by M J Webb
But, Queen Bressial now had severe problems of her own to contend with!
She had led her force of weary rebels, many of whom were old and frail, or suffering from illness and wounds sustained during years of captivity and slavery, through the gap in the defences on the enemy’s right flank. Most of the fleeing rebels were by now past the enemy lines and heading towards the approaches to the great city. However, a small group of around a hundred stragglers were lagging far behind. Queen Bressial turned around to look anxiously behind her at their progress and she was horrified to see that a large group of enemy soldiers were now in pursuit. They had broken off from the main battle once they spotted the fleeing columns. Unless they could be stopped, they would easily catch the rebels out in the open and her followers would most likely be slaughtered.
Queen Bressial only had a handful of Nadjan knights with her, a small group of elite guards who had sworn to protect their Queen from harm and served her well for many years, certainly not enough to engage such a force. She looked at them all and made a snap decision.
“My friends, I hereby release you from your vows and thank you for your service to date. I will bear no ill will towards any who do not follow me on this charge, for I cannot guarantee the outcome and I would not ask so much of you after all we have been through together.”
She drew her sword. Shouting at the fleeing rebels passing by her to head for the city gates as quickly as possible, she kicked her horse and charged alone at the advancing enemy soldiers, in what appeared to be a desperate act bordering on insanity.
Without any hesitation at all, she was followed immediately by every one of her loyal knights.
***
King Artrex and Lord Castrad were now in serious peril! They stood in the centre of a huge mass of enemy warriors, flanked by only a few hundred or so rebel knights. Their situation had just become critical. The enemy had managed to fight their way forward and now stood within the rebel ranks. Arrows, axes, swords, slingshot and spears were coming at them from all directions. The ground beneath their feet was now awash with blood, the cries of the wounded and dying rung in their ears and sweat, blood, dirt and tears covered their faces and stung their eyes. The pain of aching lungs and muscles throbbed throughout their bodies. They desperately wanted to rest. But the only respite on offer now from the incessant fighting was the permanent peace of death, which stood ready to take them at a moment’s notice, should they give in to their fatigue and cease to fight.
Suddenly, a speeding arrow flew out of the crowd ahead of Lord Castrad. He saw it clearly even though it was travelling so fast. It seemed to be heading straight for him and he braced himself briefly for the impending strike, realising that he was unable to dodge its path and believing that he was done for. But, the Nadjan nobleman was not the archer’s intended target and the arrow narrowly missed him. He felt the wind of it as it passed him by and he heard a dull thud from immediately behind him, the very instant he knew it had missed and that he was safe. His heart seemed to shatter into a million pieces in that moment.
Turning around swiftly and in complete despair, Castrad was just in time to see King Artrex fall to his knees. The arrow had embedded itself deep within his shoulder and the weight of the blow had forced him backwards a few steps before he fell. The pain and shock of the heavy wound was etched upon the King’s face. He looked up helplessly at his loyal knight. Castrad made to help the King to his feet, but as he did a Thargw warrior broke through the rebel line and came rushing at King Artrex from the left, his teeth showing fiercely, his eyes wide with excitement and his battlesword gripped firmly with both hands, as he raised it above his head and prepared to finish off the rebel King.
He swung the sword down rapidly as soon as he was within range, aiming for the centre of King Artrex’ head and hoping to deliver the fatal blow before he regained his feet.
Castrad reacted with the swift instincts of an experienced soldier, improvising a move which certainly had not been taught in any school of warfare. His sword was low and in his right hand, having just begun to reach for the King with his left as he tried to help him up. Somehow, he lifted it upwards and angled the blade perfectly in the Thargw’s direction, raising his body up at the same time so that his sword caught the warrior’s arms just above the wrists, as he swung his battlesword downwards and onto the King.
Castrad was just in time and he severed the Thargw’s hands at a point parallel to the warrior’s chest, a fraction of a second before it was low enough to deliver the killer blow.
The Thargw still held his sword in his severed hands and, though they were now no longer attached to his body, they still almost completed their task. The battlesword continued its downward momentum, only now its speed and trajectory had been altered by Castrad’s strike. Artrex cried out in pain again as the cold, jintan steel of the weapon sliced through his upper arm and ripped open the flesh to expose the bone, before it fell to the floor still gripped tightly in the Thargw’s fingers.
Castrad finished off the mighty warrior with two thrusts of his sword before ordering the closest rebels to close up and form a protective circle around their King. Shielded briefly from further attacks, Castrad tried to help Artrex as best he could. But the fighting was close and fierce, a gap developed in the line and a throwing knife struck him in his right thigh as he knelt down to tend to him. He grimaced with pain as he pulled the knife out and he let out an almighty cry. Then, he gritted his teeth, rejoined his comrades and continued the fight.
***
Queen Bressial’s stallion thundered into the lead elements of the enemy’s advance on the right flank of the battlefield. Her sword cut down several of the fierce warriors as they mercilessly chased the rebel stragglers. Just as it seemed she would be overrun and dragged from her mount, the soldiers of her guard arrived behind her and ploughed into the enemy, saving her from almost certain death and taking a great toll upon the Southern Army veterans.
