“My fellow warriors,” she shouted, trying desperately to be heard over the raging storm. “Lower your gaze to the enemy. Lord Ivran leads a host of betrayers and thieves to your door. They have come to steal your home. When they have cast your corpses from the battlements upon which you now stand, they will ransack and pillage your city. Your homes will be destroyed, burned to the ground and forgotten and your families will be forced to take refuge in the dirt-filled streets!
‘Show them no mercy, for you shall receive none from them.” She began to pace back and forth before her men, making certain that all attention was upon her.
“Our men down below are ready and willing to die for their city. You are their first line of defense. Let not their lives be wasted! Do not loose your arrows with haste. Take care with your aim. Cast down your arrows with purpose and precision. Let not one shaft go astray!
‘Tonight, my brothers, you fight for peace. Tonight, you fight for Axendra!”
All the men raised their bows into the air at the sound of their city name being called. They shouted as loud as was possible in excitement to defend their home. Hanley wondered how it was possible that she had trained her sheep so well.
“On my command!” She shouted again and turned back to face the enemy below.
Lord Ivran had not yet advanced and Hanley wondered how much longer they would have to wait. His question was quickly answered with the sound of a war-horn from below. He turned his gaze downward towards the surrounding armies and saw, like a river floods the land, the two armies at the east and west, wash over the Axendrian army. Horsemen charged into the unsuspecting soldiers on foot, cutting them down like weeds. Their surprised shouts brought a smile to Hanley’s lips. When he heard the sound of Lord Ivran’s war-horn blowing, he did not have to watch to know that Axendra’s men were being slaughtered from all sides now. He turned his eyes to the High Protector. She was leaning over the wall, peering down at the massacre below. When it became apparent that the only thing they could do from their position was rain down fire onto Lord Ivran’s men, she raised her arm in the air to signal her archers.
Finally, my moment has come. He took one more look at Rhada and knew that she would not move from her position. She was waiting for Lord Ivran’s men to come within range.
The sound of their horse’s hooves beat into the ground with a deafening roar. Hanley could only imagine how loud it must have been for the men on the ground. But even though his ears were filled with the sound of the approaching army, he could still hear Rhada from below.
“Nock!” She shouted and all her men, all of Hanley’s men and Hanley himself reached for an arrow from their quivers and strung them tightly into their bows.
“Draw!” The tips of thousands of arrows were raised into the air, ready to fire at their enemies. Hanley raised his with steady hands and thought upon Rhada’s words. Cast down your arrow with purpose and precision. He intended to do just that.
Patiently he waited for the command. He knew that Rhada was waiting for the perfect moment for her men to strike but he found himself growing impatient. Before the word escaped her lips, he began to slowly lower his arrow and turn, and as he turned, he felt the force of his men as they turned as well, pointing their arrow tips downward to the lower tier.
Hanley saw Rhada turn and point towards the upper tier. “Change aim!” She shouted, but she was too late.
“Loose!” Hanley commanded and his men released a torrent of arrows to the lower tier. Hanley released his arrow as well, hearing the zing as it flew from the bow. His breath bated and his heart seemed to stop in that moment as his arrow flew towards his true enemy, the High Protector.
Chapter 23
Mayvard sat atop his horse and listened to Lord Guyon shout instructions to his men, telling them to form lines and create a blockade around the castle. He watched as Lord Guyon commanded his men with ease, seeming to know exactly where to place each pawn. His men followed his orders without question. Their faith in their commander was truly inspiring. Their chainmail and spear tips glistened in the rain. None of them even seemed to take notice of their drenched clothes or their wet saddles as they raced to form a good, strong line behind Mayvard’s foot warriors.
The cavalry from the north was a true sight to behold. Bhrys’s horsemen clearly outnumbered even Axendra’s. And to add Elipol’s to that number made for an impressive force; one that Mayvard was certain would frighten Lord Ivran’s measly host.
