17878265

by David

  “Wheel!” he cried in his loudest voice. “Wheel to me, good men!”

  Loric’s weapon sprayed him with blood, but he paid no heed to his gruesome anointment.

  He continued pounding his blade against his shield, yelling, “To me! Wheel to me!” His soldiers reined in their horses and discontinued their zealous pursuits.

  It was none too soon. Three companies of Landolstadt foot soldiers, accompanied by two archery units, were hastening forward to meet them. Loric could not allow the enemy to engage his force in heavy fighting, for his orders were to stay aloof, which would allow him to draw Hadregeon’s men away from the strongest concentration of Garrick’s forces. The enemy had designs on cutting his small detachment off and destroying it where it was--far from help.

  “Retreat in good order,” Loric called. “Fall back!”

  Loric let his men pass by him before he circled about to join them. He paused for a glance behind him. Two hundred and more foot soldiers were making their hurried approaches. Arrows from accompanying archers rained down around Loric, taking down half-dozen Shimmermen and prompting him to hurry along his way.

  “Gradlin!” Loric shouted. “I need you to lead your men northward, until you have room to maneuver. Then circle and strike.”

  “Yes, captain,” the short, powerfully built lieutenant returned. With a thump to his

  breastplate and a wink of his steely blue eye, which was set into a face that seemed too soft with age, Gradlin veered off.

  “Baldron,” he continued for his young second lieutenant, “you and I will lead the others in to prevent Gradlin and his men becoming entangled.”

  “Yes, captain,” Baldron answered. “As you wish.” Baldron’s face was as hard as mountain stone, which would have been encouraging to Loric, but for his doe eyes.

  Loric shrugged his doubts aside and did his duty. He moved eastward until the footmen in pursuit gave up their chase. Loric reassured himself that neither of his lieutenants had earned their ranks by being easy matches in combat. He halted on a hilltop to observe Gradlin at his work and his anxiety lessened. The elder lieutenant drew off two hostile companies and plunged into their midst. His Shimmermen struck quickly and efficiently, before they withdrew, leaving a trail of broken bodies behind them. They regrouped and charged again.

  Gradlin’s riders were depending on Loric’s support to escape a continued scrum. Even now, enemies who had fallen too far behind Loric and his followers were angling away from him to strike Gradlin’s open flank. Loric ordered the charge.

  The captain and his riders raced down upon unsuspecting footmen. At the thunderous sound of their approach, and the roar of their battle cry, their foes turned to face them. It was too late.

  Steeds crashed into enemy soldiers, with their riders hacking at unbalanced recipients of the attack as they fell. Those not slain by the sword were crushed to death beneath chopping hooves.

  Those not trampled fled in terror before the steel of Egolstadt’s Shimmermen.

  “Check steeds!” Loric ordered his men. “Chase those men no further. We have

  accomplished our goal.” He pointed and questioned, “See there?”

  Every man in the company stopped to stare in the direction Loric indicated. They had done their task well, but their danger was no less than it had been at the outset of the battle. A massive horde of enemies--nearly thrice the size of Loric’s small command--was shifting northward with intent to engage and destroy them. There were as many knights along with those foot soldiers, and the bothersome patrol of archers had never been dispatched.

  “Gradlin and I will fall back,” Loric said unsteadily. “Baldron, you will have to stay behind to slow their advance. You must hold them as long as you possibly can. Then we will come to your aid.”

  “I understand my duty, captain,” Baldron offered reassuringly. “Charging horses are more effective than dismounted horsemen standing in defense. May your attack reap destruction in the midst of our enemies,” he said in parting. His grin of acceptance covered all signs of the fear that lay beneath his brave facade.

  “Fight well,” Loric shot after his lieutenant, who then moved forward to stem the tide.

  “Let Hadregeon’s rabble know the fury of Baldron’s men this day!” Gradlin yelled, and a shout went up for those who would brave the first crashing waves of the Soul Snatcher’s vanguard.

