by Matt Heppe
Saladoran spearmen struggled up the opposite bank. The Rigarians recoiled under the onslaught; for a moment Hadde thought they would break. But urias surged forward, and with massive strokes of their war clubs, they drove the Saladorans back. The spearmen scrambled up their own stream bank.
Hadde urged Lightfoot faster, passing impatient Sal-Oras knights as they readied themselves to charge. She drew to a halt fifty strides from the stream. There was no reason to go closer. There would be no missing the densely massed Rigarians.
She nocked an arrow and let fly. Hadde wasted no time watching the flight of the arrows, but nocked the next as quickly as its brother left the bow.
Not far from her stood a line of crossbowmen. Rigarian arrows still galled them. As the Saladorans gave ground Hadde found herself amongst them. Arrows whistled past. Lightfoot whinnied as one skimmed her flank. Two more thudded into the ground nearby.
“Let’s move, Lightfoot,” she said. “They’ve had enough of us.” Her gaze swept across the melee in hopes of spotting Puddle.
“Hadde.”
She turned. The voice was a whisper in her ear.
“Hadde…” The voice faded on the wind.
“Morin?” she said. He would know how to shift the balance of the battle. She peered to the hills to her left. Was that where his voice had come from?
“I’m coming. On…left flank with Teborans. Warn….”
“I cannot hear you,” she said. Could he draw her voice to him? She looked to the hills but the wind whipped snow in her face.
“…Boradin my magic will… no harm. I cannot tell him… is shielding himself from magic. Tell him… fight eternals. Draw… into the battle. Akinos must be slain.”
She held her hand to her ear. “Draw who into the battle? Akinos?”
“Wave if you heard me.”
His voice was stronger now. Closer.
Hadde raised both her arms and waved. She thought she saw some movement on the hill in the distance. Men rushing through the trees. The snow made it too difficult to be certain.
“Good. …see you. Tell Boradin not to waste his magic on me. Slay Akinos. I’ll… no harm. Go!”
Hadde put her heels to Lightfoot’s flanks and rode to where the king stood. Nidon and the Knights of the House cast wary eyes upon her as she approached. “Your Majesty, I’ve a message from Morin—”
He silenced her with a raised hand. “Meet them, West Teren,” he said, looking off to the left.
Hadde felt the words pass her, carried on the wind by the king’s magic. She turned in the direction of his gaze. A knight hundreds of strides away saluted Boradin.
Across the battlefield, Akinos’s East Teren knights advanced down their hill. From the trees behind them emerged a horde of varcolac and Tyskmen.
The West Teren knights maneuvered to meet the threat. Both sides leveled their weapons and charged. The impact of the massed horsemen echoed from the hills. Lances shattered as knights were thrown from their horses. The West Teren force was larger, but the East Terens had more momentum as they charged downhill. Men and horses fell, but neither force broke through. They swirled in a chaotic melee.
“What do you want, Lady Hadde?” Boradin asked. She pulled her gaze from the fight. Both Nidon and Boradin were watching the struggling mass dispassionately. “Prince Morin sends you a message,” she said.
“He did?” The king’s gaze wandered across the battlefield. “He cast his voice to you?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. He sent a warning. He’s approaching from our left leading the Teborans. He says that you don’t have to fear his magic—he will do no harm. You must use your magic against the eternals. You must draw Akinos into the battle where he can be attacked.”
“He would have me exhaust my magic while Akinos rests at his ease? How would I defeat him when he did enter the battle?”
Hadde shook her head. “I don’t know, Your Majesty. Morin couldn’t speak with you. He said you were too well shielded.”
Boradin flipped his hand. “I’ve dropped my wind-guard. He may speak to me if he wishes.”
“Prince Morin’s plan has some merit, Your Majesty,” Nidon said. “Akinos cannot ignore you if you enter the battle. He will have to respond. As it is, he will stand and watch as his army defeats us.”
Boradin looked to the hills and then turned to the Knights of the South Teren standing in reserve on the hillside below. “Earl Crane,” he casted. “Prepare the South Teren to hold the left flank. We’ll be attacked there soon.”
Nidon pointed down the slope. “Akinos looks to finish us.”
