Fates Choice

by Tristan Fairfield

  “Sir, we need to move forward with Lieutenant Culos so we can get behind all of this and charge round from the back”. Caenet was right. For all their vigour, the gaestnips had just charged forward in one mass, with no concern for their backs, relying on their brute force to pummel through the interlopers.

  Having acknowledged his sergeant and given the order, Torr broke Raelf quickly into a lumbering canter as they cleared the tree-line in a few strides. He was already looking at the best point in the enemy lines to charge into. As he scoured the charging creatures for any sign of weakness in the large formless mass, he caught sight of the two giantkin gaestnips heading straight for Bernhart. The viscous air that had materialised just moments ago appeared to have gone and the wizard was now fully upright and alert, now making a large swirling motion with his hands. The tingling in Torr’s fingers that really had not dissipated completely flared again. This time, he definitely caught sight of flames, albeit short lived, coming from the head of his mace.

  The main thrust of the gaestnips was now only paces away from the spear line, that was still forming in the back rows. The giantkin could be no more than ten paces from Bernhart. Torr had made the decision to help the wizard at just the same time as a fireball erupted just inches in front of the wizard. With the speed of a crossbow bolt, it flew towards the two large creatures, striking the nearest in the chest. The resulting explosion appeared to instantly vaporise the wizard’s would-be assailant’s but also detonating close enough to the left side of the battlefield to cause gaestnip and swordmen alike on that side of the battle to be blown from their feet. This included Bernhart, whose body was thrown into the air back into the wood. The explosion also caused Raelf to slow suddenly and veer away, almost throwing Torr off the side of his mount. Torr tried to gather himself as the fireball had, physically and metaphorically, blown away his plans of where to charge. He stopped just in time to see the main thrust of the gaestnips jump at the shield wall, completely unperturbed by the thrust of spears as they reached the line of humans. Those that were not skewered, shattered the spears and jumped over the shields, trying to break apart the main formation of the troops. For all their lack of planning, the gaestnips still had battle cunning and knew how to best exploit their strength. As the first row of spears started to disintegrate, the bodies of men were flung around with almost as much force and speed as Bernhart’s fireball. Torr could see the wizard had not re-appeared.

  “Sir, we need to charge there now!” Caenet had to shout above the bawl of battle, not only because of the noise but to snap Torr back into action. As Torr looked towards his sergeant though, he caught sight of more movement coming from the palisade gates.

  This time, however, the colour of the animal running from the gates was not green but largely black, on all fours and, even from this distance, snarling and barking fiercely.

  “Merciful Sunlord it’s The Dog Pack”. Exclaimed one of Torr’s men. The moment of Torr’s panic and inaction had just been saved by the sight of one hundred war dogs pouring from out of the palisade with a speed the gaestnips would not have had a chance of matching. In their animal ferocity, they tore towards the bandits now. However, man and gaestnip were joined together in their dance of death now as the shield wall started to break. It was only Carodin’s flanking unit that still appeared to have any semblance of its original order. The young Tantes man had dutifully engaged the right flank, and even appeared to be beating back the gaestnips on that side of the battle. Torr had not got much further in from behind the right flank before Bernhart’s pyrotechnic display. However, Torr’s inaction reared its head again though as he looked at the wall of snarling death fast descending upon them. There was not a sign of a single mercenary with their beasts and, from the whites of their eyes, Torr was not sure the dogs had been taught friend from foe, or that gaestnip flesh was preferable to horse meat. Raelf appeared to pick up on his rider’s fears and started to shy away once again, as had several of the other horses, from the fast descending canines.

  Fortunately for Torr, one of Ahred’s men chose this moment to make his presence known on the battlefield, albeit not in a manner of his choosing.