A bitter and violent struggle ensued. More and more enemy soldiers began arriving with every second that passed. The Queen was soon in danger of being cut off altogether from the city. The rebels she was protecting were fleeing the battle and they needed more time to reach the safety of the city walls. She could not disengage from the fight as she wanted desperately to do. She could not retreat. All she could do was to stand and fight an action which was getting worse with every second.
This was shaping up to be possibly the blackest day in the history of the Ruddite Rebellion, maybe even the day when it would be extinguished once and for all!
The worst imaginable outcome of all for everyone who opposed King Vantrax was now a distinct probability, almost a certainty in fact. It looked very much as if the rebels were going to lose both of their reigning monarchs in one day, in this fight! And without King Artrex or Queen Bressial to lead them, what would become of the rebellion?
Chapter 21
24th August – The Battle of Dassilliak – Part 3
In the midst of battle, the remaining rebel warriors encircled their leaders to form an impregnable barrier of swords and shields, allowing Lord Castrad to tend the King.
“Sire, you are wounded, can you stand?” cried the Nadjan noble, taking advantage of the temporary respite.
Artrex clasped his hand tightly over the gaping wound in his arm in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding. He grimaced in pain as he stared up at the face of the knight he hardly knew, but who had served him so valiantly. Then, his own expression changed to one of sheer bloody mindedness, and he answered the knight in a tough, defiant manner.
“I will stand Castrad, I will not meet my death on bended knee! Hand me my sword and help me up, please.”
Lord Castrad did as he was instructed but he was seriously concerned for King Artrex’ welfare. Having seen lots of battles and many such wounds, he knew that the King of Rhuaddan must have been in tremendous pain.
“You know my liege, it is a pity you were not born of my country. I mean, I am fortunate enou
gh to have a great and noble Queen whom I love dearly, too much for my own good if truth be told. I should have liked to have served you though, if things were different. I would have done so gladly, and with honour.”
King Artrex forced a smile to his lips even though he was in agony. He was tremendously touched by the warrior’s words. His eyes were full of resignation as he replied through gritted teeth.
“You already have Castrad, none could have served me better. I thank you for it with all my heart. Now, shall we finish what we have begun?” he asked, his voice steeled with fortitude.
“Yes sire, we have lingered here for far too long. One final charge would seem to be the order of the day? Let us go. Let history remember how we fought and died, as free men beholden to nobody, giving our lives of our own free will, knowing our cause is just and united behind our sovereign lord, our King.”
The two warriors turned around and pushed their way to the front of the surrounded group of rebels and knights. The enemy masses facing them were shocked and amazed to see King Artrex still alive. They paused for a moment and took a slight step backwards. They looked at one another as if to check that their eyes were not deceiving them.
“Come on all ye brave knights, join with me now, we have them on the run! Charge!” the King bellowed, seeing the enemy’s almost comical response. He raised his sword as high as he could manage and stumbled towards the awaiting throng with his last remaining reserves of energy fading rapidly, as the blood continued to ooze out of his open wound.
***
Queen Bressial was now surrounded herself and in serious trouble. She was completely cut off from the city. She was swiping with her sword at the enemy warriors around her, trying desperately to keep them at bay. The soldiers tried to reach her and pull her from her horse. The few remaining members of her guard were fighting valiantly to protect their Queen, trying to shield her from harm, but the numbers of Vantrax’ soldiers were now so great that it was an impossible task, and it was all they could do just to stay alive.
A sword point entered the Queen’s left thigh and she cried out in pain, before managing to despatch her assailant with a furious and determined swing of her weapon, which very nearly removed his head. Blood seeped out of the open wound to her leg. She immediately began to feel faint. She looked quickly away in the direction of the city to check on the progress of the fleeing rebels she had managed to save with her selfless charge.
The sight that greeted her was the most wondrous thing she had ever seen! It was a full blown miracle of immense proportions. Row after row of soldiers had suddenly appeared on the battlefield, as if from nowhere they had deployed so fast. The archers to the front were kneeling and pulling back the strings of their bows, horsemen and footsoldiers lined up behind, as they continued to pour out of the city gates to form up on the field in front of the giant wall.
The Queen of Nadjan could not believe her eyes. At first, she thought she was hallucinating because of her injury. She had prayed so hard for an intervention of this kind. But, in her heart of hearts, she did not believe that Princess Zephany would succeed in getting through the enemy lines, let alone persuade the notoriously fickle leaders of the Alliance to help!
‘Swoosh… Swoosh… Swoosh…!’
A hail of arrows was suddenly unleashed. They were heading straight for Bressial and the enemy who surrounded her!
The Queen instinctively turned her body away. She heard the arrows hit their marks. When she turned around again, she saw that almost every well aimed shot had hit its intended target, meeting out death from every quarter upon the enemy who had come so very close to killing her. The archers in the Estian army were clearly expert bowmen. Within no time at all, most of the surrounding attackers had been killed or seriously wounded. The few who survived were fleeing back to their lines, and the battle which was now in full flow. An amazed and mightily relieved Queen Bressial turned her head once more to look at her rescuers, and thank them.
