by Sam Ferguson
“Furthermore, I can only assume that they first stopped in Khatthun,” Karmt added.
“Perhaps they sailed by the city, without …” Dalynn’s words trailed off and she left her thought hanging in the air.
“My queen, I don’t mean to pry, but can I know what your task was for Kelden in Khatthun?”
Queen Dalynn turned slowly and met the old man with teary eyes. “I have a son.”
“What of the prince?”
Dalynn shook her head and wiped a tear from her eye. “No, not the crown prince. I am talking of another.”
Karmt stammered, “Queen Dalynn, what are you talking about?”
“I was young, but old enough that I grew tired of my husband’s treatment. I found comfort in the arms of another, one who served in the court.”
“Sir Alexander,” Karmt surmised. “That is why he was sent away?”
“My husband could never prove that I had been involved with another, but he noticed the stolen glances between me and Sir Alexander. He sent him away from Kobhir for some time – transferred him to the southern border.. During the pregnancy, my husband wasn’t the least interested in the idea of a child, for he never believed it to be his. He was so busy drinking himself into a stupor the night I was in labor, it was easy to purchase the silence of the midwife, and he never knew that I gave birth to twins. I sent one of the newborns away that very night to prevent my husband from corrupting both of them. I secreted the younger away to Khatthun, where Sir Alexander’s cousin raised the boy. The crown prince is the older of the two, and has been raised as an only child since the day of his birth.” Queen Dalynn frowned and shook her head as a tear slipped down her left cheek. “But the crown prince he has been tainted by his father, just as I feared. He holds the same greed and callous spirit that my husband did.”
Dalynn walked to the opposite side of the chamber to look out the other window. She hoped that the view of the calm, serene desert sands would console her aching heart, but she was not so lucky. As she looked out to the desert, a large, yellow cloud of dust covered the road and advanced toward her western gates. She could not accurately ascertain the size of the army en route to her city, but she could tell from the size of the dust cloud that there were at least several thousand. They were riding fast, eager to test their mettle against the capitol of Zinferth. The queen let a tear slip down her cheek.
Within a moment she steeled her resolve and rang a small, brass bell.
“What is it?” Karmt asked.
Queen Dalynn turned and held a finger in the air to silence him.
A young servant entered the room and bowed low. “You rang, milady,” his voice called from the doorway.
“We are being assaulted from the west,” she started. “Get down to the men and signal for defenses to be prepared along the western wall.”
“It shall be done immediately.”
Karmt quickly stepped to the window and leaned out. “Gods be merciful,” he whispered.
*****
“More enemies have been sighted coming in from the west,” the young page announced as he gasped for breath.
“How many?” Sir Alexander barked as he wiped his sword clean on an enemy corpse before sheathing it and climbing atop his steed.
“At least three thousand, according to the queen’s servant,” the boy replied.
“Very well,” Alexander replied. “Jaidor, you alert the militia. I want them to carry the scorpion launchers to the western wall. You will stay with them and fire upon the enemy as soon as they are in range.”
“Yes sir,” Jaidor complied. Then he rode off with all haste to carry out his assignment.
“Ret, I want you to take control of the foot-soldiers. Take every soldier who can fight to the western gate. After Jaidor has fired three volleys I want you to open the gates and march the company out to the enemy.”
“Sir, wouldn’t it be better to hold our positions here? If we keep the gate closed, then Jaidor can continue to fire upon the enemy as the Shausmatian forces build their siege gear.”
“Lieutenant, if I wanted your advice, I would ask for it,” Alexander snapped.
“If we open the gate the enemy will decide to charge,” Ret protested.
“I am counting on it,” Alexander said confidently. I will take the knights around the city, along the southern wall. As soon as the enemy is within fifty yards of your company I want you to sound your bugle three times. On your signal I will charge the knights straight into the enemy’s flank. I want to end this fight decisively and quickly.”