  Just as the cavalry involuntarily shied out of the way of the wall of snarling death that was just about to add itself to the confusion of what had been the main shield line and bulk of their infantry, Torr caught sight of the trees being pushed apart from just behind the path that led out of the wood. Instinctively Torr thought that this must be the men of the dog pack itself, perhaps having concealed themselves in the wood until they got very close to the battle, running parallel to their dogs after they had, presumably, left them to run through into the escape tunnel and right through the palisade itself. However, it was the tops of the trees that were shifting, not at man height.

  The first member of the dog pack to introduce himself to the battle did so very much in the manner in which Bernhart Rowe had exited, at tree top height and, seemingly, already dead. The flying corpse was quickly followed by two more giantkin gaestnips. Both had other members of the dog pack crushed in their fists with another hanging limply from one of the large creature’s mouths. As these new assailants roared their presence, the half masticated body fell onto the field of battle below.

  By now, the dogs themselves were upon the enemy. Perhaps sensing that their masters were in peril, the nearest also charged at the giantkin, without a moment’s hesitation.

  Once again, the new threat had made itself felt on the far side of the battle from Torr, which had fared the worst of the fighting so far. The gaestnips closest to Carodin though were actually starting to break. Torr thought his cavalry, once again, might only be reduced to the role of mowing down fleeing enemies. However, as the thought left his mind, he could see the tree tops closest to his side of the battlefield, start to be brushed aside with ease.

  Caenet had just enough time to open his mouth to ask his young officer for their orders when an entire tree, roots and earth flailing behind, was thrown onto the battlefield crashing directly into the cavalry.

  The tree had narrowly avoided Torr and was close enough that it would have crushed Caenet had he not ridden directly alongside his officer a split second before. Those poor souls and beasts not crushed by this insane missile were thrown from their now terrified mounts. Raelf ran, with Torr in a grim fight with gravity to try and stay on. He had a brief glimpse of Caenet and his mount running in completely the opposite direction. The rest of his unit instantly killed, dismounted or, similarly, just trying to slow a panicked horse.

  After about fifty yards, Torr managed to get fully back into the saddle and slow Raelf who had obviously considered himself far enough out of harm’s way. As Torr turned, even from this distance he could see the last creature to enter the battle was a good three feet or so taller than the other giantkin. It was in the process of uprooting another tree. The few archers that had survived the battle thus far in the reserve ranks had the presence of mind to start firing at this massive gaestnip, but this simply appeared to enrage the creature further. It let out a bellow loud enough to send shockwaves as far as Torr. Despite his distance from the battle, he realised he was probably one of the first that could reach the creature. The reserve rank were firing what arrows they had and Carodin’s men had waded into the battle on the far side. As Torr looked, he could see more gaestnips starting to flee only to be cut down by some of the dogs. He could also see a lot more of the mercenary company coming out from the palisade as well. But for the three new massive assailants who had now appeared, the battle looked won.

  If the archers could keep this giant busy then Torr realised he could strike. He had already got Raelf moving again but had to be firm with his charge to get him to gallop towards the point from which they had just fled.

  Spurring his horse on, Raelf was quickly at a gallop. As he got closer, he caught sight of Caenet out of the corner of his eye. He had, somehow, also remained mounted and appeared to be of the same mind as Torr. The cavalry sergeant
was charging towards the beast from Torr’s left and had also had the presence of mind to pick up a billhook to use as an impromptu lance.

  Torr scoured the carnage of the battlefield in front of him but he could not see another billhook to use. He gripped his mace looking at the best point to strike the beast.

