by Thomas Rath
Wess nodded back, a slight smile breaking over his face. “It will be good to kill trolls with you again.”
Jack grinned. “It looks like the raven has come for us at last. We will meet him with red blades.”
“What have you got planned?” Ranse asked.
Jack looked at the prince and then at the men that surrounded them. All seemed anxious, but not with the anxiety of fear, rather, they held the look of men who were prepared to die and were restless to get to it. “No plan,” he finally answered and then yelled so the others could hear. “We meet them on the open field and take them head on!”
A sudden cheer broke from the soldiers as swords rang out of scabbards and were lifted into the air.
The people were still fighting to squeeze onto the stairway that led to the keep and safety when Jack and his small army lined up a mere hundred yards from the trees that swallowed the eastern road. Carts and possessions that had moments before been worth more than life itself had been discarded all along the field where the battle would soon be joined. Though the people they were about to give their lives to protect didn’t merit their blood sacrifice, these were men of honor who followed even greater men. They would see it to the last for those few that they loved but even more so for the duty that bound them to their country and king. It was one of the prime absurdities of war that the greatest among the people were the ones who gave their lives while leaving the dishonorable and morally bankrupt to live as they hid behind their self importance and cowardice.
“Wess,” Jack called when the line had been formed, “when they first break from the trees, you take your men to the left flank while Myles, you take a third to the right.” Gesturing to himself, Ranse, Jace, and those closest to him, he finished with, “and we will drive straight down their throats.”
Wess merely nodded before breaking away and racing left to gather his men. Myles, on the other hand, saluted and then looked as if he wanted to say something more before merely bowing his head and turning to gather his men.
“Finally,” Jace suddenly said, shocking both the prince and Jack. And when he noticed them staring at him he merely shrugged. “One tires of the diplomacy of the court and all its pretty talk when it’s killing that needs being done. Some only understand the language of steel and blood and I intend to preach them a sermon they won’t soon forget.”
Jack felt the smile crawling across his lips and had to stifle a bellowing laugh that was suddenly rumbling in his chest. He didn’t think he’d heard so many words put together by Ranse’s bodyguard since he first met him in Haykon. And then, just as suddenly, he felt sad. Not because he knew that his life was about to end, but because he would miss out on getting to know better such great men as Jace and Ranse. He wanted to be able to share a pint of ale with them in some worn out, back alley pub where they could reminisce and tell stories of bygone years when all was glorious; where they could pick a fight with the locals and later laugh at how funny they each looked with broken noses and missing teeth. He wanted to see Thane again, the boy who felt more like a son than even his own flesh and bone had had time to before he was taken. He wanted to see Dor and Tam wed, and bounce upon his knee their babies and tell them the story of their parents and what they had been through together. No, it wasn’t death that burdened him so much as the life that he would miss.
He finally let the laugh out, trying to add mirth to its sound but it still seemed somewhat hollow. “Now that is a language, my friend, that I can understand.”
Jace stared at him briefly and then bowed his head. “Then we will speak it together!”
“And I,” Ranse added, pulling his sword as the first of the enemy broke from the forest.
As one, the men along the line drew their swords and then, as if by some unseen signal, all leaped forward with a war cry on the lips as they galloped forward as if racing to be the first to meet the enemy. As the soldiers fell upon them, the font lines of Zadok’s army were just beginning to start their own charge and were swallowed in the onslaught of men and horses, Erl taking down the first adversary with a quick snap to his throat. Like a clasping fist, Wess’ and Myles’ men converged on either flank as more goblins, orcs and trolls race out of the forest along the narrow road. It was easy pickings for the battle hardened men as they kept their line tight and their formation steady, the only thing impeding their death blows being the already dead bodies that were quickly piling up at their feet. It was a complete route as the unsuspecting army continued to move forward into the gauntlet of death that had already cut down many of their number. It seemed all too easy when suddenly the left flank bowed and then began to crumble as the enemy finally realized their predicament and started attacking from along the trees working their way around to the backside of the line. Wess recognized the danger his men were in as they were suddenly forced to fight along two fronts. Calling for retreat, Myles and Jack pressed their lines forward to pinch off the fight from the road and then all turned back toward the keep, retreating another hundred yards where they stretched out and formed the line again.
The refugees who had been in the back had a full view of what was coming after them out of the woods creating an even higher level of panic as it became obvious that the soldiers would not be able to hold long enough for them all to reach the keeps innards safely. Mayhem erupted as renewed effort was made to try to press those in front forward at a faster pace but no matter how hard they tried, the way was blocked by the mass of fear stricken Calandrians.
With increased determination, the men pressed forward galloping down the first line of offense before they were forced to slow in their progress as hundreds of enemy fighters spilled out of the woods, the promise of blood and battle calling to them. Though determined in their fight, the men were no match for the countless numbers that continued to press them while expanding to either side. They could not hold their line without risk of being flanked and then surrounded. Jack chanced a quick look behind him as Erl took down another goblin before attacking the wolg it was riding on.
