Warhorn

by J Glenn Bauer

  They were making steady time despite the winding trails they followed over rocky terrain and at mid-morning rounded a hillside to see a heavily wooded valley running due west. They were approaching the western end of the valley from the north. He glanced at Neugen, “That’s probably a great place to make good time without being seen.”

  Neugen nodded, “I’ll wager they are in there somewhere and heading west like we guessed.”

  “Straight towards us.”

  “Hope so.” He grinned widely.

  Alfren was leading the column downhill off the open hillside and toward the tree line. The sun had long burned off the mist in the valley and the heat was beginning to rise off the ground, so Caros was glad when they entered the trees and the shade they offered. Undergrowth was minimal. This was an old wood and the trees well spaced, leaving plenty of room for the men to meander their horses around the thick trunks. Occasional large clearings occurred and were thick with dry meadow grasses and early spring flowers. Alfren brought his mount to a stop in the deep shade of the trees at the edge of one such meadow. They were at its western end and roughly in the center of the valley floor. The men gathered in a line facing west, all keeping well within the shadows of the woods. Two men peeled off and began circling the meadow from either side. Neugen leaned towards Caros, “Now we find the Arvenci. You ready for a fight?” He had a wicked gleam in his eye and looked every bit the warrior Caros wished he could be at that moment.

  “Never more ready.” He lied.

  “If they came up this valley, which makes sense if that smoke we saw this morning was theirs, then they haven’t yet passed this point.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “Have you seen any tracks? They have cattle and horse and that meadow hasn’t seen anything larger than a deer. The grass would have been trampled to shit.”

  Alfren walked his horse down the line of men to where Neugen and Caros sat their own mounts at the left of the line. He halted behind them and nodding at Caros, spoke to Neugen. “Keep to the left of the valley. When we attack, hit their flank and stay on it. If they make for the woods they’re probably alone, but if they strike back and push forward, it will mean they are the bait just as we thought.” With that Alfren grunted and pulled his horse round to head back to the center of the line. Caros stared at the bright sunlit meadow, the thick grass reached to the height of a horse’s chest. He imagined charging his horse through that and attacking the Arvenci from horseback. He had done little training in fighting from horseback. He expected that it would be fast and furious. Swing strike and parry. He patted his horse who rocked her head up and down, sensing the tension. He felt it too, like a weight in his gut. The air had become still. He glanced up the line and saw veterans drinking deeply. Realising just how dry his mouth had become, he did the same, but then found he needed to relieve himself. He thought about putting it off, but the need got more urgent. He glanced at Neugen, “I’m taking a piss.”

  Neugen nodded knowingly, “Hurry.” His eyes were scanning the field ahead and trying to penetrate the woods on the other end. Caros quickly swung from the horse and hurried a few paces towards the nearest tree. He urinated quickly, desperately. He didn’t want to be caught on foot if they charged. He finished, dropped his tunic and adjusted the belt while looking around the woods. Shadow figures darted from tree to tree, and he gasped in shock as a man on horseback loomed in front of him. The rider urged his mount right past the shocked Caros, who stood arms at his sides and mouth agape. It finally sank in. The rider was one of the scouts who had ridden off earlier. He flung himself back onto his horse and watched the returned scout conferring urgently with Alfren. Alfren was smiling and nodding. Alfren caught Caros’ eyes and smiled wider before issuing orders to the men nearest him. The word quickly spread down the line. The Arvenci were heading straight down the valley towards them.

  Caros began drawing his falcata from its sheepskin sheath, but Neugen leaned over scowling, “Too soon. They catch a glimpse of sunlight off that shiny toy and they’ll be away like fleas off a dead dog.”

  Caros cursed himself. He couldn’t act more like a novice if he tried. The sun baked them through the thick foliage of the trees under which they hid. Time stretched and then suddenly there was movement ahead, the shimmering heat waves parted thickly to reveal contorted figures that coalesced into the heads of beasts. Cattle and horse trotted out of the distant tree line and into the sun. Caros felt his heart hammering and gulped. He clenched the reins and strained higher to see further. A figure emerged, carrying shield and spear. Another followed close behind. The Arvenci were flanking the herd which came on, eating up the ground and filling the open field while the flanking Arvenci kept them going straight down the valley. Directly towards the waiting Bastetani.

