The Cavalier (52 page)

This was the first time that Fil saw its practice in reality, and he thanked his trainers silently as he felt his blade swing down and cut into the thigh of the goblin before him. The beast stumbled to its knee and Fil finished it off with a powerful slash across its neck.

As the goblin fell to its death, Fil noticed the sunlight had momentarily disappeared. He glanced up and saw, to his dismay, thousands of arrows on their downward decent.

He had just enough time to get his shield up before the arrows turned him into a pin cushion. Many men near and behind him weren’t so lucky and their screams of pain and death sounded all around. He even heard the grunts and howls of goblins as they, too, fell victim to their own arrows. Three arrows pounded into his shield just as he saw a surviving goblin in front of him jab a spear at his unprotected belly.

Fil could do nothing but turn his body at the last minute, but it was enough. The tip of the goblin spear struck his leather armor a glancing blow and the deadly point slid by harmlessly, cutting a nasty gash across the hardened leather.

The goblin stopped its forward momentum but it could not pull its spear back for a second strike as Fil had slammed the hard edge of his shield down on top of the shaft, breaking it cleanly in two. Then he swung his heavy sword down on the goblin’s arm, cutting it in half just as easily as the spear shaft.

There was a brief reprieve as the barrage of arrows killed many men and goblins alike, creating gaps between the two forces.

Fil looked to his right to see Calden battling two goblins. They had both survived the enemy arrows, but now, they and their nearby comrades, faced the enemy in disarray, their formation momentarily crumbling around them.

Fil could not believe that Moredin’s forces launched their arrows into the fighting ranks while they fought so closely. Obviously they would kill some of their own troops in the process, which of course they had. But Fil did not have time to think any further on it as his friend battled for his life. He frantically looked for a way to help Calden, when his eyes glimpsed a discarded spear at his feet. Sheathing his sword, he picked up the spear.

He was getting ready to throw it when another goblin attacked him from the left. He used the spear like a staff, hitting the goblin’s sword away and then reversing the swing, taking the goblin in the side of the head. The goblin grunted, stumbling as Fil spun the spear around quickly, lancing the off-balance beast in the side with the razor sharp point. The goblin fell away into the battling mass of men and beasts around him.

Fil turned in one smooth motion and hefted the spear back for a throw. He spotted Calden fifteen paces away struggling to keep the goblins at bay. He used his powerful arms and legs, throwing the spear as hard as he could. Fil’s weapon of choice was the spear and not many could use it as proficiently as he. He had practiced with it every day and he could throw a spear farther and more accurately than any of the knight apprentices.

His practice had paid off, for the spear took one of the goblins in the side and the powerful throw launched the beast into the other goblin. Both creatures landed heavily on the ground and Calden cleaved the uninjured one with his short sword before the beast could untangle himself from his dead comrade. Calden glanced toward Fil and smiled before he was forced to engage another goblin.

Fil forced a frantic smile back as he glanced around at the chaos around him. He looked up and saw Tanus on his warhorse twenty paces away swinging his longer cavalry sword left and right, cutting into the enemy ranks, leaving a swath of death in his wake as he expertly led his horse through the mass of goblins.

Fil glimpsed a goblin sneaking toward Tanus from behind with a long spear in its hand. Fil looked around frantically for another spear but there were none to be found.

“Tanus, behind you!” Fil yelled.

Tanus glanced toward Fil, pivoting his horse around simultaneously. The warhorse shouldered several goblins out of the way but he wasn’t quite fast enough as the goblin jabbed up with the long shaft. The spear point took Tanus in the shoulder, penetrating a gap between his protective plates and knocking him off balance.

Fil unsheathed his blade and charged toward his commander, screaming in rage as he went. At the last minute he lifted up his shield, barreling through a goblin that stood in his way.

Tanus landed hard on his back, the wind knocked from his lungs, his helm dislodged from his head. Gasping for breath, he struggled to stand and find his sword just as he saw the spear wielding goblin jump on top of him screaming in bloodlust. The goblin kicked him in the face so hard that he saw stars as blood and a few teeth flew from his mouth. Tanus lay flat on his back, trying to shake off the dizziness. The goblin howled with glee and reversed its grip on the spear so that the point was angling towards him. Tanus looked up as the spear tip descended. Everything slowed as he looked upon his own death.

Suddenly a soldier rammed into the goblin, launching the beast into the air. Tanus didn’t waste any time getting up and grabbing his sword from the ground. He stumbled slightly as he shook off the fogginess and pain. After a few seconds he planted his legs firmly and stood up.

Fil stood next to him holding his blood smeared shield and sword.

“Nice timing,” Tanus said, looking about the battle field.

“Thanks.”

Blood ran freely from Tanus’s shoulder and mouth but the wounds did not seem to affect him. He nodded and then quickly engaged the nearest goblin with a defiant roar.

Fil fought next to Tanus for what seemed like an eternity. Goblins stacked up around them as they slashed, stabbed, and cut their way through the beasts.

Fil’s sword arm began to tire and his body was dripping sweat and blood. Suddenly another enemy horn sounded and Fil and Tanus looked around as they took advantage of the quick break from the fighting.

“What is that?” Fil gasped through deep breaths.

“The enemy is sending in their second line.” Tanus glanced around for his horse and saw his steed close by. The well trained animal didn’t leave his master’s side even in the heat of battle.

Tanus ran to his horse, stumbling slightly, the exhaustion and loss of blood from the wound now taking its toll. Fil rushed to Tanus and caught him before he fell.

“Let me help you,” he said as he guided Tanus to his horse and helped him into the saddle.

“My thanks,” Tanus muttered as he scanned the scene from his higher vantage point.

“What do you see, sir?” Fil asked anxiously.

