Shadow Lands Trilogy

by Simon Lister

  *

  When Balor saw the sprawling Adren encampment his first instinct was to turn his horse away and ride back the way he had just come. It stretched for over a mile along the southern bank of the Isis and its sheer size appalled him. He immediately thought that the reports must have been mistaken; it looked to him that the whole Adren army was camped out before them, all twenty thousand of them. He glanced to his left and right and the sight of two hundred mounted warriors suddenly looked a lot less formidable. He reckoned they were outnumbered two hundred to one and to make matters worse Arthur was about to shout out the order to charge at the enemy. He fidgeted in his saddle and broke wind noisily. His horse responded by tossing its head from side to side possibly in reproof, possibly in agreement, but perhaps only to rid itself of the flies that crawled around its eyes. Dystran, who was to his right, laughed loudly.

  ‘You’ll scare the horses,’ he said and leant across to slap the neck of Balor’s horse.

  Balor just grunted in response to the Mercian and took his axe from his belt before putting it back once again to leave both hands free to manage the reins. He waited impatiently for Arthur to give the command to advance but it never came. Instead Arthur just spurred his horse into a canter and the long line of warriors started after him. Balor gritted his teeth and did likewise.

  When they were half a mile from the enemy camp the canter turned into a charging gallop and Balor hung on, grimly urging his horse to keep up with the line that was pulling slightly ahead of him. All around him clods of dry earth were being thrown up from the horses in front and dust billowed about him and stung his eyes. He was not even aware of the sporadic arrows that fell amongst them until a horse crashed to the ground in front of him and his own horse instinctively jumped the sprawling tangle.

  At the last possible moment he freed his axe from his belt just as they tore into the edge of the enemy camp and any reservation or consideration of the Adren numbers immediately left him.

  Arthur’s plan was to hit the side of the Adren camp nearest to the bridge spanning the Isis, stay long enough to inflict the maximum damage then draw the Adren after them as they crossed the bridge. Balor knew the plan as well as anyone but in the first few minutes of battle he never thought of it once. The Adren camp was in complete chaos; from the first sighting of the mounted warriors to the moment they hit only a minute had passed and they were utterly unprepared when the horses crashed into their rambling encampment.

  Balor found himself fighting his horse more than the Adren as he tried to force it in tight turns to get at the scattering enemy. The more accomplished riders around him were creating havoc as they rode down the hated invaders. Finally he managed to goad his mount towards two Adren who were scrambling out of their shelter but Gwyna reached them first leaving her spear in one and cutting down the other with her slashing sword. Before he could even swear at her she was spurring her horse on towards a knot of Adren who were already beset by two Wessex warriors.

  Balor had little idea whether seconds or minutes had passed but as he searched for likely targets he realised that the marauding riders were inadvertently pushing deeper into the camp in their pursuit of the enemy.

  Arthur had noticed the same thing but the Adren were still completely disorganised and his warriors were slaughtering hundreds of them so he led the attack deeper into the Adren camp.

  *

  Mar’h had watched the charge with Unna, the harbour master from the Haven, from the platform in the trees across the river.

  ‘Can you see what’s happening?’ she asked him.

  ‘They’re fighting in the camp still and it looks like they’re pushing further in.’

  ‘The plan was to get across the bridge! Why are they going further into the camp?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Mar’h replied, staring at the chaotic turmoil in the distance.

  ‘Gods! Look!’ Unna shouted pointing towards the much smaller Adren camp on their side of the bridge.

  ‘What?’

  ‘They’re blocking the bridge!’

  Mar’h stared intently at the activity on the North side of the bridge. It was difficult to tell exactly what they were doing but it seemed that the Adren on the North side were preparing to defend the bridge to stop Arthur’s warriors from crossing it. Mar’h felt a moment of panic, no one had expected the Adren to form a defence on the bridge; the general feeling had been that they would probably cross the bridge to join in the battle. The Adren could not have known that Arthur planned to cross the bridge; why should he when he had all the country to the South for an easy escape?

