A Warrior's Redemption (The Warrior Kind)

by Stanton III, Guy

  My eyes drifted to the northeast to see that General Santaran’s army had materialized from hiding and was quickly approaching the battle. He had his ten thousand strong cavalry contingent aligned along his left flank, probably to offer quick support to the militia brigades should they have need of it.

  The field of battle was set and the trap sprung with the enemy caught in the middle. Now all that remained was to see if the Attorgron slave warriors were convinced enough to join in with us, if not it would be them that General Santaran’s warriors encountered first, as the Attorgrons were aligned along the left side of the enemies formation before us at the Shrine.

  There was a flurry of action within the enemy ranks and it soon became clear that taking the Shrine had fallen to the bottom of the list of priorities. The Zoarinians had never overly favored the use of cavalry in their military strategy rather the use of heavy infantry instead. They had but forty thousand of their own cavalry, most of which were lancers.

  Lancers were good for charges on ground units, but not so good in the pressed confines of a melee fight with other cavalry. All of the Zoarinian cavalry sheeted off to form a long line facing General Nadero’s cavalry that had drawn up in the sands of the western shore and was now busy forming their own line of formation.

  I called down to Nadalarkin, who looked up at my call, “Bring the horses up from the beach and mount the remainder of our men on them. When the battle is joined we will ride towards the western shore and attack the enemy cavalry from the rear after they’ve engaged with General Nadero’s cavalry.”

  “Yes Roric!” Nadalarkin said quickly making his way off the mound calling out to the Valley Lander warriors to join him.

  A group of sea captains had formed around me and I turned to them now, “When the battle is joined and only after it has been joined, take your men and attack the enemy’s flank. Do not attack too early, as it is unclear yet whether the Attorgrons are friend or foe!”

  They saluted as one and I left them with, “Godspeed my friends!” before I made my way towards the western side of the fortification line watching the field of battle take shape as I did so.

  The militia was moving up quickly from the south and General Santaran’s more rested warriors were moving even more quickly towards the front lines of the Attorgrons, while his cavalry had drawn into a support position for the militia in the south. General Nadero seemed content to let the enemy make the first move and sat waiting with his cavalry aligned along the beach at almost equal numbers with the opposing cavalry force that was arrayed against him.

  From the enemy’s shift of ground troops it became quickly clear that they were primarily concerned with the elimination of the militia to the south, which cut their escape to their homeland off. It was also the softest target and the most likely to be overcome quickly. If they broke the militia they would then probably sweep around the back of General Santaran’s forces, which was why he had probably sent his cavalry to bolster the militia’s line. A wise move on his part, but would it be enough? I doubted it.

  Everything hinged on the Attorgrons and what they would do. They had separated away from the main body of the army slightly towards General Santaran and appeared to be setting up a defensive line, while the bulk of the Zoarinian army was shifting to attack the militia at the rear.

  Then it happened. I thanked the Creator fervently, as I watched the slave warrior’s change of heart unfold. The Attorgron archers abruptly slipped through the formed shield wall of their spearmen towards General Santaran even as the wings of the shield wall of spearmen broke off and charged into the massed ranks of regular army cavalry that were split into two equal flanking groups of twenty five thousand each on either side of the long spear wall.

  The Attorgron cavalry were in a state of complete consternation, as they were speared off of their own horses by their own slave warriors. In the close confines and with the element of surprise firmly on their side the spearmen carved their way into the cavalry contingents to either side of them with relative ease setting off complete chaos as they did so.

  The central core of the spear wall of spearmen did an abrupt about face and locked their shields together even as a massive short ranged volley of arrows shot out over their heads into the congested mass of the Zoarinian army. The Zoarinians were thrown into complete turmoil at the unexpectedness of the attack of arrows that dropped thousands of unsuspecting soldiers.

  The betrayal of the Attorgrons abruptly changed the course of the battle, as the Zoarinians were forced to change their focus away from the militia to the traitors in their midst. They attacked the spear wall in mass with little formation or order involved in the attack.

  General Nadero’s cavalry started out in a brisk trot towards the enemy intent on taking advantage of the turmoil present in their disorganized ranks. Their movement forward sparked a reaction from the enemy cavalry that took off at an uneven start towards General Nadero’s approaching line of cavalry.

  General Santaran’s warriors ran through the ranks of Attorgron archers to strengthen the hard pressed forward shield wall of the Attorgron slave warriors. On the flanks of the formation they swept through the remaining Attorgron cavalry, finishing what the spearmen had begun.

  The fighting was close and intense as the Zoarinian soldiers realized that the odds were no longer on their side. The approaching militia had seemingly been forgotten in the chaos and they now swept towards the enemy’s southern flank uncontested, even as the Tranquil Islanders, with a wild yell, started down the dirt work fortifications in a charge towards the western flank of the enemies battle line.

  There was an opportunity to be had here and I hoped General Santaran could see it. I wheeled Flin to the side to see the remnant of warriors that had survived the earlier battle for the Shrine mounted behind me led by Nadalarkin.

  Their horses shifted about nervously, as if they were eager to take part in the battle that was raging beyond us in unbridled intensity.

