by Andrew Wood
Fabian had been ordered to retreat with Jamal and two of the Royal guards. However, he had moved himself up to the front line to get a good look at these strange creatures. Jamal was racing through the camp trying to find him; he was ready to go. Commander Halin stood at the centre of his lines, just behind the thin looking shield wall. He watched as the enemy lined up beneath him. Even though his troops were outnumbered, it was not necessarily a lost cause. He held the higher ground, and from first looks, had the better ranged weaponry. The appearance of the Giganton however, was something else entirely. They had devised tactics to fight the Orlac in the previous war, but these strange looking giants were even bigger. He had the necessary cavalry if the opportunity arose, but whether they would be as effective, he had no idea.
Jamal finally caught up with Fabian, "What the bloody hell are you doing here? The commander wants us gone...come on," he added grabbing him by the arm. Fabian complained that he wanted to see what the giant creatures could do, but did reluctantly follow Jamal back towards the waiting horses. The commander caught sight of them and shouted at them to move.
Commander Halin watched the son of the Prince quickly run towards the rear of their lines. He turned back to face his enemy. They appeared to be moving again, but not up the hill in his direction, as he thought they were preparing to do. He quickly realised what they were doing; he was being surrounded. He climbed atop his horse to get a better view, and trotted around his already overstretched lines. Any thoughts he might have had of getting at least some of his men to retreat were soon gone, as the gap around the base of the tor was closed. Knowing that everyman upon that hilltop would fight, gave him some small comfort. If things went well, he could inflict heavy casualties on the invaders, although he would likely perish with his men. If things did not go well, then he thought maybe just the latter part would be true; either way he doubted he would see another day.
Jamal, Fabian and the two Royal Guards burst down the back of the small incline. With their mounts at a full gallop, and managing to escape the flanking manoeuvre by the enemy, they did not however escape their notice. A dozen or so enemy soldiers, all on horseback, broke from their ranks and gave chase. Jamal was not an accomplished rider and soon found himself falling a little behind the others. One of the guards noticed him, and slowed just a little to allow him to catch up.
Jamal was just about to thank him, when an arrow thumped into the back of the man, sending him falling to the ground. The unmanned horse continued running alongside Jamal, who dared one peek behind. The fastest enemy soldiers were but a hundred paces behind him. At any other time, he might have been in awe at their skill riding so fast, whilst firing their smaller bows. He turned to face the front once more, and lowered his head as an arrow just nicked the side of his arm. He flinched and cried out as the pain struck. Gritting his teeth, he pushed the horse harder, trying to align his own body's movement with that of his horse.
Fabian and the other guard were only several yards in front of him, and it appeared the enemy were not catching. If anything, he thought they might even be dropping back little, just as another arrow thumped into his horse's rump. The beast cried out and although it kept running, Jamal knew it would not keep pace. "Go, warn your father!" he shouted ahead at the others looking back at him.
Jamal should have known whatever he said Fabian would do the total opposite. Instead of speeding on ahead, the son of the prince pulled his horse to one side, veering off course. The guard with him did the same, only the other direction. Both riders splayed outwards, as Jamal's wounded horse started slowing. The guard had his spear in hand, and lowering it, ran straight at the front enemy rider. It was time to show what a Murati was capable of. The enemy soldier had the look of total shock on his face, as the seven-foot long shaft went in one side of his body and protruded out of the other.
Jamal turned to see Fabian riding up alongside him. In his hand, he held the reins of the fallen soldier's horse that had continued along with them. "Climb on to this one Jamal," the young man shouted peeking back to see how far off the enemy were. At first, Jamal thought Fabian must have been joking, but quickly realised he was being deadly serious. The Royal Guard, having taken down the front rider of the enemy, pulled back up alongside of him. The flanks of their galloping horses were all but touching as they thundered along. The soft turf was being kicked up, and as Jamal's horse was slowing considerably, he knew he had to swap now.
