Defender of the Crown

by Paul J Bennett

  Herdwin felt a tug on his legs, and then he was dragged across the ground. He looked up to see a familiar face.

  "Dame Hayley," he said, "where did you come from?"

  "The rangers have driven the Norlanders out of Uxley," she said. "We saw you go down."

  The Dwarf leaped to his feet, but his head spun, and he instantly regretted the action.

  "Steady now," said Hayley, "you've taken quite a hit."

  "My Dwarves…" he started.

  "Are fine," she replied. "They held off the attack and pushed the Norlanders back. The enemy now withdraws to the north."

  Herdwin removed his helmet, letting the cool air refresh him. "And Telethial?"

  "I have no news," said the high ranger, "but the enemy sent a strong force her way."

  "What can we do to help?" he asked.

  "Form your troops up here, across the road, and my rangers will take the right flank. We'll advance slowly and keep harassing the enemy."

  "I've lost my bearings," complained the Dwarf.

  "I'm not surprised," noted Hayley, "anyone else would have been crushed to death." She pointed to the west. "Over there is where Telethial led her ambush while Lily was farther north. The enemy cavalry has withdrawn to regroup. We need to press them to stop that from happening."

  "I see," said Herdwin, "it's all about keeping them moving, a clever tactic."

  "If we give them time to think, they'll realize we lack the numbers to defeat them."

  "Understood."

  "Are you sure you're up to this?"

  "I'll be fine," he assured her, "just had the wind knocked out of me, that's all."

  Baron Fitzwilliam watched as the remainder of the Norland archers withdrew. The Orcs had surprised the enemy, but he knew they wouldn't get a second chance. Even as they returned to their previous position, the enemy was moving more cavalry forward.

  "They're getting ready to charge," he said.

  "They vastly outnumber us," warned Aldwin.

  "Yes, but you have to understand horses."

  "I'm afraid I don't grasp what you mean."

  "Then, watch and learn."

  The Norland cavalry swept across the battlefield. These were not the lightly armoured raiders of the north, but their heavier mounts, intent on destroying their enemy.

  The baron watched closely, maintaining a calm demeanour. Only the tight grip on the reins of his horse betrayed any sign of worry.

  Closer the enemy came, shaking the very ground with the thundering of their hooves. Fitz watched men walking up and down the Mercerian lines and knew the sergeants were doing their jobs. The Norlanders lowered their spears, ready for the final charge, but at that precise moment, the Mercerians began shouting out orders. Spears appeared all down the line, their butts firmly anchored into the ground.

  The men of Norland urged their mounts forward, but the wall of steel broke their resolve. Horsemen began pulling back on the reins, desperate to avoid death at the end of a Mercerian spear. Some horses balked, while some swerved to the side, careening into others. The charge became absolute chaos as riders turned this way or that in an attempt to avoid being run through.

  Aldwin saw a horse falter, its rider tumbling from his seat. The great beast pitched forward, smashing into a group of spearmen and opening up a hole in the Mercerian line. The smith was about to call out in warning, but then a knight stepped forward, resplendent in his armour. A Norland horseman rode down on him, but he remained steady, holding tight to a hatchet and shield. As his foe neared, the knight threw the weapon, and it sailed through the air, directly at the horse's head. The great beast swerved as it came close, throwing the rider off balance but only slowing their advance slightly.

  "It's Sir Preston," announced Fitz, watching in horror as the rider bore down on the hapless knight.

  "He seems calm," said Aldwin. "What do you suppose he's up to?"

  "We shall have to wait and see," said the baron.

  Sir Preston knelt, grabbing something which lay at his feet. Onward came the horse, and then, seemingly at the last possible moment, the knight raised the spear which lay hidden in the grass. It struck the horse square in the chest, sending its rider pitching forward. A scream of agony erupted from the horse, to be immediately drowned out by the noise of combat. Sir Preston moved to the side, drawing his sword in a smooth, practised manner. As the Norland rider fell to the ground, the knight took two steps forward and drove his blade into the hapless man's chest.