  As he did so, it occurred to him that, throughout all this, he had not seen Raeknor. He realised he had told the messenger at the beginning of the battlefield that there was no point in Raeknor continuing with the charade of the false siege engine. Gods’, that meant Raeknor and the magistrate’s militia had probably joined the fray somewhere. As he closed the distance to the biggest gaestnip he suddenly saw that Raeknor was one of the archers, firing quite ineffectively as the beast’s hide was clearly as thick as armour. The biggest gaestnip had uprooted the next tree by this time but, instead of hurling it, had taken to using the trunk as a two handed club. Even with the small but constant rain of arrows, the beast had raised the tree fully above its head and brought it crashing down, causing a similar shockwave to its war cry, but also a tirade of wooden shrapnel in all directions, cutting into some of the nearest men. Torr felt a sudden pain in his leg making him cry out but his adrenalin quickly kicked in as he maintained his focus. He was now close and could also see that Caenet had raised his polearm ready to skewer the giant gaestnip who, at this point, had decided just to use its fists to pummel anything and anyone, leaving the tree it had used as a club buried several feet into the ground with the force of the blow. The creature’s fists gave off a percussion almost as bad as that made by the tree it had used, picking up men trying to flee or dodge the beast’s quick and surprisingly dexterous grasps. This close Torr could see his mace swing would be at just the right height to smash into the creatures knee joint, such was its misshapen body. A huge torso on strangely short legs.

  As he steadied his mace, the gaestnip picked up its last victim – Raeknor - snatching up the young magistrate and quickly opening its maw. Raeknor was struggling with the strength only a man who could see his own death approaching could muster. He somehow managed to twist himself partially free from the vice like grip instinctively holding his arm up to protect himself. The gaestnip bit into Raeknor, severing his arm and then throwing the hapless young man with full force into the tree-line.

  The giantkin had disposed of Raeknor with just enough time to consider the threat now posed by Caenet and Torr. Caenet’s polearm made for a more obvious threat so it attempted to stop the sergeant by thumping its fist to the ground just in front of man and horse. Caenet had no time to pull up or dodge the sudden wall of knucklebone placed in his path. The left flank of Caenet’s horse glanced against the giant fist but not before Caenet’s twelve foot polearm had found it’s mark, gouging the beasts arm. At full gallop, the tip of the polearm went deep into the creatures flesh, before the sudden deceleration of the blade sinking into flesh and bone, propelled the older cavalryman backward off his horse.

  In the very next moment, Torr swung his mace with all his might, connecting squarely with the beasts protruding knee joint, in a similar bone crunching sound to that of his weapon’s first victim shortly before.

  The creature collapsed as it roared in agony, nerve centres overloading with the pain of the two wounds delivered almost simultaneously.

  Instinctively, the creature was trying to get up by using its arms and stubby legs, only to fall down again, roaring in pain. It started to thrash around violently at anything that dared approach it.

  Torr was oblivious to all else now, save for the determination to kill the beast that, he believed, had just killed his best friend. Determination turned to anger and a complete disregard for the size of the task at hand. As he turned Raelf calmly around to finish the creature, he felt his anger as a palpable burning sensation. Instinctively, he looked at his mace again. The head of the weapon erupted into flame, but not a flash fire. Instead, the weapon now burned constantly as Torr, quite calmly rode towards the roaring head of the beast now trying to get up on its one good leg and arm. Torr got Raelf up to a canter; the horse was now surprisingly calm given his earlier instinct to flee. As his speed increased, Torr aimed his mace with full force, at the back of the creatures head. Despite the thrashing movement of the gaestnip as it writhed on the ground, it was a big enough target. This time, Torr’s blow left embers of flame to add to the creature’s miserable demise. As the giantkin continued to writhe around now in even greater pain, Torr quickly realised it would take several blows to kill the beast. Out of the corner of his eye he could see men approaching with polearms. This was personal now though. This creature’s death belonged to him. He was not even sure the gaestnip was aware of his presence, by the back of its head, as he rained several more blows down upon the creature until it started to go limp and silent. As its head dropped, Torr could see that his blows were becoming slightly less effective from horseback so he decided to dismount Raelf, who was now calmly standing by the biggest and foulest creature that the horse would ever likely encounter.

  As Torr dismounted, he felt the sudden pain in his leg again, collapsing, just as he had caused the great creature next to him to do just a moment before. He forced himself up, still unsure and unconcerned what was causing his own pain. With strength made largely of his own will, he brought his mace up over his head with both hands. By this time, he was not even sure if the beast was still alive. The head of his mace was still firmly ablaze though. For the sake of his anger, for the sake of his friend, for the sake of all men who had fallen here today, Torr delivered one final blow anyway with his remaining strength, before collapsing in a daze next to the corpse of the giant creature he had just destroyed.