He gritted his teeth once more, as the arrow wound he had suffered sent a shooting pain the full length of his left arm. He counted to three in his head, and stood up on his stirrups. Next came the trickier part of swinging himself over to the empty horse. The enemy were closing once more and another arrow flew just between himself and Fabian. Thinking it had to be done now, or risk being hit again, he flung his body over to the spare mount. Another arrow flew by, and then another, as he grabbed the reins off Fabian, before kicking his heels in and picking up the pace once more.
The three rode onwards, having completely diverted from their original course. The guard pointed, and they all veered back northwards; they needed to get back to Onay. The enemy although appearing to drop further behind as they ran still did not give up. "The horses are not going to keep this up for much longer," Fabian shouted over. "Then neither will theirs," Jamal replied, thinking it quite a clever response. If this were going to be a race to see whose horse dropped dead first, then Jamal thought so be it. The guard however had other ideas and pointed for them to head for a wooded area off to the right of their current position.
Bowing to the man's better knowledge in such situations, Jamal nodded, and was glad to see Fabian could do as was asked. The three burst through the tree line, "Okay, let your horses walk now. If you try running them through here they will likely injure themselves." It was only now that Jamal wondered what had happened to his first horse. The poor creature had dropped behind them, and as far as he knew, was probably dying a slow painful death. The guard told them to stay close together as the tree trunks grew denser. The roots of the trees protruding up out of the ground were an obvious problem for the horses. The fact Jamal was finding himself whacked in the face by low branches, was just as bad.
It appeared the guard knew these small woods well. He ordered them to dismount, hoping they had for now given themselves, and more importantly their horses, some short respite. The creatures were breathing heavily and Jamal noticed how sweaty they were as they stopped besides a small spring. Bubbling up from the ground and trickling away into the undergrowth ran cool fresh drinking water. Jamal was about to take a drink before he was told to let the horses take a drink first. "I think my friend," the man said, "They have earned it far more than you."
Jamal felt a hand touch his arm, and he took a sharp intake of breath as the pain once more struck him. "You're hit," Fabian said showing a side to him that Jamal had never thought possible. It was then he realised that Fabian and the guard had probably just saved his life. "Thank you...both of you", he said as the guard wrapped a linen bandage around the wound on his arm.
The guard looked down at Jamal, "You know how to use that," he said referring to the sword at his side. Jamal nodded, and then the guard asked Fabian the same question. "Well I was never really much good, but as long as I stick them with the pointy end, I suppose that's a start." Jamal looked at his younger companion, wondering how he could make wisecracks at a time like this. The guard told them to hush, as the sound of men struggling to move through the thick branches and greenery came into earshot.
Jamal thought his horse was conspiring to give away their position when it decided to let out a loud whinny. Fortunately, it was not as loud as he must have thought, as the enemy soldiers in the woods looking for them, appeared unmoved by it. The voices grew louder, indicating they were nearing. He was wondering whether the guard wanted them to make a fight of it, and held his sword in hand expectantly.
Jamal counted six men pass close by their position hidden in the trees, but none
came close enough to spot them. He then spotted a seventh who appeared to be separated from his colleagues. He watched as the Royal Guardsman moved slowly but deliberately between the trees. The enemy soldier barely had time to turn to face the attack, as he was pulled from his horse. The man hit the ground with a thump, and his throat was slashed open with just a flick of a blade.
Jamal noticed Fabian's face, as the pair watched the enemy soldier's body twitch, and the blood spurt upwards like a small fountain. The guard quickly left the dead man and shuffled back to their position. As a young soldier, Jamal could not help but be in awe of the man's quick and efficient dispatching of the enemy. They waited a few more minutes, before leading their horses through the trees, rather than trying to ride them. It may have been slower, but Jamal was at least thankful for not being slapped in the face by any more branches.