  “To me!” I yelled, as I wheeled Flin around and plunged down the mound weaving in and around the forward facing sharpened stakes.

  They followed me screaming with renewed energy from some deep well of being, as they charged up and over the mound top to plunge down over after me. Up ahead of me I could see the kicked up dirt of the Zoarinian lancers, as they charged in a full gallop at the onrushing Valley Lander cavalry ahead of them.

  Flin seemed to float across the ground covering the distance with ease and I relished the feel of the powerful horse beneath me that was as committed to the battle as I was. The several hundred mounted warriors at my back were strung out in a loose line, as they urged their mounts harder to catch up with Flin. Regretfully I eased Flin back off some to let them come abreast of me. As the wind rushed past us I saw the two virtually equal cavalry contingents ahead of us connect together with a terrific force of impact.

  Horses flipped over forwards and warriors were sent hurtling through the air to be crushed in the melee of pounding hooves or impaled on lowered lances. The fighting turned vicious as broken lances were dropped and swords and maces were drawn out as the two sides fought to get close in to each other.

  Those fallen in the initial impact of furious contact were trampled over by the riders around them in their wild desire to kill each other and survive.

  The wind whipped by my face, as we plunged toward the backs of the halted melee driven enemy ahead of us. I knew a moment of savage joy, when I saw General Santaran’s mounted warriors ten thousand strong surging towards the backs of the melee engrossed enemy cavalry on their southern flank, even as we were doing on their northern flank. He had seen the opportunity presented just as I had, when the enemy had redirected their attention from the weaker militia to attack the Attorgrons.

  Letting the mighty warhorse beneath me have his way I let the reins fall, as I raised my sword above my head and gripped it in both hands as the line of the enemy drew near. I crashed into the side of a soldier’s mou
nt, which had been in the process of turning to meet our attack from behind.

  The rider’s eyes were wide with terror, as Flin slammed into his horse. Flin’s powerful momentum sent the other horse crashing over to the ground and we surged up and over both horse and rider. I swept my sword down to the left and then back up and down to the right as I hacked my way through the tight press of riders in front of me.

  Flin was as vicious as I was. He slammed his way through the enemy mounts and I saw him reach out and grab one man’s arm with his teeth and yank the man from the saddle with a powerful toss of his head only to trample over the man in the next instance. Flin needed no urging to fight a way through the enemy line.

  I saw General Nadero’s men up ahead and I turned Flin with my knees so that we headed up the enemy line to carve out our own bloody path of carnage. Sparks of color sheeted off the sword with every heavy overhanded swing downward that connected.

  Curls of colored smoke twined down my arms to my torso and then down onto Flin. I was getting used to it, but it was still rather jarring to behold. Man and beast alike of the enemy drew back from us, as much as the tight press would allow, unnerved by our appearance. Flin had gone berserk and I’m not sure how I stayed in the saddle, but I did.

  The sound and sight of a stallion at war is to see what utter fearlessness looks like. It is an utter ferocity of magnificent blood lust and I allowed myself to be swept up in it as I swung my sword with abandon.

  There was space around me and in the fog of war I looked around to see why only to discover more of my own kind than that of the enemy. Where was the enemy?

  It was then that I saw that they had broken and were fleeing back towards the main army. It was time to finish this day! Grabbing the sword in one hand I hauled Flin around and charged after the departing riders determined to not let any of them get away.

  So lost was I in the action of the moment that I did not know that I charged alone after the enemy, but General Nadero saw it.

  He surged free of a knot of the enemy that was still fighting and screamed gesturing after me with his sword, “To Roric men! To Victory!”

  He surged after me waving his bloody sword in a call to arms, as screaming warriors pulled away from finishing off the rest of the enemy, to charge madly towards the bigger battle ensuing on the plain. Passed over enemy lancers wheeled their mounts toward the south and home as the Valley Lander cavalry surged in a screaming mass of raw emotion after their leaders and the greater battle raging on the plain.

  Flin stretched out in a pace eating cantor. Flin’s sweat soaked sides heaved for air as we caught up with fleeing enemy cavalrymen one by one. I sent them toppling from their saddles with savage strokes of my sword. Ahead of us I saw the pressed ranks of the enemy and I urged Flin onwards toward them screaming insanely in my desire to destroy them all.

  We plowed into them full tilt. The impact almost sent Flin to his knees, but he regained his stride and we carved our way into them once again lost in the bloodlust of the moment.

  One by one front running Valley Lander cavalry plowed into the enemy and then thousands hit the panicking enemy line with deadening force.

  The heavy cavalry swept through the Zoarinian ranks with the tenacity of a sheep dog through a herd of sheep and the enemy reacted as sheep. The Zoarinian army as a whole visibly wavered, as they saw that their supporting cavalry was gone and that they were being attacked from all sides.

  Surrounded and disheartened by a campaign that had promised easy victory, but had only delivered them losses, they broke. The will to fight was gone, only to be replaced with a desperation to live.

  The broken soldiers rushed past the onrushing cavalry towards the shore and the ships at anchor beyond. Thousands more of them fell in their headlong rush to the sea, as they were hounded by the Valley Landers and their allies as savagely as a pack of wolves would run down a lame elk.