  "A remarkable display of bravery," said Fitz, as Mercerians scrambled to fill the gap in their line.

  Norlanders rode up and down the wall of spears, hacking away at the tips, cursing at their enemy. Finally, they gave up in frustration and began making their way south, to rejoin their companions.

  Fitz drew his sword, raising it high in the air. He held it only a moment, then swept it down. No sooner had he done so than horns sounded behind the Mercerian lines.

  "Now," said Fitz, "we shall teach them the folly of their ways."

  Hundreds of arrows sailed out from behind the Mercerian lines. The archers had aimed high, and their missiles arced over their own men to come crashing down onto the retreating Norland horsemen.

  The arrows had little effect on the armoured enemy, but their mounts were an entirely different matter, as they plunged down from the sky, sinking into soft horseflesh. Animals wailed in distress, causing Aldwin to wince in sympathy. He saw one such beast rushing eastward, dragging its unfortunate rider along the ground by the stirrups.

  A second horn sounded, and Aldwin watched as the Mercerian lines parted, creating a gap. Through this space poured horsemen, led by none other than Prince Alric. At his side rode Jack Marlowe, his blue cape billowing behind him. It was a magnificent sight, for they were followed by the Prince's own bodyguard, fierce men of Weldwyn, determined to show their courage this day. The enemy had been withdrawing slowly, their horses tired from their earlier exertions. Alric's troops sliced into their lines, penetrating the undisciplined mob deeply, cutting down riders left and right.

  The baron's attention was solely on the prince, for he was deep into the mass of Norland cavalry now, standing in the stirrups as he raised his sword high. Lord Jack was beside him, slashing away with quick, deliberate strikes, cutting down enemies as they went.

  Fitz raised his sword once more, twirling it in the air. Three blasts from a horn sounded, signalling the cavalry to withdraw. He watched carefully, concerned his call might not be heeded, but his worry was for naught. The men of Weldwyn answered the call and broke off their engagement, sending the remaining enemy horsemen fleeing in panic. Turning around, they trotted back to the Mercerian lines.

  Aldwin watched as they passed by the footmen who closed up the gap. "That was neatly done," said the smith.

  "It shows what disciplined cavalry can do," said Fitz. "These Norland warriors are brave, but they seem to have little experience in set-piece battles."

  "Could it be their leaders?" mused Aldwin.

  "You may be right," said Fitz, "but we'll soon see if their commander learns from his mistakes."

  "You think they'll attack again?"

  "Of course," said Fitz, "this battle is only just beginning." He turned to an aide. "Have Sir Preston come and see me," he said, "I would like to talk to him."

  "Yes, my lord," replied the man, riding off.

  "You intend to rebuke him?" asked Aldwin.

  "No, I intend to congratulate him," said Fitz. "We seldom see such individual bravery on the battlefield."

  "I didn't notice Sir Heward," remarked the smith.

  "He's in reserve," said the baron. "I am not yet ready to commit all of our horse. The sun has yet to reach its full height, and there will be much more fighting to come."

  Aldwin looked at the blood-soaked field before them. "Such destruction and death," he said.

  "Yes, with more to follow. How many dead would you say?"

  "More than fifty," said Aldwin, "perhaps as many as a h
undred?"

  "And yet they still outnumber us," said Fitz. "We must kill three for every soldier we lose if we hope to win this battle."

  "They don't outnumber us by that much, do they?"

  "No, but our survivors will still have to march to Eastwood, or did you forget there's another army on the loose."

  "I wish Beverly were here," said Aldwin.

  "As do I," said the baron. "She's worth a hundred men on the battlefield."

  "My lord," came a voice.

  "Ah, Sir Preston," said Fitz, "you have displayed remarkable courage this day."

  "I am only doing my duty," said the knight.

  The baron looked at him, noting the blood-encrusted armour. "What's this, Sir Preston?" he pointed at the man's arm, which had a cloth wrapped around it. "Tell me you're not injured!"

