Warlord

by Keith McArdle

  Rafe, who looked more human following the brief fight, and having obviously wiped his beard, held out two spears. “You'll need these.”

  The Kalote couple nodded their thanks, then snatched one each. The male brushed past Vyder, approached the corpses littering the ground at the far end of the longhouse, and with a high-pitched whoop, slammed his newly acquired spear into Herdrike's chest. He ripped it clear and stood over each dead body, doing the same.

  The woman stood before Vyder and spoke a few sentences in her native tongue, then reached out and tapped his chest.

  “She say, ‘You good man and strong warrior. She also see you touched by a god.’”

  Ahitika turned away from Vyder and replied to the woman, who burst into laughter. “I tell her, no god, you just crazy. Crazier maybe than him.” She pointed at Rafe.

  The door through which Vyder and his small party had recently walked was thrown open. The guards he'd convinced to allow them access stood there, their figures silhouetted by the fresh light flooding in behind them.

  “What is the meaning of all this screeching?” They advanced into the room together. “Chieftain? Chieftain! By the gods. By the bloody gods.” The man who must have been the senior guard glanced over his shoulder at his comrade. “Send for help. Go!”

  “But, sire…”

  “Go now! Quickly.”

  The dog leaning against Vyder's leg stiffened, her muscles bunching. She growled. He dropped a hand to brush her head. “Nothing to worry about my lass.” And then in a louder voice. “And what do you think you're going to do against us? You're outnumbered.”

  “Not for long, traitor. You and yours will be hanging in the village square within the hour.”

  “Will we?” Vyder asked in a quiet voice.

  A high-pitched shriek exploded around the longhouse, and the Kalote woman who'd recently been a slave, sprinted past Vyder and threw her spear. The weapon streaked through the air and plunged into the guard's chest before he could take evasive action. He crumpled to the floor in a growing pool of blood. She stood over the corpse and spoke in her native tongue, her face creased in a snarl. Ahitika offered the woman her knife, but the once-slave shook her head and spat a word.

  Vyder ran across the floor and out the longhouse. He jumped clear of the stairs and sprinted away. “Let's go, follow me!” he bellowed.

  The group streamed out after him, Ahitika ushering the Kalote pair onward. When he reached the closest building, he stopped and gestured them past him.

  “Hyglak, lead them to the merchants’ wagons. Take their horses. I'll be along soon.”

  Ahitika halted beside him. “I stay with you.”

  “No, you go with them, lass.”

  She looked to be considering arguing. “I'll be fine, Ahitika. I'll be right behind you.”

  The Kalote warrior snarled, brushed past him, and sprinted to catch up with the others.

  Vyder crouched and patted the hound. She licked his face and sniffed his hair. “By what name should you be known?”

  She tilted her head, ears cocked, staring at him. Shouting erupted in the distance, growing louder by the moment. The drum of many boots mingled with the voices. An enemy horde approached.

  The war hound looked beyond Vyder, her lips parting to reveal razor sharp fangs. A growl rumbled deep in her chest. He rose to his feet and turned towards the approaching din.

  He patted the hound's back. “Another time perhaps.”

  The group of guards surged into view, scattering people out of their way. The only remaining survivor of Vyder's assault led the way. He was red-faced, eyes bulging with either anger or fear, his spear clutched in a tight grip. So focused upon the longhouse were they that not a single guard noticed Vyder and the hound standing beside the closest building. They hammered up the stairs and entered the building, shouting and shrieking. The narrow entrance provided a choke point for those at the back, eager to advance into the longhouse and close with the enemy who had claimed the life of their chieftain.

  Vyder tossed the spear into the air, caught it mid-haft, broke into a run and threw it. The weapon sailed through the air towards the throng.

  “Your enemy is behind you,” he roared.

  The hound barked, flecks of saliva bursting from her great maw. Those at the back of the group turned to face him. A brief moment passed as they registered what it was Vyder had said. Then their war cries filled the air, and they charged. Vyder's spear skewered one through the chest, the highlander's legs collapsing beneath him. His fury-filled face morphed into one of pain, and he grasped the embedded weapon as if that would somehow save his fleeing life. He disappeared beneath the boots of those behind him, jostling with one another to be the first to reach Vyder and claim his life.

