Airos was on his own for this fight. He could kill the boarg with magic but he knew that he might need all the strength he could muster when the Banthra arrived. The use of magic always taxed him physically and mentally and therefore Airos had to be judicious with its use.
The huge boarg moved in quickly, both arms reaching to grab him in its iron-like grip. Airos spun the two weapons in a defensive blur, repeatedly slicing into its flesh and narrowly escaping those deadly arms.
The boarg quickly changed its tactics and tried to ram Airos. The huge powerful head charged at him like a blacksmith’s hammer, the two horns, both as thick as a man’s arm, leading the way. Airos could strike the boarg’s head but he knew that their skulls were thick and that it would do little damage. The two horns would impale him before he could kill the beast.
But the boarg had never fought a human as quick and agile as Airos. Instead of retreating, Airos dove forward underneath the massive head and between the legs of the charging animal, his sharp hunting knife slashing across the beast’s inner thigh. He continued his roll, rising quickly to his feet to engage the next boarg, not even looking back at the doomed animal as it bled out.
Airos killed four more boargs before he felt it, the evil presence hitting him like an oppressive wave. Suatha felt it too, moving back behind the lines to wait for him. He jumped over dead bodies, many of them women and children, and leaped onto her back, sword held in hand. He looked toward the south wall and saw fifty or so people running towards them. It must be their reserve line thought Airos. There was a young boy carrying a bloody spear running towards him panting with exertion and fright.
“Sir…Braal sent his reserves back to regroup with you! He and Marsk stayed with the front line to keep the boargs back! He told me to tell you this!” Fil yelled through panting breaths.
“Good work, boy,” Airos replied.
Just then Airos caught site of Gorum the baker battling a boarg that had breached the front lines. Airos sheathed his sword, drawing his bow and nocking an arrow from a quiver on Suatha’s side. In one smooth motion Airos drew back the powerful bow, sighted in the target, and released the shaft. The arrow slammed into the beast’s side, burying itself to the feathers. The boarg stumbled to the ground, wheezing for air as its lungs filled with blood. Airos returned the bow to its sheath at Suatha’s side as Gorum stumbled backwards; his legs and arms exhausted from constant fighting.
“To me, Gorum!” yelled Airos.
Gorum, seeing safety in Airos, moved quickly towards him carrying his large heavy sword at his side. “Thank you, cavalier,” Gorum blurted, his words coming through labored breaths.
“I have to leave you; the Banthra is here, at the south wall. If I do not return I want you to organize a retreat and get as many people out of the town as possible. If you’re lucky, the boargs will stay here and feed rather than follow you. I cannot promise you anything, just do the best you can to get as many survivors to safety as possible. If I can kill the Banthra then we may have a chance. If not, then you need to get far away from this town for a while, until they have fed.”
“I will do my best, sir,” replied Gorum.
“I wish you luck, baker. Now be off and may Ulren guide you,” replied Airos as he flicked the reins. Gorum was already running towards the line as Suatha leaped into the night.
***
Braal and his men were paralyzed with fear as the boargs slowly crept towards them, saliva dripping from their open mouths. They could sense their paralysis, and they wanted to tease them, like a cat plays with its prey. Braal’s heart began to beat faster and he willed his body to move, to pick up his axe and die fighting, but his body would not obey.
The black rider slowly advanced, his huge horse stepping forward, its massive hooves covered in mangy blood soaked fur, pushing deep into the trampled snow. The horse’s cave-like nostrils flared open as steam hissed from them, splattering mucous into the air. The dark steed curled up its frothy lips, exposing large fangs covered with saliva and blood. Red eyes scanned the men before it, hatred spearing every man who looked upon the deadly animal. This horse was no ordinary horse, but a nightmare, a demon, just like its rider. But it was the Banthra’s gaze that froze them all and they could do nothing to stop the boargs approach.
“Feed my children, kill them all,” hissed the Banthra, his voice sending a paralyzing chill down Braal’s spine.