  ‘What are we going to do? We can’t let them set up a defence on the bridge, the war band won’t be able to get across!’ Unna cried.

  Mar’h’s mind raced. The plan had been for Arthur to draw several thousand of the Adren across the bridge and for Morgund’s horsemen, who waited below in the wood, to charge into the flank of the pursuing Adren. If the Adren managed to defend the bridge against Arthur then the war band would be caught on the bridge between the two Adren forces, but if Mar’h released Morgund’s horsemen to clear the North bank then he would be showing his hand too soon and the Adren would evade the waiting trap. Uncertainty gripped him as he considered the options. He crossed to the far edge of the platform and shouted down to Aelfric who came clambering up the rope ladder as fast as he could.

  When he was twenty-feet from the top Mar’h leaned over the edge and shouted down to him, ‘Tell Morgund to move his horsemen into position but not to break cover until I order it. Tell him they may have to clear the North side of the bridge so that the war band can get across!’

  Aelfric repeated the message back to Mar’h to be sure he had it absolutely correct before sliding back down to the ground and sprinting off through the woods to where Morgund waited with his cavalry cohort.

  Mar’h turned back to Unna and they stared at each other as they both heard the faint blowing of a hunting horn; the signal for the war band to abandon the battle in the Adren camp and make for the North bank.

  *

  Arthur wheeled his horse around and roared out the command to retreat across the bridge. Dystran sounded the hunting horn once more and Balor kicked his horse into following the other riders who were turning back through the havoc they had wreaked on the western edge of the Adren camp. Balor saw hundreds of dead and wounded Adren and wondered how it was possible that he had failed to strike at a single one of the enemy. He did not have long to wonder; within a minute his horse’s hooves were slipping and sliding as they fought for purchase on the wooden planks of the bridge.

  Arthur was ahead of him with a cluster of warriors from Wessex and they blocked his view of the far end of the bridge so he had no idea why those ahead of him suddenly slowed. Arthur had seen the problem as soon as he had turned for the bridge and he rued letting his bloodlust get the better of his judgement in deciding to continue the slaughter in the enemy camp; it had allowed the Adren time to construct a makeshift barricade on the North side of the bridge and man it with archers.

  He had hoped to reach the far side before the Adren could get emplaced but once on the bridge he realised he was too late. Behind him he knew that the rest of the war band would be piling onto the bridge and he realised he had no other choice now but to charge the barricade. He roared out the order for shields and the horsemen tried to check their headlong flight to unfasten their shields. He glanced about to see that those around him had their shields ready and without waiting to check those behind him he crouched behind his shield and spurred his horse forward towards the barricade.

  He heard the arrows tearing through the air around him as his horse thundered over the dry wood of the bridge. Someone behind and to his left screamed as they were plucked from their horse and trampled by those charging after Arthur. He felt an arrow smack into his shield and glance away. Another flew past the side of his face and he heard the soft hiss of the feathers as it fled past. Then his horse jolted and he felt its pace slacke
n immediately. He glanced above his shield and saw he was almost at the barricade then his horse was pitching forward, crumpling as its own momentum sent it crashing into the base of the line of carts that blocked the bridge. He threw himself off to one side and at the last second tried to use his shield to protect himself from the impact. All around him other horses were leaping the barrier or smashing into it and he lay curled on the ground with his mind reeling from the force of the crash.

  He forced his limbs into action and he crawled towards the near side of the barrier with the ringing in his ears loud enough to drown out the sound of the battle erupting all along the barricade. He wiped the blood from his eyes in time to see an Adren only yards away and bearing down on him with his sword drawn. He stumbled to his feet and swayed as he drew his own sword but as he tried to focus on his attacker the Adren was lifted bodily from his feet by a spear as a rider swept by.

  His blurred vision was coming back into focus and he glanced quickly about; other Adren were converging on him. His shield had been splintered by the impact of his fall so he gripped his sword with both hands as he desperately looked for a spare horse to take him from the chaos of the North bank. He saw neither a spare horse nor any other riders from the war band. The plan had been to get across the bridge and, if the Adren from the main camp were following them, then to keep on going. His warriors had kept on going so that meant more Adren must be storming across the bridge behind him.