“As you command,” Ret said with a bowed head. He felt foolish for questioning his commander’s judgment. “All of you footmen follow me,” Ret shouted to the group. The orders disseminated throughout the thousands of men on the shoreline and the company was quick to make their way to the western wall.
“Let’s move out,” Alexander shouted to the knights. “We have some hunting to do.”
A chorus of cheers erupted from the heavily armored riders as they fell into formation and followed their commander around the southern wall. The group rode slowly enough so as not to churn up a large cloud of dust. This plan depended on catching the enemy by surprise.
*****
A large, black haired Shausmatian officer surveyed the battlefield before him. He could see a path to the gates of Kobhir, but there were already so many men felled by Zinferth arrows that it seemed a lost cause. The screams of dying men filled Horatt’s ears as large missiles pounded his men from the walls of Kobhir. Still, Horatt had an objective to accomplish.
“Keep moving forward men,” Horatt shouted over the din. “Bring the rams to the front!”
“We’ll never make it to the walls, they have scorpion launchers sir,” Getl, Horatt’s lieutenant cried out.
“Mind your tongue, lieutenant,” Horatt scolded. “We number seven thousand strong.” Horatt turned around in his horse and surveyed the men. “Simon, King Sarito’s chief advisor, gave me command of the seven thousand men because of my successful assault on Blundfish.”
“Yes, sir,” Getl replied quickly.
“I should think I know how to conquer this city as well. It will take more than a few oversized spears to push me away from victory.”
“I wish I had stayed with Captain Joreg back in Blundfish,” Getl muttered under his breath.
“What was that?” Horatt asked.
“Nothing, sir, just said I couldn’t wait to take Kobhir.”
Horatt snorted. He knew what Getl had said. Truth was he mostly agreed with his lieutenant. Still, as the commanding officer, he had to put on a show of complete and utter conviction. Anything less would sap the morale of his men. “The orders are clear. Move forward and take Kobhir at all costs!” Horatt shouted.
Soon he spied the rams emerging from the ranks. The two machines had been built the night before, but they were solid. The head of each ram was fitted with metal plating to protect the striking end. Normally, battering rams would be fashioned so that the striking heads resembled that of a mountain goat, but this mission required speed, not fancy artistry and metalwork. A crude roof had been fashioned to protect the rams and their operators from arrows and other missiles from the walls. The large, heavy wheels creaked and groaned as they rolled across the harsh, hard-packed desert sand.
“On to the gates, we stop for nothing,” Horatt yelled. The thundering horde broke into a chorus of yells and cheers. Eventually the cheers broke into a battle song, dedicated to Basei.
Out in the fields of war,
Our sword we draw for thee,
Basei our God of War,
Let your rage dwell in me.
The blood of foes we spill,
To conquer lands unknown,
Though we bleed, help us still,
So thy might may be shown.
Basei our god, our rock,
If we fail by our blades,
And on thy door we knock,
Lay us down in thy glades.
Horatt took in the song of his company and it swelled him with pride. The song repeated over and over, taking cadence with the marching steps of the men. No longer were any screams heard when arrows and missiles stung at his men. The whole horde was filled with courage, born of their belief in the god of war. The troop marched with new zeal and strength.
“Look at the gates,” Getl exclaimed over the thunderous singing of the horde.
Horatt raised his spy glass and saw that the enemy was raising the portcullis and marching out. “The fools think they can meet us face to face in the desert.” Horatt replaced his spy glass in a bag on his saddle and smiled. “Basei is with us today,” he shouted. “He is bringing our foe out to meet us!”
At his words the men sung all the more confidently, assured that their song was being answered by the fiery-willed Basei. Only Getl was silent. He looked up to Horatt with a worried expression on his face.
“Stay your tongue,” Horatt said before his lieutenant could utter a word. “I will not have the faith and courage of my men mocked by a cowardly junior officer.”
The look in Horatt’s eyes told Getl that it would be wise to maintain his silence.
“Sound the charge,” Horatt ordered.