  “Bring your clan!” He walked backward, whistling for the hound to join him. “I have a Highland army with me. We shall meet you in battle near the eastern forest.”

  Some laughed, a few jeered but most ignored him. A couple threw their spears at Vyder, but they were aimed with lack of skill, slamming into the ground a few paces in front of him. One man slowed, peeled off, and sprinted away.

  “Good lad,” muttered Vyder. “Gather your army that we might smash you from existence.”

  He gestured at the spears embedded in the ground nearby. “Is that all you have?” he shouted. “Pathetic!”

  He turned from them and sprinted in the direction of the merchant wagons. “Come, lass!” he yelled at the hound. She offered the advancing group one last powerful bark, then followed her new master.

  Vyder ducked down an alley. A spear clattered against a brick wall behind him. He stopped, sprinted back and picked the weapon up. He managed a quick glance at the chasing group. They were much closer than he'd anticipated.

  We should fight them, little brother.

  “They'd kill us, Gorgoroth.”

  You underestimate me.

  “No, I don't, they outnumber us.”

  Only by a little.

  “I was never good with numbers, but if you call thirty to one good odds, then I'd say you're not of the betting persuasion.”

  Vyder's legs ached, and his lungs burned. He turned down another side street, the hound keeping pace with effortless grace.

  “Watch out!” He barged through a small group of people walking on the narrow road.

  They cursed, one woman screamed.

  He cast a glance over his shoulder. The group through which he'd charged were pressed against the walls of the buildings either side of the road to allow the group of guards to pass. One of the guards threw his spear. Vyder sidestepped, the weapon hissing past his face and sliding along the cobbles.

  Vyder turned a corner, increased his pace, and ignored his body's protests. He went around another corner, and the merchant wagons came into view. The merchants were standing in a group, shouting, yelling, and threatening the highlanders who sat upon the horses the merchants used to pull their wagons.

  “Hurry up, Vyder!” called Hyglak.

  “You don't say?” he managed between breaths.

  He reached the closest animal and clambered up behind Ahitika. “Let's go!”

  The group galloped away, leaving the merchants calling insults.

  Rafe turned in his saddle. “Tell the guards of the theft!” He laughed, eyes wide.

  “You see if we don't,” one merchant threatened, holding up a fist.

  “Now's your chance. They're right behind you!”

  Vyder shot a glance over his shoulder. The guards scattered the merchants, one rather rotund man falling to his buttocks. He grinned and faced front.

  “You alright, lass?” he called down at the hound running beside him. She glanced up at him, tongue lolling from one side of her mouth. She wasn't even struggling to keep pace.

  She's enjoying herself.

  The fond tone in Gorgoroth's voice was difficult to miss.

  Hyglak, leading them, often waved his arms and hollered to make way, lest people be run down by
horses. Most people complied, but others, whether hard of hearing or simply stubborn, leapt clear at the last moment. One man shrieked like a child. They swept through the eastern gate and made for the forest in the distance.

  Vyder cupped a hand around his mouth. “Hyglak!”

  The highland looked back at him.

  “Call make ready!”

  The warrior turned away, pulled clear his war horn, brought it to his lips and blew two long blasts.

  The horses were breathing hard, sweat turning their fur slick. It'd been a long time since they were asked to work so hard. Highland warriors streamed out of the forest and formed up in a square, round shields in one hand, swords in the other. Ahitika brought the horse close to the army and dismounted smoothly, closely followed by Vyder.

  Ahitika tapped him on the arm. “I get my horse, I also lead your horse and his horse.” She gestured at Hyglak dismounting nearby. She appraised the two former Kalote slaves. “I bring horses for them, too.”

  Henry came alongside her. “I'll come with you.” There was blood on his cheek noted Vyder.

  Ahitika smiled and nodded.