The people were still so close to the fighting, the rush for the keep and the pressing of so many bodies making it almost impossible for anyone to move. They had to hold the line. Then he saw a group of orcs that had broken past the far right side and were no longer trying to fight the men on horses but instead were racing for the easy kill that waited them in those rushing to reach the castle. Already, one of the orcs had reached and cut down an unlucky soul who never knew they were there. Like a rippling wave, the people in the back suddenly shifted to either side, trying desperately to get away as more of their friends, family, and countrymen were cut down without mercy. They were like sheep when the wolf gets into the pen. Some broke off and tried to run away to the south but they were quickly run down and cut to pieces. Others just stopped where they were and cast themselves to the ground in fear, barely making a sound as they were pierced through.
Jack cried out to those around him and then quickly disengaged from the battle racing back and desperately trying to reach and save the innocents who were now falling like wheat to the sickle. The remaining soldiers gave way as well, as the word moved down either side of the line for all to fall back. Closing the gaps as best they could, the line formed again but was spread out too thin to cover the backs of all the people who suddenly found themselves pressed by the horses, soldiers and enemy on one side and their countrymen on the other. It was too late. There were just too many of them. Jack knew they couldn’t hold for very long before the line would collapse and those still outside the keep would be lost.
The battle turned fierce. The men knowing they had no more room to give thrust forward with a low groan, temporarily pressing their opponent back and, for a brief moment, gaining the upper hand. Zadok’s minions seemed to give way in fear to the fury the men unleashed as if suddenly tapping into a well of strength and determination that lent vigor to their arms. Jack caught sight of Myles who was desperately trying to fend off a barrage of club wielding trolls
when one caught the side of his head and he went down. Jack didn’t have the time to scream out as he suddenly found himself pressed to block the attack that was coming at him now from either side.
Their last surge was falling apart as there was no one left to fill the gaps that were quickly becoming larger. Ranse and Jace continued to fight near him, the large man and his prince dealing out death on every side, but even Jace was now covered in wounds across his arms and chest that seemed to be taking their toll as his sword swings appeared to come a little bit slower. Erl yelped, distracting Jack’s attention as a pike thrust past his sword and cut into his thigh. It was over. All was lost.
Chapter Thirty
Helgar squinted against the fading light in an attempt to identify the large mass of bodies as to whether they were friendly or adversarial. Rangor, flanked by Bardolf, stood by their new king and peered into the distance at the long line that seemed not to move at all. After the devastating destruction visited upon their beloved Thornen Dar, the dwarfs had gathered all of their remaining strength and left their once safe mountain home to vent their rage on the battlefield. The long march down the Dorian Mountains had only fueled that fury into a berserker’s need for blood and death.
“It’s them from Calandra, yer highness,” Rangor offered. “I’d bet me mother’s beard by it.”
“Then Calandra is fallen,” Bardolf voiced the obvious. “They be seekin’ the shelter of Bedler’s Keep, the last bastion of hope.”
“Aye,” Helgar breathed, willing his eyes to see what the captain of his guard had so easily picked out while he was still unable to distinguish more than a glob of shadows. “We best be putin’ a match to it then or we’ll be missin’ the whole thing afore it even starts.”
“Wait,” Bardolf called. “We may be missin’ it already. Look over there.” He pointed east of the column and Helgar followed his direction but couldn’t make out what it was his friend was pointing at.
“There be movement there,” Helgar agreed, “but I can’t be seein’ nothin’ else.”
“Cavalry,” Rangor said, filling in the gaps for his seemingly nearsighted king. “Must mean there be trouble comin’. My guess is that it be just inside those woods.”
“They be tryin’ to start without us,” Bardolf barked.
“Not if I can be helpin’ it,” Helgar fumed. “Call the charge!”
* * *
Jack felt himself weakening from his exertions and the loss of blood as the line bowed and then finally broke. Unhampered, a group of orcs shot through and started hacking at the unlucky peasants who were still pushing from the back in a desperate attempt to get the line into the keep moving forward. The cries of death and bloodlust erupted behind him. He could not turn to help or regroup as he was faced with the numberless wave of combatants pressing on him, trying to pull him from his saddle. His horse danced, kicking out, trying to protect itself from the jabbing spears and swords that had already marked it with multiply wounds. Erl growled and attacked at his side, but his fur was matted with blood and Jack knew it wouldn’t be long before his long loyal friend would give way to the constant onslaught.
The remaining men fought to reform their line but the enemy continued to press them pouring out of the trees like a gushing artery. It was hopeless. Their only hope was to seal themselves in the keep but they were too few to protect the innocents who were now getting butchered. Wess suddenly appeared on Jack’s left raising the cry, “To the king, to the king.” Other men fought their way through, and the gaps were suddenly being filled, though their only chance for survival was to retreat. A small cluster of men suddenly appeared, gathering around him in a knot of resistance when a distant horn broke through the angry din. Jack chanced a quick glance back.
“Reinforcements come,” Ranse called, suddenly at his side. Jace was with him, his sword flashing left and right with incredible speed and accuracy as the enemy dropped around them.
“Dwarfs!” Jack cried. “Helgar has come to our aid!”
