe…” She pushed at Amber Fang’s shoulder as she fought to get back outside. “Tis in danger!”

---

Comments

[MoonlightRift]

Another two down, how unfortunate. If only they could break the spell.

[MoonlightRift]

Also the action in this part was fantastic. I could really clearly visualize it, really good stuff. I love the way, as mentioned, you use the third dimension to your advantage.