by Candy Rae
CHAPTER 26 (Northern Continent)
The Vada burst out of the forested part of the slopes on the right wing, the eight Lindars formed up on either side. The Larg were not aware of their presence right away; so intent were they on attacking the Lindars in front of them. These Lindars were being hard pressed but knowing about the relief force emerging behind them held on with desperate determination.
The Larg kohorts stopped in shock as Francis’s cavalry swung round in a large arc and began their charge. The Lindars already facing the onslaught felt the pressure ease as the enemy turned to counteract the unexpected threat.
Stars, thought Francis as he and Asya pounded forward, there are thousands of them! Death was in his heart. He gritted his teeth and pressed on.
The two sides clashed together with yells, howls and screams. Soon the entire area was full of the devilish dance of death and horror as the ground seethed with writhing Lind and Larg intent on destroying each other. The reserve Lindars, although inexperienced, acquitted themselves well; not for nothing had they been in training for just this very moment since they were little more than ltsctas. Swallowed up amongst it all fought the Vada, the Larg concentrating their best efforts there, desperately trying to take these angels of death out. The Vada, trained by Francis, fought as a team, aiding and supporting each other with all their might. When they could, they used Kolyei’s tactic. Beside Francis fought the twins Bill and Geoff Armstrong, filled with battle lust and thoughts of revenge for the deaths of their family during the previous winter.
The Lindars holding the right wing, and now freed from insurmountable pressure, began to push a little harder. The two Lindars as yet uncommitted by the Elda waited eagerly inside the tree line. They sensed that the battle tide was moving inexorably in their favour. They knew that they would be engaging the enemy soon enough.
As Francis and Asya downed their fourth Larg, he also began to think that the odds were shifting. Yes, they were taking casualties, but so were the Larg. The ground was dotted with bodies, some were moving feebly, others not, but the northern army was more than holding its own, it was advancing.
“We’re winning!” he shouted to his troops. “We’re winning! Keep going, don’t let up!”
Aoalvaldr took this setback to his plans on the snout. He, like Jim, realised that this was the pivotal point of the battle and ordered the kohorts to push forward. They tried but did not manage to advance more than a few yards. The Larg attack began to grind to a halt.
Sensing victory, the northern allies began to push harder. Their foes did not give up easily. They continued to resist. Intensely loyal to their leaders, it was part of Larg nature not to give in. If not ordered to retreat they would fight where they stood and to the death. Unlike the kohorts in the centre they did not have any contingency orders that allowed them to regroup then try again. Their orders were to keep going, to fight until they dropped.
Imperceptibly, paw-by-paw, they were forced back.
Aoalvaldr was in a quandary. The Lind should not have been winning, not in the open like this. He had no appreciable reserves remaining to throw into the fight and if he transferred the kohorts at the centre streambed southwards, those Lind still on the ridge would be able to sweep down on his exposed right flank. He would then be attacked from both sides at once. There was even the possibility that his army would be encircled with no available corridor to escape. His Kohort Commanders were pressing for a decision. Aoalvaldr procrastinated, loath to order full-scale retreat that could only mean the end of all his hopes.
The deadly game of death continued.
Then, the decision was taken out of Aoalvaldr’s paws. Reports came in that more Lindars were emerging from the lian. Sensing victory Jim had ordered all those not directly engaged on the defensive lines to regroup on the low hills of his right wing. Even the untried Lindars from the far west of the continent sped forward. They were delighted to be given the chance.
Like the tidal wave of nemesis, these Lindars hit Aoalvaldr’s flank and it didn’t merely buckle, it crumpled, it collapsed. Aoalvaldr had no way of knowing how inexperienced these Lindars were, he only knew that he was in trouble, deep trouble. His plans had come to naught. He would have to return to the south, tail between his legs. Where had the Lind found such numbers to defend their rtathlians? Their reserves seemed endless. He did not know that the northern army had committed every warrior it possessed.
In response to the unspoken command from their leaders those kohorts nearest the beach began to slink away. Rage in his heart, Aoalvaldr watched impotently as first one and then another began to scarper towards the coast as fast as his four legs could carry him. Aoalvaldr could only do one thing, accept the inevitable and try to extricate as many as he could. This was not an ordered retreat. This was a rout.
The Larg rearguard stood firm. They knew their duty. The Larg at the streambed about-tailed and sped away. Aoalvaldr went with them. As the revengeful Lindars attacked the rearguard, Aoalvaldr watched from the beachhead as the pride of Larg died. The survivors of the other kohorts were milling around beside him, waiting for the order to cross back over the island chain back to the south.
Aoalvaldr gave the order.
None of the rearguard emerged alive to follow Aoalvaldr back over the island chain.
Neither the Lindars nor the Vada followed them. They pulled back, reformed and waited, ready in case the Larg were foolhardy and tried another attack.
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