  Loric watched as Baldron and some forty warriors rode forward and dismounted between

  two stands of trees. As they braced themselves for the coming storm, Loric wrestled with guilt for sending them to their deaths. They were but two score, preparing for the onslaught of some five hundred screaming men. He wished the trees were his allies, but even then, they would be too few to help Baldron and his defenders.

  “Perhaps they are not,” he murmured.

  “I beg your pardon, milord?” Gradlin questioned.

  “We will use the trees,” Loric explained vaguely.

  “I do not understand-” Gradlin started.

  Loric never let him finish. “Look,” he said sternly, his finger stabbing the air in the direction of the approaching mob. “Those oath breakers wish to spill your blood. They intend to come through Baldron to do it. You must trust me to prevent this happening and carry out my orders without question. We have so little time to act.”

  Gradlin answered, “I trust you, captain.”

  Loric nodded. “Good. Have someone fetch me another lance, and then listen to what we will do....”

  ****

  Landolstadters rushed ahead to meet Baldron’s rear guard while Loric described his plan to Gradlin. The lieutenant’s eyes lit with excitement, and he gave a nod of approval. “That might serve, milord.”

  Loric was relieved to hear that from a veteran lieutenant like Gradlin. His strategy had a panner’s hope, but he had to find gold somewhere. He nodded.

  Then Loric and his soldiers began waiting. It was like counting sands to pass an hour; it was difficult, and it made the wait longer. Enemy horsemen came to the front of the pack and deadly lances dipped toward chosen targets. Those riders’ shouts rose to a tumultuous level as they advanced on Baldron and his anxious men.

  Loric wanted to charge down the slope to help his rear guard, but it was far too soon for him to do that. He and his men had to be patient. Their foes were coming more clearly into view.

  Their angry, determined faces were visible. Greedy eyes of approaching horsemen were ablaze with hatred, as they uttered savage cries meant to stop hearts with fear.

  “Now!” Loric shouted. He lifted his lance to eye level, pointed it at his enemies and cried,

  “Strike!”

  Loric and his fifty followers roared like beasts as they descended toward the scene. Ahead, Men of Landolstadt crashed into Baldron’s line, which wavered and cracked, but held

  surprisingly well against shrieking horses and angry riders. Enemy footmen were close behind those horsemen. Loric’s charging line continued forward, gathering speed and throat with each powerful stride. They were closing distance on the melee. Fifty yards.... twenty.... ten.... they galloped forward. At five yards, Loric raised his lance, shouting, “Oak and yew! Oak and yew!”

  Loric and every other man across the charging line drew upon their reins, while Gradlin and his riders plunged into the fray. That lightened impact by half, but it was forceful enough to unbalance the stalled progress of Landolstadt horsemen. Nevertheless, enemy footmen were close by.

  Loric wanted to stay near and observe, to be at the ready to reinforce his men, but he could not do that. Any such move would result in utter failure. He had another mission. He turned Sunset parallel with the line of trees to his right and jogged him steadily along behind them.

  Loric was tense. The pace was too slow. They were making too much noise. Baldron and Gradlin were likely to be overrun. So many doubts assailed him, that he was tempted to kick Sunset into full gallop. Yet, Loric could not overtax his mount. He had to be steady, but his patie
nce was failing him. Woods began thinning. Loric’s heart quickened. It jolted with excitement when limbs and foliage fell away to reveal rolling grassland and a clear path to enemy archers.

  Loric motioned toward the company of bowmen with a chop of his hand. Then he led his

  riders in turning toward them. They maintained their jog to keep those archers ignorant of their impending doom. At fifty yards, Loric swung his hand twice, and his riders responded by urging steeds to greater speeds. They were upon the enemy flank before the bowmen noticed them.

  Their foes wore light armor and bore long swords for secondary weapons. Against armored lancers a-horse, they were utterly overmatched.

  Loric raced in and skewered an archer before he could turn his bow and let fly. Then he discarded his imbedded lance in favor of his blade. The Sword of Logant sung praises to the Soul Snatcher, as bewildered archers toppled over one another in desperation to escape Riders of Shimmermir, in Egolstadt.

