Martyr (The Martyr Trilogy) by N.P. Beckwith Page A

archers.  I saw them raise their
bows in unison to point at the first row of enemy troops.  Then as I watched
they raised their weapons slightly and froze.  At a second command from Reya
they unleashed their missiles as one.  The projectiles flew not at the enemy’s
front line, but at a point just beyond the last row of soldiers.  As each one
landed, a small explosion could be seen, followed a micro-second later by its
sound.  The enemy troops, more heavily armored for a frontal attack, were
caught off-guard.  Here and there the perfect lines of their formation were
disrupted, and the efforts to restore order seemed a bit less organized than
before.  Some were injured; a few fell.  Reya’s troops, encouraged by this
small victory, pushed with renewed vigor down the slope.  The shouts grew
louder, weapons and heads held higher. 
     
    A
warm breeze swept over the hillside, rustling the grass and carrying the smoke
from the explosions away.  As the haze cleared I saw a stirring on the crest of
the next bluff, beyond the enemy.  Reya’s people saw it too.  A second wave of
enemy troops.  Then a third.  They filed in behind their comrades at the base
of the hill.  The dark serpent was now a veritable sea of black, a great dragon
in constant, subtle motion, ever poised to strike.  The effect of this newly
tripled threat was immediately evident among Reya’s troops.  Their descent
slowed; the battle cries were choked off in their throats; a few warriors
actually stumbled.  Reya’s army was outnumbered to begin with; now the
situation had become entirely hopeless.  I tried to see how Reya would react to
this, and I saw her glance quickly over her shoulder and back, a nervous sort
of motion that seemed somehow out of character for her.  Reya issued a command
for her army to regroup, but even as her voice reached the front lines a change
was taking place on the enemy side. 
     
    A
strange silhouette appeared at the top of the distant hill.  A lone figure atop
some sort of vehicle, rising over the flattened grass of the hilltop.  It
continued to rise, and it became apparent that it wasn’t a vehicle per se, but
a seat, a throne, carried by six or eight bulky warriors.  On the throne sat a
dark-cloaked figure.  The air above and around the figure rippled and shimmered
like the heat from a tarred road in summer.  As I watched, the dark figure
raised his arms high in the air and lowered his head.  At the last moment
before his head was fully bowed, I detected a glint from his eyes, even
shielded as they were by the overhanging hood.  Stranger still, I felt certain
he had in that moment glanced directly at me.  I felt in my bones and my blood
the cold cruelty of his smile.  The sensation was not easy to shake, even when
reason prevailed and I told myself the distance was too far, the shadows too
deep…that indeed, I wasn’t really there. 
     
    Moments
later, something else could be seen rising over the hilltop on either side of
this figure.  Several, perhaps a dozen or so, large creatures began to descend
the slope, side-by-side, each about fifty meters from the next.  They looked
like the animals Reya’s people rode, but something was wrong.  Their heads were
bowed low to the ground, and they lumbered down the hill in a manner entirely
unlike the careless grace with which I had seen them move.  There was some sort
of man-made device strapped to their backs, an extension of which ran up the
ridge of their great necks to the base of the skull.  A pair of large, metallic
cylinders hung on either side of their bodies, and as I strained to get a better
look, it became apparent that this equipment was not the only reason for their
awkward movement.  These creatures had only four legs, the middle pair
apparently having been amputated to accommodate the ungainly accoutrements. 
Their many-pronged antlers crackled with the same sort of sparkling effect I
had observed before entering this vision-state,