A thousand stout, ax wielding bodies suddenly collided against the enemy pushing it back twenty paces before the sheer numbers that made up Zadok’s army was finally able to absorb the impact and press back. The Calandrians lurched forward as they were once again separated from the fighting though by a short distance. Jack knew it was not enough to turn the enemy back, but it would at least buy them some more time to get the people inside the keep. They were still clumped in a clot of flailing arms and horrified screams, but it appeared that they were finally moving forward.
Helgar and his people crashed into the enemy like an iron first, swinging their axes and cutting them down like kindling for the fire. The dance of blood and death seemed to fuel something primal in the dwarves as they battled in fierce anger and hatred for the mass destruction that had been visited upon their beloved home and king. None would easily be called from the field of battle until their white hot rage had been sated. Shouts of “for Thornen Dar!” and “for the once king!” became battle cries of fury and rage to the point of turning into a battle frenzy as they dug out large chunks of Zadok’s horde. Their axes cut deep into flesh and bone, their calls of war quickly becoming drowned out in the screams of death.
The once green grassland was now red and damp with puddles of blood filling the air with the scent of iron mingled with the stench of dirt and sweat. All around was the grating symphony of chaos and death peeling out its cacophonous sounds of violence and mayhem.
Jack blocked another sword thrust, twisting the attacker’s assault and then pressing the steel of his blade through its chest. The dwarves had seemed to breathe new life into his men though far too many lay butchered on the gore soaked battlefield. He knew they could not maintain their sudden advantage for long as an endless stream of enemy fighters continued to take the field. Chancing a glance up thankfully there was still no sign of the dragons, though why Zadok had not sent his pets to destroy them, he could not guess.
The refugees gained fifty more yards as they continued to squeeze themselves through the keep’s saving doors giving the fighters more space to retreat and regroup. Helgar’s band had stopped its advance now and seemed content to take on combatants as they came, but soon they would all need to retreat back so as not to allow a turn in the fight and finally a route as had almost occurred to Jack and his men. He still didn’t think they could save all of Calandra’s people and he didn’t want to contemplate how they would defend themselves once in the keep with most of the army dead getting them there. The flash of hope the dwarves had brought was quickly fading into reality’s condemning certainty.
A large group of refugees suddenly broke away from the main body, the closeness of the enemy falsely convincing them that salvation could only be found in the distant woods south of the castle. Recognizing the easy kill, an equally large group of trolls and goblins split away from the main fighting and gave chase. Wess called out to Jack, pointing to what was happening. “Do we disengage to try and protect them?”
Jack swiveled his head back and forth between the fight that pressed him and the party of men, women and children who were about to be slaughtered. Swearing out loud, he shook his head. “We can’t save them at the risk of the others. They are lost.” Just as he’d spoken the words, the group was overtaken well away from the cover of the trees. Their screams were only muted by the raging fight that demanded the attention of those giving their lives to protect the main body.
* * *
Jne and Soyak crested a small rise giving them an unobstructed view of the battlefield below. They were followed by the hundred Tjal-Dihn who had raced to join them while runners had been sent out to the remaining Tja to call on all others who would add themselves to the battle. It took only a moment for her to recognize the precarious situation her friends were in as they gave their lives to save the mob of refugees fighting one another to enter the keep. She spat out the horrid taste it placed in her mouth to see the cowardly behavior of Jack’s people. They were not worthy of the bl
ood that was being spilt to protect them, but she would not shirk from the fight either. Preparing to lead her people forward, she suddenly paused as a dark blot inked the sky. Then another appeared and yet another. Even from this distance, she could feel the icy fingers of doom threatening to squeeze the courage from her heart. And then suddenly, the mass of refugees shattered into a multitude of pieces flying pell-mell in all directions.
* * *
“Dragons!” Jack cried, feeling them almost before seeing their horrific masses blocking out the afternoon light with their great shadows. Almost instantly many of his men suddenly broke away and fled as he called out for them to keep their courage and hold the line. Some obeyed, but too many, overcome by the almost supernatural fear that emanated from Zadok’s Dren spawned creatures, broke away and fled, trampling fleeing peasants as they did so. The battlefield was quickly turning into a chaotic vortex of panic and confusion. Even Helgar’s battle bred dwarfs were not immune to the powerful dread the dragons brought as they swooped down with their massive bodies to pick off any in their path.
The battlefield had suddenly turned into a desperate race for retreat as more and more defenders broke away trying to chase down the keep’s entrance. The refugees who had been close to the saving gates finally fought their way in as the remainder of Calandra’s people broke away leaving the door open and clear. Knowing they didn’t have a chance, Jack called out for the retreat as more and more soldiers turned tail and ran.
In almost the same instant, Helgar called out to his own people whose lust for battle was suddenly sucked from their very marrow sending them chasing after the men who were mounted and leaving them behind to face the army and the dragons that were dropping from the sky, releasing their deadly breath in swaths of destruction.
“We can’t leave them!” Jack shouted to Wess as he motioned toward Helgar and his warriors still trying to break free from the battle enough to make an escape. Only a few of his men remained mixed with a group from Aleron who had mustered enough courage to stay with Ranse and Jace who still fought at the king’s side.