  Loric and his followers cut a swath through helpless bowmen. Then he urged his men, “Let them run. Baldron and Gradlin need our help.”

  Enemy footmen had devastated the rearguard and their mounted reinforcements during

  Loric’s ride around the Landolstadters. Even now, his two lieutenants were struggling to hold together a failing line. Nevertheless, Loric and his riders were perfectly aligned with the footmen, who showed no sign they knew what was about to befall them.

  Loric signaled a single chop for the mounted jog, but he did not wait as long to render up the double-hand motion. They were but a score of men now. Their numbers were too few to win the fight before them. Others would have to sing of their deeds when they fell. They knew what awaited them, but they embraced Fate, knowing that surprise was with them. They were heartily confident following their action against the company of archers, so they let loose reins and shouts and thundered toward surprised Men of Landolstadt.

  Their foemen initially cheered them on, but at the last, cries of fear drowned those cheers.

  Then there was the clash. Sunset bowled over half-dozen foes before Loric found an enemy within reach of his sword. He slashed the man as he turned to face him. The footman expired with a spray of blood and a pained gasp. Loric sprang from his saddle to tackle a foe to Baldron’s blindside, and a fierce melee ensued. The knight rolled with his enemy, flinging him off as they tumbled to halt. The soldier raised a maul to bludgeon Loric, but twelve inches of blooded steel burst from the man’s chest. Loric thanked Baldron, who pulled him to his feet with a wry grin.

  Loric stood beside his lieutenant, battling foe after foe. Their enemies were endless in numbers, so that Loric nearly despaired of defeating them all.

  The press of the attack was too great for Loric’s small company to endure. Again, his end was upon him, just minutes from his beloved Avalana. He kept on fighting, inspired by the tickle of the bracelet on his arm.

  There arose a great shout, away to the south. Loric remained locked in deadly combat with one of his foemen, but he turned him so he could chance a glance in the direction of the sound.

  He nearly cheered in the midst of his struggle, for he and his men had drawn enough of Hadregeon’s strength away from his middle for Garrick to commit his forces in full frontal assault. Men of Durbansdan were pouring through a hole they punched in the centerline of the enemy. Meanwhile, the garrison of Moonriver Castle chose that moment to sally forth, further swelling the number of men in Hadregeon’s broken middle.

  With his army split, Hadregeon had no choice but to quit the field with two separate armies.

  Enemy horns sounded the retreat. That somber note blew just in time, because Loric’s company was wrestling with more men than it could handle. They would soon crush his command.

  Loric’s foe eagerly pushed him away and turned to flee. An arrow struck him between his shoulder blades and he dropped dead on the field. Loric shot a look behind him to determine who had loosed the missile. It was Warnyck.

  “Was that necessary?” Loric demanded.

  Warnyck showed him a vulpine smile, answering, “It was if you value your life.”

  Loric peered at the scout questioningly. “What do you mean?”

  “That man had a dagger with your name on it, Sir Loric,” Warnyck informed him.

  Upon closer inspection, Loric found the blade, which was balanced for throwing. It was lying next to the man’s lifeless hand. He lifted his green eyes to meet the scout’s and said,

  “Again you amaze me, Warnyck. This time it is your keen sight that leaves me speechless.”

  “It was nothing.” Warnyck shrugged. “I am an observer by trade. I make it my business to see everything.” The scout lifted his head in motion toward the weapon Loric held and said, “I would have that dagger to supplement your praises.” He grinned.

  Loric handed the blade over and asked, “What brings you hither at such opportune time?”

  “I bear a message from Lord Aldric,” Warnyck replied. “Congratulations on accomplishing your mission to the utter ruin of our enemies. You are to withdraw from here and come in person to speak with His Lordship of Egolstadt, Aldric son of Eldrin of Emerald Spires, in Egolstadt.”

  “Yes, of course,” Loric replied. “Pray, give me one moment to set my men in order.”

  “Understood,” Warnyck replied.

  “Baldron!” Loric called. “Have the men gather wounded and bear them to Elberon.