  The knight blushed. "No, my lord, it is a lady's favour."

  The baron sat back in surprise. "A lady, you say? Tell me, noble knight, who might this woman be, that has so captured your heart?"

  "The lady Sophie, my lord, handmaiden to the queen."

  "Indeed?" said Fitz. "Then fortune has smiled upon you, young knight, for you have proven yourself worthy of such affection this day. Continue your good work, Sir Preston."

  "Thank you, my lord," replied the knight. "And now, with your permission, I shall return to my men."

  "Of course," said Fitz, "and give them my thanks for their bravery this day."

  "Thank you, my lord. I'm sure your words of encouragement will be well met." He turned, riding off.

  "He's very formal," said Aldwin.

  The baron laughed, "Yes, he is. Let's hope he'll learn to relax a little now that he has a woman in his life."

  Thirty-Three

  Fate

  Fall 964 MC

  * * *

  "How did you find me?" asked Beverly.

  "You forget," said Albreda, "a part of me is in that hammer of yours. We are connected, you and I, by powers that few can understand."

  "We must get our injured to help," said Beverly. "Did you happen to bring Aubrey with you?"

  "I'm afraid not, and the situation is perilous, to say the least."

  "Why, what's happened?"

  "Even as we speak, Norland troops are outside of Uxley," said Albreda.

  "Uxley," said Beverly, "that far? What of Hawksburg and Tewsbury?"

  "Bypassed. It seems they planned this invasion very carefully. They took us quite by surprise."

  "Shouldn't you be there, with them?" asked Beverly. "After all, you're our most powerful mage."

  "I'm flattered that you think so," the druid replied, "but the truth is that the battle of Uxley is lost unless your men can be brought to bear."

  "My men? You mean the Guard Cavalry? How can that be, we've less than two dozen left."

  "They will not be alone," said Albreda, "but we must move quickly, it will take some time to get them all through the gate."

  "What about Gerald?"

  "His best chance of survival is to bring him with us," Albreda replied, "for all our healers are gathered there."

  "Then let us not waste another moment," the knight replied.

  * * *

  It took quite some time to reach the gate. The Mercerians that had fled Galburn's Ridge collapsed in exhaustion as they entered the Saurian temple.

  "Rest your men," bid Albreda, "for the battle begins tomorrow, and they must be ready."

  "How can you be sure?" asked the red-headed knight. "Did you have a vision?"

  "I did," said Albreda, "and it boded ill for the realm."

  "How so?" asked Beverly.

  "I saw a great defeat," explained the druid, "with many dead littering the battlefield and above it all flew the flag of Merceria."

  "Your prophecies have proven accurate in the past."

  "Yes," the druid admitted, "but not always in the way I interpret them."

  "Do you think it's as dire as your visions seem to indicate?"

  "I do," said Albreda, "and yet I sense that we can turn the tide, providing the timing is right. In order to do so, we must arrive with time to strike."

  "By my estimate," said Beverly, "it'll take the best part of a morning to move my horsemen through." She paused, suddenly struck by a thought. "What of our horses?" she asked. "The gate in Uxley is down a well."

  "Did I not mention Master Hearn?"

  "No," said Beverly, "why, what has he to do with all of this?"

  "While I have been searching for you, he has been moving dirt. By the time we arrive, he should have an exit tunnel ready for use."

  "And if he doesn't?" asked Beverly.

  "Then we shall be no worse off than if we hadn't tried," mused the druid. "Now, get some rest, it will be a busy day tomorrow."

  * * *

  Beverly stood watching as the last horsemen entered the magic portal. The flame diminished, and she waited as it recharged.

  "Almost done," she said. "The wounded are through as well as our horses."

  "The rest will have to remain behind for now," said Albreda. "I must hasten to Uxley to oversee the battle and cannot remain to activate the gate."

  "Are you sure they will be safe?"

  "The temple here is ample protection against anything they might encounter."