  Neugen never took his eyes off the Arvenci as they strode alongside the herd, “Now Caros, see your enemy. We strike hard and fast, they’ll try getting the herd to bolt and block us. Just keep to the left and reach them before they get to the tree line. Oh and stay behind me.” He smiled coldly.

  Caros just stared intently at the men that had killed his family.

  The herd sensed them, horses nickered, and cattle lowed. The leading bull stopped dead in his tracks, rucked the grassy loam of the valley with a foreleg and swung his horned head from side to side. In that moment Alfren screamed his battle cry and his horse flew from the tree line. Warhorns bellowed through the valley and rolled up and over the hillsides. Caros started and then furiously whipped his mare after Neugen who, charging from cover, let loose his own war cry. Like so many wild lynx, the Bastetani warriors burst with blood curdling screams from the tree line and hurtled towards the stunned Arvenci.

  Cattle and horses milled frightened and confused in the valley and in moments a great dust cloud rose billowing from hundreds of hooves. Shadowing Neugen, Caros watched the warrior curl his spear arm and unleash the missile. The Arvenci targeted, flung his shield up at the last moment and deflected the weapon from piercing his chest to merely striking him under his eye. Caros saw the gout of blood as the spear tore into the man’s face, knocking him senseless and bleeding to the earth. Behind the fallen man other Arvenci warriors had time to raise their shields to fend off the hurtling missiles thrown by the Bastetani. Caros suddenly realised he was unarmed and snatched for his falcata, dragging it out in one fluid motion as he flew towards the enemy warriors. Neugen hurled two more javelins in lightning strikes and scored two more hits. Neither strike killed, the Arvenci having had time to cover their vitals, but one man was hit solidly in his right shoulder while another dropped with a javelin pinned through his upper thigh. Caros tore towards the warriors and swung his falcata overhand and down. Shock jarred through his arm. An Arvenci had sidestepped Neugen’s barrelling charge and stumbled right under Caros’ blow. Without glancing back Caros flew on. The Arvenci lunged their spears at the galloping horsemen, snarling their own battle cries. Caros heard nothing, but thundering hooves and his own roar of rage. He hacked at a spearhead and then nimbly dragged his blade backhanded through the attacker’s face.

  Then suddenly they were past the Arvenci and hauling on their reins to bring their horses around. Caros pulled his mount to the left and tore about in an arc, judging that the surviving Arvenci would hare for the tree line. Seven were left uninjured and as he had guessed, they were belting uphill towards the nearest brush and trees. His path intersected theirs and as he bore down on them they glanced around in horror at him. Three turned and hurled their spears. Caros ignored the missiles and swept over the men, pummelling one man into the ground under his horse while striking another with his swinging falcata. He tore on toward the four escaping warriors and reached them mere paces from the trees they desperately sought. Behind him Neugen and two others kept pace and within moments the remaining Arvenci had been smashed to the ground. Caros spun his horse, prancing on its hind legs, to face the enemy fallen. Neugen and his comrades were already off their horses and dispatching the
wounded Arvenci. Although bloodied and reeling, the Arvenci still had plenty of fight, but no advantage and they died quickly under the merciless blows of the Bastetani falcata.