  Afterward, take a head count and see to the fallen. May the Great King honor the brave,” he finished solemnly.

  “Yes, captain,” came Baldron’s prompt response. “I am honored to serve you, milord.”

  “Gradlin!” Loric shouted.

  There was no word from Gradlin. Loric surveyed the surrounding area in search of his

  lieutenant, but he did not see him. His chest tightened. Then, much to his relief, Gradlin staggered up beside him, muttering incoherently. His face was bruised and bleeding. Gradlin had sustained injury to his face to hinder communication. Loric had known a man with a broken jaw-

  -a mule had kicked the poor fool, who had to drink his food ever after. He hoped his brave lieutenant would not suffer permanent loss of speech. He hated the thought of losing Gradlin as a lieutenant, but the man would not be able to issue commands if he shared the same fate as the fellow Loric remembered. There was only one person he could trust with an injury this severe: Princess Avalana of Regalsturn, She of the healing hands.

  “Baldron, you have the whole company,” Loric informed him. “Assign Gradlin’s most

  trustworthy man to see to prisoners. His lordship summons me.”

  Gradlin pointed out his choice for Baldron, who said quietly, “Yes, milord. Understood, Gradlin.”

  Loric beckoned Gradlin to come with him and Warnyck to meet Lord Aldric. When they

  found the Lord of Egolstadt, he was cleaning his blade and smiling as though savoring the taste of battle. He greeted them warmly as they approached.

  “Well done, Loric!” he exclaimed. “You performed admirably.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” Loric said in response.

  “Now we await Lord Garrick’s orders,” Aldric shared. “You may have noticed that our

  attack split Hadregeon’s army?” he questioned. When Loric nodded, he informed him, “His forces have fled in two directions. The problem that presents,” Aldric continued, “is that we will have to divide our host if we wish to pursue both enemy forces.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Loric agreed.

  “Lord Garrick must decide if we should follow them and how we should go about it. If we do in fact split our forces to pursue these sundered forces, he must decide how we are to do that as well.”

  “That is a weighty decision,” Loric said.

  “Until it is made, we will enjoy a brief respite here at the castle,” said Aldric. “Does that sound good to you?”

  “Yes, my lord,” Loric replied with a grin. His thoughts were already straying to

  imaginat
ions of beautiful Avalana as he added, “That sounds excellent indeed.”

  In merry agreement, they made for the gates of Moonriver and the Hall of Heroes. Within they would find refreshment and rest, and Loric would seek out much needed care for his wounded lieutenant. A well-deserved break was in order for the exhausted army. Pursuit of Hadregeon would have to wait. If all went as Loric hoped, so too would a pending engagement.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Stings: New and Old

  Lord Aldric escorted Loric, Warnyck and Gradlin through the castle gates, from whence they made their way to the keep. Others passed mounts to stable hands that came and met them along their way, but the Knight of Shimmermir simply turned Sunset loose in the courtyard, knowing that no one would dare touch the red stallion. When those weary warriors ascended the portico, haggard sentries greeted them and opened the way unto Lord Aldric. The lord and his companions passed within and made straight for the Hall of Heroes.

  They entered the audience chamber and bowed low before Lady Elena, who was sitting in regency for Lord Garrick. She appeared queenly in flat gray colors that reflected the mood she had taken during her wait for her son and her lord husband to return home. Given the

  circumstances of their late arrival, her expression was steady and reserved, with but an occasional twitch to disclose her anxiety. Elena made a flippant wave of her hand to brush ceremony aside, so the lord and his men rose.

  “My Lady of Durbansdan,” Aldric began, “we have tidings of all that has befallen since we departed.”

  “Say on,” answered Elena, her quivering lips affecting her words.

  “We defeated King Turtioc of Nindronburg in open battle and forced him to surrender his false claim on the Throne of Beledon.” Aldric smiled as he continued, saying, “Turtioc is now a Lord of Beledon rather than the king he supposed he was, for he swears fealty to His Lordship, Garrick of Durbansdan.”