  “Aye. Thanks, lass.”

  She and Henry jogged towards the forest.

  He patted the animal's powerful neck. “Thank you, great one.” He placed a hand on the shoulder and pushed. “Now away with you. This is no place for you.” The horse nuzzled him. Vyder clapped his hands. “Go!” he yelled.

  Startled, the horse galloped away, tail raised in the air, the other animals following suit. They fled together in a tight herd. He strode to the front of the army, Hyglak beside him. The war hound was racing up and down the length of the formation, barking and yipping in excitement. The highlanders laughed, cheered and called to the animal. But it was one word that was repeated from all quarters that drew Vyder's attention. Saigh. The Shadolian word for arrow.

  Spotting Vyder, she bolted toward him, circled he and Hyglak, and finally stopped beside him looking up at him panting. He knelt and took her wide head in his hands. “I think we have your name, lass. We shall call you Saigh. What say you?”

  She barked, placed a paw on his shoulder, and then licked his face. He ruffled her ears, stood, and turned to face the highland army.

  “Soon, battle will find us. Muskets and blunderbusses in the second rank.” He spotted one man in the front rank, clutching a musket. “You!” he pointed at the highlander. “Step back.”

  The warrior, red-faced, jostled backward, and was replaced by a short, powerfully-built man hailing from Clan Coppersmith.

  “Everyone remember the horn blast for shield wall?”

  Silence answered him.

  He leaned into Hyglak. “Call black powder,” he whispered.

  Hyglak brought the war horn to his lips and blew four short blasts.

  Some warriors in the front rank turned side-on as they'd been trained, while those in the second rank brought muskets or blunderbuss to bear. Most of the warriors in the front seemed bewildered, looking around, realisation only dawning on their faces when they saw their comrades standing side on.

  “Hold your fire!”

  Vyder punched the air. “Pathetic! Remember, four short horn blasts are for black powder!” he tapped his temple. “Burn the command in up here, because if you don't,” he turned to look at the distant city, “then we're done for.”

  The Firestorm army was yet to appear, but if Vyder's message was delivered, it would not be long before they marched out the gates and onto the plain towards them.

  “Be patient, Vyder,” Hyglak muttered. “These clans have never fought together before like this, and this tactic,” he lifted the horn in his hand, “is all new. Give them time.”

  “There is no time, my friend. Call shield wall.”

  The war horn spoke again.

  Round shields clattered together followed by the rolling voices of highlanders. “Skyaldborg!” the Shadolian word for shield wall peeled across the plain and echoed through the forest in the near distance behind them. The warriors in the front rank interlocked their shields in front of them, while those in the third rank stretched forward and interlocked their shields above the heads of those carrying muskets and blunderbusses in the second rank. Those ranks behind did the same until the only rank whose heads were unprotected was those standing at the rear.

  “Now, black powder.”

  Hyglak blew the war horn, and this time, the front rank reacted as one. They stood side on, their shields still in position. Then the shields dropped and the second rank appeared, already aiming down the metal sights of their flintlock weapons.

  “Hold your fire! Better! Okay, everyone, relax for the moment. Now we wait. Where are the horses?”

  “We brought them forward. They are all tied up just shy of the forest edge, lord,” Bulvye called from the front rank.

  If Firestorm decided to fight from horseback, it would be pointless to try and counter them with infantry tactics.

  Vyder stepped towards the chieftain of Clan Earthforge and held out his hands.

  “Do not correct him on your title,” warned Hyglak. “If that's what you were about to do, of course. You are a warlord now, Vyder. You earned it, you melded our tribes together, so own your title. Do not apologise for it.”

  “Thank you, Chief Bulvye.” He faced Hyglak. “Thanks for the reminder, my friend,” he whispered.

  “You're welcome, my lord,” he said, a smirk twisting his lips.

  Shouting erupted from the highlanders. Some were pointing towards the Firestorm city. Vyder swung to face the distant eastern gates. A column of Firestorm highlanders appeared, marching on foot. Row after row appeared from behind the colossal gates. It was a seemingly endless stream. When the last row appeared, Vyder hazarded a guess at twelve hundred warriors.

