Dryw Henge

by Jonathan Forth

  The Celestinian warhorses, while not as tall as those used by Amphean knights, were well drilled, and bred to be fast and strong. They started at a walk and broke into a canter as the infantry kept pace.

  Just out of reach of the archers, they accelerated into a full gallop. Even before the first Horde arrows had been pulled and fired, the cavalry had already made half of the distance to the Horde army.

  Gulden felt the ground shake with the thunder of thousands of hooves, the stallions tall and majestic. He thought it must be terrifying to stand and face these beasts bearing down on you.

  Even from the distance that he was away, Gulden could sense the panic in Horde forces. The first volley of arrows had overshot the bulk of the Windstrom cavalry though a few chargers and riders were felled at the rear of the charge.

  Then the archers started firing randomly in panic. The tension was too much for the Horde infantry to bear and many broke ranks running towards the cavalry.

  He could imagine the commanders saying, ‘Wait, wait, hold, hold’, but it did not happen. The Horde thrust forward in an uncoordinated rush ahead of their fortifications.

  The cavalry careered into the infantry that had broken the lines; pounds of solid flesh travelling at speed were unyielding. Bodies were brushed aside and dragged under the horses’ hooves at the front of the line and pummelled by the weight of the cavalry that followed.

  If the Horde had held their positions and their defences were firmly planted, then perhaps they could have broken the momentum of the horses and stopped the charge. However, the formation had been weakened by the indiscipline of the men and was unable to hold its ground. Again, some of the infantry sprang forward to anticipate the shock, but the rest stood firm to meet it.

  The stallions charged right into a wall of spears head on. The breastplates of the chargers taking the initial impact and crumpling the line before the Horde infantry could strike the horses. The collision was still immense.

  They slowed momentarily. Then the mass of the cavalry behind forced the line forward. They broke through the Horde fortifications, gaining power and momentum again as they cut into the ranks of the infantry and archers. The formation curved round into the body of the Horde, sweeping inwards to the soft belly of the army.

  Archers bravely held their ground and kept firing, bringing Windstrom knights to the earth. However, many were swept under the hooves of the stampeding chargers.

  When the charge slowed, the Windstrom riders slashed down with their swords on the infantrymen.

  Hordesmen fell to the earth and the riders hacked from their stallions. It was difficult for the soldiers on their feet to defend themselves against the cavalry, the hordesmen though hacked at their legs and bodies of the stallions. The horses panicked and reared up, and Celestinian riders were thrown to the ground by their terrified chargers and set upon.

  If the Windstrom Army thought the Horde would turn and run, routed to be cut down in flight, they were mistaken. They pressed forward savagely wielding maces, pickaxes and hammers.

  Up close and in the melee, they punctured the armour of the Windstrom cavalry that were unable to retreat, cracking skulls and bones, crumpling bodies to the ground. Unable to turn, they were trapped between the enemy and their own infantry.

  The Horde archers had also regained their composure and were picking off the riders and their chargers one by one.

  While the charge had been immense, caught in the melee and isolated, they were now incurring significant losses themselves. Spears were thrown, plunging into the horses and heavy swords now dug deep into man, women and horse alike.

  Mia saw the danger; there was only one option. “Wield right! Wield right!” she yelled at the other riders. Gradually they got her message and they turned towards the weakened direction from which they had attacked and pushed back out of the Horde’s flank. The space they left was filled by the Windstrom infantry, which engaged the Horde forces.

  Mia was turning herself when she was ripped from her saddle and fell backwards off her horse and landed on her back on the ground.

  The impact shook every bone in her body knocking the wind out of her. A hordesman stood over her with a pickaxe and swung it down towards her. She spun sideways just avoiding the blade, which dug into the earth, and she twisted and plunged her sword into him.

  He fell on top of her trapping her legs. She tried to kick him off but he was too heavy. As the remaining cavalry retreated they trampled over the two of them, leaving them lying in the mud.