  Caros saw a group of limping and staggering Arvenci fleeing back up the valley. With an animal growl he turned his horse after them. Within heartbeats he clattered over the rearmost of these, a thick chested warrior with blood soaked hair plastered to his face. The man screamed in defiance as Caros drove him under his horse. The next two warriors ran together and ducked and weaved apart as Caros charged them, his falcata whistling harmlessly through the air. Cursing he charged on leaving them to his companions. The next warrior turned at the approaching drumbeat of hooves and snarled. Caros felt the exuberance of victory and with his right arm stretched beside him readied for the killing blow. Suddenly the warrior hurled his shield, which flew like a disc straight at Caros’ mount. The shield spun and as it did so it whistled like a falcon. Caros stared in shock as the missile slammed into his horse. The mare reared, screaming in fright and he felt himself go airborne before crashing into the valley floor. Stars burst and pain blackened his vision. His breath blew from his chest and he clawed the ground in pain. He watched in pained horror as the warrior strode towards him, axe swinging to cleave him. The man’s face was all but peeled from his skull, which just made the hate that Caros saw there all the more horrifying. He fumbled blindly for his weapon. It was nowhere to be found in the long dry grass. Runeovex! He wanted to throw up, to get a breath into his body, but could not. His horse drummed past him and as it did so, it trod his outstretched hand into the ground. Shrieking, Caros found the strength he needed in the fresh bolt of pain and shot to his feet. The warrior swung a short, powerful blow with the heavy war axe, meaning to cleave Caros’ ribcage in two. The blow was hurried though, the warrior surprised at Caros managing to regain to his feet. Caros followed the swinging axe head and struck the warrior in the center of his bloodied face. Something gave with a wet crunch and the warrior sprayed blood from his mouth and disfigured nose. Caros threw another powerful punch, and the warrior tried backing away. Caros drove an elbow into his chin and the warrior staggered in a circle, his arms raised, trying to shield his tortured face from the blows and then Caros grabbed the axe at both ends and jerked the shaft into the injured man’s throat. The warrior was powerful, but he knew this fight only ended with one outcome. Caros used the axe’s thick shaft to crush the other’s throat and starve him of air. They grappled like drunks for long heartbeats, and then the Arvenci warrior stilled and slumped. Caros tore the axe from his blooded grip and swung once. The warrior toppled from his knees onto the dirt. Caros stood gasping for air in the dust filled valley. He stared ahead unblinking, spittle spraying from his slack lips. There in the tree line a figure furtively moved through the shadows. He thought he saw a flash of colour, a familiar shape. Then it was gone, and horses were milling through the field before him.

  Alfren and Neugen reached him at the same time. The former was smiling triumphantly down from his horse. The bastard hadn’t broken a sweat and yet his gore encrusted falcata told its own tale. Neugen was nursing a swollen elbow, but his face was full of concern at seeing Caros. The young warrior leapt from his horse and approached, “Ho-hi Caros! You look like carrion, best you get into the shade and get some water. This fight is done.”

  Caros responded with a nod and fearful of toppling over, took a pace toward where his horse milled with the other mounted horsemen. Pain and fatigue washed over him and he felt a spasm shudder through his body. He would not lose his stomach now he vowed to himself, not before these seasoned warriors. He had woken with revenge in his heart that morning, never having killed a man and now he had killed a handful. He was no longer a man-boy, but a blooded warrior. He clutched that thought tight while fighting the welling nausea. Neugen was suddenly right beside him and passing his mount’s reins to him. He hauled himself weakly onto his mare and they trotted through the chaos on the valley floor to where the other Bastetani were congregating. Warriors had dismounted and were drinking deeply from their waterskins and whooping in victory. Just two of the warriors had any telling injuries and while obviously in pain, they also beamed with pride.

  The men cheered Caros as he reached them. Confusion at their sudden friendly demeanour quickly turned to pride. The slick feeling of nausea gave way to the warmth of comradeship. He had experienced friendship and family before, but this feeling was something new. He felt invigorated and a special closeness with these warriors who had risked their lives with him. He grinned at Neugen who threw his head back and released a huge whoop that echoed back off the valley walls. In moments all the men were whooping their victory and Caros let out his own victory yell. Caros heard hoof beats drumming towards them and twisted quickly to see who was approaching. Alfren and two other riders came galloping towards them from the east end of the valley. The Captain looked grim. Caros wondered why. Their fifteen warriors had killed easily the same number of Arvenci and by first estimates recovered the majority of the livestock rustled. The Captain ground his horse to a halt and jumped lithely to the ground. Even with armour, his movement were poised. Caros knew instinctively that this man was one of those breeds of men that could dance through blade and battle and never be harmed.