The boargs moved in slowly, continuing to play with the immobilized men. Their jaws clicked open and shut, exposing fearsome teeth.
Braal was not afraid to die, but to die like this was terrifying. Give me my axe, thought Braal, and let me take several of you demons with me.
A brilliant white light suddenly bathed them all, awakening them and freeing them from the Banthra’s spell. Suatha and Airos thundered to the center of the line, white light erupting from them like a star. The men hastily moved back behind Airos, their weapons held before them. The boargs did the same, moving quickly behind the Banthra who had backed away from the light.
The Banthra’s scream sent a chill through everyone, and the men looked around nervously, retreating slowly backwards. Airos lifted his sword high, the white light flaring even brighter. As the light bathed the men in its magical warmth, they became invigorated, their muscles no longer tired, their fear erased, new energy and purpose coursing through their veins. They held out their weapons and set their feet firmly in the ground with new resolve. The powerful light slowly dissipated, but it did not totally go away. It was as if Airos and Suatha were outlined in it, a white light that glowed steadily.
“You are not wanted here demon spawn! Your very presence blights this land! Come, and let me send you back to the dark pits from which you were created!” Airos roared.
The Banthra made a rasping, hissing noise, as if it were laughing. “A cavalier; it has been a thousand years since I’ve had the pleasure of killing one.” The Banthra drew a massive sword from its back and held the blade out to the side. The blade erupted with orange and red flames. “Prepare to meet your precious god, cavalier, for you are about to die.”
Like a rock flung from a sling, the Banthra bolted towards Airos with its sword held high. Airos and Suatha shot forward to meet the charge. The boargs followed their master and flung themselves forward, pouncing upon the sturdy men of Manson.
The glowing blades of the mighty warriors clashed over and over again, sending sparks and magical energy into the air. The Banthra’s devil steed broke through Suatha’s defenses and sunk its teeth deeply into the side of her neck. Airos saw the move, kicking the horse in the face hoping to dislodge the dangerous fangs. The Banthra, taking advantage of the sudden opening, swung its sword down and across Airos’s exposed leg. The blade glanced across his cuisse that protected his upper thigh and made a shallow cut just above the kneecap. Suatha used her powerful head and smashed it against the demon horse until its jaws tore away flesh and they both pulled apart, circling each other.
The shallow cut on Airos’s leg burned with pain. Even a shallow cut from a Banthra’s weapon can kill, for the blades and armor of the black knights are cursed. But Airos was a cavalier, and the pain began to subside as he closed the wound with his magic.
“Do you feel it, cavalier, your life nearing its end?” The Banthra hissed mockingly.
Airos laughed loudly. “That is your folly fallen one. I have no fear of death, but you are already dead. You are nothing without the twisted magic that makes you what you are! You are empty!” Airos yelled as he and Suatha leaped forward again. This time Suatha led the charge with her front hooves, and Airos, faster than the eye could see, flung his sword to his left hand.
Suatha’s hooves pounded into the Banthra and it was forced backwards, his sword held to the side. Airos, his blade now on the near side of the Banthra, swung it down on top of the neck of the demon horse. The black steed tried to turn its head away from the deadly blade but all that did was expose the side of its neck even more. Eight inches of Airos’s
blade sunk in just to the right of the vertebrae, slicing all the way through the side of the neck. The devilish horse screamed, staggering backwards, black blood pulsing from the long gash on its neck. As the steed stumbled to the ground, the Banthra jumped from its back to land squarely on his feet.
***
Jonas was not sure how much longer he could stay in his hiding place. It was pitch black and he could hear the screams of the fighting outside. The sounds were all muffled but he could tell that horrible things were happening as he hid away in the safe confines of his hole. He felt like a coward and that did not bode well with him. But what can I do, he thought. I would just get in the way.
Suddenly a loud noise erupted from inside Gorum’s home. Jonas strained to hear what was happening and to recognize the source of the noise.
Lorna stood just to the left of the door of Gorum’s home. She was so frightened, more frightened than she could ever imagine, but she was not scared for herself, she was terrified for her son. She could not imagine the deadly teeth of the boargs tearing into her helpless son’s body. She would not let that happen. She would die trying to stop it.