He turned to his warriors and smiled. Even greater a sight than the horsemen was his infantry. They stood in rain and mud, shields and swords and spears in hand, waiting patiently for their enemy to come. They stood tall and proud, ready to defend the castle at all costs. Mayvard stood in the center with his men, formed into ranks from spearmen to swords and axes. To the east stood Bhrys’ infantry and to his west stood Elipol’s. They surrounded the entire castle, creating a wall of human flesh and steel. Mayvard was certain he had created a perimeter that was nigh impenetrable, just as Rhada had commanded.
He turned his eyes upward and looked to the parapets, ignoring the rain that stung his frozen face. He could see her up there, pacing back and forth in front of her great host of archers. Her black cloak blew in the breeze behind her and Mayvard smiled at the sight of her.
During the council meeting that morning, Rhada had said that the King was a target. Her words stuck with him throughout the day. He realized she herself was a target. Lord Ivran would be hunting for her if he had the chance to get inside the castle. Mayvard was glad she had stationed herself up top where she would be safe. He only wished he could be up there with her, protecting her. But his station was down below and he knew he could protect her better from where he stood; at the castle doors.
“Captain Mayvard.” Lord Guyon turned to Mayvard and nodded towards his men. “My men are in position.”
Mayvard looked over the line Lord Guyon’s men had formed one last time before nodding to Lord Guyon in appreciation. “Your lines are strong and should hold against our enemy.”
“Of course they will.” Lord Guyon replied with confidence. He turned, pulled on the reins and led his horse away from Mayvard. Mayvard watched as Lord Guyon trotted over to his men and disappeared behind their ranks.
With Lord Guyon gone, Mayvard turned back to his own men and kicked his horse into motion. He led the beast slowly towards the front of the line where he stopped and peered out into the darkness of the night before him.
He could clearly see the road that lined the edge of the sharp trees of the Forest of Shadows and traveled from the castle down to the city, but in the darkness he could see nothing else. He turned his head and saw torch light upon the battlements. Rhada and her archers stood waiting patiently. At least she is not down here in the dark like I am. Mayvard never did mind the dark before, but something about this darkness seemed eerie. Never before had he stared into the darkness with the knowledge that something within was heading towards him. They were coming, he could feel them. He knew Lord Ivran and his men were coming closer with each passing moment. Normally, he would not be fearful for battle but Rhada’s words had filled Mayvard with dread, causing his heart to beat unsteadily.
She had warned him about this battle. She told him something did not feel right. He knew she was right when she said Lord Ivran would not be fool enough to attack with Bhrys and Axendra against him. He wondered what Lord Ivran had planned. He stared into the darkness before him as though the answer lay within. His eyes searched and scanned the blackness but it would not reveal its secret.
As Mayvard stood in silent contemplation, a growing suspicion formed in the back of his mind. Though his eyes scanned ahead for danger, his heart grew heavy at the forces standing behind him.
Slowly he turned his head and searched for Lord Guyon but the man could not be seen anywhere. His army stood waiting for the command to attack but Lord Guyon had vanished completely. It is strange that he would not be standing with his men. Something is not right.
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Mayvard’s thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of an approaching rider. He turned to face forward once again and saw a messenger emerge from the darkness. When he reached Mayvard, he pulled on the reins to stop his horse.
“Lord Ivran’s host has breached the gates!” He shouted against the rain.
“What about our men? Are they keeping his army at bay?”
The young man shrugged his shoulders. “I was bid to deliver the message that the enemy has arrived but as I was leaving, I turned to see the gates had been opened and Lord Ivran’s host was pouring into the city. The men were fighting but I do not know how long they can last.”
Mayvard nodded. “Deliver the message to the High Protector.”
“Yes, Captain.” The messenger kicked his steed and trotted away towards the battlements.
So the gates were opened? This seemed odd to Mayvard. How were the gates opened? I expected Lord Ivran to have to break through them. He knew Theodoric would not leave the gates wide open to their enemy.
He turned back around and looked for Lord Guyon one last time but still the man could not be seen anywhere.
