KALEN

XI

Eraivell Nightheart had been a rider in the Dark Elf light cavalry for almost fifty years. Though his family back in Ghrond were not of a noble lineage, his prowess of killing on the battlefield had gained him substantial stature belying his common birth and his military experience was extensive. He had ridden down stragglers after the might of the Witch Kings armies had trounced their discipline. He had slaughtered the hated Asur in woodland ambushes. He had crushed squealing Skaven beneath the sharpened hooves of his steed. In short, Eraivell was not used to running in the face of the enemy.

However, it seemed to come reluctantly well as his Ellyrionian steed charged through the deep snows of Norsca. Far behind, he left his companions bleeding in the freezing winds. Not so far behind were their murderers. As Eraivell twisted in his saddle, chancing a look back, a group of riders appeared over a slope, loose snow exploding around their flanks as they pursued the dark elf.

The humans had come across them at camp, whilst Eraivell and his small scouting party had been waiting out a blizzard in the nape of a hill. It was to the humans' commendation that they had evaded the elves acute hearing until the last moment. Suddenly riders with visored helmets on thick steeds were amongst them, skewering his comrades, erupting screams and blood on snow. Eraivell had reacted faster than the rest, knowing he was outnumbered, he had clambered on his horse and made his escape.

Now, six lancers chased a lone rider across the stark landscape. Eraivell dug his spurs into the sides of his steed and it snorted angrily but increased its efforts. Eraivell had to warn the main column. The Kislevites were here.

Duke Kalen of Abyiss sat high in his saddle, surveying the desolate wilderness he and the dark elf army were marching into. He looked down on the valley where a snow covered bridge reached across a thick river of ice. He had been given the command of the vanguard of the army by Lord Harkan and his objective was to reach this bridge. It was thought that the Kislev army must cross it in order to reach the Norscan lands they wished to conquer.

The sun had broken over the crown of the northern mountains shortly after they had left the Norscan town that they were using as a base. Now, through gaps in the cloud, the light reflected brightly on the snow giving a fresh feeling to the morning. Kalen, however, was in a foul mood. The previous night, the witch elf Hecate had told him of his purpose here in the land of ice. He was to kill the army's general, Lord Harkan and take his place. Harkan's sympathies with the Chaos pleasure-cult of Shornaal were too dangerous and he might be attempting to overthrow the temple of Khaine.

There was no love lost between Kalen and the lord, for Harkan despised Kalen simply for adulterating the Druchii nobility with the freakish presence of a Half-elf. But perhaps there was another reason. Kalen had lain awake wondering how much Harkan knew of this plot and that perhaps the previous nights attack in the village alleyways had not been random. Kalen had thought at the time that it was because the Norscan Ulgrath had been made to look incompetent by him, but what if Harkan had sent them?

Kalen pushed the thoughts away urging his horse down through the blanket of snow to the flatlands that led to the bridge. Besides, even if he managed to murder Harkan he doubted the soldiers would accept a half-elf mutant as their new general!

A regiment of such warriors trudged past him, some had taken off their helmets and cloth caps in order to harvest what warmth the morning rays brought. Their faces scowled at the upstart mutant Duke and perhaps cursed Kalen for leading them into this frozen desolation. Many slaves had frozen to death the night before and the carts were next to useless in the snow, so the warriors had to carry most of the baggage on their backs.

Some soldiers, having reached the bridge were collecting in crowds, unsure whether to bivouac here or not. Kalen was similarly nonplussed. He had expected the riders he had sent ahead to have returned by now and he was reluctant to pin the army on the other side of the bridge before he was sure of the land ahead. As he rode slowly towards the bridge he spotted Lieutenant Ambran standing on the stone crossing and the young elf gave him a friendly nod as he approached.

'A fine morning, sir.' Ambran said cheerfully.

'A morning that will bring death beneath its sunshine, no doubt.' Kalen grunted.

Ambran grinned, missing the pessimism in the words, 'Many a fine killing will be made before we are back warm in our barracks!'

'Is the bridge safe to cross?'

'Yes sir, though I'd hesitate to recommend more than half a regiment cross it at once.' Ambran placed a gloved hand on the damp wooden railing. 'Still, fine architecture for such primitive people. Do you wonder if the Norse built it?'

'What about the ice? Is it thick enough?'

'Erm, we're just finding out, sir.' Ambran pointed to two spearmen who were tentatively jabbing at the ice with the blunt ends of their spears. 'If we had some slaves we could perhaps-'

Kalen pointed to the skyline on the far side of the river, 'What's that?'

A black clad figure could easily be made out against the white incline. 'Its one of our riders!' Ambran cried out and motioned to several elves to follow him across the bridge.