  "I wish we could use your recall spell."

  "So do I," said Albreda, "but the fact is that Uxley has no magic circle to travel to, not yet at any rate."

  "I imagine the queen will be eager to build one there, after this," said Beverly.

  "She will, but there are a lot more important places where one is needed first. I'm afraid it will have to wait."

  The green flame leaped to life once more. Albreda uttered words of power, pressing the runes at the base of the fire.

  "It is time," she said.

  Beverly stepped forward, touching the surface of the flame, and then vanished, reappearing a moment later on the other side, briefly lit by its glow, then the flame diminished, and she was gone from sight.

  Albreda turned to Lightning, holding out her hand. The great stallion moved forward, nuzzling her palm.

  "There, there," soothed the druid, "you will be with her soon enough. We have only to let the flame recharge, and then you can step through." She placed her hand to the horse's forehead and closed her eyes. "See her safely through this," she said, "for the fate of the realm may count on it."

  The flame returned to its natural state and Albreda released Lightning. She uttered the magic words once more, touching the runes. Moments later, the flame sprang to life. She could see Beverly on the other side, peering back at her and smiled as she sent Lightning through. The great beast appeared beside Beverly, then the flame once more went dormant.

  "There," said Albreda, "I have now put events into action. Let us hope it is enough."

  The Norland cavalry came into view once more. They were a wall of horseflesh, two hundred strong, forming a line that stretched to either side as far as Herdwin could see. This, he decided, must be their last attempt to force the Dwarves from the road and clear the way to Uxley.

  "Stand by," he called out. The Dwarves brought their weapons to the ready position. They were heavily armoured, these doughty warriors of the mountains, and renowned for being fearless. He fought back the urge to tell them to stand firm. These were professional warriors, there was no need to restate the obvious. The Norlanders had charged three times so far, the last just before noon. Now, with the day wearing on, they had reappeared, determined to push through regardless of opposition.

  Herdwin smiled in grim satisfaction. "Let them come, and we shall teach them again the folly of attacking the mountain folk!"

  Hayley peered over the ranks of the Dwarves. "We're all set," she said.

  The horses came closer until Herdwin could make out individual faces. He raised his arm, holding his weapon high. "Just a little closer," he said to himself.

  They were less than ten horse lengths away when the ground caved in. The Dwa
rves had used their time wisely, digging small holes across the field and then concealing them with the help of the rangers. Now horses pitched forward, throwing their riders from the saddle.

  Herdwin swept his arm down, and the Dwarven arbalests sprang to life, sending forth a volley of steel-tipped bolts that ripped through the enemy's armour. When the Dwarves started reloading their cumbersome weapons, Hayley gave the order for her rangers to move up. They loosed off a volley of arrows that dug into the survivors. More horses went down, clogging a field that was already cluttered with the injured and dead.

  Hayley saw a group of horsemen to the enemy's rear starting to head east, trying to bypass their defensive position.

  "'Ware the flank," she called out.

  Gorath moved his Orcs eastward, using the cover of the trees to hide their movements.

  "Their numbers are starting to tell," said Herdwin, "they're going to overwhelm us."

  "We must do what we can," said Hayley, "and hope that the baron can hold out."

  Baron Fitzwilliam saw the enemy massing for another attack.

  "Here they come," he said.

  Aldwin watched as the enemy drew closer. "Saxnor's beard," he said, "there must be a thousand of them!"

  "If not more," replied the baron. "Tell Heward to prepare his men."

  An aide ran off to deliver the message while Fitz focused his attention on the troops before them. A massive push was coming, and he began to doubt that his men would survive it.

  "Where is the queen?" Fitz asked.

  "Still getting into position," said an aide. "Shall I send her a message?"

  "No," said the baron, "we'll just have to weather the storm and hope she arrives in time."

  The Queen of Merceria looked at Captain Montak. The Kurathian was an immense man, even larger than Sir Heward, but whereas Heward looked dangerous, this man looked friendly.