From his peripheral Brunick saw the cavalry make a swift retreat. Brunick immediately shook the notion that Drissil was giving up on Cid. It was however growing dense and difficult, and if they didn’t get out soon Lanston’s entire survival would be sacrificed on Cid’s behalf.
His mind tricking him into what he wanted to see, he recognized his Colonel in a man running forward with Mindevhier. Yet the weapon of Ruin was overwhelming altogether and the Lanston soldier stumbled, struck dead instantly as he fell by a merciless Fallen's blade. Brunick grimaced, realizing the man had tried to recover the legendary spear, but could not handle it.
Veering a bit off course Brunick picked it up from the dead man’s clasp, broke it down and holstered Mindevhier with haste in his belt, knowing he would be the only man other than Cid who could carry the weapon. Even before he could holster the spear properly he felt the weapon kick at something in his mind, trying to ward Brunick. Strangely, even though the spear repulsed him, Brunick was sure he felt the Colonel’s mind in the weapon. He’s got to be close!
A few panic-stricken moments then-after left Brunick fearing for the worst.
Should have seen him by now… crushed under the Fallen if he didn’t come up on his own…
Enraged Brunick cleaved forward, sensing the men behind him were now favouring retreat, their safety jeopardized this far in. Brunick knew they couldn’t stay much longer. Then he saw it - the most important aspect; he was on his feet.
Just ahead a single man in gold armour was fighting his way out of a Fallen pocket. The man pivoted, his attention flicking insistently between his enemies all around, his savage display with the sabre keeping him alive. Cid was fighting so uncharacteristically furious that Brunick saw the shades of the Fallen spell in him again. Only this time he was fighting against the Fallen and Brunick joined the Colonel’s side, relishing the moment. In the clear for a moment Cid took the spear from Brunick without a word, and both men were stronger for it.
Now its Drissil’s turn…
Monitoring the cavalry Brunick issued as much space as he could with sweeping strokes, diverting as many of the stragglers to Cid who could deal with them more swiftly. Time was against them. In his peripheral he saw something tear through the Fallen from the greater body of the black march.
It was iDartés, coming with a growing pace, his chest and head still ash stained, his hatchets already clawing, carving a path through his own men.
It was clear he was approaching with a vengeance, his glare fixed on the two Lanston soldiers who had stopped him once before. Brunick wanted to warn Cid then, but the Colonel already left his side. Sweeping his gaze back to iDartés, he saw Cid front up to the giant. Blindly he charged in after the Colonel.
He wished to be the voice of reason, to wrench Cid back and leave the fight for better times. Even if he could, he understood the mind of the man he followed; being fiercely driven and urged by the promises he made to his men, promises he made to Elmira, to end a past that would haunt if left to survive. And so, even Brunick in his caution would stand with Cid.
Cid spun away from a Fallen troop, trusting Brunick to deal with him. The Mason did so, ending the man promptly as Cid lunged at iDartés. Those who knew iDartés were quickly reminded of his danger. Reversing his hatchets he used the shafts of the weapon to quickly block and parry Cid’s stabbing attacks. It took him mere moments to push Cid off balance and follow it with a backhand blow, the gauntlet smashing Cid from his feet.
Brunick tried to surge in but the lesser Fallen swarmed, ready to isolate those who’d try to cut down their leader. With his hands spaced wide over the shaft of his axe he kept his attacks at short deadly slices, efficient, risking no time consuming plunge, reserving that honour for iDartés.
Cid was quick to his feet again, this time on defence, dancing and ducking away from iDartés’ furious hatchets. Waiting for iDartés to overextend himself, Cid went on the attack again, his attacks well placed to press the giant until an opening could be found. But iDartés wasn’t going to disappoint his well earned reputation, adjusting to every extent of Cid’s effort, using his strength to placate and turn the spear with every counter. The spirit that fed iDartés’ unwavering battle instinct needed to be dealt with and Cid knew the answer to that was right there in his own hands.