  He looked at the Adren soldiers charging towards him and thought of Cei and Trevenna and he wondered briefly how they had fallen at the last; they would have fallen with pride and courage so he let the rage at their deaths fill him and he charged into the oncoming Adren.

  *

  Mar’h stared out towards the North side of the river from the elevated platform. ‘Gods! They’re turning round and heading back!’ he shouted as he pointed at the riders who were wheeling their horses around and charging back to the bridge.

  ‘Why? They’ve only just got away from them! And the main army’s pouring across the bridge! It’s suicide! Turn back you fools!’ Unna, normally so self-controlled, was screaming at the warriors who were the best part of a mile away.

  ‘Arthur,’ Mar’h said quietly.

  ‘Turn back you idiots!’

  ‘It’s Arthur,’ Mar’h said just as softly.

  ‘What?’ Unna asked turning to face him.

  ‘Arthur must have fallen at the bridge.’

  Unna stared at him appalled at the possibility.

  ‘It’s the only reason they would turn back. If Arthur was still with them they would have continued onwards to draw the Adren onto the flood plain.’

  Unna turned back to the unfolding battle, her face drained of colour. The riders had nearly reached the bridge once again and more Adren were charging across from the far side.

  ‘Arthur’s dead?’ she asked bewildered.

  ‘And we’re about to lose the war band as well,’ Mar’h turned quickly away and yelled to the ground below, ‘Aelfric! Tell Morgund to ride! The war band’s in trouble on the North side of the bridge!’

  A hundred-feet below him, Aelfric leapt onto a horse and sped off to where Morgund waited with his four hundred horsemen.

  *

  Morgund saw the young Anglian tearing through the trees and knew that something had gone wrong.

  ‘You’re to ride! The war band’s in trouble – this side of the bridge!’ Aelfric shouted as he neared him.

  Morgund turned his horse away and rode to the front of the mounted cohort. He stood in his stirrups and shouted out at the top of his voice, ‘Close order! Two ranks!’

  The horsemen followed him out of the trees and formed up into two ranks. They set out at a canter at first then, as they fell into position, they urged their horses onwards and the pace quickened until it reached a flat out gallop. They charged along the North bank of the river with thirty yards between the two ranks and with only a yard or two between each rider. The thunderous drumming of four hundred horses charging across the hard earth was deep and deafening. They closed the distance within two minutes and as they neared the wheeling melee by the bridge their spear tips came down in a uniform wave and they crashed into the Adren forces that were spilling onto the flood plain.

  *

  Mar’h watched the charge from his platform and then began his one-handed descent down the rope ladder. When he reached the ground Aelfric helped him strap his shield onto his arm.

  Elwyn, who was commanding both the archer and crossbow cohorts, strode across to them, ‘Our turn now?’

  Mar’h nodded at the shorter man, taking heart in his assured confidence, ‘We’ll keep to the plan. We’ll advance along the riverbank. Shield wall first, crossbows behind them with the archers covering our left flank.’

  ‘Right you are then,’ Elwyn replied and turned to organise his cohorts.

  Aelfric finished fastening Mar’h’s shield.

  ‘The battle’s just starting isn’t it?’ he asked.

  Mar’h took a deep breath, ‘Yes, yes it is. Tell Saewulf it’s time.’

  *

  Saewulf grunted in response to Aelfric’s message and heaved his massive frame from the fallen tree trunk he had been sitting on. He strode to the fire and used it to light the already prepared torch then hastened to where two barges were tied up against the bank. Aelfric followed him and to his surprise the young Anglian held out his hand. Saewulf engulfed the small hand in his own broad grip, ‘Watch the battle from the platform but if it goes against us then ride like hell for the Haven.’

  ‘I will. It’s what Arthur told me to do as well.’

