“How could this have happened?” said Sir Adrian, his Sacred Blade sinking. The sword’s blue glow faded, reflecting in the polished visor of his helm. “This is not possible…”
Sir Liam Mastere reined his horse up, his old joints aching.
He took a deep breath and looked over the carnage.
The corpses of the kingdom of Carlisan's footmen covered the meadow, their bodies ripped and torn by bullets. Pools of half-dried blood and mutilated bodies lay everywhere. Their gleaming chain mail had proven no protection against their enemies’ weapons. The air was heavy with a charnel scent, and flies buzzed over the slain. A few vultures flapped overhead, circling against the clear blue sky.
Sir Adrian began to sob. “This could not have happened. They had five hundred men. Six Knights of the Sacred Blade. And even a Wizard.” He lifted the visor of his helm, revealing his beaked nose and trimmed beard. “Marugon had only twenty men. Twenty! How could this have happened? How?” His scream rang over the bloody meadow.
“Calm yourself.” Liam slid from the saddle, his armor clanking. He knelt besides one of the bodies, examining the marks on the ground. “Our men rode into the clearing. Marugon’s men were waiting on the far side.” He stood and crossed to another pile of bodies. “They charged Marugon’s soldiers, without a thought for their own defense. And why not? How could twenty stand against five hundred?” He shook his head. “But Marugon’s men had those…things. Those hell-forged weapons from that other world.”
Tears trickled into Sir Adrian’s beard. “The guns, you mean. His men call them guns.”
Liam paid him no heed, still examining the battlefield. “The Knights and the Wizard made a last stand here.” Six men in plate armor lay near each other, their Sacred Blades scattered about them. The guns’ bullets had torn their gleaming armor into twisted steel ribbons. “The Wizard fell last.” The Wizard’s body lay crumpled at the base of a tree, white robes splashed with blood. Near him lay two corpses in ragged black uniforms. A hand clutching a burning eye, Marugon’s personal sigil, had been embroidered in red thread on their uniforms. “Marugon’s men. The Wizard took some of the enemy with him in death.” His frown deepened. “The enemy stripped the dead of their guns and ammunition before they moved on. They do not bother to bury the dead according to the laws of men, but they take the trouble to retrieve their hell-forged guns.”
“How is this happening?” said Sir Adrian. The younger man sounded as if his mind had snapped. “I was here in Narramore when we destroyed the Black Council and broke their armies. Five years ago all the Warlocks were dead, save Lord Marugon. And he fled into the Tower of Endless Worlds. How could he have returned? No one who sets foot in that accursed Tower ever returns.” His words tumbled over each other. “But he came back, Sir Liam. He went to hell and came back, and he brought those demon guns with him…”
Liam grabbed the younger Knight’s wrist. “Come to your senses! Now is not the time to panic!”
Adrian blinked. “What?”
“Yes, Lord Marugon’s gunmen have overrun Narramore, and now they move to invade Carlisan,” said Liam. “But there is still hope. Six of the High Kingdoms remain. And the White Council has come, Adrian. They have gathered at Castle Bastion in Carlisan’s northern march. They will strike against Marugon. No matter how mighty Marugon has become, even his black magic cannot stand against the full strength of the Wizards of the White Council. And guns or no guns, Marugon has only five thousand men. When the combined armies of Carlisan and Antarese and Rindl and Amnisos and the other High Kingdoms gather, they will overwhelm Marugon’s band of criminals and traitors. The battle will cost dearly, yes. But we shall yet prevail.”
Adrian’s face stiffened. “You are right, Sir Liam.”
“We must ride for Castle Bastion,” said Liam. “The Wizards of the White Council are there already. Soon the hosts of the High Kingdoms shall arrive. Together they will drive Lord Marugon’s rabble back into the Wastes, and chase Marugon himself back to the Tower of Endless Worlds. We must join them.”
Adrian nodded and looked over the meadow. “We…we will return later, and do proper respect to our dead.”
“Of course,” said Liam. He climbed back into the saddle, his old joints aching with the effort. As usual, he ignored them. “Make haste. We must aid Castle Bastion. The absence of the five hundred men we came to collect will be sorely missed.”
Adrian put spurs to his charger. The two Knights galloped down the forest road, into the Border Woods of Narramore, mud churning beneath their horses’ hooves.