The Cavalier Trilogy: Book 03 - Glimmer in the Shadow

by Jason McWhirter

  It was then that they heard the deafening howls of several thousand giant worgs and their riders as they burst forward from the enemy's line, surging across the field toward the defenders.

  Allindrian turned to her archers below and raised a black flag. Immediately a thousand women lifted their bows to the highest position and pulled the nocked arrows back, the creaking of the bows audible between the two stone walls. The Blade Singer looked back, gauging the distance of the riders and their speed, dropping the flag when the timing was right. A thousand arrows shot into the air, quickly soaring over the wall, past the defenders, and slamming into the riders like a hailstorm. Hundreds of the worg wolves, along with their riders fell to the barrage of silver barbed arrows. The Blade Singer then lifted a red flag, and for a second time the female archers pulled their bows back, lifting the weapons to the pre-set position they had practiced hundreds of times. A drop of the flag sent thousands more arrows into the disorganized charge, killing hundreds more. But now the enemy was too close to their own men to risk another volley. And the worgs and their riders continued their charge, howling with frenzied fury.

  Kiln and every other soldier angled long spears forward as the riders neared. He noticed that the enemy army beyond was splitting, and just before the worgs slammed into them he saw two groups slowly converge on their flanks. Their own V formation would offer protection all the way back to the wall; he had to hope that the squares that made that formation would hold. If the enemy breached the formation by breaking through the squares they would be doomed as the more numerous enemy would surround them and cut them to pieces.

  But he had no time to ponder that possible outcome; besides, he had already spent restless nights going over every possibility, and he knew that continuing to dwell on every conceivable flaw would serve no purpose. He shut the thought away and lifted his shield and spear, angling the long weapon towards the chest of a charging worg. The big wolf-like beast tried to veer away from the weapon but the other riders were too close, giving it no room to maneuver. It roared as it leaped into the air to avoid the deadly point. Kiln quickly raised his spear, puncturing it in the neck as it flew overhead, ripping the weapon from his grasp. Then the sounds of battle echoed across the battlefield as orc ridden worgs crashed into the formations with deadly force.

  Casualties were high on both sides as men and beasts alike were killed almost instantly in the violent attack. The skilled Finarthian soldiers fought valiantly to reform their formations as the force of the onslaught threatened to break them. The gaps between the square formations worked perfectly as countless worgs and their riders instinctively funneled through the openings only to find themselves face to face with a solid wall of Annurien and Finarthian cavalry. Most of those caught in the gaps were skewered by the long lances of the knights, while others turned to attack the infantry from the rear, thinking they would be an easier target. What they found instead was a wall of grim faced infantry and their deadly spears.

  King Kromm and Prince Riker sat astride their large warhorses, surrounded by ten of the very best Finarthian knights, one of which was Captain Lathrin. Lor-telliam was mounted on a light footed chestnut mare, easily a hand or two smaller than the powerful steeds surrounding him. Riker stood up in his stirrups to get a better look at the battle before them.

  “Easy, son, your time will come,” Kromm said softly, sensing Riker's nervousness.

  “Do you think he is out there?” Riker asked over the din of battle.

  “He is, and most likely he will show himself this day,” Kromm said.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because that is what I would do,” Kromm stated simply.

  “How do you remain so calm?” Riker asked.

  “I have not always been so. I was sixteen when I first bloodied my blade. It made me physically ill, not just because I had taken a life, but from the anxiety and anticipation of the battle itself. It took many years of gaining experience and skill before my confidence transformed my pre-battle fears into an intense desire to fight. For your sake, I pray you will never yearn for battle as I do. It brings little peace.”

  Before Riker could respond, a horn bellowed a few notes from the wall behind them.

  “They are flanking us!” Lathrin yelled over the din of battle, as he spurred his horse towards the king.

  “Reinforce both flanks!” Kromm ordered. Immediately Lathrin carried out the command and within moments mounted knights rode in solid lines, moving quickly to reinforce the square formations on their flanks, the ones closest to the wall, the likely location where the enemy would hit hoping to surround Kiln’s entire formation. Kromm and Riker remained in the center, eyes constantly scanning, as they searched for their target.

  Hagar swung his mace so hard that the impact not only shattered the worg's skull, but it snapped its neck as well. The orc rider, unseated as his mount fell dead, struggled to regain his feet. He righted himself just in time to meet the reverse swing of the ogrillion’s mace, which sent his crushed and broken body flying nearly ten paces away.

  Everyone fought valiantly, side by side with the best infantry in the lands. Hundreds of men died in the struggle, but enemy bodies piled up at a much faster rate. It wasn’t long before the worgs and their riders were dead. Kiln’s plan had worked perfectly. Nearly a quarter of the worgs and their riders had been killed on the long spears when they struck the formations. Another half, thinking they were breaking through the formations by slipping into the gaps provided between the squares, met the steel of the mounted cavalry, dying quickly to the skill of the knights. The rest were cut down along the edges of the strong square formations. But there was no time for celebration as an awesome but terrifying sight appeared before them. There, a bow shot away, a massive wave of orcs, goblins, and other creatures were slowly marching towards them, with even more beasts branching wide to try and encircle them. It was hard to tell but it looked as if the enemy were easily ten beasts thick, with ogres dominating the enemy flanks, clearly hoping to use their massive size and strength to break through the rear of their formation and swarm around them, cutting the Finarthian defenders down under sheer numbers. They were trying to isolate the defenders and cut off their retreat, a plan that Kiln had anticipated, and soon they would be upon them.