In her hand she held a razor sharp bread knife as long as her forearm. She heard the boargs outside ransacking the homes, and she knew it was only a matter of time before they entered Gorum’s home.
Suddenly a fist pounded on the locked door. The loud noise brought her out of her reverie. She gripped her knife harder, her heart pounding in her head.
“Lorna, it’s me, Gorum, open up the door!”
Lorna let out her held breath, quickly lifting up the heavy oak beam and opening the door. Gorum rushed in and shut the door while Lorna replaced the beam. He was covered in blood and he had a huge claw mark from ear to collar bone, his iron sword was dripping crimson on the wood floor.
“We have to get out of here! We will not win this fight! Get Jonas and let’s make a run for it into the mountains. We’ll grab as many survivors as we can!” He grabbed a bag by the door that was already filled with provisions.
“Are you sure? Can we make it?” asked Lorna.
“I don’t know! But if we stay, we die! That I do know!”
The door suddenly exploded inward, sending splinters and wood fragments into Lorna and Gorum, sending them both sprawling backwards to land hard on the cabin floor.
Two huge boargs entered the room, stepping over the destroyed door, looking around hungrily, their deadly clawed hands scraping on the wooden floor as they slowly looked around, sniffing the air for their next victim.
***
Airos looked around quickly before returning his gaze to the unhorsed Banthra. It was not going well. The boargs were destroying the people of Manson. I have to kill this Banthra, thought Airos. It is their only chance.
The Banthra lifted its sword in the air and screamed, the screeching noise assaulting the men as they tried to fight, the Banthra simultaneously ramming the blade deep into the ground.
Airos recognized the use of magic and called on Ulren’s magic as well, but he was too slow. As the Banthra’s blade hit the earth a bolt of powerful energy traveled through the ground towards Airos. The ground erupted in a straight path and struck Suatha and Airos as the Banthra released the full power of the attack causing the ground to explode under Airos.
Suatha and Airos flew backwards landing heavily on the ground five paces away. Airos’s body was protected by Suatha’s powerful form so the courageous steed took the brunt of the attack. Airos struggled to get up and regain his footing, but his horse lay still, her underside burning and smoldering and one leg broken, hanging at an impossible angle.
Airos’s anger burned deep but controlled. He drew his long hunting knife with his left hand, holding his sword with his right he advanced on the approaching Banthra, his piercing eyes pits of boiling rage.
***
Gorum quickly scrambled to his feet, holding his heavy blade out in front of him. Lorna sprang up as well, running to stand next to him with her pitiful knife.
The boargs both hissed, a sound that Gorum now recognized as laughter. Gorum said nothing. He simply looked at Lorna, a silent ‘I’m sorry’ blanketing his face, and then he attacked the boargs with speed that seemed impossible for his size.
Gorum leaped at the first one, swinging his sword in a sideways arc hoping to kill it with the first blow, knowing that he would never be able to kill them both if he did not dispatch the first one quickly.
But the boarg was just too fast. Its long arm snaked out, grabbing the wooden chair nearby and holding it up, blocking the deadly blade. The blade crashed into the wood, shattering the chair as the boarg used its other arm to open up a gash along Gorum’s right shoulder. Gorum stumbled back and saw to his horror that the other boarg had leaped upon Lorna. But he was powerless to help her as the boarg in front of him continued the attack by leaping into the air in an attempt to pin him down with its strong clawed hands and heavy body.
Gorum knew that to retreat was death, so he simply did the thing that was least expected. He rushed forward to meet the attack. But he could not get his heavy sword up in time to cut down the leaping boarg so he punched the animal with the hand that was holding the sword. The boarg and Gorum’s powerful fist came together like an explosion, the boarg stopping instantly in the air, its lower jaw and teeth shattering on impact. Gorum felt his fist crumble, the many bones in his hand splintering under the terrible blow. They both staggered backwards in agony.