Cid twirled Mindevhier around and thrust with the butt of his spear, aiming for a blunt stroke to the throat. iDartés thought it an opportunity, rolling his shoulder and quickly caught the shaft under his armpit, wrapping his massive arm around the weapon, seemingly ensuring Cid’s defeat, the spear collectively a tug-piece between the two men. But then Cid saw all that he wanted to see, the unstoppable giant wincing as Mindevhier flooded the man’s mind with the wills of warriors long dead.
Never lingering for a second Cid twisted the wooden shaft clear, the spearhead in his hands. He spun and then swiped the blade high, the edge opening up the giant’s throat.
iDartés stumbled back, dropping a hatched and the other half of Cid’s spear, clenching at his bloody neck. It should have been over, but the enraged iDartés inhumanly raised his boot into Cid’s chest. Again he toppled, hitting the ground hard, fearing death as iDartés stood over him.
The giant would bleed to death, but not before he ended the Colonel. iDartés raised a single hatchet overhead, looking unsteady on his feet, the spirit that made him so strong already fleeing, yet his gaze fixed on nothing but Cid, seeking to bury the weapon in his old opponent.
Another boot slammed the ground right next to Cid’s head, the twisting sole grinding the grains of the earth to screech in his ear. Anchored, Brunick’s axe came arching through the air, a single axe blade plunging into the collarbone of iDartés.
The blood fountained, spattering, and the weakened hand dropped the last hatchet. With a roar Brunick pulled the axe clear, the giant sinking to his back and skidding across the earth. iDartés was left for dead; he would not rise again.
Drained, Cid came to his feet, Brunick tugging him upright. They were still in the thick, still in danger, yet iDartés’ body was laid out like a signpost of terror and there was not a single fallen who showed fervour in approaching the giant slayers.
Then Drissil came charging.
In time Elmira felt herself growing closer to the edge, reflexively stepping forward, as though her body was going throw itself after Cid. Before her mind could be numbed she was sure she saw Mindevhier, and then the man carrying it disappeared again. She had to remind herself to breathe.
Brunick was obvious then, bare-chested and raging, quickly swerving around where she had seen the spear and then moments later joining a soldier’s side who surfaced sporadically.
Hopefully now Elmira watched the two men, isolated among the enemy. She could not be sure, but she thought she was looking at Cid down below back-to-back with Brunick. The scale of sights and sounds were overwhelming and so her focus remained dedicated to these two men. Mindful of the giant’s approach she realized within an instant the savage Fallen was targeting the men she watched. There was a terrifying exchange, weapons flailing. She first saw the soldier go down and seconds later Brunick cut the giant down, his death this time beyond doubt.
Purposefully the cavalry circled, making a long train and then cutting back at the Fallen, coming in with an angle. Elmira only then realized that Drissil had not retreated at all, but that he needed the right charge. Rather than trampling the Fallen, the realigned horses cut a deep path through, making a protective half moon to separate oncoming Fallen. Never stopping for a second the cavalry created a momentary wall between the specialists and the greater Fallen numbers.
Astonished Elmira followed the men on foot's escape. She held her breath, keeping her eyes on the man by Brunick’s side, the two of them jogging to safety, the cavalry already again overtaken them.
In mid-run the man reassembled the spear as he had carried the halves, and then whistled at and waved down Cilverhoof. Only then Elmira was certain as she felt a horrible s
tress release its grip on her.
Cid’s alive!
The horse slowed to trot and Cid lifted himself into the saddle swiftly. He held up Mindevhier and Lanston rejoiced at seeing their Commander alive, the cavalry forming around him again.
None were as relieved as Elmira was.
In the meanwhile the battlefield was favouring the Fallen. The distraction of trying to recover Cid had broken a crucial rhythm for Lanston’s part and it cost them time as the enemy worked themselves tirelessly forward.