  “Drink from your skins!” Kiln yelled. “Remember your training. Hold the formation until the order to retreat is given, then have the reserve lines move back through the gate while the front holds the line!”

  Everyone knew that the front line would suffer the most casualties; hence the front was occupied by their strongest warriors, men made of gristle and sweat, veterans of countless military campaigns, those most eager to defend their comrades, families, and homes, even if death met them on the field.

  Allindrian stood on the wall, scanning the ongoing battle. At first things seemed to be going well and Kiln’s plan was proving successful; but then the enemy began to flank them, a move that most expected. It was not the enemy tactic that forced Allindrian to second guess Kiln’s plan, it was the sheer size of the enemy army. For as far as she could see, rows and rows of various beasts were closing the distance, slowly wrapping their deadly embrace around the Finarthian defenders. From her vantage point on the wall she had a clear picture of the enormity of Malbeck's army, and it was frightening to watch the situation unfold below her. It didn’t seem possible that Kiln’s men could maintain their formations under such an onslaught. Allindrian was more than nervous.

  She ran to the back side of the wall and looked down at her archers. “Janniss!” she yelled, pointing to a small girl positioned on the end of the line. “Bring everyone to the wall! We need your bows up here!”

  The young petite girl looked around to make sure Allindrian was speaking to her. Then she went into motion, yelling at the women to move up the stairs to the wall. Some hesitated, knowing that the plan had always been to stay away from the direct fighting, but one look at Allindrian yelling and frantically waving at them
to join her changed their minds. A thousand women ran across the killing ground and up the stairs, lining up quickly along the battlements.

  They were not soldiers and had no experience with warfare, so as soon as they saw the bloodshed of the battle below many began to lose their composure. Tensely gripping the hard stone of the battlements they looked down upon the death and destruction, eyes wide with fright.

  “Nock your arrows!” Allindrian yelled. The thirty women closest to her obeyed, while the rest were so focused on the destruction below that they didn’t even hear her.

  “You heard her!” Janniss screamed, her shrill voice finally breaking through their fear. She ran along the line yelling and shaking them, urging them to listen. Eventually she and Allindrian managed to rouse them from their paralysis and they were able to pull themselves from the wall and bring arrow to string.

  “The enemy is flanking our men on both sides! We can’t do anything about the south side but we can inflict damage here! If they break through the formation we are finished! We cannot let that happen!” Allindrian shouted over the noise of the battle below. Anxious eyes darted from Allindrian back to the chaos below, bow arms trembling as they fought to control their fear. “There are no positions this time! When they get within range you will lean over the battlements and fire at will!” she yelled, leaping to the top of the battlement, her elven cloak fluttering in the breeze. No one said a word along the line; their eyes were glued to Allindrian as they waited for orders, hoping that some of her courage would find them.

  Hundreds of other Finarthian archers lined the wall on the south side of the formation. With them were the two wizards from Shyval. Anyone on the wall watching the scene play out, knew they had to do everything within their power to help the brave men below fight off the two arms of Malbeck's army that were closing in on them.

  “We must not break!” Kiln yelled, facing his men as the enemy neared. “When it feels like all is lost, reach deeply within yourselves. For there you will find the strength and courage to do what we must to prevail!”

  The bellowing of the enemy horn across the battlefield punctuated Kiln's admonition as thousands of monsters, howling in unison, charged the defenders. Jonas glanced left and right and saw friends and strangers plant their feet firmly in the soil, gripping their weapons tightly until their knuckles turned white, glaring at the ferocious enemy with iron determination.

  “Spears to the front!” Kiln ordered. Immediately men from the interior of the square passed their weapons to the front, replacing those that were lost or broken during the worg wolf charge.

  Jonas blinked and then they were upon them, crashing into shields and spears with tremendous force. He had no shield so he stood behind others until the charge ended. Then he pushed his way forward, both swords slicing and stabbing, spilling enemy blood. Hundreds of the enemy had perished as they charged into the myriad long spears of the defenders, but the sheer volume of Malbeck's army was gradually pushing the formation back. The men at the rear frantically dug their heels into the ground and leaned forward, pushing with all their might to keep the formation stable. But as each square was pushed slowly back, the gaps between them began to close, defeating the purpose of the original plan.

  Spears were abandoned as the soldiers switched to swords in the tight confines of hand to hand combat, swinging them left and right, up and down, in deadly rhythm as they sliced into the enemy that continued to pound the formations. The defenders that fell to enemy javelins and hacking swords were replaced by the reserves behind them who stepped over their lifeless bodies to fill the gaps.