The realization of their deception came to Mayvard all too late. He heard the sound of an army in the darkness approaching and found his head turning towards them. Their torchlight became visible first; thousands of tiny bulbs of light floating through the rain towards the castle. When they stopped advancing, Mayvard turned and looked behind him. He could see Lord Guyon’s horsemen unsheathing their blades, pointing their spears downward or holding their axes at the ready. He saw the horn blower from Elipol raise the horn to his lips. He heard the sound of the war-horn resonate throughout the castle grounds before he could shout to his men.
They were taken by surprise. Bhrys’s horsemen turned to the west and charged Axendra. They were motionless for a moment, frozen in the confusion of what was happening. Only when the first lines of Axendrian horsemen had been chopped down did they realize they had been betrayed and started fighting for their lives. But Axendra’s horsemen were poorly outnumbered and it was not long before they and their horses were littering the ground.
As the cavalry charged on each other, the infantry from Elipol and Bhrys made their move. They all turned center-face at the sound of the horn, dropping their spears and lowering their shields. They began to advance before Mayvard could give any command.
“We’ve been betrayed!” He shouted but his men had already realized what was happening. They prepared their weapons in defense as the oncoming horde threw themselves into them. The familiar sound of battle began to ring out through the castle grounds; crying men, clashing swords, and screaming horses. Mayvard watched in a horror-struck daze as his infantry was flanked from both sides.
The opposing infantry pushed themselves forward, thrusting their spears into Mayvard’s footmen. They tried blocking with their swords but most were unsuccessful. Each line of men began to fall. To the east, Bhrys’ swordsmen were shoving their way through the spearmen and lashing out at their enemies with a speed Mayvard could not comprehend. To the west, Elipol was marching with calculated precision, taking a few paces forward and moving shields aside so their swordsmen could strike. There were even a few archers hidden in their midst, loosing their arrows on the doomed Axendrians.
“Retreat!” Mayvard shouted. He realized their only hope of survival was to run. He turned his horse and began leading his men towards the forest, those who had heard the command. But as they began making an escape, another war-horn blew and the sound of more horse hooves pounding into the soft ground rolled over the battlefield in a deafening torrent. Lord Ivran had given the command to advance. Mayvard pulled his horse to a standstill, stopping the retreat. It became suddenly clear to him that he would not be leaving this battlefield alive. He turned to his men and saw they too had realized the same. They cowered in the mud, lowering their heads and screaming into the night as the enemy cut them down. He looked to the cavalry off in the distance and saw a few of his horsemen had been able to push through enemy lines and were running for the forest.
The castle doors flew open and men with bows began pouring out onto the battlefield. They nocked and aimed at the fleeing horsemen and hit almost all of their marks. Less than ten were able to make it to the safety of the trees.
Mayvard had Bel’dak unsheathed without even realizing that he was moving. He turned back to Lord Ivran’s approaching host and raced forward, letting out a loud cry over the thundering of their horses’ hooves. Mayvard raised his blade high as they drew nearer, seeing the moment of attack approaching. He was prepared to kill as many of the betraying bastards as he could. He would not go down without a fight.
He kicked his horse forward and rushed to meet his enemies head-on. Reaching his first enemy, he swung his sword with all his strength and watched dark blood fly through the air, mixing with the rain and mud. The man fell from his horse and lay face-down in the soaked ground.
Mayvard let out another cry and kicked his horse once again. He rushed to his next victim, a man who was thrusting his blade downward to his enemies on foot. He ran the tip of his sword through a man’s chest just before Mayvard reached him and sliced his neck open. He did not wait to see the man fall. He rushed forward once again and cut down all who were in his path. His men raced after him, fighting with all their might to pull the horsemen down from their saddles. They formed groups, choosing one horseman at a time, surrounding him and stabbing at the beast until it reared and fell, spilling the horseman into the hands of his attackers. Mayvard watched only for a moment until he heard the bellowing of another attacker. He turned and swung his blade in one swift motion, feeling the steel cut through the soft flesh of a horse. The beast shrieked and stumbled over its own front legs, falling to the ground. The man in the saddle let out a surprised cry as he fell with the horse, landing sideways on his head. Mayvard heard the crunch of his neck as the weight of the beast buried his head into the ground.