The Fallen’s emergence would not be mistake on their part, that much was known by all. Yet when the Fallen reached their mark Lanston was struck by a visible air of defeat. Despite Lanston’s best efforts the Fallen numbers had carried itself right up against the core infantry, the front most already trudging over a path of bodies, that very first regiment serving its purpose in death as they cemented the water and muddy slope.
It happened with time, the encounters clumsy for awhile, but its implication became clear only at the last moment. The Fallen suddenly formed a great dark circle, pressing the core infantry against the ridge and separating the Lanston forces entirely.
The outer half of the Fallen assembled and entrenched, creating a half circle of defence and facing opposite to their front-most brothers. They hunkered down, aiming crossbows, or holding up deadly spears and halberds, their footing strong. In this bold development the Lanston cavalry became eliminated. Like a porcupine they were. Charging at the motionless backside of the Fallen was suicide now and the only vulnerable spot the Fallen had was at the other side of the circle which was completely inaccessible to Cid’s cavalry.
The ballistae became a small mercy for the core infantry as they fired devastating shots into the numbers, only just stalling the breaking point. Should the core infantry at any moment let up their ranks would be breached and they would have no chance.
On the Fallen’s side the Priests were now in prime range. Still protected by hordes of men and their magic, the Priests casted their fire, the flares of purple less imposing than those of the catapults, but often slipping through the far-stretched defences of the Sekhaimogists. The Rangers did their best to protect the core, flying in with barriers of their own to intercept the comets of flame, scrumming through the heat and smoke before they could land among Lanston.
Elmira looked at the aimless cavalry and strike forces, powerless in any case. She’d never thought she would see it, see Cid stumped like this, without a plan and without choice. He sure looked it now, his cavalry regiment trotting in indecisive circles.
But then she knew he’d try something, even if it just was tackling the enemy from behind. Moments later he circled his spear in the air. His voice became loud and shouting, commanding both his cavalry and strike forces.
There was an exodus of movement, Elmira watching the final decisive moments of the battle. Everyone was taking their places for the showdown.
Minutes passed, the next more wretched than the last, and then finally the uproar came from Lanston.
She held a hopeful breath of air as she saw Lanston breaking the enemy, and then she downright smiled knowing Cid would come through alive.
Chapter 49
The Charge
Cid was still reeling from being pulled from his horse and his fight with iDartés. There would be much time afterwards to ponder the pain though, or maybe, no time at all. He felt the pressure of thousands of men’s lives weighing on him, tormenting his already muddled thoughts into doing something.
The Fallen he knew, would eventually use their numbers to press the Lanston force into a corner, and prevent any kind of intervention by using their vanguard to entrench with crossbows and spears, very much a porcupine formation that protects the back.
He had anticipated this very situation and explained his only possible counter measure to the Captains in the pavilion. Only this time they looked at Cid as if he was mad, and Drissil, if not wanting to save Cid’s face, would have called Cid a lunatic by then. He had assured the men that it would not likely come to this. That he was merely planning for the worst.
Now…
He gave the order, knowing that delaying the decision only made it less likely to succeed. The strike forces had the easy bit. They simply abandoned their mesas, lined up as a turtle as close as possible to the backside of the black circle and kept them preoccupied with some light volleys of arrows.
It would come down to the cavalry. Cid ushered his horse forward, Drissil all the while at his side. To those looking for salvation the cavalry finally set out, becoming a long line of horses again. They rode clear of the battlefield, circling to the south and wheeling to mount the plateau that led down to the stage that stood at the core infantry’s rear. From the infantry’s perspective it might’ve seemed that the cavalry was fleeing then.
The uphill ride took longer than Cid anticipated and with every passing hoof beat he could only hope that the infantry held fast, biting down on his own teeth as he pictured the foremost shields in a tight line. A mere fracture would mean defeat, now more than ever.
‘Stand fast! Hold!’ he heard the drowning shouts of his Captains in the core, knowing that the strength needed to keep the Fallen at bay was growing thin.