  The stallions got into their stride again; they gained momentum and drew clear from the Horde. Those that remained on foot fought hand to hand with the infantry. After an hour a horn sounded the retreat of the Windstrom Army. Slowly fighters disengaged, bodies were left sprawling on the ground, or their comrades guided others, supporting the walking wounded and dazed back to the Windstrom camp.

  Gulden watched the injured return. There was an air of defeat about the hunched shoulders on which their heads weighed heavy.

  He turned to the commander, “They look beat. What do you think?”

  He peered into the distance. “I have to believe we inflicted heavier losses on the Horde. I think our forces are just fatigued. I wonder what the enemy are thinking?”

  He turned to his senior officers. “What do you think, shall we rest, recuperate and see what they do next? Or, and I’ll throw it out there, we’ve dealt them a significant blow; shall we line up the reserves and have another go at them? Let’s see what they are made of.”

  Gulden was impressed, as plans went it was brave to say the least. He was not even sure if King Armanar and Logar would suggest such a breath-taking strategy.

  Gulden went down to the cavalry to find Mia but could not see her. One of the knights stepped over, “I’m sorry I saw her fall, dragged down by a hordesman.” Gulden could not find the words and slumped to the ground. Numbed.

  *

  An hour later the reserves started the march towards the enemy’s lines once more. Slowly, methodically, a cacophony of noise as the soldiers rattled their swords against their shields.

  Gulden followed to the back of the column, deep in thought, suddenly questioning the pointlessness and meaninglessness of life. The cruelty inflicted from one man on another, to take a father, a mother, a brother, sister, friend, from another.

  He shook it off. Today he would seek revenge for Ambassador Martis, for his men, for Mia. He pushed his way to the front. He gritted his teeth and banged the hilt of his sword against his shield in rhythm with the Celestinians.

  General Shyam studied the advancing mass of the Windstrom Army. “Report?” he shouted.

  One of his men shrugged, “It’s unclear sir, I think we lost a lot of men. There are too many bodies out there to tell quite how many. The Horde will do what they are ordered but to be frank they just took a beating and are pretty demoralised. I’m not sure what they have left.”

  “So, what are you saying, retreat?”

  “It may be wise sire. The ferocity of their strike caught us by surprise. We are on the back foot here, for sure.”

  “What if we call their bluff and engage. It’s a gamble, but if we fail to match them, there could be a rout and we’ll lose a lot more men. Else the other way to think of it is we’ve slowed down their march. Even if we retreat, we can dictate their pace, harry them and still buy more time for the siege at Ampheus.”

  General Shyam nodded, “I think you are right, retreat at pace and in formation. Bring the walking wounded, abandon the rest.”

  Gulden watched the Horde retreat. Cavalry armed with bows galloped past the infantry. They would harry the Horde and scout ahead to make sure it was not a ruse. The army did not want to walk from a victory into a trap. Gulden assumed they would now push the Horde back to Ampheus where they would re-engage with the forces still maintaining the siege on the castle.

&n
bsp; Nearing the enemy’s lines, the cries of the wounded could still be heard. Porters and healers busied themselves. In one sense it was a blessing for those Celestinians lying here as they may have a chance of recovery. If the commander had not made his decision to advance, perhaps they would have died naturally or at the hands of hordesmen looting the bodies or looking for tokens. Half in dread and half in hope he found his legs carrying him to the front line where the fiercest fighting had happened.

  He stepped over bodies and horses that were strewn everywhere and considered how terrifying it must have been caught up in the melee, not knowing if the enemy was to the front or the rear of you. The screams of the fallen. The roars of the victors. He shook his head and stared at the faces, many fixed, contorted in pain and death.

  He wandered aimlessly, and then saw her. Perhaps twenty yards away. Her body twisted and crumpled on the ground, her hair lying lifeless, matted in the mud, her face streaked by blood. Despair overtook him. He stumbled forward, grabbed the body of the lifeless hordesman that had fallen on her and yanked him off, casting him aside.

