Golden Age (The Shifting Tides, #1)(112)

Arrow shafts flew in both directions as Nikolas’s archers sought to clear the walls. Reacting with hardened instinct, Nikolas dipped his head and raised his arm as a shaft clattered against his shield.

He heard a throaty growl as a female ogre with a spear that dwarfed his own thrust her weapon at his head. Nikolas weaved and aimed his spear at her chest, but the creature was quick and moved to the side. Her strong hand pulled his spear away from him, throwing it to the ground.

The ogre’s spear thrust again and Nikolas narrowly deflected it with his shield, taking the shattering force of the blow on his left arm as he gritted his teeth. He drew his sword in one swift movement, leaping high and slashing down, striking the exposed place where the neck joined the shoulder. The sharp steel bit deep and the ogre fell.

The two forces shifted back and forth as each struggled not to give any ground. The arrows overhead had now lessened to staggered volleys as Nikolas’s men cleared the walls.

‘Link shields!’ he cried.

There was a hoplite on his left and another on his right. His army’s training came to the fore as the Xanthian soldiers formed a long line – shield to shield, shoulder to shoulder.

‘Forward!’

He felt the strength of a second rank of men at his back, holding him fast as the hoplites took a step forward in unison. The enemy charged, but came up against the hard wall of the shields and every man’s right arm thrust, whether he held a spear or a sword.

Ilean soldiers fell screaming, only to be trampled over and replaced by the next rank of yellow-cloaked fighters behind. Bodies now littered the landscape. Nikolas’s men dispatched the twitching wounded.

‘Overhead!’ someone behind him cried.

A dragon surrounded by a clutch of furies swooped down from above, but Nikolas’s archers were prepared and shafts peppered the monsters’ bodies, halting the attack before it began. The winged creatures fell to the ground in the midst of the Xanthian soldiers. The eldren would not try an aerial attack again.

Nikolas saw expressions of fear on the Ilean soldiers opposite, as each time they came forward they met the solid wall of shield and spear. He began to think that he could win the battle. Leaving the line and allowing a man from behind to come to take his place, he looked for somewhere he could gain a vantage and spied a small hill.

‘We have them!’ he shouted to his men, who roared back their support.

Soon Nikolas had a view of the battle. He saw that his line was thinner, but that was as it should be; his officers knew their business and needed to keep the line extended to prevent their forces being outflanked.

The organized chaos of the battle showed two masses of infantry facing each other, milling as they cut each other down, but the army of Ilea was giving ground.

Then, hearing a cry and seeing one of his men pointing, eyes wide with fear, Nikolas looked up.

A dozen winged creatures, three dragons encircled by a clutch of smaller furies, flew high in the sky, well out of bowshot. They didn’t lose height until they were far from Nikolas’s archers, well behind the fighting, then they swiftly landed.

A shimmer of smoke went around them as they shifted.

The gray clouds cleared and now he was looking at a dozen giants and ogres. They charged down from the hills, heading directly for the archers behind the center of the line.

Nikolas saw the immediate danger.

But for once, he didn’t know what to do. Such a thing would not be possible with an army of men.

With relentless momentum, the snarling monsters struck the back of his army. The occasional arrow shaft plunged into leathery hide, but the lightly armored archers were completely outclassed. Gnarled fists hammered into skulls, splintering them into bloody pulp in a heartbeat. Meaty hands tore apart one man after another.

The archers broke, leaving the backs of the hoplites exposed. As the dozen creatures reached the infantry the soldiers turned to face this new threat, reducing the massed force that supported those in front. The line wavered.

Nikolas knew that in moments the ranks would shatter. The soldiers of the sun king would advance and the center of his line would break, splitting his army neatly in two as the giants and ogres reached the soldiers in yellow.

When that happened, it would all be over.

He signaled an officer on the flank, where the fighting was less relentless. He pointed at the army’s rear with his sword, desperation in his movements. The officer called out and a score of soldiers broke away, pushing through to join him, but in the confusion of battle they would arrive too late.

Knowing he had to do something, Nikolas left the hill and ran toward the creatures smashing through the back of his army. ‘Hold the line!’ he cried to his men in front.

Those in the back were struggling against the long arms that could smash through two men at a time, knocking aside spears and shields and crushing bodies in a single blow. A Xanthian spear in a giant’s hand thrust into a red-cloaked soldier’s abdomen and then tossed his body into the air behind him before penetrating another warrior’s chest; the man gasped in agony, writhing as the wooden spike tore at his innards.

Nothing could prepare Nikolas for the carnage as he reached the scene. Setting his jaw he leaped over a body and raised his shield to block the overhead swing of a pair of fists. The blow, from arms as large as a big man’s leg, shattered his shield into pieces, nearly breaking his arm in the process.

Stars sparkled in his vision as he barely managed to evade the next blow by lunging to the side. He struck the ground and rolled onto his back. The giant snarled as he loomed over him. Nikolas knew he was a dead man.