by Jason Malone
Horsemen came toppling from their beasts all around us, turning to dust as they hit the earth, and riderless horses were galloping among the chaos in confusion. My ears were ringing, howling. The sound of steel against steel, the sound of bones being snapped and armour being crushed, the sound of dying horses and men, and the sound of warhorns blowing surrounded me. I was in a sea of death.
And then I was knocked flat on my back, the air kicked out of me. My sword flew from my hands. A horse had rammed into me and thrown me to the ground, then it turned and started to charge again, kicking up dirt. I rolled to the side, only just dodging it, then rolled back the other way again to avoid the heavy hooves of another horse. I fumbled for a spear resting in the dirt and then crawled back to my feet.
The horse that tried to trample me stopped. It was large and grey, and I immediately recognised the man sitting atop it. I recognised his terrifying faceplate first, but then I saw the leaf-shaped blade and the puppy and heard his deep, hollow laugh. He was staring down at me from his horse, which had several arrows and broken spears protruding from its mail coat.
“I hope you understand that you will die today, Edward,” Emrys shouted in my own tongue.
“Maybe. But not by your hand.”
Emrys growled, and his horse lunged forward. I lunged too, and at the last moment, before Emrys’s blade cut my skull open, I held my breath and jumped to the side, thrusting the spear at the beast. The shock rippled up the spear as it broke through the horse’s armour, sending a wave of pain through my arms, and with a scream I was thrown back. The grey horse reared, with the spear stuck several inches in its chest, but Emrys held on.
I heard a yell, and then Carol appeared out of nowhere and cut at Emrys’s leg. The warlord growled and then swung his sword around and smashed the side of his head with the pommel. Carol twisted and fell, and the iron crown flew from his head and landed in the trampled grass.
I found a spear while Emrys had his attention turned to Carol, and I took that opportunity to thrust it with all my strength at the warlord. He noticed me just in time and spun his horse around. The spear missed its mark but its tip pierced the horse’s mail coat instead, scraping along broken steel, then without hesitation I yanked the weapon free.
The animal screeched as blood squirted from behind the mail, and Emrys lost control of the beast. It reared, pushing back at me and sending me tumbling, then it charged off through the battle with Emrys holding on for dear life.
The entire time, the small grey puppy managed to stay on the saddle and seemed completely unmoved by the events going on around it.
I picked up my sword and sprinted over to Carol, who was lying on his back with his hand on his head, groaning.
“Carol, can you hear me?” I shouted.
He just moaned. His eyes were clenched shut, and blood was pouring from the side of his skull, soaking his hair. I looked around at the chaos and quickly swung my blade to the side to cut at the legs of an oncoming horse. The beast fell forward with a cry, flipped onto its back, and the rider went rolling across the ground as he faded into dust. I put my arms under Carol’s and lifted him, then he coughed and puked up both his breakfast and blood.
I spotted a horse standing without a rider several feet away from us. A mangled skeleton lay at its feet, reaching up with its bony hand gripping the reins. I dragged Carol over to the horse and with a great heave lifted him up into the saddle, then I kicked the dead hand away from the reins and handed them to Carol. He coughed up more vomit.
“We have…won,” he groaned.
I frowned at him but then turned around and saw that Carol was right. Emrys was atop his grey horse galloping back up the hill. He was blowing his horn again and again, and his horsemen were beginning to pull away from the battle. They were fleeing back east, and our men started cheering as they realised one by one what Carol had seen. Some men chased after them but could not outrun the horses.
“Let us do the rest,” I shouted, turning back to Carol. He nodded slowly, leaning forward awkwardly in the saddle, and I slapped the horse’s rump with the flat of my blade. With a whinny it raced off north away from the last of the fighting. I was panting, and relief washed over me.
But then the sound of more horns echoed from the west. My heart sank. Although we had routed Emrys, the battle was not yet over.
