The Cavalier

by Jason McWhirter

  Fil had not seen the catapults used before, but after looking at the hundred or so lined up beyond the bridge he easily surmised their role. Each one had a long arm that had a large stone as a counter weight to violently swing the opposite end into the air, launching the desired missile. They were built on huge wagons pulled by oxen.

  As the enemy ranks were being bombarded with arrow and stone, the infantry would slowly advance with long spears and shields. King Gavinsteal would keep a reserve line in the back while the cavalry, led by the famous Finarthian Knights, would move in and flank the enemy. That was the plan anyway and Fil hoped that it would be successful.

  The sun was just rising as the advancing enemy army stopped on the rise of a gentle hill. They were still a distance away but Fil could hear the goblins as they screeched and banged their shields. They spread out across the hill like a black wave ready to swamp them all. Fil could not see beyond the hill but he knew that there was more to the army than what they were seeing.

  Calden stood next to him holding his long black spear tightly. “You ready for this?” he asked nervously.

  “I am,” Fil replied firmly, his desire for revenge burying any residual fear he felt as he viewed the approaching goblin horde. “Remember, they bleed, and die, like anything else.”

  Calden nodded his head, looking nervously toward the army of goblins before them. Fil glanced to his left and right at the thousands of stern fighting men quietly facing the enemy. They stood firm, their jaws clamped shut with resolve, their hands gripping long spears as if their lives depended on it. Maybe they would.

  Suddenly a loud deep horn bellowed across the grasslands and the screaming goblins were racing down the hill toward them. It happened so quickly that Fil’s heart seemed to leap from his chest. It was finally happening. He had trained for this, waited for this, waited for his chance to revenge his family and friends. And now it was upon him. He would not fail them.

  Tanus rode his warhorse across the front of his modrig yelling for the men to hold their line. He was wearing his great helm, and the boarg horns protruding from it helped remind Fil of the revenge that was due.

  Anger boiled within him and his knuckles turned white as he squeezed his spear shaft. His heavy shield was strapped tightly to his right arm but he barely felt the weight of it as he vividly recalled the death and destruction of his town.

  The Finarthian army answered the goblin’s charge with their own horns, signaling thousands of archers to let their deadly shafts fly. The arrows were so thick in the air that they momentarily blocked the sun’s light. Fil then heard the sound of the catapults behind him as they unleashed their lethal barrage of stone.

  He looked up into the sky, seeing huge flaming spheres fly over them and explode in flame as they landed in the goblin ranks. Hundreds of goblins fell victim to the flames and arrows in several seconds.

  “What are those?” asked Fil, for it was obvious that the catapults had not launched stones.

  Gandis, a veteran warrior to his left, answered him. “Flaming jugs of oil. When they hit, fiery oil engulfs whoever is unfortunate to be near.”

  Despite their losses, the goblins kept coming like a swarm of locusts. They were getting closer now and Fil could make out their distorted faces, fanged teeth, and yellow beady eyes. They were a mass of spindly bodies screaming wildly as they ran toward them with no discipline. Fil gripped his spear tightly, waiting for the order to advance.

  He momentarily glanced up to the top of the hill to see another large group of hulking demi-humans emerge. They were much bigger than the goblins and thicker of limb. They must be orcs, thought Fil. He also spotted a handful of even larger foes, enemies that Fil recognized, for they were ogres.

  Fil’s attention went back to the advancing goblins as a high pitched horn blew; it was the signal for their advance. Fil angled his spear forward and started moving toward the enemy with determination. The entire infantry began to march toward the screaming goblins that were now only a couple hundred paces away. The infantry lowered their long spears even further and the second horn blew ordering them to move double speed. Slowly the infantry built up speed as they approached the goblin horde. A deadly line of glittering spear tips bobbed up and down as they moved at the quick step, a drill they had practiced hundreds of times.