Horns blared as the second line of Rigarians charged into the stream to assault the Saladoran line. “Sir Nidon, hold the House here. Attack Akinos at my command.” Boradin raised Forsvar and shouted, “Sir Gorwin, ready the Knights of Sal-Oras! We charge!”
The snow let up as the king joined the knights of Sal-Oras. Hadde reached into her quiver as they prepared to charge. Only a dozen arrows remained to her. She would be through them in no time. Thousands littered the ground—so many they looked like the stalks of grain growing in a field. Following the charge, she would refill her quiver.
Hadde glanced up from the spent Rigarian arrows. Where was Puddle? She hadn’t wanted to lose track of him. He wanted so much to be a hero that she was afraid he would do something foolish.
The ranks of Saladoran spearmen were thinner than before. The weight of the Rigarian advance bent the shield wall. In places it was in danger of breaking.
Hadde spotted Puddle still gamely pressing his shield against the man in front of him. To either side of him, taller men thrust their spears at the attacking Rigarians. From behind the Rigarian line, dozens of Eternal Knights leapt into the battle. One eternal sliced through the ranks near Puddle. Only one soldier stood between the stablehand and death. Unaware of his plight, Puddle pushed forward.
She couldn’t let him come to harm. Hadde kicked Lightfoot’s flanks and raced down the slope. But as she advanced, trumpets sounded and the Knights of Sal-Oras charged. The massed knights made it impossible for her to ride to Puddle. All around her, knights couched their lances, leveling their long shafts at the enemy. She caught a glimpse of Puddle confronting the eternal. The knights crashed into the fight.
Lances snapped and men and horses screamed. The knights cast down the broken shafts and drew their swords and axes. Rigarian arrows rattled off Saladoran shields and helms. Hadde glimpsed Puddle crawling on the ground. The eternal had been driven from him and stood fighting two knights. She pushed Lightfoot through a gap.
An urias clambered to the top of the bank next to the eternal. With a swing of his club, he struck a knight from his horse. Hadde loosed an arrow, taking the urias in the neck, but he didn’t stop. He swung his club and drove back a spearman. Hadde put another arrow into the urias. The giant reeled backward and fell into the stream.
The eternal hacked deep into the neck of the remaining knight’s horse. The animal reared and tumbled down the bank, taking its rider with it. Puddle, now on his knees, had taken up a spear and thrust it at the eternal. The knight knocked the feeble thrust aside and raised his sword.
Hadde’s arrow struck the eternal in his chest, knocking him back. She spurred Lightfoot closer, loosing another arrow as she rode. Again and again, she shot the eternal, sending him stumbling into the masses behind him. He twisted and turned, fighting at those blocking his escape, but Hadde wouldn’t relent. He collapsed into the stream as a final arrow struck him in the chest, his silver blood swirling with the muddy red water.
Another eternal leapt up the bank near Hadde. Her quiver empty, she drew her sword. He leapt at her and then suddenly collapsed. Before she could react, Boradin and Nidon were there. Nidon leapt from his horse, and as the eternal struggled to his hands and knees, the champion struck the eternal’s head from his shoulders.
“What happened?” Boradin shouted. “Did you shoot him, Hadde?”
She held up her sword in answer. “He just fell
. Nobody struck him. No missile hit him.”
Boradin’s escorting knight charged into the enemy soldiers nearby as Nidon remounted.
“It happened before, Your Majesty,” Hadde said. “In the Great Keep. The eternal fell as he charged you.”
“I struck him with my fire, that’s why he fell.”
“No, I saw Morin battle a dozen eternals. He burned them, but it didn’t kill them.”
“It’s Forsvar,” Boradin said, realization dawning on his face. “The Godshield protects me from magical harm. The eternals are creatures of magic.” He laughed as he said the words.
“Then we must charge them!” Nidon shouted, joy clear on his face. “They fall as soon as Forsvar comes close!” He turned and pointed to another eternal fifty strides away. “Escort! To me!”
“Wait! King Boradin.” Hadde called out, “Morin told me that the eternals gain all their strength from the Orb. Forsvar must cut them off from the Orb—”
“We know,” Nidon shouted. “That’s why we are charging. Stop wasting—”
“But what if Forsvar is brought close to the Orb itself?”