On the other side of the field, Odo’s men were being pushed backwards, but they were holding firm. They were outflanked and outnumbered, but even so, some of Stephan and Carol’s men dropped their weapons and gave up the fight. The men were exhausted. I grabbed the reins of a horse as it ran past me, pulled myself up into the saddle, then pointed my sword to the west at the battle still raging.
“The Gods tell me we must finish this,” I shouted. Many of the men who were celebrating their victory over Emrys turned to look at me. “Let’s not disappoint them.”
The men all shouted in agreement, and I kicked my horse. Once again, we charged into battle.
A stalemate had occurred at the other end of the battlefield. The army of Everlynn was now one mass as William had brought his forces to join his father’s, but they were surrounded.
They had formed a large shield wall in the shape of a half-circle, and so the combined forces of Stephan, Roger, and Carol had done the same. Neither shield wall wanted to attack the other. Odo was outnumbered, but his warriors were famed even beyond Ardonn for their skill and ferocity in battle.
The men I led to join the new wall had just defeated the legendary Immortal Horde, and they thought of themselves as heroes, but the men who had been fighting Odo were tired and demoralised.
The battle was not over, and victory was far from certain. Emrys may have fled the field, but Odo still stood firm. The men from both sides yelled insults and curses at each other, but the taunting could not entice anyone to attack.
However, the warriors who had faced Emrys’s horde were now drunk on victory and blood, and they wanted another taste. Screaming, cheering, and shouting, they all joined the encirclement, and many of them pushed past and threw themselves at Odo’s wall, hacking and jabbing at their shields. They must have believed themselves invincible.
But they were not.
Within seconds, those same men were cut to pieces and now lay dead at the base of Odo’s shield wall. The stalemate began once more. Everything went silent. I could hear the breathing of the man beside me and the occasional clatter of weapons and armour, but no one moved and no one spoke. I could smell death and fear. My heart was racing.
“Archers, ready,” a commander shouted.
All of the archers around me pulled back away from the wall, lined up, and readied their bows. They were given the command to aim and then loose a volley. The arrows went whizzing up into the air, and then a volley came from Roger’s troops, and more volleys from other parts of our half-circle. Iron and death rained on Odo’s forces, but the shields held above their heads protected them and the arrows were barely effective. The volleys kept coming and seemed to go on forever.
After some time, the arrows ceased, and there was a mighty cheer from among Odo’s men. Then the tension began once again. Both sides just watched each other, waiting for the other to make a move.
I could not stand it any longer. I pushed past the men in front of me and then opened up our wall and stepped out in front of it. I saw the men behind Odo’s wall shuffle, eager for me to be close enough to kill.
“Odo,” I shouted. I wanted everyone to hear me. “Odo! I killed your brother, Hakon, and now I come to kill you. Face me, or face your ancestors a coward.”
I was challenging him to single combat. Like in the old tales about legendary warriors and heroes, I was going to duel a man between two armies. By declaring I had killed Hakon — which was a lie, of course — I was letting all his men know that if he denied my challenge, not only would he be a coward, but he would also be dishonouring the bond of kinship, and his refusal to avenge his brother would mean many would not want to follo
w him ever again.
I heard shuffling from behind the wall, and then the front parted and Odo stepped out. He wore a coat of thick mail and a crested helmet with a visor over his eyes. He carried no shield but instead wielded a large bearded axe in both hands.
I gulped, and he stomped over to me. Behind the holes in his visor, his cold eyes burned through to my soul. His face raged red with fury.
“I wanted to kill you the moment I laid eyes on you,” Odo said. He gave a short bow. I was going to die.
“Gods help me,” I whispered, taking three paces backwards.
“Freeing that horseman was clearly not worth the effort. But once I am done with you, I will deal with the usurper’s son and the boy pretender.”
I gave a yell and charged at him. He growled, and as I lunged he swung his axe and parried, then stepped to the side. The way he moved that axe made it seem weightless. I could see how he earned his fame. I turned and tried another lunge, but this time I feinted and swung my blade up. He dodged that with ease and stepped back. We circled each other for a few moments.