  One hand carried their famous infantry shields while the other carried their spears. The shields were basically round with one spot cut out on the top in a small half circle. It allowed the infantry soldiers to hold the shield in front of them and angle their spears out over them, giving each warrior a spot to rest the heavy spear and jab it forward into a mass of enemies. It was an effective technique and one they had drilled for many hours.

  The wall of sparkling metal spear tips spanned to Fil’s left and right farther than he could see. He screamed a battle cry, focusing on one goblin before him and listened for the signal.

  Then he heard it.

  A loud screeching horn sounded over the battle field and the infantry suddenly stopped in one big mass, shields came up in a solid wall of steel and spear tips angled out as the approaching goblins neared.

  The two armies came together in a clash of bodies and steel. The sound was deafening but Fil kept his focus on the screaming beasts before him.

  The goblins were propelled backward as they smashed against the solid shield wall. Thousands of the howling beasts were skewered by the razor sharp spears. The power of the wall came not from the first line, but the lines after them. The bodies of the men behind the first line supported each other and drove them forward as the goblins smashed into them. If someone in the first line fell then the man behind him moved into the position.

  Spears jabbed forward again and again dropping the goblins by the hundreds. The Finarthian infantry slowly advanced, stepping over the growing number of enemy bodies.

  Fil took his first goblin right in the throat and the momentum of its charge ran the spear point through the beast’s neck and a full pace up the spear shaft. Fil was forced to drop the spear and the dead goblin to the ground, and draw his short infantry sword. Battle lust took over and he screamed maniacally holding his shield and sword before him.

  The battle was fierce and the noise deafening. Men and goblins alike screamed in defiance and pain. Blood, sweat, and dirt flew everywhere as the battle progressed. The trained infantry kept their shield wall tight as they used spear and infantry swords to deadly effect.

  Fil blocked a downward stroke from a goblin sword with his shield and used his immense power to shield charge the beast. He rammed the shocked goblin with his shield, taking the beast directly in the face. The goblin’s head snapped back violently and Fil finished it off with a downward stroke of his heavy short sword. The blade took the goblin in the neck, showering them both with thick blood.

  He felt Calden’s shield bang against his as his friend tried to fend off two goblins and still maintain the integrity of the wall. Fil noticed that he had moved forward too fast creating a gap in the wall near his friend.

  He shuffled backwards and locked shields with Calden, taking another powerful strike against his shield. The blow knocked him back and his arm stung from the force, but he gritted his teeth, jabbing his sword forward and down through the gap he created by angling his shield to the right.

  They had practiced the very same maneuver hundreds of times and now that training was paying off. Their short infantry swords were not made for jabbing, but their short length and weight made them deadly if used correctly and in conjunction with their sword brothers. The idea was to create gaps in the shield wall and jab forward and down, or forward and left and right, allowing the weight of the sharp blade to cut into arms and legs. If the wall could be maintained then the tactic generally proved deadly to their enemies.

  This was the first time that Fil saw its practice in reality, and he thanked his trainers silently as he felt his blade swing down and cut into the thigh of the goblin before him. The beast stumbled to its knee an
d Fil finished it off with a powerful slash across its neck.

  As the goblin fell to its death, Fil noticed the sunlight had momentarily disappeared. He glanced up and saw, to his dismay, thousands of arrows on their downward decent.

  He had just enough time to get his shield up before the arrows turned him into a pin cushion. Many men near and behind him weren’t so lucky and their screams of pain and death sounded all around. He even heard the grunts and howls of goblins as they, too, fell victim to their own arrows. Three arrows pounded into his shield just as he saw a surviving goblin in front of him jab a spear at his unprotected belly.

  Fil could do nothing but turn his body at the last minute, but it was enough. The tip of the goblin spear struck his leather armor a glancing blow and the deadly point slid by harmlessly, cutting a nasty gash across the hardened leather.

  The goblin stopped its forward momentum but it could not pull its spear back for a second strike as Fil had slammed the hard edge of his shield down on top of the shaft, breaking it cleanly in two. Then he swung his heavy sword down on the goblin’s arm, cutting it in half just as easily as the spear shaft.