'Hold!' Kalen shouted. The rider was returning alone after setting out with a squadron of eight. A second later others appeared above the crest of the hill. But these were not Druchii. 'Uraithen!' Kalen shouted behind him to where some warriors, startled, hastily formed themselves into line. The column of the vanguard was still making its way down the nearside slopes, but there were enough warriors here to make a defensive position on the narrow bridge. Kalen brought his steed forward as the crossbowmen crouched either side of the bridges walk way and made ready. The dark rider was still some distance away but his pursuers had already slowed at the sight of the dark elf army. Kalen counted five riders with lances. It would be suicidal of them to charge the bridge and without bows he doubted they could stop the rider reaching his comrades.

The Kislevites slowed to a halt and satisfied themselves with glaring banefully as their quarry reached the bridge. The horse was slavered in sweat and blood as it clattered over the walkway, narrowly avoiding the crossbowmen who shrunk back against the rails. After scattering soldiers in all directions, Ambran grasped hold of its dangling reins and restrained the beast. Its rider however was dead.

By the time the entire vanguard had reached the plateau, Kalen had sent out small groups of Shades to reconnaissance the land on the other side of the bridge. The Dark rider had died of an arrow wound to the spine and he was laid on the snow before Kalen and Ambran.

'How long do you think he's been dead?' Kalen said looking on the body of the rider without compassion.

Ambran considered, 'Well, the wound has stopped bleeding. But maybe with the cold-' he shrugged, 'why does it matter?'

Kalen looked up at the slope, now devoid of enemy cavalry, 'Because those humans were carrying lances.'

Ambran looked puzzled. He followed Kalens' gaze towards the hills. He looked back at his commander, 'I'm sorry, sir. I fail to see the significance.'

'Why would they pursue a dead elf on a horse, if not to discover where the horse was running to?' Kalen answered. The steeds taken from Ellyrion were beasts of high intelligence, their sense of direction usually allowing them to return to their masters even in unremarkable lands such as this.

Ambran realised the significance, 'Then the enemy will be upon us!'

Kalen nodded silently, stepping over the corpse towards where a group of warriors sat on their shields, huddling inside their cloaks. Their drannachs were planted upright in the snow. 'Lieutenant, what was his name?'

It took a moment to realise Kalen was referring to the dead Dark rider. 'I'm not sure sir. I would advise consulting Herald Firlaith.'

'And he would know?' Kalen smiled laconically. 'Make sure he's burnt.' He ordered, watching the last of the vanguard column arrive on the plain. Several auxiliary carts carrying food and weapons were struggling in the snow. Pulled by drowsy Cold-Ones, the ponderous reptiles still had enough vigour to snap out at soldiers attempting to pry the cartwheels from the drifts. The remainder of the army's reptiles were still in quarters in the Norse village, stubbornly refusing to galvanize in the cold temperature, much to Duke Vranath's chagrin.

Kalen walked over to where two warriors were still prodding the frozen river tenuously. He recognised their faces as two elves that were on punishment duty the night before. They turned sharply when he spoke, 'So now we know the ice is thick enough to hold aloft the tip of a drannach, what about the weight of an elf?' Kalen said with sarcasm. One of the warriors was broad, nearly as broad as Kalen's half-elf frame and even in the cold wore only a short sleeved tunic, he held the dranaach with long, blunt fingers. The other was taller and wore his mail but his hair was long and unkempt, perhaps attempting to hide the bruises on his face. 'What are your names, soldiers?'

'Avaris.' Said the bruised elf.

'Rath.' Grunted the armed elf.

'Sir.' Kalen prompted them.

'Sir.' They both said, almost sneering and meeting Kalen's eyes.

'May I enquire as to your crime?'

Avaris spoke first, 'It was nothing, sir. We had a slight altercation over some rations. A Quartermaster tried to claim it was his, it wasn't, and Rath-' He nodded to his expressionless comrade, 'made sure we got it back. He didn't like that, so we were put on punishment duty.'

'And you'll be ritually executed when we return to Naggaroth.' Kalen watched Avaris' face twitch. 'I'm guessing you gave this quartermaster a taste of Karond Kar hospitality?' Kalen smiled, which surprised them. Avaris looked at Rath nervously, but said nothing. Kalen looked over their shoulder at the frozen river. 'Stand on that ice.'

'Sorry, sir?'

'You're still mine till they lop your cretinous head off, so get on that ice soldier!' Kalen barked suddenly.

Avaris turned slowly and dangled one foot over the edge of the river. He placed one boot on the slick surface and it seemed to hold. The elf relaxed, placing his other foot down on the surface. The ice cracked sharply and Avaris plunged into the freezing black water beneath. 'Don't just stand there, pull him out!' Kalen ordered Rath, whose strong arms wrapped around Avaris' flailing upper body and pulled him ashore. Both elves ended up flat on their backs on the riverbank.

