The Olvion Reality (The Chronicles of Olvion Book 1)

by Larry Robbins

  The early days were marked only by occasional skirmishes. The Greys had descended from their mountain dens and attacked in tens, twenties and thirties. In the last few years the raiding parties had grown into hundreds and even thousands of the slavering beasts. Ruguer, always one step ahead of the present, intuited what would eventually happen. It would once more be an all-out struggle for the existence of humankind on the planet Olvion. He had done all that he could to prepare his kingdom. King Zander had given him full authority to make preparations and had fought with Brackus in Parliament to make sure he had the funds that were needed. But his king could not provide him with the one thing the kingdom needed most. Time. Time to forge strong ties with the Coastal kingdoms. Time to coordinate attack plans with those cities and to participate in war games so that reality would hold fewer surprises for them to deal with.

  Alas, they were also victims of their own successes. The Coastal Kingdoms were happy to commit troops to defend Olvion and the Lion Road. They knew that holding any large groups of raiders at the Olvion stronghold was the best opportunity they all had to prevent their own kingdoms from being attacked. But as the battles were won and the successes mounted up under Ruguer’s oversight things slowly changed as all began to believe that the danger would never be large enough to pose a serious threat. Slowly, troops had been withdrawn. A hundred here, a thousand there. Now, with this new and dire threat against all humans, the Coastal Kingdoms had only a total of two thousand additional committed warriors from the Coastal Kingdoms on duty within the Olvion city walls. That was not enough. Even more dangerous was the reaction of some of the members of Parliament in those kingdoms. More and more the political class had been taken over by those such as Brackus; brazen self-promoters with more allegiance to power than to king and kingdom.

  Ruguer adjusted his seat and checked the sun in the sky. Time was dragging. Waiting always did this to him. If he had another two thousand mounted cavalry, he thought, he could slash his way through these stoop-shouldered grey bastards and carve off a few thousand at a time, steadily laying waste to their numbers until the numbers shifted enough for a rout. That was all he had needed. He had not received them. And now, it was probably too late. If reinforcements came at all they would find either a sacked and conquered city or a kingdom stripped of the greatest part of their population.

  The military commander looked back to the western part of the city, wishing he could see through those stout walls. Help was not coming, apparently. Well, if military life taught one anything it was that you could count on nothing… nothing but the mount beneath your loins and the warrior on either side of you. He turned back to the battlefield again and smiled grimly. As a great philosopher of Olvion once said: “Do you want to live forever?”

  ***

  After five solid minutes of scrambling in a crouch I stopped behind one of the last bushes large enough in which to hide. Before me now was about two hundred yards of open ground which offered me no concealment. I was still behind enemy lines but much closer to our formations. I briefly considered detouring even further south and going back into the city via the secret waterfall exit. I discarded that idea because of the amount of time it would take for me to get back out on the battlefield where I might be of help to my fellow warriors. Besides, for all I knew Ruguer had left orders to arrest me on the spot. If I made a beeline for our assembled forces it would take me close to the Grey formations but was the quickest way to join my men. On the other hand, making a wide loop around toward the south and later circling back north would minimize the chances of my being seen and attacked before I could reach the relative safety of the Olvioni defenses. I decided to make a straight run for it. Most of the Grey soldiers that I could see from my vantage point were fixated on the human battle formations. To see me they would have to have reason to turn around and look behind themselves which gave me something of an advantage, however small.

  I took several deep breaths and darted out of cover. The high oxygen content of the Olvion atmosphere had served me well in the past and I was counting on it aiding me now by keeping me going at top speed without running out of breath. I almost made it.

  KARR

  Karr was now behind his attacking formation and urging the more reticent of his raiders forward. He was keeping a loose total of the number of fighters he was losing to the evil human tactics and was extremely displeased. The war machines spitting their iron bolts had been bad enough but then the cowardly trick that had used the front line of shields as a spiked barrier had killed or crippled at least a tenth of his remaining people. Maybe more.

  He bent over to drag the body of one of his fallen fighters on top of another. He then stepped up on both of them to get a better view of the enemy formations and his own. Both armies still had extremely wide battle configurations with approximately ten thousand soldiers in their front lines. His plan of extending his lines around the flanks of the humans had gone horribly wrong when the archers of the humans mowed them down like plains grasses. Once again he checked the position of the sun. Time was moving too slowly for him and the battle had not been going well. He cursed his stupidity for not insisting on his people learning to make and use bows and arrows even though the Silver Mountain Child had suggested it. He had offered to show them how the weapons could be crafted. But humans had never fought this way before. They could usually be counted upon to join in battle with Greys hand-to-hand. This…this was a coward’s war. Standing back and raining down death from afar. But in the back of his mind Karr admitted that it had been effective. Too effective.

  For the hundredth time the Grey King checked the gates of the walled city. Where were the cavalry? Almost every battle that had been fought thus far had started with the humans using their mounted warriors to disrupt and scatter his lines. So far they had not shown. Certainly they were waiting, planning to use them when Karr’s army was tired and they would be most effective. Or were they? The idea took root in his mind; had the insane human commanders decided that those warriors were better used on foot as infantry? It was possible. It was certainly time for them to finally make a mistake.