  He strode to his army and walked along the length of the front rank. He allowed the clansmen to shout, jeer, and roar at their adversary for a while. When he reached the end of the rank, he turned around and walked back, stopping at the centre.

  He held his hands high above his head. “Silence!” he yelled. “Quiet!”

  Silence never approached, but the din lessened enough for him to be heard.

  “Remember those bastards?” he thrust an arm out behind him at the Firestorm highlanders, negotiating the plain in their direction. “Remember what they did to your families? Your homes? Your clan? Never forget it! Not ever.”

  Hooves thumped against the ground. Ahitika and Henry rode towards him, leading Storm and a few other mounts. He nodded his thanks, took the reins from her, patted Storm's neck, and mounted. Hyglak did the same. The two Kalote warriors leapt into their saddles, shrieking and whooping, each clutching a spear, their fierce eyes never leaving the approaching enemy.

  Pushing the mare towards the formation, Vyder held out his hands. “They were expecting to face a clan. But instead, they're facing a highland army! We have Waterborne.” He pointed at the cluster of men and women hailing from Clan Waterborne. They roared and began chanting their clan's war cry over and again.

  He gestured at another section of the formation. “Windeagle!”

  The voices of Clan Windeagle joined in with their own clan's war cry.

  “Earthforge!”

  A new section of the formation broke into a powerful chant, the war cries rolling across the plain.

  “Coppersmith!”

  New voices joined the cacophony.

  “Wintercreek!” although Vyder could barely hear his own voice, his finger was enough indication for the clansmen and women of Clan Wintercreek to shriek their clan's war cry.

  “Ironstone!” he roared.

  He could not hear Ironstone's war cry of 'victory or death!' but he spotted members screaming the words, their faces creased with savagery and fury.

  He caught Hyglak's eye. He cantered to him and cupped a hand to his mouth so as to be heard over the booming mash of noise behind him. “When the fighting starts, we stay mobile around our army. It's the benefit of
having a horn to signal commands.”

  Hyglak wiped a hand upon his trousers and unclipped the war horn from his belt.

  “Where do you want us?” Henry called.

  Henry, Ahitika, and the pair of Kalote warriors stood in a loose group.

  “You stay mobile, don't get too close to the Firestorm formation, but harass them when you get the chance.”

  Henry nodded but he seemed hesitant.

  “Stick with Ahitika, fast moving guerilla tactics is a Kalote speciality. She'll show you the way.”

  The Kalote woman whispered something to Henry and chuckled. The skin of his face flushed , and he smiled. She turned her horse away, and the trio followed.

  “And don't get killed!” Vyder yelled.

  The cries of the Highland army intensified, individuals shaking swords, muskets, or shields above their heads, screaming and shouting. He twisted away from the departing group and focused upon Clan Firestorm. They were charging in an arrowhead formation.

  “Call shield wall!”

  He pushed Storm into a trot, Hyglak not far behind. The horn's call pierced through the storm of furious voices, and some complied. Many of them ignored the call, their blood up and their focus entirely on the enemy.

  Vyder pushed her into a gallop. “Again!” he shouted over his shoulder.

  The war horn spoke again. Saigh barked and streaked after Storm, her ears tucked against her skull.

  “Shield wall, damn you!” Vyder bellow, sweeping along the front rank, Storm's hooves ripping up chunks of earth and flinging them into the air behind her. “Shield wall. Bloody listen!”

  Hyglak called the command again. Shields clattered together, overlapping one another. The Highland army disappeared behind a fortress of round shields, although they continued to shriek their war cries.

  He slowed Storm to a trot and turned her so they were traversing the rear rank. Thanks to the horse's height, he looked over the shields. Firestorm were closing the distance fast, their own voices creasing the sky and echoing from the forest in the distance.

  “Hold!”

  Hyglak lifted the horn to his lips and blew.

  Draw in those little monkeys, brother. Then unleash hell.