*****
“Their songs are in vain,” one of the soldiers to Ret’s right said. “Basei will favor us this day.”
“I reckon that Basei cares little who lives and who dies,” Ret told the trooper. “He is a god of war, and I doubt he picks sides in accordance with just principles. He is just as likely to side with the enemy, I suppose.”
“Well, then who would you reckon we should pray to sir?” the trooper asked disdainfully.
“Pray to whomever you like,” Ret responded. The knight looked down at the dismayed trooper and smiled wryly. “Pray as though the battle depends on Basei, or Icadion, or any other god you like, but then by the powers of heaven and hell you had better fight as though they are ignoring you.”
A chuckle rose from some of the nearby men.
“Remember, wait until the enemy is only fifty yards away, and then you will sound your bugle three times. Do not sound it a moment before or it may mean defeat,” Ret instructed the bugle-boy.
“I will be careful sir,” the boy responded.
A bugle sounded from the enemy horde. The call was long and determined.
“They are coming,” Ret announced. “Come on men, we must clear the gate before the enemy reaches us. I don’t want to risk them getting inside our walls.”
The men responded quickly, rushing out through the open portal and scrambling to get into formation in front of the gatehouse. Ret could hear the snap of bowstrings and scorpion launchers from above. He looked up to the sky, and thought about praying, but decided not to. He had never put much stock in the gods anyway.
*****
Alexander waited patiently atop his steed. He and his men were in position, waiting for the signal from Ret. Alexander said nothing, nor did any of his men. They were all experienced enough that they had little anxiety over the pending battle. They waited in silence, each man ready to charge at any moment, yet they were calm and still.
At last the signal came. Three distinct blows of the bugle.
“For Kobhir!” Alexander shouted. He drew his sword and urged his steed on, followed by the rest of his knights. As they rounded the south-western corner of Kobhir’s wall they were greeted by a sight that caused each man to reach inside for his courage. Thousands of troops were charging towards Ret’s company with alarming speed.
“They have knights also, sir,” one of the knights shouted, pointing to a small number of riders charging ever closer to Ret’s company.
“Ret and his men can handle twenty riders with ease. Our target is the flank of the main body of troops.” Alexander dropped the visor of his helmet. Each of his three hundred knights did the same and then pulled their glimmering swords free.
The enemy army failed to respond to the new threat of Alexander and his knights. The Shausmatians were fixed on Ret’s troops, and made no attempt to prepare for the charge of the Zinferth knights. Alexander watched as the enemy horde collided with the five thousand Zinferth troops under Ret’s command. The unmistakable clanks of sword on shield erupted through the air and silenced the battle hymn of the Shausmatian soldiers. A few moments later, Alexander reached the flank of the enemy horde and tore through his first victim.
The knights bore their way deep into the enemy’s flank. They cut down their foes by the score. Alexander, still at the forefront of his men, had already slain fifty men before he was surrounded and his charge was brought to a halt. He hacked down on a spearman to his right and kicked out with his left leg to another foe. His horse would have been an easy target for the enemy, save for the thick plates of steel that it wore over its vital areas. Weapons made a ringing sound as they glanced off of the armor.
Alexander was soon rejoined by the bulk of his knights and they continued to fight side-by-side against their enemy. At first they felt invincible. The field around them was covered with Shausmatian bodies, and none of their own had fallen. They pushed through the enemy, fighting their way towards the enemy’s rear. After a while one of the knights was pulled from his horse and dragged into a sea of swords and maces.
“Break them apart!” Alexander shouted, pointing to the group that had assaulted one of his men. The thundering hooves of the battle-horses scared the group away from the fallen knight in time to rescue the man from death. The knights formed a protective circle around the injured man and Alexander leapt down from his horse. “Can you ride?” Alexander asked.
“I can’t move my leg,” the knight replied. “My back hurts too.”
Alexander rolled the knight to his side, shielded from the enemy by his men. “You have been stabbed,” Alexander informed the knight. “Hold still and I will inspect the injury.