  There was a brief reprieve as the barrage of arrows killed many men and goblins alike, creating gaps between the two forces.

  Fil looked to his right to see Calden battling two goblins. They had both survived the enemy arrows, but now, they and their nearby comrades, faced the enemy in disarray, their formation momentarily crumbling around them.

  Fil could not believe that Moredin’s forces launched their arrows into the fighting ranks while they fought so closely. Obviously they would kill some of their own troops in the process, which of course they had. But Fil did not have time to think any further on it as his friend battled for his life. He frantically looked for a way to help Calden, when his eyes glimpsed a discarded spear at his feet. Sheathing his sword, he picked up the spear.

  He was getting ready to throw it when another goblin attacked him from the left. He used the spear like a staff, hitting the goblin’s sword away and then reversing the swing, taking the goblin in the side of the head. The goblin grunted, stumbling as Fil spun the spear around quickly, lancing the off-balance beast in the side with the razor sharp point. The goblin fell away into the battling mass of men and beasts around him.

  Fil turned in one smooth motion and hefted the spear back for a throw. He spotted Calden fifteen paces away struggling to keep the goblins at bay. He used his powerful arms and legs, throwing the spear as hard as he could. Fil’s weapon of choice was the spear and not many could use it as proficiently as he. He had practiced with it every day and he could throw a spear farther and more accurately than any of the knight apprentices.

  His practice had paid off, for the spear took one of the goblins in the side and the powerful throw launched the beast into the other goblin. Both creatures landed heavily on the ground and Calden cleaved the uninjured one with his short sword before the beast could untangle himself from his dead comrade. Calden glanced toward Fil and smiled before he was forced to engage another goblin.

  Fil forced a frantic smile back as he glanced around at the chaos around him. He looked up and saw Tanus on his warhorse twenty paces away swinging his longer cavalry sword left and right, cutting into the enemy ranks, leaving a swath of death in his wake as he expertly led his horse through the mass of goblins.

  Fil glimpsed a goblin sneaking toward Tanus from behind with a long spear in its hand. Fil looked around frantically for another spear but there were none to be found.

  “Tanus, behind you!” Fil yelled.

  Tanus glanced toward Fil, pivoting his horse around simultaneously. The warhorse shouldered several goblins out of the way but he wasn’t quite fast enough as the goblin jabbed up with the long shaft. The spear point took Tanus in the shoulder, penetrating a gap between his protective plates and knocking him off balance.

  Fil unsheathed his blade and charged toward his commander, screaming in rage as he went. At the last minute he lifted up his shield, barreling through a goblin that stood in his way.

  Tanus landed hard on his back, the wind knocked from his lungs, his helm dislodged from his head. Gasping for breath, he struggled to stand and find his sword just as he saw the spear wielding goblin jump on top of him screaming in bloodlust. The goblin kicked him in the face so hard that he saw stars as blood and a few teeth flew from his mouth. Tanus lay flat on his back, trying to shake off the dizziness. The goblin howled with glee and reversed its grip on the spear so that the point was angling towards him. Tanus looked up as the spear tip descended. Everything slowed as he looked upon his own death.

  Suddenly a soldier rammed into the goblin, launching the beast into the air. Tanus didn’t waste any time getting up and grabbing his sword from the ground. He stumbled slightly as he shook off the fogginess and pain. After a few seconds he planted his legs firmly and stood up.

  Fil stood next to him holding his blood smeared shield and sword.

  “Nice timing,” Tanus said, looking about the battle field.

  “Thanks.”

  Blood ran freely from Tanus’s shoulder and mouth but the wounds did not seem to affect him. He nodded and then quickly engaged the nearest goblin with a defiant roar.

  Fil fought next to Tanus for what seemed like an eternity. Goblins stacked up around them as they slashed, stabbed, and cut their way through the beasts.