The cavalry reached their designated point and turned, Cid becoming motionless as he waited for his men to line up straight behind him. He glanced at Drissil, who gave him a nod. With a cry Cid lifted the spear overhead and started the charge, each pound of hoof beats setting in motion another. They came bearing down the slope in a slick line, their path straight towards the back of the core infantry. Cid’s men blew their horns, the tone and pattern alerting all of Lanston of what was happening. Cid took a quick glance to the Rangers above, hoping they were ready as well.
Up ahead the edge waited, a 12 foot drop right where the most central of the core infantry stood with their backs against the rock. Whatever happened now, Lanston would be together, just like he promised his men; he would die or triumph amongst them.
For experienced cattle ranchers bovine animals were easy enough to stir into a herd-frenzy great enough to launch them blindly off a cliff edge. Horses were different, being more sensible and more individuated animals. The war steeds were trained together though, conditioned to follow wherever the leading charger might dare. Cid and Drissil braced their horses, Cilverhoof and Tyldoa, for the leap. It was up to these two steeds.
‘Come on, come on,’ Cid whispered at Cilverhoof, riding low on the animal’s neck now, keeping it in check with his thighs tight around the back.
They were so close now. From their slightly elevated position they witnessed in mid-ride as the core held up bravely against an overpowering Fallen host, the encounter an increasingly desperate grind of flesh and steel.
The sun was setting now, its diminishing light bringing out the fiercest colours of the landscape. On the inside of Cid’s visor it created a golden sheen, so transfixing the Lanston men themselves seem to glow. Leading the way was the spear and there was not a second that past in which Cid could not feel the strength and the dream of Lanston resting in his arm.
Two dozen paces to go and Cid and Drissil urged their horses into a full sprint, detaching themselves somewhat from the rest. The last of the Lanston horns were sounded, the last signal given.
Primed, the ballistae were fired, their great bows aimed to launch bolts in a scissor pattern. Viciously the Fallen were torn apart again, a gaping hole created by the missiles. The Rangers came down together in one fell swoop, gliding dangerously low as they delivered the second punch to keep the enemy staggered. With some time to breathe the Sekhaimogists hiding all around focused every shred of their magic to dismantle the barriers protecting the Priests in the black heart. From Sedger’s Volj Vanapha fired her last Trisera arrow in accordance, a straight shot at the Dey’illumra. Despite their efforts the arrow struck among them, the swelling flames eliciting terrible dying screams from bodies who could still recognize pain.
There
was an uproar in the Lanston ranks, the command sounded. They then did what they needed to do, risking it all as they broke their own ranks, surging to the sides, parting right down the middle to create yawing aisle. The last few paces loomed and Cid gripped Cilverhoof hard, aware of the horse’s ever so slightly twitches that indicated it wanted to veer off course. Cid kept him straight and true, Drissil doing much of the same.
The two Colonels became airborne, their horses clearing the edge with giant bounds. Cid could almost feel the Lanston men parting beneath them just in time, having been sure of it that he might strike some of his own men.
They fell, pitching forward, Cid raising himself from the saddle standing in the stirrups to spare both man and steed a dreaded impact - it would all feel like a mistake until the very last moment.
Cid’s heart resumed beating as his horse found its hooves, miraculously still charging, himself settling back into the saddle, and then felt the blood in his veins thundering as he heard all of his men right behind him, his spear steadying, Mindevhier leading the way.
The path was clear, the enemy staggering and leaderless, and the line of cavalry came like a raging river, cascading over the edge and struck the Fallen force in its face. The cavalry surged in deep, branching, the enemy circle collapsing, crippling them past recovery. Those very Fallen who had entrenched themselves at the rear, hunched down with their backs turned on the cavalry, were oblivious until trampled under the mighty charge.
With the enemy defence all but broken Lanston men paraded in from all sides. The core infantry took the front foot as they charged into the cavities, getting their chance finally, bludgeoning the Fallen while the strike forces did much of the same from the other side.
Remnant Pages Spearhead Page 42