“As I thought, they are sending in their second line.” Tanus pulled out a horn from the side of his horse’s saddle and blew it three times. It was the signal to reform their modrigs.

Quickly the soldiers reformed their fighting lines and tried to reestablish their shield wall. The remaining goblins had retreated and reformed with the advancing orcs and humans that were marching towards them. The enemy was beating huge war drums as the lumbering orcs marched down the hill. The menacing sound was deafening and the men around Fil looked about nervously. But most of them were veterans and they held their ground, their iron resolve strengthening the will of the younger inexperienced soldiers near them.

A horn blew behind them and Fil glanced back to see their reserve line move into position. Fil understood their role perfectly. The reserve line would fill any gaps that broke in their own line. Simultaneously the cavalry would be attacking from the flanks.

Fil could not see King Gavinsteal anywhere but he suspected he would be leading the Finarthian Knights into battle. Fil looked around for Calden and could not see him among the tired and bloody men nearby. He was exhausted and covered with the grime of battle.

“Drink from your water skins!” bellowed Tanus as he rode in front of his modrig. At his commander’s words Fil noticed how dry his mouth was. He took a long pull from his water skin, relishing the taste as the cold water took away the cottonmouth coating his tongue. The water brought new vigor back into his tired body.

Fil looked down and picked up another fallen spear. The thick shaft in his hand felt comforting as he looked upon the approaching horde of orcs and humans. The booming of the drums corresponded to the thumping of his heart as the adrenaline of battle coursed through his body.

Behind the orcs, Fil could make out the upper bodies of the massive ogres ambling towards them. The pace of the drums quickened and the orcs picked up their pace.

Fil set his feet into the ground, lifted up his shield with his sword brothers, and held his spear in front of him as the orcs bellowed defiantly, racing towards them, howling for blood.

“Give them nothing but death!” screamed Tanus on his horse as he lifted his sword into the air. The wound in his shoulder had stopped bleeding but the injury still hurt. He shook off the pain, raised his war horn to his mouth and blew into it, giving the signal to move forward at the single step. The silent infantry slowly advanced toward the enraged orcs, spears and shields held before them.

The two forces crashed together making a noise like a thunder clap. The fighting was intense and the tired men fared poorly against the fresh enemy troops. The orcs were strong and powerful and they sensed that their enemy was tiring. Tanus saw his line starting to falter.

“Formation, get in formation!” he screamed, pivoting his horse expertly behind the ranks. All the warriors near him quickly got shoulder to shoulder again, their shields defending the sword arm of the soldier next to him.

The reserve line sent in fresh troops to fill the gaps and maintain the line. Orcs ran at the formation wall with no sense of control or organization. The trained men used their shields to block the attacks while their sword brothers jabbed and cut into the orcs with their short swords.

King Gavinsteal, dressed in full battle array and carrying a long glittering lance, rode his warhorse over the peak of the hill. Behind him were two thousand Finarthian Knights. His armor shone brightly in the afternoon sun and his royal sword was strapped to his broad back. The king was old but he knew the importance of leading his men into battle. His very presence would provide the resolve his warriors needed to defeat this large force invading their homeland.

The king looked down at the battle and saw that his infantry was holding the orcs back, but barely. His eyes narrowed in anger and his jaw clenched in frustration as he surveyed the scene before him. For every orc that died upon the line, another took its place. The reserve line was filling in the gaps perfectly but they could only maintain the formation for so long.

Dagrinal rode up next to the king and gazed at the battle below. “Should I give the signal, my Lord?” he asked. “King Olegaurd should be in place with his cavalry on the east side.”

Upon the signal, both cavalries would ride in to flank the enemy army, each group representing the fearsome points of the “horn of the bull” attack. The powerful maneuver was designed to crush the enemy from all sides.

But something didn’t seem right to King Gavinsteal. Where was the enemy cavalry? Surely they had some mounted warriors. Also, there was no sign of Lord Moredin or Prince Bomballa in the enemy ranks. Where were they? King Gavinsteal continued surveying the battle and the lands beyond, anxiously looking for some clues.

“My King, if we don’t give the signal the infantry will be crushed. What are your orders?” asked Dagrinal again.

The king put his hand up to silence Dagrinal as he mulled over the decision, his eyes never leaving the battle below.

Prince Baylin rode up next to his father. His royal armor was polished brightly and his double headed battle axe was strapped to his back. The visor on his helm was up and his father noticed his worried expression.

“Are you thinking the same thing I am?” asked the king, turning to look at his son.

“I am. Where is their cavalry?” Prince Baylin asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve been blinded all night and day. They have boargs patrolling their perimeter and none of my scouts have returned. The boargs continue to sniff them out,” added the frustrated king.

“We have to assume that their cavalry is waiting for us to make our move and then they will try to flank us,” replied the prince as he surveyed the battle.

“Where is Nelstrom?” asked the king, looking about for his younger son.

Prince Baylin now knew about Nelstrom not being his brother, but he said nothing to his father about it. He figured if he wanted to talk about it that he would bring it up when he was ready. For now, with all that was happening, the issue seemed trivial in the big picture of things.

“I don’t know, father. I haven’t seen him. But you must make a decision now or our infantry will be destroyed.”

They all looked down as the ogres threw stones the size of human heads, punching holes in their infantry formation. The stones crushed several men at a time but the reserve line moved in to fill the gaps. The formation was holding but it was obvious they wouldn’t hold much longer.

“Baylin, stay here with half an akron. Keep Graggis with you. Dagrinal, you and I will sound the horn for the advance. If you see their cavalry, sound the horn and we will retreat to a defensive position while you ride in with your five hundred and re-flank them.”

“Yes, Father. May Ulren be with you,” the prince replied.