  He fell to his knees beside her and lifted her head into his lap. Tears fell down his cheeks and he pushed her hair from her face and held her head against his chest. He let out a guttural groan of pain and desperation.

  She stirred, stirred in his embrace and gasped. Weak though she was, she was alive. He lifted her up in his arms and staggered to his feet and walked back to the Windstrom camp. She must live, and as she took care of him, he would take care of her until she mended. “Mia, I promise you, I thought I lost you once, but now I won’t let you die.”

  *

  Queen Laila and the pirates headed further west. It was not the most direct route to the Great Forest of Tarn, but their plan was to find passage on the River Symbel and head upstream of the great river. It served two purposes: firstly, it may very well be quicker; secondly, the Queen was growing increasingly irritated by the pirates’ obsession with the sea or lack thereof.

  At any point at least one of them was moaning about the unsteadiness of their legs; the lack of wind flowing through their hair; that they missed the salty smell of the ocean; or that no self-respecting pirate should be seen atop a horse.

  Frankly, they were worse than the Amphean Women’s Institute Embroidery Club for whining, and that was saying something.

  Hopefully, getting them on a river may lift their spirits, even as she anticipated, they would still complain that it did not contain enough salt water. But she should not have feared, as they crossed the alluvial plains of the Symbel, she could feel the tension in the pirates ease.

  Even she was surprised by the breadth of the mighty river, which swept down from the Borna Fault that marked the outer reaches of Gamura itself, and flowed all the way to the Aquamuran coast.

  “Aaiiyyaaii,” said the captain. “Well tis something to behold. As mighty a river I ever laid my eyes on.” In the distance they saw the white sails of some of the crafts that traded up and down the river and headed in that direction. They stood on the jetty of an inland port and negotiated passage up the river.

  “I don’t know,” said the captain, “why can’t we just steal one like always.”

  The Queen took his arm to calm him down a little. “The boats have flat hulls, but there are still lots of shallows the length of the river that we could run aground on. The local sailors would have knowledge of the flats and the currents, it may be wise to use them.” The captain grumbled to himself.

  “Perhaps,” said the Queen, “if you ask the boatman nicely he may let you have a go on his tiller.”

  They found a single-masted vessel, which also had oars that could be used to row upstream as the wind dropped. The boat’s flat bottom enabled it to carry plenty of cargo so there was ample room for the twenty-five or so pirates who made the journey with the captain.

  The boat also had high sides, which would make it more difficult to board. The Symbel was a wide river yet there was always a chance bandits might try to plunder the goods of a vessel that came too close to her banks. The pirates rotated a watch as they made their way upriver. The rest lazed on the decks sheltered from the sun by canopies that hung from the mast and boom.

  Occasionally one would point out crocodiles in the water or basking on the banks of the river, or other animals that came to the water’s edge to graze or drink. The captain sat at the stern with the tiller in his hand.

  “Aaiiyyaaii, milady tis good to be back at the helm of a ship, it was wise of you to suggest this route.”

  “Thank you captain. Now all I need is a fair wind, and for you to steer us to the Great Forest of Tarn and as swiftly as you can.”

  Chapter 12

  Dryw Henge

  Gorath arrived at Dryw Henge and dismounted from his horse. The Henge was perhaps untouched for over thousand years and untended by the druids. All but the most resistant stones had been overgrown.

  The forest had encroached right up to the Henge. What had been a magnificent site of worship in a grand clearing in the great forest had now retreated and was encircled by nature.

  Fully-grown trees dwarfed the stones carved by man. One or two of the large stones had been toppled by the roots of trees that had grown from underneath them.

  Within the stone circle grasses and other shoots had prospered where the initial weeds that grew provided mulch for generations of plants to follow. The roots had widened small cracks breaking up the smooth surface of the bedrock, gouging jagged fissures on the ground of the Henge.