  Fil’s sword arm began to tire and his body was dripping sweat and blood. Suddenly another enemy horn sounded and Fil and Tanus looked around as they took advantage of the quick break from the fighting.

  “What is that?” Fil gasped through deep breaths.

  “The enemy is sending in their second line.” Tanus glanced around for his horse and saw his steed close by. The well trained animal didn’t leave his master’s side even in the heat of battle.

  Tanus ran to his horse, stumbling slightly, the exhaustion and loss of blood from the wound now taking its toll. Fil rushed to Tanus and caught him before he fell.

  “Let me help you,” he said as he guided Tanus to his horse and helped him into the saddle.

  “My thanks,” Tanus muttered as he scanned the scene from his higher vantage point.

  “What do you see, sir?” Fil asked anxiously.

  “As I thought, they are sending in their second line.” Tanus pulled out a horn from the side of his horse’s saddle and blew it three times. It was the signal to reform their modrigs.

  Quickly the soldiers reformed their fighting lines and tried to reestablish their shield wall. The remaining goblins had retreated and reformed with the advancing orcs and humans that were marching towards them. The enemy was beating huge war drums as the lumbering orcs marched down the hill. The menacing sound was deafening and the men around Fil looked about nervously. But most of them were veterans and they held their ground, their iron resolve strengthening the will of the younger inexperienced soldiers near them.

  A horn blew behind them and Fil glanced back to see their reserve line move into position. Fil understood their role perfectly. The reserve line would fill any gaps that broke in their own line. Simultaneously the cavalry would be attacking from the flanks.

  Fil could not see King Gavinsteal anywhere but he suspected he would be leading the Finarthian Knights into battle. Fil looked around for Calden and could not see him among the tired and bloody men nearby. He was exhausted and covered with the grime of battle.

  “Drink from your water skins!” bellowed Tanus as he rode in front of his modrig. At his commander’s words Fil noticed how dry his mouth was. He took a long pull from his water skin, relishing the taste as the cold water took away the cottonmouth coating his tongue. The water brought new vigor back into his tired body.

  Fil looked down and picked up another fallen spear. The thick shaft in his hand felt comforting as he looked upon the approaching horde of orcs and humans. The booming of the drums corresponded to the thumping of his heart as the adrenaline of battle coursed through his body.

>   Behind the orcs, Fil could make out the upper bodies of the massive ogres ambling towards them. The pace of the drums quickened and the orcs picked up their pace.

  Fil set his feet into the ground, lifted up his shield with his sword brothers, and held his spear in front of him as the orcs bellowed defiantly, racing towards them, howling for blood.

  “Give them nothing but death!” screamed Tanus on his horse as he lifted his sword into the air. The wound in his shoulder had stopped bleeding but the injury still hurt. He shook off the pain, raised his war horn to his mouth and blew into it, giving the signal to move forward at the single step. The silent infantry slowly advanced toward the enraged orcs, spears and shields held before them.

  The two forces crashed together making a noise like a thunder clap. The fighting was intense and the tired men fared poorly against the fresh enemy troops. The orcs were strong and powerful and they sensed that their enemy was tiring. Tanus saw his line starting to falter.

  “Formation, get in formation!” he screamed, pivoting his horse expertly behind the ranks. All the warriors near him quickly got shoulder to shoulder again, their shields defending the sword arm of the soldier next to him.

  The reserve line sent in fresh troops to fill the gaps and maintain the line. Orcs ran at the formation wall with no sense of control or organization. The trained men used their shields to block the attacks while their sword brothers jabbed and cut into the orcs with their short swords.

  King Gavinsteal, dressed in full battle array and carrying a long glittering lance, rode his warhorse over the peak of the hill. Behind him were two thousand Finarthian Knights. His armor shone brightly in the afternoon sun and his royal sword was strapped to his broad back. The king was old but he knew the importance of leading his men into battle. His very presence would provide the resolve his warriors needed to defeat this large force invading their homeland.