'Well done.' Kalen looked down at the pair, 'For risking your unworthy lives in the duty to your king, you are both hereby released from retributive sentence.'

Avaris and Rath looked up at him blankly. Some water dribbled from Avaris' mouth.

Kalen met Ambran on his way back to the camp, 'Those two elves,' Kalen nodded to Avaris and Rath who were picking themselves up from the bank, 'will join our regiment.' Ambran's eyes flicked to them and back again, 'As you say sir. Herald Firlaith has arrived from the main column.'

'Why haven't you crossed the bridge?' Firlaith demanded once the two officers were out of earshot of the troops. Not for the first time, Kalen had the urge to take Firlaith's greasy scalp and connect it with a rock. Hard.

'Your dark rider squadron came back dead. I've seen human riders on the hilltop myself. If we cross that bridge out of formation they'll come in and cut us to ribbons.'

Firlaith sighed, scratching at his beard as if he was dealing with a child, 'Lord Harkan wishes-'

'Damn Harkan!' Kalen exploded, 'He isn't here and if we cross that bridge they'll pounce.'

'Watch your words, half-elf.' Firlaith hissed, 'In your absence this morning, Lord Harkan has named me as his new second in command.' He said the words lusciously, 'Make your troops ready to cross the bridge, Duke.'

Kalen was silent. What could he say? He knew it was folly but if he protested anymore Firlaith would take ecstatic delight in relieving him from duty. 'As you wish.' He relented.

'And Kalen,' Firlaith called him back, 'I'll allow you the honour of accompanying the first regiment across.'

Kalen turned his back on him, his eyes looking for a rock.

XII

With horns blowing and banners flying, the Dark Elf vanguard prepared to cross the bridge. Three regiments of warriors followed by Firlaith's cavalry would cross and form up on the other side before advancing. As ordered, Kalen had joined the regiment that would be first to cross: The Serpents Kiss.

He left his horse with the baggage train and when Ambran asked him why he said it was because they were simply making camp on the other side of the bridge. But Kalen never took his eyes from the hills. He had already decided that should the Kislevites be waiting on the other side of those hills, his entire force would form a protective square around the entrance to the bridge and punish the enemy with Uraithen bolts while they formed an orderly retreat to a more defensible position on the other side. He expected cavalry and they would easily be picked off in ones or two's as they followed the dark elves over the bridge.

However that plan became increasingly unlikely as Firlaith, mounted with his riders at the rear urged the force further from the bridge, planning to take the hill itself and camp on the other side. It was a sound plan if proper reconnaissance had been carried out, but until they reached the hilltop it was dangerous in the extreme.

It was the sound of a horn, breaking through the valleys stillness, which signalled the arrival of that danger. The noise was followed by twenty riders appearing over the crest of the hill before the dark elf column. Their horses cantered down the slope whilst the riders unslung bows from their shoulders. Kalen called a halt to the column, 'Square!' he shouted shoving the nearest elf warrior against his comrade, 'Get into square!'

The squadron of horse-archers split into two parties as they reached the base of the valley, each circling around the Druchii. The dark elves were calmly moving into formation, uraithen in the front, drannachs behind with Firlaith's riders to the rear. Kalen pushed inside the square recognising Avaris and Rath standing solidly with their spears.

The humans closed in a decreasing circle, their small horses padded with fur and buckles as were their bearded riders. Kalen guessed the range of both armies' bows were approximately the same and even though the riders had speed on their side they could not close further without being peppered with bolts. Nevertheless, an arrow shot with surprising agility from horseback caught a spearman in the chest and he fell back crying out in surprise. 'Mark your targets! Single shot! Loose!' Kalen ordered and from the three sides of the square crossbows bolts began skimming across the snow. A Kislevite was plucked from his horse as a bolt buried itself in his ribs. The man struggled to his feet as his pony galloped away only to be struck with several more bolts.

Other riders had appeared on the hill. As Kalen shaded his eyes in the sun, he guessed they were lancers, though many more than he had seen earlier. There were also several chariot contraptions, though they seemed to be pulled by large dogs. But as long as the dark elves held their firing lines, the cavalry could not close. Another arrow whistled through the ranks of dark elves and was answered with a harsh volley of bolts. Firlaith's dark riders began to pan out in the rear of the square, preparing to launch an attack on the horse-archers. Sensing their strategy, the archers turned and began to canter back to the slope of the hill, some of their riders firing arrows that landed short of the elves.

The warriors around Kalen jeered and shouted insults; beside him Avaris barged into the front rank of the square only to question the fidelity of the humans' mothers. Lieutenant Ambran asked the elf politely to return to rank.