  Hagar roared furiously as he swung his brilliant weapon in wide arcs, meting out death to countless beasts unlucky enough to come near him. Orcs and goblins literally disappeared as his mace swept back and forth, tossing their crushed bodies into the air. Durgen and Hagar fought well together. The dwarf's small form allowed him to easily avoid the giant ogrillion's dangerous swings, while his silver axe chopped and sliced through the hoard of creatures surrounding him. Kiln fought with shield and sword in a deadly dance, spilling enemy blood as he pushed relentlessly forward, urging the others on with constant screams of encouragement.

  Eventually the center square, led by Kiln, began to push forward into the enemy and the gaps widened, allowing the howling untrained beasts to rush wildly into the open spaces where they were trapped between the inner sides of the squares and the defenders' cavalry. Several hundred were slaughtered as they had nowhere to go.

  It was then that the enemy flanks struck the base of Kiln’s V formation. This group, led by giant ogres swinging massive clubs, caused an immediate and devastating effect upon the square formations that, together, made up the massive V formation. The Finarthian defenders located at the base began to buckle under the ferocious attack of the powerful ogres, supported by thousands of orcs and goblins.

  Allindrian watched the scene unfold before her. “Go for the ogres!” she shouted. “Fire at will!” Her bow hummed and a rapid blur of magical elven arrows slammed into one of the ogres, two of them penetrating its neck, while a third arrow pierced its eye, burying itself feather deep into the beast’s brain as it fell lifelessly to the ground.

  A thousand women pushed aside their fear, and fired their arrows at the enemy army below. Even with their poor aim their attack was effective. At such close range and with so many monsters confined in one space, they were able to inflict significant casualties. But their success also drew the attention of the enemy.

  The orcs and goblins positioned behind the ogres turned their attention to the archers on the wall, throwing javelins and firing their bows and crossbows. Hundreds of bolts and arrows struck the stone wall but others found flesh. Fifty women were hit, their bodies jerking violently back from the battlements, and crumbling to the floor, where they lay moaning in pain or lying silent in death. Several dozen screamed, while twice that faltered and ran away. But at least half, however, found the courage they didn’t know they possessed, and continued to fire their arrows into the enemy below.

  Janniss fired her bow, screaming encouragement to the others all the while. She heard a sharp cry from the woman next to her, and turned to see the poor woman spin around, exposing the end of the black shaft of an arrow protruding from her eye. Stumbling, she dropped to the ground in spasms, blood quickly pooling around her head.

  Things were worse on the ground. The ogres relentlessly stomped their way into the formations, swinging giant crudely made swords, clubs, and hammers into their midst, dispersing the men like dirt from a broom. The effect was disastrous as the formations near the wall began to crumble and hundreds, if not thousands, of orcs and other monsters broke through, howling with rage.

  Kromm saw it all happen as if it were in slow motion. Lathrin had reinforced both flanks with mounted fighters, but Kromm was unsure if it would be enough. The ogres presented the most danger, and that was where Kromm turned his attention. Lor-telliam had moved towards the southern flank as that side began to buckle as well.

  The battle king turned to his son, not knowing if the decision he was about to make was the right one, but realizing that it was all he could do. Prince Riker was a young man now, and a trained soldier, and he had to hope that it would be enough to carry him through this day. “Son, we go for the ogres. Stay by my side,” he counseled, as he turned his horse toward the left flank and angled his lance downward.

  Riker swallowed nervously, but his eyes shone with determination. “Yes, Father, I am eager to fight beside you,” was he all said as he lowered the visor on his beautifully made helm.

  “And I you,” Kromm replied, doing the same

  They spurred their steeds toward Lathrin’s knights who were fighting like demons against the rush of enemy warriors bombarding them. The knights had long abandoned their lances and now fought with small shields and long cavalry swords.

  Kromm saw several large ogres swat aside two knights, opening a gap in the line, so that was where he headed. Lowering
his lance and angling it to the right, he urged his horse forward just at the beasts pushed through the opening. Riker was beside him and together they flew forward, aiming their lances at the two ogres, striking them with incredible force. The two warriors then released their shafts, their momentum carrying them past the ogres and into the throng of monsters behind them. Their warhorses crashed into the enemy and sent them scattering. Both men were mirror images of each other, drawing forth their swords, rising up in their stirrups, and swinging their deadly blades into the enemy.

  The two ogres, futilely grasping the shafts that had pierced their chests, fell to the ground with a loud thud. Orcs and goblins alike cowered before the bright white light emanating from Riker’s blade, just before its razor sharp edge ended their miserable lives. Other knights fought furiously to join them and push the enemy back, but they could not quickly cut through the enemy warriors between them. Kromm and Riker, surrounded by dozens of monsters, spun their steeds in circles, protecting each other while relentlessly cutting into the attackers, littering the ground with their corpses.

  Riker's magical armor deflected most of the arrows aimed at him, but one managed to find its way through the tiny gap between his cuirass and his heavy leather belt, piercing his hip. But, in the midst of his battle lust, the young warrior's pain just enraged him further, spurring him on to more violently attack the enemy. Growling like the beasts he was battling, he tore into their ranks, cutting them down by the dozens. Kromm was equally effective, swinging his giant sword more rapidly than seemed possible, cleaving skulls and spraying orc and goblin blood in all directions.