  ‘Then make sure you do.’

  ‘I will. Good luck, Saewulf.’

  ‘You too lad,’ Saewulf resisted the urge to ruffle the boy’s hair; something in his manner made him older than his years and Saewulf realised the gesture would have been oddly out of place. He strode to one of the boats thinking that even their boys and girls had to act like adults now days. Well, he thought to himself, that’s why we’re fighting.

  He settled himself in the upright wooden box that Hengest had constructed in the middle of the barge and placed the burning brand in a holder by his feet. Aelfric pushed the barge away from the bank then ran back to the second boat to untie it from its moorings. Saewulf slotted the oars into the open slats and flexing his broad shoulders he hauled on the long oars and the two boats gradually slid away from the bank and out into the river. The wooden housing around him was open sided to the rear and he watched as Aelfric held up his hand one last time before disappearing back into the trees of the wooded riverbank.

  Saewulf strained on the oars as he hauled the two barges towards the middle of the river where the current would carry them down to the pontoon bridge that spanned the Isis. Both barges were stacked with brushwood and dry branches, and oil had been slopped generously over the heaped tangles of wood. Hengest had used the time at the ford to improve the hulls of the barges and they were far more watertight now than they had been on the first leg of the journey.

  The current of the wide river began to sweep the boats along and Saewulf used the oars to hold a course equidistant from both banks. He could hear the thundering charge of Morgund’s four hundred horsemen and he had to force himself to resist the temptation to lean around the safety of his wooden cubicle to watch as they crashed into the Adren ranks. He wondered what had happened that made Mar’h send in the horsemen before they were supposed to be unleashed.

  Such thoughts were banished when the first of the arrows thumped into his crude cabin and flicked into the water around him. He knew he must be nearing the bridge and he guided his boat to one side then dug the oars hard into the water to bring the towed boat alongside. An arrow crashed into the barrel of spirit at his feet and he watched horrified as a wide crack split down one side. As the precious fluid gushed out he hurriedly leant forwards and tipped it onto its side with the splintered tear pointing upwards.

  More arrows we
re sniping around him and he risked a glance around the side of the cabin and saw that the bridge was only fifty yards away. He was heading more or less for the middle of it and it was packed with Adren trying to cross to join in the battle raging on the North bank. He lit a second brand and tossed it onto the jumbled brushwood packed into the second barge that was now alongside him. He hauled on the oars once more to urge the two boats onwards then lobbed his brand onto the wood piled at the back of his own boat. The oil immediately caught alight and in the bright sunlight the air rippled as the invisible flames spread across the branches.

  The fires in both barges quickly took hold and Saewulf felt a moment’s panic that he had lit them too soon but seconds later he felt a jar as his boat rammed into the bridge and began to swing sideways. He hefted the barrel of spirit over his head to throw onto the bridge and prayed that the smoke from the burning oil would cover him. It didn’t. An arrow tore into his thigh and he staggered. Another smashed into his shoulder and he dropped the barrel as he was half spun around. Two more thumped into his chest and he slumped to his knees, crouched over the emptying barrel as the fire burned all around him. Blood frothed up his throat and he found it impossible to breathe. He reached down and cradled the barrel in both arms and he forced himself to his feet. He staggered into a tottering run and crashed the barrel against the edge of the bridge. It split apart and the flames rushed forward to embrace the dry wood of the Adren bridge.

  *

  Sal tightened his grip on the shield and stole a quick glance at his two brothers who stood either side of him; like himself they were sweating profusely. They had left the shade and cover of the trees and were now steadily advancing towards the battle milling around the North side of the bridge.

  Mar’h had arranged the foot cohorts into five ranks of five hundred with the best-equipped and best-trained cohort at the fore and the crossbow cohort immediately behind them. They were advancing across the floodplain with the river tight to their right flank and Elwyn’s archers positioned on their left. Three thousand Britons were marching towards the invaders but only a handful of them had ever seen battle before and they were relying entirely upon the two battle manoeuvres that had been drilled into them.