  The altar itself had long grasses with wispy seed heads growing from under its foundations. Mosses and lichens clung to it and the stone statues. It was a peaceful and restful vision of man and nature bedded down with each other, melded together, resting at ease. A reflection of the circle of life and the gradual winding path to death. A place where you could sit and contemplate.

  Gorath called out to General Shomari, “Re-erect the fallen stone statues. Chop or pull down the trees; clear and burn. Nature has had its day; let’s reclaim this area for man.”

  “What about the great yew tree in the middle of the circle?”

  “That too!” said Gorath. “Tear them all down!”

  The Janshai set to work with axes and war hammers. The strong trunks of magnificent oaks were undermined and sent crashing to the ground, crushing the undergrowth, and dragging down other smaller trees surrounding them. Branches were cleaved free, twisted and broken and piled onto bonfires. The black smoke billowed up into the air and the forest was choked in a dark cloud of ash.

  The Janshai covered their faces with cloths doused in water, but their throats burnt and eyes stung. The flames scorched the very earth and the leaves and branches of the surrounding trees until it was their turn to be felled.

  The circle of scorched ground got wider and wider. The heat of the sun struck parts of the Henge that had been enveloped by the forest for centuries.

  The mosses, now exposed to the warmth, dried and were scraped from the stones. The grasses and shrubs wrenched up by their roots.

  The Janshai continued to work. Where they walked on the areas that had been cleared, the ground still felt warm from the fires. Brittle ashes and charred wood crunched and crumbled underfoot.

  By the time Gorath was satisfied, they had cleared an area of forest perhaps four hundred feet in diameter. This was not a peaceful clearing of grasses blessed and frequented by pilgrims and druids to rest and relax; listen to the birds and to enjoy the soft breeze. No, this was a scorched earth, barren of life, and a harbinger of what was to come.

  *

  King Armanar turned to his daughter, “Do you have my ring?” She nodded and handed it over to him. He held it up in his fingers, “Generations of kings wore this ring. It links and binds us all.”

  He removed his glove and placed it on his finger. “Druid, do you remember the way to Dryw Henge, or s
hould I use my ring as a marker?”

  Saturnus glanced up to the King and then gazed up to the sky. An eagle flew above them; its wings stretched wide, gliding in the breeze. It turned its head left and right as if searching for its next prey.

  “I sense we are closing in for now.”

  “Druid, we only have three more days to the summer solstice, if we do not make it in time all will be lost.”

  Saturnus nodded, “Your Majesty, there is smoke on the horizon. In the absence of any other markers, I suggest that’s as good an indication as to where Gorath may be as any other.”

  Leo turned to Saturnus, “Why did druids build the stone circles? What is their meaning or purpose?”

  “Druids have gathered in sacred groves or remote valleys for thousands of years. I would imagine that there might be some small communities practising their own rituals today in the Four Realms. Passing on traditions from years past.

  “The standing stone circles are ancient and distinctive. They are a conduit between the ley lines of the earth’s powers, and the astrology of the heavens. That is why they remain a focal point for druids and their rituals.

  “The alignments of the stones are bound to the movements of the sun and the moon. They can help predict when the alignments are most powerful and hence when ceremonies are their most influential.”

  “Like the upcoming solstice?” Added Leo.

  “Yes, the sun is at its most powerful on the summer solstice. It is the longest day of the year. At other times, like the equinoxes, night and day are much more balanced. The stone circle is orientated towards the sunrise and sunset; channelling this sacred energy of the sun into the Henge and at its centre, the altar.”

  Saturnus continued, “It is situated precisely where the ley lines of the Four Realms meet. It is a place for offerings, worship and rituals. The rituals are designed around the respect for all life, peace, and a heightened awareness of our place in the universe. They are sacred and born of a time when there was a deep affinity between all things. We honour the four elements of earth, air, water and fire. The altar is a place of celebration, festivity and inspiration.”