  CHAPTER NINE

  T orr felt himself being half carried and half dragged a short distance as he tried to regain full control of his senses and balance. He was aware that he was being supported by two men, one either side of him, as he tried to bear weight on his right leg. It hurt but, as his focus returned, the men did not need to support him fully.

  He was placed, sitting down, in a long line of walking wounded. He could see three of the armoured splints on his right leg had been torn and broken and his leg was clearly bleeding. There were bits of tree splinters still protruding through the broken armour. The shrapnel generated by the tree-wielding gaestnip must have come off the main trunk with the speed of an arrow in order to twist the long metal armoured splints between his thigh and knee.

  The pain was starting to increase now. He was sitting with men from all over the battlefield as details had been formed to clear the dead and divide the wounded into those with mortal wounds and those who would live to tell the tale. Fortunately, Torr found himself in the latter line. Some of those with the most minor injuries were even starting to dispense the water each man had bought with them. What skins of rum had been kept for courage before the battle were now being used as pain relief, both by drinking and pouring on any obvious wounds.

  One man approached Torr wielding a rum skin and, with all the subtlety of a man of battle, poured the alcohol on his wound, causing Torr to cry out monetarily, before the impromptu pain relief went to work. There was no salute, no acknowledgment from the soldier, just the duty of a man who, moments ago, had been subject to the life threatening horrors of battle.

  Torr started to look around. He could see two men from his cavalry close by but no sign of Garel or any of the other officers. He got up instinctively without thinking, his right leg giving out almost straight away. As he slumped back down, he could see a branch to his right. He half limped, half crawled, over to it, brushing off the worst of the foliage and cleaning the ends, before levering himself up on his new crutch. He decided he needed to re assure the men. Before the battle, it had been agreed that Oaks Keep apothecaries and medical supplies would be kept ready and were to depart shortly after the main force left. Torr went along the line of men to re assure them that help and wagons would be arriving. He spoke to two of his cavalrymen, one of whom confirmed h
e was from the men volunteered by Elswyth’s family. He had similarly wounded his leg when his horse rolled over on him, after the tree thrown by the giantkin had almost crushed them. The tree that had been thrown by the largest gaestnip had instantly killed three of the cavalry and their mounts, injuring two more, one gravely.

  As he limped his way towards the end of those with minor injuries, perhaps some twenty men in total, Torr could see a billow of smoke and ash now rising from where the fighting had been thickest. He started to take in the entirety of the post battle visage before him now.

  The wounded had been placed close to the rampart, leaning against the earth worked ditch that the gaestnips, disconcertingly, had been organised enough to continue.

  The next line of mortally wounded men appeared to be of at least a similar number, possibly ten or so more. He started to look for Raeknor, and saw, not only the young magistrate, but also Bernhart Rowe. The wizard was bending over Torr’s friend. The head of Oaks Keep had his back turned to Torr as he limped his way over to the row of badly injured. The master wizard looked as if he was trying to treat Raeknor. He should have been killed by his own fireball, thought Torr but, from what he could see, he looked none the worse for wear. Torr hobbled over as fast as he could, dropping his crutch and throwing himself next to Raeknor’s convulsing body. He was coughing up blood whilst Bernhart was trying to get the injured young man to drink from a flask. It didn’t look like the skins’ supplied to each man before they left Oaks Keep.

  “I thought you were dead” blurted out Torr.

  “No, very much alive, but I need you to keep your friend here as calm as possible”. There was no joy in Bernhart’s relief at being told he was alive, just a calm urgency about the task at hand. Torr did his best to calm Raeknor and keep him still. He was not even sure his friend knew he was there. The gaestnip had bitten right through almost to the shoulder joint but the wound had already been cauterised by one of the more able and medically minded men making their way through the more severely maimed soldiers.