Once the archers had ridden out of range of the crossbows they turned and seemed to be waiting for a signal from the hilltop where a sizable group of lancers were now standing. The chariots, which Kalen now recognised as some sort of sledges, began to descend the hill. There were three, each pulled by around six or eight snarling dogs. Amongst the spearmen, some elves called upon these sledges to come and be stuck on their comrades' bolts.

However, the sledges came to a halt at the bottom of the slope. The dogs pulling them didn't. It took Kalen a moment to recognise that the dogs had been let free and nearly twenty ravaging hounds were charging towards the dark elves. 'Aim for the dogs! Multiple fire!' Kalen shouted but the dogs had covered over half the distance already. Volleys of bolts were loosed, causing snow to explode around the snarling creatures. But the animals were white and a difficult target to hit. One or two beasts tumbled bleeding in the ground but the rest ran on madly.

In what seemed moments, the slavering beasts were in amongst the elves. One soldier dropped his crossbow as he lifted a growling dog from the ground as it bit deep into his arm. Coarse haired muscle slammed between the elves legs causing them to fall. An elf screamed as slavering teeth snapped against his exposed neck. The front rank fell apart as warriors frantically tried to kill the fast moving animals. A few dogs chased around the legs of the dark riders. The horse bucking as its rider attempted to pin the dog on his spear. The ranks of the square had been turned into chaos. One dog jumped up at Ambran's chest, knocking him over as he tried to keep the jaws away from his face. Kalen skewered the wriggling animal on his sword, but it took three slashes before the dog lay still. It was then that another sound of the Kislevite's horn sounded across the valley.

The lancers were charging down the hill. Kalen looked up to see the wave of cavalry crossing the ground, deadly lances bent forward. Firlaith, his own cavalry outnumbered four to one, sounded the retreat and Kalen watched as the riders scampered back across the bridge. The warriors were stranded. Kalen and Ambran vainly tried to get the elves into position even as the last of the dogs was put down with a squeal. But the lancers were already too close.

The visored horseman struck the front rank of the dark elves, buckling shields and spearing bodies. Their horses frothed and stamped as warriors fell under the thrashing hooves. The square fell apart and as individuals, the dark elves were cut down. Kalen ordered a hornblower to sound the rally around the standard but even as he took breath, the musician was struck in the throat by an arrow. Blood bubbled from his lips as he fell.

A rider trampled a crossbowman, the horses' hoof crushing his helmet and charged Kalen. Quickly he grabbed at the jabbing lance and pulled the rider from his saddle, hacking down with his sword as the man hit the ground. The horses were inside the crumbling square and most of the elves ran for the bridge, gleefully followed by the pursuing riders who swiped down on the elves' backs with broad bladed swords. Perhaps only thirty elves remained around the standard, arrows flicking against the banners black sheath.

Kalen picked up a blood-splattered uraithen, unleashing its full volley into a horses' chest. The horse crashed into the ground, shattering the legs of the rider beneath it. A lancer that had been dismounted drove a lance into the body of a dark elf before being gutted himself by a vengeful drannach. The cries of man and elf filled the valley.

The fleeing Druchii were bottle necked at the entrance to the bridge; the Kislevites hacked at the edges of the crowd with their swords. Some of the elves tried to run across the ice and they were lost where the ice had split, swept underneath by the freezing currents.

Kalen saw Ambran and some warriors attempting a more orderly retreat from the field that had turned into blood soaked terror. 'Follow me!' he ordered the standard bearer and they made there way across to the retreating party. The horse archers must have closed for arrows were suddenly being sent with terrible accuracy into the dark elves. One of the arrows struck the standard bearer in the eye-slits of his helmet and the elf span around into the snow. Kalen ran back, picked up the standard and continued. He had only run a few paces when he heard the sound of hooves behind him. Turning, he faced a lancer, the faceless visor of the rider and steaming head of the horse bearing down upon him.

Kalen stood his ground, he wanted to run, but that would mean death. He lowered the standard horizontally and pushed it towards the cantering hooves of the horse. Its legs cracked against the wood, snapping the crossbeam and causing the beast to stumble. The horse was so close it fell into Kalen, shoving him back as the rider was thrown forwards on top of him. Kalen recovered first, driving his gauntlet into the northern man's face until the skull split. Unsteadily he stood, the sounds of screams in his ears.

'Kalen!' Kalen heard Ambran's voice above the cacophony. Tearing off his gore-splattered helmet, he saw the young lieutenant alerting him to the danger. Turning his head, he saw the bulk of the lancer too late. The slim lance pierced his armour below the ribs and Kalen was shoved off his feet once more. The rider passed him by only to be pin-cushioned by uraithen fire. Kalen looked up dreamily at the tall shaft of the lance that stuck up from his body like a flagstaff. He felt his warm blood coat his cold skin beneath his tunic. Gently, he closed his eyes, dying with the sounds that all soldiers should hear upon their death. The sounds of battle.

Louis Verlaine