The guard explained they would head east for a little while. After Fabian had reminded him that Onay lay to the north, the man explained his reasons. The enemy soldiers would be tracking them north, and once they had realised that they were not there, they would likely turn about and head back south. This would mean them bumping back into Jamal's group on the way back; a risk they could not afford to take.
On the small hill, the Murati braced themselves for the inevitable attack by the forces surrounding them. Commander Halin tried to estimate just how many men and other creatures his men were facing. He could only hazard a guess, probably at least three thousand he thought. He had been left with no alternative other than to order his entire one hundred strong cavalry contingent, remain mounted. If he was going to have any chance of getting at least some success, he needed his most potent threat to be ready, and the hope that at least some of his men may have a chance of escape.
The Zulani made a series of loud shouts. The voices seem to echo on the air, as the first enemy soldiers moved forward. Commander Halin shouted his archers to ready their bows. He waited a few more moments before ordering them to fire a volley. If these invaders thought the Murati would roll over and let them take their lands, then Halin was going to make them think again. Only having a small contingent of archers with long bows was unfortunate, and one, which meant he could only deploy them on two sides.
A swarm of white feathered arrows arced upwards, before accelerating down on to the Zulani. The first volley crashed in to the Zulani lines. They raised their shining metal shields, linking one man to the next, giving the appearance of a huge metal sheet covering them. The shields may be strong enough to deflect normal arrows from smaller bows, and for protecting against sword blades, but the Murati arrows were far more potent. Many pierced right through the metal, and Halin watched as a dozen or so small gaps appeared as the arrows hit enemy flesh.
He ordered a second volley, and after quickly repositioning some archers to the others sides, two more. Although not every arrow hit a target, it was clear the Zulani had not been expecting such a thing. After a few more rounds of shouting, they slowly stepped back out of range. Commander Halin afforded himself a smile, as he watched the invaders retreat. He trotted from side of the tor to the other, ensuring all sides were backing away. Dozens of dead and wounded lay on the open ground below him. Some still had their shields impaled to their fallen bodies.
The Zulani regrouped, appearing unconcerned with their wounded still out in the open. The shouting of orders started up again and the enemy lines parted. Two Giganton stepped through the gap. The massive almost human like creatures, slowly lumbered up the incline. Once more, the Murati commander thought his archers would be the best form of countering them. He grouped them together, but delayed firing until the strange looking beasts neared.
At a little over two hundred paces, he ordered his bowmen to fire. As there were two beasts, he ordered that they split, half firing at one target and the rest at the other. With massive flailing arms, a dozen or more arrows thumped into the creature's thick leathery skin. Neither creature got within one hundred and fifty paces, before both slumped to the ground, bought down by the skill and accuracy of the Murati archers.
Commander Halin trotted around the perimeter of his defensive lines. "They are testing us," he mumbled to himself. His theory was further proved correct as he watched a line of enemy cavalry preparing for a charge. His archers would still have a part to play, but it would now be his infantry being tested. He shouted for them to brace and close ranks. In a similar move to the Zulani, the Murati shields were held next to each other. The main difference being the long spears protruding out from behind them.
Halin watched on as barely twenty enemy riders wielding swords struggled up the incline to his front rank. The first three rider's horses succumbed to the projecting spear tips. The creatures made a loud cry as they tumbled to the ground. Four other riders were downed by archers stood safely behind the shield wall. The remainder turned about and returned down the slope quicker than they had ridden up it.
As well as the Murati had done to hold firm they were still no nearer to actually achieving anything. Halin knew this had just been a test of his strengths. When the Zulani had learned all they wished to know about his men's strengths, they would almost certainly attack en-mass. Moreover, his men could not afford to relax. The enemy on the other hand, could do as they pleased, when they pleased. The time to attack or do nothing was determined solely by them.