  I drew up in the sand and watched as the survivors of the broken army swam out into the sea with a strength and fervor born out of desperation. The ships had come in close to pick up the survivors and they began to loose off arrows at us. I gave the order to pull back from the beach to avoid further casualties on our side. The battle was won.

  Upon hearing excited screams ring out all around me I turned in the saddle to look back once more at the escaping soldiers. The enemy ships dotting the shoreline were shaking and pitching around like they were the chew toys of some massive unseen hound. Had they run aground?

  Then I saw some of the unknown aggressors as they surfaced briefly for air.

  Whales!

  The same beasts that had brought our allies to us were now smashing away at the enemy’s fleet without mercy. Ships began to sink, their hulls shattered as still other ships made way for the open ocean forsaking the screaming soldiers trying to swim out to them.

  The escape of the navy wasn’t to be though. I saw one of the farthest out to sea ships completely pulled under by the encircling tentacles of some huge sea monster.

  What a bloodbath this day had been!

  I noticed General Nadero by my side and as if sensing a gathering darkness crowding the corners of my consciousness I reached out and clutched at his shoulder, “General no more killing! Let the survivors go! We have our victory.”

  He grabbed my arm, “Consider it done Roric! Roric are you okay? Roric are….”

  His words sounded hollow and far away from me and I realized that I was falling. Endlessly freefalling downward.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Awareness Begun

  General Nadero stood at the end of the bed with a look of puzzlement tinged with concern on his face as he stared down at the still figure resting on the bed before him.

  “I don’t understand doctor it’s been almost two weeks since the battle! His injuries have healed! Even his shoulder bruising has gone down. Why is he still not stirring?”

  The bent over doctor tried to straighten up, but gave up on the attempt with a grimace of pain on his face and sighed loudly.

  Turning to the General he asked, “General have you ever had a bad fever that lasted for days?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did you feel after it broke?”

  “Like I’d just fought a war.” General Nadero said clearly still not understanding what the doctor was getting at.

  “Well that’s exactly what Roric’s going through. Not only did he exhaust himself physically, but his mind too I think. There may be damage done inside his head that we can’t see. Shutting down like this is the body’s way of taking the time to heal itself. He’ll come out of it when he’s ready. What he needs now is rest.”

  The General still looked puzzled, but less concerned. He nodded and then left the room.

  The doctor stared at the closed door for a moment and then turned back to the patient lying still in the bed and Thaddeus, who was sitting in a chair beside the bed.

  “Thaddeus I didn’t want to tell the General, but I am growing concerned. Two weeks is a long time.”

  “I know.” Thaddeus said softly, as he stared at his grandson lying so still on the bed.

  Roric’s chest was barely moving as he breathed shallowly.

  “Thaddeus I know something like this happened to you when you were a young man. What brought you out of it?”

  A slow tear slid down Thaddeus’s old weathered cheek, “My wife. She brought me out of it.”

  “Is there anything strong and focal in Roric’s life that would inspire him to keep living?” The doctor asked.

  “I don’t know! I’ve sat here racking my brain about it! I thought bringing him home to Thunder Ridge would help. He loves it here. He could be and do almost anything he wanted too. Everyone adores him. He has the little girl he brought back with him from the forests to raise. I don’t know what to do to motivate him to come back to us Orlanin.”

  “Thaddeus isn’t there a woman in his life? Someone he cares a great deal for like
you did for your wife?”

  “No I ….” Thaddeus paused mid sentence as if pondering on something, “Where’s Zarsha?” Thaddeus asked abruptly.

  The nurse that accompanied the old doctor everywhere he went spoke up from a corner of the room, “I saw her playing in the butterfly garden near the eastern tower earlier Sir.”

  Thaddeus shoved his chair back and rose to his feet abruptly and headed around the bed for the door. He thumped the doctor on the back harder than he should have as he left the room.

  The old doctor after recovering from the hard smack met the nurse’s eyes and they shared a smile, as they listened to the rapid tap of Thaddeus’s cane departing down the hall.

  Thaddeus was breathing hard by the time he reached the butterfly garden near the east tower.

  “Haven’t walked so fast in years.” Thaddeus wheezed out to himself, as he leaned against a stone wall briefly trying to get his breathing under control.

  He looked out over the profusion of flowers in garden in search of Zarsha. There she was.

  She was such a beautiful child, with such a sweet temperament to match. Her arrival at Thunder Ridge had been an unexpected joy for him. He had spent many of his afternoons listening to her imaginative stories and then had told her many fanciful ones of his own making. He made his way over to her his leg throbbing painfully.

  She was standing waist deep in the middle of a patch of purple Hatacha flowers. She had her finger held up in front of her face and he could see that a beautiful Naortian Butterfly had chosen to land on her finger.

  Thaddeus sat down on a garden bench not wanting to interrupt the girl’s fascination with the beautiful creature that was expressively flexing its wings in front of Zarsha’s nose. The butterfly suddenly flew off in search of another flower. The girl watched it go her lips parted in a sweet smile.