  Alfren addressed the gathered warriors, “The Arvenci have broken into numerous bands now, most even smaller than this one. We were wrong. These were neither decoy nor bait. Alugra caught some stragglers still at the night camp, injured I expect. A few more fled back east after we attacked and ran straight into his men. We need to round this herd up and get them heading home, the hunt is over.”

  The men cheered and laughed in delight, but Caros was ambivalent. He was pleased they had been successful, but something nagged at his subconscious.

  The men rounded up the scattered cattle and horses. Caros guessed that most of the community’s livestock had been regained. That would make it easier for the villagers who had suffered so much. The Arvenci dead were stripped of everything of value. Neugen found the deadly battle-axe that had so nearly been Caros’ death and offered it to him.

  “No thanks my friend you keep that lump of iron, I think perhaps I’d take my own foot trying to swing the thing!”

  The Bastetani warrior grinned, “Thanks. Don’t often see these on the battlefield, but it’ll fetch a nice little sum from some weapon smith.”

  The dead were covered hastily, but respectfully and by mid-afternoon the men were urging the recaptured herd back up the valley to rendezvous with the main body of Bastetani. The Bastetani camp was alive with laughter, singing and the bellow of warhorns. Men drank from skins of ale and with Alugra’s permission, had slaughtered a bullock from the herd and were roasting the fresh meat on numerous fires. The camp was festive. Alugra was listening to Neugen tell of the battle in the valley while Caros chewed on a lump of greasy meat. Alfren sat grimly alongside Alugra, drinking deeply from a skin.

  “Well Caros, the way Neugen tells it you acquitted yourself well today son.” The old chief beamed at Caros who flushed with pride.

  “I really just listened to Neugen’s advice. Not a lot of time to think once it all started.”

  “The stolen livestock, did we retrieve many head then?” Alugra asked.

  “I reckon we managed to recover the greater part. The village will be overjoyed to have this many returned. The elders will reward you greatly Alugra and I am certainly most grateful to you and your men.”

  Alugra smiled warmly at him, “This is what being a Bastetani means Caros. We stick together and help one another out when things get rough.” The old warrior frowned and then, “I see a lot changing here closer to the coast. The old Greeks and Phoenicians, they came and went, just trade. Good for everyone. Now...” he shook his head, “Now the Barcas have come to stay. They send their desert warriors to conquer the tribes.” He went quiet, chewing slowly, spat out a piece of grey gristle and swallowed. “I do not like it. The tribes grow restless and few have any l
ove for this new Barca.”

  Alugra looked to Alfren, who stirred and muttered, “Hannibal Barca. One of Hamilcar’s sons.”

  Caros nodded, he knew of the Barcas. They had come trading and then had come in force, led by Hamilcar Barca. His father had met with Hamilcar’s son-in-law, Hasdrubal, or as people called him, Hasdrubal the Fair. The eastern tribes along the coast were strong and made stronger through trade and Hasdrubal had made treaties with them that benefited the people greatly. The wealth produced was a magnet for the raiding, warlike tribes of the Olcades, Arvenci and Carpetani.

  Alugra grunted, “Yes, Hannibal. He’s stirring a wasp nest, I preferred his brother-in-law. Your father and I signed a good treaty with Hasdrubal.” The warrior drained the last of the ale in his skin and then grunted and turned onto his back, settling himself for the night before raising his head for one last comment, “I’m too old for what’s coming, but warriors like Alfren here and maybe you Caros, can do great things in the times ahead. Make your prayers to Runeovex fellows for a good fight this day.” With that he promptly fell asleep.

  Alfren stared hard at Caros who stared back. The warrior grinned. “Great things. The chief is right, it’s a matter of choosing the winning side eh?” With that he too rolled into his cloak to sleep. Caros felt his eyes droop. Most of the talking and yelling beside the fires was dying away to snores and mutters.

  Neugen threw a bone on the embers and farted. “Damn elbow is going to be a bitch tomorrow.” He had wrapped the swollen joint in steaming linens and was favoring the swollen joint. “Have you traded with the Carthaginians Caros?”