A smile crossed Boradin’s face as the realization hit him. “That’s it! We can win this.”
“But first we must hold,” Nidon said. “Now, Your Majesty!” Boradin’s escort formed up around him, and with a command from the king they charged down the line.
For a moment Hadde thought of riding with them, but it was not her kind of fight. She sheathed her sword and rode for Puddle. She didn’t slow Lightfoot, but reached down from her saddle and grabbed his collar. The sudden weight nearly dragged her from the saddle, but she held on and pulled the boy from danger.
When they were clear, she dropped him and jumped from the saddle. “Puddle, are you hurt?” He sat on the ground, shaking with fear. Blood streaked his face. “Puddle?”
“I’m not hurt.” He glanced toward the battle line. Saladoran Knights and Rigarians battled where the eternal had stood, but the death of the urias and eternal had halted the enemy advance.
“I need you to do something for me, Puddle,” Hadde said, turning back to the boy. She reached down and forced him to look at her. “Gather arrows for me. As many as you can.”
“But I should…” He looked toward the whirling mayhem, fear in his eyes.
“I need you to do this, Puddle. I can do more harm to them with Hawkeye than you can with your spear.” She stood and pulled him to his feet. “Will you do it?”
“I will, Lady Hadde.”
Hadde leapt into her saddle. Despite the king’s efforts, the Saladorans fell back. Boradin retired behind the line with an escort of just two Knights of the House. He removed his helm; Hadde could see the exhaustion in his face.
Horns and shouts of alarm sounded from the left. Hundreds of warriors in boldly striped tunics charged from the wooded hills. Some wore mail, but most were unarmored. They carried bows and short spears, axes and round shields, and wore their light hair in long braids.
“The Teborans attack!" someone shouted.
The Knights of the South Teren wheeled and charged. They drove the Teborans back, but not far. The rough terrain and steepness of the slope soon stole the advantage from the horsemen. The knights had saved the flank. But for how long? Hadde saw more and more Teboran warriors rush from the hills.
Fire erupted amongst the South Terens and they were thrown into disarray. Hadde glanced at Boradin and saw the tight look in his eyes. He rode toward her. “It’s Morin. You told me he would do no harm.”
Hadde looked back to the battle. She saw Morin amongst a group of horsemen at the edge of the trees. “I don’t think he’s hurting them, Your Majesty,” she said. “It’s just a show of flame.”
“They’ve broken through!” someone cried out. Hadde turned toward the shout. Varcolac poured through the Saladoran line. Earl Ciros drew his West Teren command into a tight ring, assailed on all sides.
“Nidon,” Boradin called. “Bring the House. Restore the line.”
As the king spoke, a flash of light drew Hadde’s attention away from the battle. Across the stream, Akinos’s war-wagon rolled ominously forward, shrouded by snow. Eternal Knights rode before it, with varcolac and capcaun marching on both flanks.
“No!” Hadde shouted, pointing to the wagon. “Look!”
“Wait, Nidon!” the king called out. “Wait for me. We’ll charge Akinos. This is our chance!”
The king rode off. The din of battle assailed Hadde, but she felt strangely alone. Fifty strides to her left and right men hewed at one another in a savage melee. Few ran, and no group broke or routed. She sat in the gap that had opened in the battle line, seemingly invisible, ignored by all.
Her gaze wandered over the dead who clogged the stream and turned its water red. The snow fell heavier, frosting those long dead. A horseman appeared on the far side of the stream. A horseman in black on a black steed.
Morin.
“Here, Lady Hadde.” Puddle ran up to her, clutching two handfuls of arrows.
“In my saddle quiver.” She barely looked at him.
“Hadde,” Morin said. “Come to me. For good or ill, the final stroke falls. Come to me and I’ll see that you are safe.”
With a roar, Akinos’s escort of bear-masked varcolac charged through the stream, throwing themselves against the Saladoran shield wall. Behind them, the war-wagon advanced with its escorting capcaun and Eternal Knights. The Orb of Creation flashed in Akinos’s hand.
It was too much. The men of the South Teren could take no more and with cries of fear and anguish, they broke under the onslaught. Hadde caught her breath and looked for Boradin.