Mayvard took a moment to gaze up at the battlements. He was stunned at the sight that unfolded before him. The archers atop the upper wall had lowered their bows and raised their swords. They were rushing to the lower wall and Mayvard could barely see the tips of their blades as they began fighting each other. Rhada is in danger! But he had no way of reaching her now. His own danger was imminent.
He turned back to the approaching enemy and knew it was hopeless. They were completely surrounded. His only option was to fight. He kicked his horse and began to charge again.
Four men on horseback raced towards him and he had to pull on the reins to stop his horse before he ran into them. They blocked his path and raised their swords.
Mayvard swung his leg over his horse and dismounted. He rushed forward before any of his enemies could react and sliced at the horse’s legs that were nearest to him. The horse let out a cry of anguish and reared, throwing its rider to the ground. He stabbed the man with Bel’dak before he could get to his feet.
Two of the horsemen rushed forward with their swords raised and tried to run Mayvard down but he was ready for them. He swung his sword low and nearly severed the leg of one horse. It screeched in pain and fell to the ground, pinning its rider underneath. The second horseman swung his blade at Mayvard’s head but Mayvard was quick. He ducked low and when he stood he swung Bel’dak and felt the blade slice through the rider’s leg. He cried out and grasped at the large gash, trying to hold in the blood that spurted out.
Mayvard’s fourth attacker had dismounted and stood in the mud, waiting for Mayvard to finish with his comrades.
Mayvard studied the man for a moment. He was tall and thin but his arms boasted thick muscles. His hair was as dark as his eyes and Mayvard knew he had never seen this man before.
He rushed forward and steeled himself as his opponent raised his sword in defense. Their blades hit, sending vibrations shooting down Mayvard’s arms. Both men pushed against the other with all their strength and Mayvard knew he was the stronger man. His opponen
t’s feet began to slide in the mud as Mayvard pushed. Mayvard gave him a hard shove, making his opponent lose his footing. He cried out in surprise and Mayvard pulled his blade back then swung it above his head in a high arch. His opponent dropped his blade into the mud and fell to his knees. The deep gash that ran from his naval to his chest drained the blood from his body and Mayvard watched with satisfaction as he swayed and fell forward, never to move again.
Mayvard looked around for his horse but the beast had run off. He looked to see how far Lord Ivran had advanced and saw his men cutting and slicing their way through Mayvard’s few remaining warriors. Their bodies lay sprawled out in the mud. The heavy rain that fell created little rivulets in the uneven ground and the water that flowed through was now red.
Mayvard turned back towards the castle and saw the archers who had hid inside were now guarding the door to the castle, forming a blockade for any who tried to retreat. They shot down any man who ran at them without hesitation.
He turned back towards Lord Ivran’s host and saw that most of the fighting had already died down. Mayvard’s men were dead or dying, turning the field into a sea of corpses. Mayvard was one of the last few who remained on his feet; the last warrior standing to defend Axendra.
We stood no chance. Mayvard thought with sadness as he looked down to the corpses of his men. There was no escaping death tonight. He stood motionless, knowing that fighting was pointless as one of Lord Guyon’s archers approached. He watched with dread-filled eyes as the archer nocked his arrow and aimed it at him. A hint of recognition flashed through Mayvard’s mind as he looked upon the young man’s face but he had no time to pull a name to his recollection. He did not flinch as the arrow was released and flew towards him. He made no sound as it struck him high in the shoulder and knocked him off his feet. He fell onto his back and was thankful for the mud that caught his fall.
Pain seared through his shoulder and his body and he closed his eyes, willing the pain to go away. My only hope is that death takes me swiftly. He waited for the darkness to come. He lay motionless when he heard the sound of Lord Ivran’s troops hustling past him. He took in slow, deep breaths, waiting for his lungs to stop working but they never did. He opened his eyes and watched the great host of men flood in through the castle doors. He waited in the mud and rain until he was alone in the castle grounds with the corpses of his men. He knew that he should have joined them in death but by some miracle, he hadn’t. He was alive. He could feel blood coursing through his veins and his lungs filled with air, giving him strength.
Rise of Darkness (The Watchers Book 2) Page 24