As soon as the immediate danger to the Queen had passed, the front rows of archers in the centre of the Estian line dispersed to allow the cavalry through their lines. The horsesoldiers formed up neatly and quickly on either side of the gap that had been created until they were all ready to charge. Then, last of all, Princess Zephany and Prince Laertral, resplendent in shiny, Petrosyan armour and astride their magnificent mounts, cantered through them all to take up their positions at the head of the army.
By the time the manoeuvre had been fully completed, Bressial’s rebels were safely inside the city walls. She gathered her guard to her, some of whom were wounded, and made her way up the approaches to the gates. She passed through them, pausing only to bow her head to Zephany and Laertral as she passed, in a proud and regal display of extreme gratitude.
Across the fields and through the trees lay the Southern Army of King Vantrax and the raging battle which would probably decide the future of the Estian people. Prince Laertral though had no way of knowing the desperate situation faced by King Artrex and his knights. He did not appear to be in any hurry. The indecision which had plagued him in years gone by had vanished. Princess Zephany and her actions in the Juyen seemed to have inspired him, showing him what it meant to be a member of the royal family. He was full of confidence and determined to show this to the brave men and women who were lined up before him, ready to follow him into battle.
“Warriors of the Estian Alliance... Through those trees lies an enemy we have been fighting for many years now. Our soldiers have died in their thousands at their hands. We have all lost close friends and family to their hired killers, suffered because of them. I am ashamed to admit to you now that some of us have been guilty of hiding ourselves away, too afraid to act. Afraid of what was being asked of us. Afraid of the responsibility. Uncertain of our own abilities and unsure if we were up to the task, afraid of letting you down.
Well today, we cast away such fears and insecurities, my friends. The time for self doubt has gone; we can no longer shy away from what is being asked of us for we are children no more. We now begin this fight in earnest! Today, we come to the aid of our new allies and face our old enemy with renewed vitality. It is time now to make our stand. No longer will we hide away in some dark corner of this great land like a frightened rachtis. We will stand shoulder to shoulder with our new friends, proud to call them by that name and determined to defeat all who would try to enslave our people.
Yes my friends, I have been guilty of behaving like a boy, when I should have been a man. Age was no excuse for me and I know it now. You needed a leader, and I was not there for you. I can do nothing to redeem myself in your eyes now. But, witness I beseech you, a man full grown, a man with vengeance in his heart and a score to settle! I would now lead, if you would follow? Hear me! Follow close behind me and we shall win this day! If I fall, the fight must go on. Do not falter, any of you. Princess Zephany is to take command and you are to see this thing through to its conclusion. Now, summon up your courage and let us wage war!”
The Estian army roared loudly their approval of Prince Laertral’s words and the reinvigorated leader who stood before them. The Prince and Zephany turned their stallions around and began the charge, riding at full speed for the trees and the battle beyond.
***
King Artrex was just about to engage yet another Thargw warrior. His sword was held loosely in his one good arm and his strength was fading with every second, as the blood ran down his arm and dripped from the ends of his fingers onto the green field below. But suddenly, a large and mighty roar sounded from the direction of the city.
Everyone on the field of battle heard it, even above the terrible noise. It was the sound of a vast army acknowledging and cheering their commander’s address, and it could not be mistaken. The warriors on both sides ceased fighting. Many looked towards the trees, particularly the enemy soldiers who were now fearful of being caught unawares by an unexpected attack from the direction of the city.
The sound of thousands of gallop
ing horses followed. It grew louder and louder until it was almost deafening. The enemy warriors near the trees turned to face them and formed up as best they could, preparing once again to receive a cavalry charge.
The small copse in front of them now was shrouded in darkness. Nothing could be seen from within the shadows. But then, out of the blackness between the trees came a single warrior, a golden haired rider atop a thoroughbred stallion. Her sword was raised and pointed straight and true at the massed ranks of differing nations that constituted her enemy, as she launched an unbelievably foolhardy, solitary attack upon their lines.
Princess Zephany was way ahead of the other horses. She clattered through the enemy ranks and began thrusting and swiping with her sword. Warriors were sent flying in all directions and pieces of them were thrown into the air, such was the furious nature of her astonishing assault.
Seconds later, Prince Laertral and the rest of the cavalry burst through the trees. The whole enemy line was engulfed and a tremendous battle of almost equal forces began. The knights of the Estian Alliance were fresh and eager. They began making headway and gradually fought their way towards the rebel King and his beleaguered force in the centre of the battlefield, making their advantage of being on horseback tell by using spears and arrows to good effect.
Zephany was in the thick of the action. Her bow had been used to kill so many soldiers that she had actually run out of arrows. She slung it over her shoulder and continued to fight with her sword and several throwing knives she had ‘borrowed’ from her Perosyan hosts. As she fought her way towards her father, she eventually reached the small pocket of rebels who had closed up around him to protect him from harm, most of their attackers having turned to meet the new threat to their rear.