But Gorum did not feel the pain in his hand as he looked down at Lorna who was struggling against the strong beast that seemed to be playing with her. Its back legs rested on her thighs while the beast’s left hand was holding her neck. The boarg was running the claws of its right hand over her cheeks, opening up shallow cuts all over her face. Lorna was screaming and Gorum could see her scrambling to grab the knife that she dropped by her side.
Gorum switched grips, grabbing the heavy iron blade in his good hand. He gritted his teeth, swinging the blade with all his might, but his strength was leaving him and he knew that his left arm held little power. The blade sunk in a couple of inches into the boarg’s back.
The boarg roared defiantly, lashing its right arm out with astonishing speed and power, swiping its claws across Gorum’s chest and sending him sprawling to the floor with several more deep cuts and a few broken ribs.
Lorna took the brief distraction that Gorum had given her and looked for her knife. She spotted the blade, grabbing it with her right hand just as the boarg returned its attention to her. The boarg was done playing with her. Its left hand was still wrapped tightly around her throat and the beast begun to squeeze harder and lift her face to its open maw. Just as her face was inches from the boarg’s mouth, she used her right hand, slamming the razor sharp knife deep into its throat. The boarg howled as she ripped the knife through its flesh, severing the ropey vein that ran up its neck. Dark blood bathed them both but the boarg continued to squeeze her throat with the last remnants of its strength.
Gorum had landed hard, and as he struggled to get up he felt blood gushing from his wounds. As he got to his knees, a powerful weight struck him again, flattening him to his back and knocking the air from his lungs. The boarg with the broken jaw lay on top of him, its jaw crushed and hanging awkwardly to the side. Gorum tried to use the last of his strength to push the boarg off, but the beast was too strong and quick and fueled by pain and rage the beast furiously struck Gorum repeatedly, crushing his face and his throat. The pain was brief and then everything went black.
Lorna used her knife to stab at the fatally wounded boarg’s arm, its claws still clutched at her neck. The creature roared with fury and with one last burst of energy, dug its claws deep into her throat. The boarg fell away in death, Lorna’s blood covering its clawed hand. Lorna’s eyes went wide as she felt the warmth of her own blood pool around her. The boarg had sliced into her neck in several places and Lorna frantically brought her hands to her throat to try and stop the bleeding. But it was
of no use, and within seconds she felt dizzy and lightheaded. There was little pain as her life blood gushed from the fatal wound and poured between her fingers. Her last thought was of Jonas as everything faded to black.
***
Fil was terrified. His family and friends were dying around him. He spotted Gorum the baker flee from the fight and head toward his home. He did not know where his family was and he did not want to die alone. Grabbing his spear he crawled out from behind the woodpile that was his hiding place and raced after Gorum. He was thirty paces from the baker’s home when he saw the two huge boargs smash their way through the baker’s door.
Fil stopped and looked around at the carnage. There were screams everywhere and men and boargs alike were dying all around him. It was obvious to Fil that the town was not going to survive. New anger surged through him and at this point he didn’t care if he died; he just wanted to inflict as much damage as possible to the beasts that did this to his home.
He gripped the spear with new vigor and raced toward Gorum’s home, running through the damaged door and into the room, attacking the first thing he saw. A boarg, with its back to the door, was sitting on top of Gorum and ripping his face apart with its teeth and claws.
Without thinking Fil ran forward and rammed his spear with all his strength into the back of the feeding beast. The spear point sunk in deep and then lodged against its sternum. The beast howled in pain, standing up and trying to grab the shaft from its back. The boarg turned around stumbling, Gorum’s blood coating its face, neck, and claws.
Fil’s anger still had not been quenched and he looked for another weapon to finish off the animal. He saw Gorum’s sword lying next to him. He grabbed it quickly. Fil was young, but strong for his age. His adrenaline took over and he hefted the sword with both hands and turned toward the stumbling beast. The boarg saw the weapon in his hands and lurched toward Fil hoping to kill the little human.
The Cavalier Page 6