A trumpet sounded, clear above the rout. And as its last note faded came the cry, “For the king, for the shield, for the land of Salador!”
The Knights of the House spurred their mounts forward and charged for Akinos. Boradin and Nidon rode at their head, Forsvar blazing with blue-white light.
“Come, Hadde, now!” Morin urged.
“Run, Puddle, you have to escape," Hadde said. "The knights will do the rest.”
Hadde watched him run off. If all else went wrong, at least he might survive. Hadde spurred her horse forward. The gap in the battle line wasn’t wide, but no one blocked her path. Lightfoot splashed across the stream. Hadde reined in next to Morin, but he stood transfixed by the battle and didn’t glance at her.
“Charge, brother!” Morin cried out.
The crimson wedge of Saladoran knights cut through the chaos of battle. Varcolac, fighting to the last, were smashed aside as the warhorses rode them down. Lances snapped and swords plunged as the Knights of the House scattered all who stood in their way.
“Let’s go.” Morin said, finally turning to face Hadde. “I have to be close when he falls.”
“Who?”
Astor’s horse skidded to a halt next to them. Mud and blood covered man and horse. In his right hand he held a yellow lance streaked red. “Morin, what are you doing?” He shoved his helm back on his head, exposing his sweat-soaked face. “Akinos needs you.”
“Return to your command, Astor. I’m riding to him now.”
Astor turned to Hadde and his eyes widened. “What—what is she doing here?”
“She’s with me. Under my protection. Return to your command.” Morin urged his horse forward and Hadde followed. Astor sat unmoving as they rode off.
Ahead, the Knights of the House broke through the last of the varcolac and charged for the war-wagon. Akinos’s Eternal Knights stood impassively as the Saladoran knights approached.
Cheering, the Knights of the House formed up around their king and charged Akinos. The eternals leveled their lances and counter-charged.
Forsvar blazed even brighter and, at the same moment, the Orb of Creation, which until then had burned with a golden fire, suddenly dimmed. As the light faded, the Eternal Knights slumped in their saddles. Some dropped their lances while others fell from their horses altogether.
The Kni
ghts of the House smashed into the defenseless eternals. Lance tips punched through armor and swords slashed without mercy as the silver knights were cut down.
Akinos’s war-wagon surged forward as the capcaun pulling it strained against their harnesses. The great scything blades flashed in Forsvar’s light as they swept through their deadly arcs. The nearest of Boradin’s knights pulled up short of the wicked scimitars.
The blades cut down three knights, hemmed in by the press of the battle. From behind the wagon’s high walls, varcolac aimed heavy crossbows at the Saladorans.
The capcaun, Akinos’s last reserve, roared with fury as they waded into the struggle. Boradin raised his mace and fire exploded at the front of the war-wagon. The vehicle listed sharply and stopped. Hadde’s attention was pulled away as Morin toppled from his horse in front of her. Lightfoot veered to the right and only narrowly avoided trampling him.
Hadde leaped from her saddle and crouched beside Morin. She pulled his helm from his head and gasped when she saw his face. His silver skin turned dull gray and faded toward black. “What’s happening to you?” She hugged him close to her. He sagged in her grasp. “Don’t die!”
His eyes fluttered open.
“He’s using it all,” Morin groaned, “to keep himself alive. He’s not sharing… life with the eternals. Forsvar is shielding the Orb. Limiting it.” His skin was nearly black. “I didn’t see this.”
“What can we do?”
“Slay him, Hadde.” Morin’s eyes closed and he sagged to the ground.
Hadde turned from him and stared through the snow at the war-wagon. It had stopped moving and tilted forward at an awkward angle. Atop it, varcolac raged as they fought off the attacking knights. Akinos was there, but the Orb had lost its fire, and he sagged on his throne. Capcaun surged into the attacking knights, driving them back.
Leaping into the saddle, Hadde drew Hawkeye from its sheath. “Go, Lightfoot!” Ahead of her, Squires of the House, unable to close in melee, sent crossbow bolts flying at Akinos. No magic shielded him, but two varcolac did so with their bodies. One fell, struck by three bolts. Another leapt in his place. No one shielded Akinos from behind.