All around them men groaned, growled, and screamed. Still the knights held the tide of attackers back from their leader and fallen comrade. Alexander was able to remove the injured knight’s breastplate and take a proper look at the wound. A spearhead had been broken from its shaft after embedding itself near the knight’s spine, just above the hip.
“I’m not sure how they managed to get under your armor, but the wound isn’t fatal,” Alexander assured the knight.
“The armor doesn’t fit right,” the knight replied with a cough. “My armor was damaged in the first skirmish today, so I traded it out with a fallen soldier before we left Kobhir. It doesn’t quite cover me correctly in some places.”
“I see,” Alexander replied. “You’ll have to make do until the surgeon can see you.” The knight nodded his head. At that instant a crossbow bolt glanced off of Alexander’s right pauldron. He looked up to spot the attacker, but one of his knights was quick to bring an end to the would-be assassin’s life. “Asin, get this man back to Ret’s company and have him sent to the surgeon,” Alexander ordered.
A knight immediately broke formation and, with Alexander’s help, slung the injured knight over the horse. “I will see him through to safety,” Asin swore.
“Go,” Alexander shouted before jumping back on his own horse. “Everyone on me,” he yelled. Alexander then led the group of knights in a protective formation around Asin and fought their way back to meet up with Ret’s troops. It was sticky going at first, and the group was barely able to progress through the horde, but as they neared Ret’s soldiers it became easier to maneuver.
Ret’s soldiers were busy hacking down the enemy line after line and wave after wave. To Alexander’s surprise, instead of holding their ground, Ret’s troops were advancing through the horde. It wasn’t long before Asin made the safety of the wall and sped off for the surgeon.
“I thought it would be wiser to take the fight to the enemy,” Ret shouted as he rode up beside Alexander.
“Good thinking,” Alexander replied with a nod.
“Besides, I didn’t want you having all the fun for yourself,”
Ret chided. The lieutenant looked back to his men and waved his arm forward. “Press on men. It is time to crush the enemy.”
Alexander signaled to his knights and the whole army moved as one. The battle raged for three more hours, and Alexander had sent many more of his knights back to the surgeon, but in the end, Zinferth claimed victory. Alexander and his men cheered and shouted in victory. The citizens of Kobhir welcomed them back through the gates with flowers and praise.
CHAPTER 12
Kelden awoke shortly after nightfall. He felt a throbbing from the back of his head and reached a hand back to feel the wound. A tender knot of swollen flesh protruded out from the back of his head. He looked around and saw a couple of the others bailing water out of the longboat. The others were still rowing. Kelden looked around, but all he saw was black sky littered with diamond-like stars above the waters.
“You struck your head in the squall, sir,” Sorbiy said. “We nearly capsized, but you’ll make out alright.”
Kelden nodded and then looked to the front of the longboat to see Redbeard cleaning his fingernails with his knife. Pinhead was lying with his head in Redbeard’s lap, snoring loudly enough to wake the dead.
“He’s been doing that since the storm stopped,” Sorbiy told Kelden.
“Did you try poking him?” Kelden asked.
“Didn’t work. Nothing ever does,” Redbeard said. Redbeard sheathed his knife and leaned his head back over the side of the boat.
“What is our heading?” Kelden asked.
“We should make land before dawn,” Sorbiy said. “Would have been there sooner, but the storm pulled us out away from land. No telling how many miles we were thrown, but looks like the waters carried us northward quite a bit.
As they continued into the darkness, heading for the eastern coast of Zinferth, a large, driving rain came with force and assaulted the small boat and crew. The hardened men lowered their heads in defiance of nature and drove their oars in more powerfully. They went on in that way for several hours, until finally a large wind picked up from the east and started hurtling them on an even faster course westward. However, they did not travel in a direct path. The winds swirled and curved, turning their boat and driving them southward, parallel to the coast for quite some time. No matter how hard the men rowed, the winds and waves decided their path.
