Page 109 of Queen’s Gambit

Chapter 31

Reynard

Blood dripped from my face, leaving a metallic aftertaste on my tongue. The wall of bodies grew taller with each passing moment, obscuring my view of the battlefield. My sword, slick with blood, slipped, its point skewering the ground and nearly tripping me. A man appeared, screaming in a language I didn’t understand. He thrust his pike towards my unprotected throat. With a wrenching twist, I dodged, and the blade sliced through my collar. I tore my sword from the ground and swung it wildly, grunting as the edge cut into my foe’s abdomen. The soldier dropped his weapon, trying to hold back his guts, so I ended him by opening his throat.

‘Sire, we need to retreat. The Hierophant…’ The captain of the infantry grasped my arm, pulling me away from the wall of corpses. ‘The second wave is coming from the north.’

I tried to piece my fragmented thoughts together through the berserker’s rage.

‘Go!’ I snarled, pushing him away. ‘Go. I hold.’

At my raspy, animalistic grunt, my captain’s pupils widened. He took a step back, raising his shield. It reflected a monster. One eye blazing gold, tattered, bloody armour splitting over hulking, trembling muscles.

He exhaled. ‘We stand by you, Sire. To the bitter end.’

I grunted and gave him a curt nod. He turned, shouting to those still standing. ‘To the king, you Veles’ cursed bastards. Brace yourselves.’

In this welcome reprieve between attacks, I gained a moment of clarity.

I used it to assess the battlefield. Somehow, Ivar still led the cavalry. They’d been forced onto the shoreline, but the experienced commander kept them from the deep, soft sand to preserve their manoeuvrability, the only thing keeping them alive. With no infantry support, how long could he keep the enemy engaged? My infantry had barely held against Tivalaran’s men and the Lumivitae archers.

My gaze drifted north, to where the captain pointed. There on the hills surrounding the valley stood Tangra’s reinforcements. Infantry with pikes and axes, paladins in full plate armour and teams rolling barrels to the forefront. Amid all this, another pyre lit up the night.

I could wash the blood from my skin, but would I ever wash away the stench of burning flesh?

This was the end. We were outnumbered forty to one, with nothing but the burning sea behind us. If only we had mages—but their entire battalion was still waiting near the border, cut off by the pillars.

More soldiers attacked, and I sank into the Wild Magic once more. A sword crashed against my breastplate, but I ignored it, grabbing the soldier’s throat and ripping out his windpipe.

‘Regroup! For Dagome! For the King!’ the captain shouted. I snarled, barely human, tearing off the armour that was suddenly too tight.

I surrendered all control.

The beast, freed from its leash, roared as muscles grew and bones creaked. I was becoming something new, something terrible, and I welcomed it all.

I was lost in a vortex of fury and hate. Then I felt it, the heat of an inferno that, instead of consuming me, held my soul safe in its embrace.

The sound of Gniev’s roaring laughter broke through. I turned to see him swinging his massive sabre and slice through three Tangrians’ necks so deeply their spines cracked under the impact.

‘Honour in death!’ he roared.

‘Devana!’ his men cried with joy, invoking the goddess of the hunt.

I had no deity to call upon. The only person I worshipped was miles away, trying to buy us a future one battle too late.

I threw myself into the fray. The battle no longer had rules. It was pure slaughter, and through the fog that enveloped my mind, even Cinared’s thoughts became muffled and unclear.

He kept shouting, but all I cared about was ripping apart anyone who challenged me, anyone who defiled my land with the stench of pyres and burning corpses.

A striga shot past me and leapt onto a soldier in an orange tabard, ripping his head off. The sight shocked me into confusion. Was I hallucinating? A bies followed and charged straight into a cowering knot of soldiers, breaching Tangra’s shield wall and crushing several pikemen.

I laughed in sweet abandon, rushing into the gap. What a splendid end to everything. The end of Dagome, the end of the War King, death, blood and gore. Even the monsters had joined the feast.

I roared my challenge, but not a single monster attacked.

There was space around me, too much space. I met the gaze of an infantry sergeant, who shook his head in confusion. He wiped bloody sweat from his brow, sword point down, while he searched for the enemy.

‘Sire, the monsters… they’re only attacking the Tangrians,’ he mumbled through bloodless lips.