The next move however did surprise the Murati commander. Instead of some other type of attack, he watched as the ranks of soldiers parted. Standing in the gap was a robed man carrying a staff. Somehow, the man managed to amplify his voice, and Halin was beginning to think that perhaps they were facing a magician. He knew only too well, that would be something his men could not withstand. "Soldiers of Murati," the words boomed out as if shouted by a hundred voices all at once. "You have proved yourselves worthy adversaries," he added before pausing.
The words still rang in Halin's ears as he leaned down to one of his archers. "Do me a favour and see if you can't put an arrow in that fellow for me will you. He is giving me a dreadful headache." The archer smiled and nodded, "I think he is just out of range, but I'll do what I can Sir." The robed Zulani man spoke up once more, "I now offer you the chance to serve the glorious empire of the Zulani. Lay down your weapons and..." The sentence was cut short by the robed figure when a single arrow came thumping down just a foot or so in front of him.
Halin chuckled, leaning down once more to the archer responsible for the shot. "Nearly son," he said, "I think he's got the message now, and hopefully he will shut up." The robed man looked shocked and shaken. How dare these pathetic life forms make such an attack on him; especially when he was offering them a chance to serve the empire. He acted quickly and turned his head to one of the Zulani soldiers, "Kill them all. I want every one of their heads on spikes."
Commander Halin watched atop his horse at the enemy soldiers below, once more readying for an attack. "Well that seems to have pissed him off", he uttered to nobody in particular. He once more shouted his men to stand firm and brace for an attack, knowing it would likely be their last. If there was any fear within the Murati defences, none showed it. To a man, they stood waiting for the Zulani to make their move.
They did not have to wait long, as the entire contingent of Infantry started their march forward. On all sides, thousands of men closed around the base of the incline. Halin had no option but to send his archers firing skyward once more. Their arrows smashed down into the Zulani infantry and as before some struck home, felling the unfortunate recipient. This time however, the enemy did not step back. This time they just stepped over the fallen, closing the gap.
Knowing it would only be a matter of time before the enemy shield wall reached that of his own; he decided to make a bold move. Ordering a gap in his lines, he sent what mounted cavalry he had down to break them up. He did not bother even attempting to attack all the sides from which the enemy approached. Instead, he concentrated his smaller force together, in the area where he thought they might stand
a chance, not only of inflicting casualties, but also to break free and escape. The horses thundered through the gap in the lines and streamed down the hill. Picking up speed the front riders lowered their longer spears as a lancer might do. Those behind stood up on their stirrups with the shorter throwing spears at the ready.
There was an almighty crash as the riders hit the advancing shield wall, sending both men and horses to the floor. At first, it seemed his cavalry charge had succeeded in sending the enemy on one side into complete chaos. His following wave of riders had considerable success throwing their short spears into the broken ranks. That however was short lived as the first of his riders succumbed to enemy arrows. Halin watched in dismay as his cavalry broke through the ranks of the enemy only to ride into a barrage of arrows. Barely a handful broke completely free and rode off. He had ordered them to break through and make a dash for freedom. He had not counted on so few making it.
He turned at the sound of another almighty clash, as hundreds of shields smashed into each other. The enemy was upon him, and there was little else he could do other than prolong the inevitable. If his remaining men could cause sufficient casualties, they may at least give the rest of Murati a chance to muster a large enough force to defeat these invaders.
Battle cries and the sound of steel on steel rang out. Men from both sides fell in ever-greater numbers. With the Giganton joining the fray, Halin watched as his numbers dwindled still further. A single swing of the massive clubs wielded by the enormous creatures could wipe out several of his men at a time. He watched as four of his archers tried in vain to bring one of the creatures down, only to be mutilated by another at its side. Not one to stand and watch for too long, he charged his mount at the first Zulani he could get at. Lashing downwards with his sword, he felt the blade cut deep. Pulling it free, he then lashed down at another attacker on his other side. He did not see the huge club swinging his direction and striking him and his horse up into the air. He felt pain tear through his body and after hitting the ground hard; he felt his life ebbing away. His last sight was of his few remaining men being butchered.