Odo laughed. It was his turn to attack. He brought the axe up above his head and sliced low at my legs, but I jumped back just in time. He pressed forward, swinging the axe up with a loud grunt, down again, then to the side and back the other way.
I dodged each swing, but only by a hair. Not only was he incredibly strong, but Odo was also fast, and were his axe any lighter I would probably have been cleaved in two. Men on both sides shouted encouragement or insults, but Odo and I ignored them. We were focussed.
“You are quick, boy. But it will not save you,” Odo said. He swung his axe and I dodged, but before I could react he jabbed it forward, and I felt it connect with my gut. It pushed me onto my behind and knocked the air out of me, and I crawled backwards as Odo made another swing down. I rolled and then threw myself back to my feet.
Odo’s swing at me buried his axe into the ground, and that gave me a few seconds to strike. I slashed at Odo — a stupid move. My blade met his mail, but it only slid off, and Odo barely seemed to notice. He smacked my sword aside and pulled his axe from the ground. I lunged, he parried that, I sliced again, he dodged, I lunged, he parried.
Before I could make another move, Odo thrust the axe again, and it was my turn to dodge. We went away at each other like this for a while, but then death approached. I cut at Odo’s leg, hoping to disable him, but he had iron in his boots. My sword only struck metal.
Odo brought the shaft of his axe up to my face and knocked me back, then without hesitation he swung his axe over his head. I tried to move but felt the axe rip through mail and slice through the flesh of my shoulder. It did not cut deep, but the shock rushed through my whole body. I dropped my sword and collapsed with a cry.
Odo was laughing as he brought the axe up again to finish me, but instinct kicked in. I did not leap for my sword, but instead I leapt for Odo’s leg. I hugged it, tackling him to the ground. Odo struck my back with his axe, but the blow was weak.
Odo and I tumbled to the ground, and before he could do anything, I pulled myself on top of him and drew my knife from its sheath. I stabbed down at Odo’s throat, but he grabbed my wrist with both hands and held it in place. We struggled. I used all my strength, gritting my teeth to overcome the pulsing pain in my shoulder, and Odo used all of his.
But Odo was stronger, and my strength gave way. He pushed my wrist up, smashed the butt of my knife into my face, then swung at my jaw with his fist, and my head snapped back. I swallowed a tooth. Odo pushed me back and pinned me down. My whole face was aching, and the world appeared to spin. The shouts of the men in the shield walls seemed distant and muffled.
Odo wasted no time wrapping his fingers around my neck and squeezing. Hard. I gasped for air, but Odo’s clench only tightened. I tried to gasp again, but no air went in. I felt the veins in my head pumping hard and fast, then I started to hear a sound in my ears like gushing waterfalls. The world seemed to spin.
I pulled at Odo’s hands, trying to pry his fingers away from my neck, but he was far too strong. Death smiled at me. My sight blurred. The light began to fade. I clawed at Odo’s face, but then my hands fell to my side and the world went dark.
One moment I was lying on the cold, muddied earth, surrounded by warriors and strangled by a mail-clad nobleman, and the next moment I found myself floating on a raft in a gentle, endless ocean. It was chilly but not uncomfortable. I could not move, so I just lay on my back staring up at the clear blue sky.
And then I felt something press against my lips. It was ice-cold but soft. A kiss. But who was kissing me? Then a voice whispered my name. A woman. She lay beside me, but I could not see her. She spoke softly into my ear.
“What are you doing?” the woman asked.
“Dying.”
“Do not do that.”
“That is not for me to decide.”
“Who told you that?” I recognised the voice. It was Aoife, the elf that watched over the woods near my home. But why, and how, was she here?
“Where am I?”
“Home is the last thing many men think of before they die,” Aoife said.
“This is not my home; this is the ocean.”
“Where is your home, Edward?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but I realised I would be wrong. I lived in the house near Oldford, but that was now a pile of scorched rubble. I grew up on a farm near Winterhome, but I had not seen that since Brendan took me away, so that was not my home either. I had no home.
“Why are you here?” I asked.
“You summoned me here. You could have stayed with me, Edward. We could have made a home together in my forest. That is all you want in this world, is it not? A home to call your own.”
“Yes.”
“If you die now, you will have no home. You will wander forever, bound to no one.”
“Who are you, really?”
“I am Aoife. But I think you have figured out by now that Aoife is much more than an elf.”
“Take me with you, Aoife,” I said.
She giggled. “Perhaps one day, my darling Edward. But not today. You have a promise to fulfil.”
“A promise?”
Without another word, Aoife brought her cold, gentle hand to my neck and then slowly pulled something from inside my shirt. She plucked it from my neck and placed it in my hand. It was the moth pendant I had given to Matilda, and which she had given to me. “You cannot take this to the world of the dead,” Aoife said.
“How can I return it?” I asked. I felt Aoife’s icy breath against my ear.
“Take the dagger from Odo’s belt,” she whispered.
And just like that, the raft, the ocean, and Aoife were gone. I found myself staring up at Odo’s face once more and felt the pain in my throat and torso and the slow, dull thudding in my skull. Everything was spinning, and for a second I forgot where I was.
But then I remembered and quickly fumbled for Odo’s dagger. Without hesitation, I pulled it out and with every ounce of effort I had left, I thrust it up under the mail at Odo’s groin. I felt it pierce thick leather, but then I heard a crunch and felt the horrible feeling of steel sliding through flesh and muscle.
Hot blood poured over my hand, the air rushed back into my lungs, and I watched as Odo reared back, screaming. I held on to the weapon and pulled it from Odo’s groin, and he collapsed and fell onto his back, writhing and moaning.
I tried to stand, but the world seemed to flip up on itself, and I collapsed to the ground again. I heard shouting and the thundering of feet, and for a few moments my vision darkened.
But as light returned, I caught a glimpse of the screaming Lord Odo being pulled away by his men. I too was being pulled back, and as I was dragged away, Carol and Stephan’s warriors rushed past me and threw themselves at Odo’s shield wall.
The man who pulled me away from the fight sat me up and said something to me, but I did not hear. All I noticed was a breach appear in Odo’s wall. Th
en another. And then another. Bit by bit, shield by shield, Odo’s wall fell apart and his men were slaughtered like pigs.
Some tried to fight. Young fools. The smarter ones ran. They dropped their swords, spears, shields, and axes and ran for their lives. What remained of Carol and Stephan’s cavalry thundered past us and rode Odo’s men down. It was madness. It was death. Alcyn’s thirst for blood this season had finally been sated.
I watched as a large stallion carrying the wounded Lord of Everlynn sped from the chaos and raced southwards. Some of Carol’s horsemen tried to chase him, but they quickly gave up.
At the same time, a blue banner emblazoned with a white hare was torn and fell to the ground, and from the madness and death stumbled a bloody, ragged warrior with a cloak of blue.
He fell to his knees, chased by one of Stephan’s men, but he turned and thrust his sword up into his assailant’s belly. Stephan’s man died, the blue-cloaked warrior crawled over to me, and before the man guarding me could react, the warrior removed his glove and threw it into my lap.
“I yield. End it,” he said. I only stared at him. “End it!”
I snapped back to my senses. William. It was William. He had crawled from the fight to surrender to me, and now he looked up and pleaded for the slaughter to stop. His comrades — his friends — were being put to the sword, and William only wanted it all to end.
I took William’s glove in my hand and looked him in the eyes. They were red and wet with tears.
“These men are out of my control,” I said. William squeezed his eyes shut, rolled onto his back, and let out a scream. He screamed at the sky, cursing the Gods and his father. The slaughter continued until there were none left to kill.
The battle was over.
I sat up on Brand atop the ridge above the battlefield, my hand pressed against my swollen jaw, watching over the mess. My shoulder still ached unbearably, but it had been stitched up and bandaged by one of Stephan’s battlefield healers. So much violence, so much death, and for what? It seemed as though it was all for nothing. Emrys had fled, Odo had escaped, while Stephan and Carol were back where they began.