  Questions kept flooding his brain and no answers came with them. He needed answers. He needed guidance. He willed himself to relax and close his eyes. He slowed his breathing in the manner he had been taught so long ago and reached out with his mind. He was dimly aware of sweat balling up and running down the interior of his sun-warmed armor. He opened the connection.

  Darkness. A flat black yawning chasm met his mind’s eye, dragging him deeper and deeper into its nothingness.

  He broke off with a scream. Fear vibrated inside him. The image was enormously frightening. He dropped down to one knee and did his best to compose himself, glancing around to make certain that none had seen his fear. But that image remained, a yawning, sucking darkness. It was like…death.

  Karr looked back toward his tent. There was no movement. No indication of anything being afoul.

  He turned his attention back to the battle. With a furious growl he saw that, despite crippling losses, his own forces still had yet to fell even a single human warrior. This simply could not be happening. He looked toward the bluffs and checked the sun’s position again. Still no sign of the mounted human forces. Maybe they had converted them to infantry, thinking that this was unexpected enough to make a difference. Maybe. The little voice in the back of his head did not think so. The voice was saying other things too. Like the fact that they had been fighting for nearly half a day and had only succeeded in losing tens of thousands of his people. They would not continue fighting on like this for much longer. He shaded his eyes with the flat of his hand and looked again to the city gates. Where were the damned cavalry?

  ***

  I made it almost to a position midway between the front and rear lines of the enemy formations. They were to my north and I was running east. A guttural cry rose out from several voices within the Grey ranks. I kept running as fast as I could. I heard the footfalls behind me. I
thanked God for long legs and redoubled my speed. Others in the enemy formation were alerted to my presence and joined the chase. I risked a quick backwards glance and saw a dozen Grey raiders in pursuit. I was still far enough off on the south side of the battlefield that the main force could not reach me with spear or thrown axe. But I was now growing tired and my pursuers had just started their chase.

  A crude spear flew by me, far off to the side. Another came in a little closer. My chasers were now close enough that I could hear them panting and cursing. I noted that I was now past the position of the enemy front lines and was about fifty yards from the Olvioni formations. Some of the warriors in that front line saw me and a cry rose up from them, quickly joined by others. I heard the name Legend being shouted. I had a flash of insight then as to what might happen if I simply continued running, intercepting the southwest corner of our lines and taking advantage of the safety that that option offered.

  Tinker told me I had a reality to experience. Was I The Legend? Was I there to inspire and encourage? Or was I just another warrior? I flashed back on the last few months of my life, as incredible and frightening and wonderful as they had been. There was no way that I was simply another man. I was living a miracle and I was here for a reason and that was a fact. Nothing else could explain my circumstances.

  I slowed my sprint then stopped altogether. There was a grunt of triumph from the beasts behind me. I turned. There were now eleven of them, one having dropped out of the chase. I could hear the cheers of the warriors behind me, egging me on. I began walking back toward my pursuers, sucking in oxygen to refresh myself. The Greys kept coming, a mere ten yards now separating us. I drew my sword, my war mace was already in my right hand. I raised both hands over my head, sword in one, and mace in the other. I sped up, jogging then trotting and, finally, sprinting again. But now I was attacking not escaping. More cheers reached me from our battle lines.

  We met with a loud crash of weapons and bodies. I slashed with my sword and bashed with my mace. Bodies flew and helmets went spinning into the air. Still I kept running, kept swinging. I hammered one beast on top of his helmet. It settled down around his upper lip, blood seeping from beneath. An attempted sword slash from another of the enemy was avoided by removing the sword, hand and half of the forearm. A javelin point entered the fleshy part of my shoulder. I felt no pain being infused with an overdose of adrenaline.

  Then I was through the knot of attackers and on the far side. I wheeled just in time to see an attacker charging with a war hammer raised in both hands and coming straight at me. I hopped to the side and kicked as hard as I could, catching the beast in the chest and caving in the thin copper breastplate he wore. When he hit the ground I lunged forward and skewered him with my sword.

  The beast behind that poor soul tried to remove my head with a double-headed battle axe. I pivoted and ducked. He overshot, losing his footing and scampering past me, trying to stay upright. I took a quick count. Besides him there were another six Greys left.

  One had the javelin and he wisely side-hopped in, waiting for an opening to bury it into my chest rather than risking all on a toss. Another was shouting at the remaining attackers, trying to get them organized. I short-stopped his effort by executing a fencer’s lunge that would have made my weapons teachers proud. My sword caught the shouting Grey in his protruding belly and continued on, exiting through his back. He screamed and dropped his weapon to hold his abdomen.

  I felt a pressure in my side and looked to see that the beast with the javelin had taken advantage of my attentions to his fellow attacker. The sharp tip had already tasted my blood once but it had mercifully missed this time and merely scraped along my left ribcage. The wound smarted some but I saw that it was not serious. I responded by clamping my arm on the blade of the weapon, preventing it from being withdrawn and used on me again. With my right hand I swung my war mace forcefully at the point where his neck met his jawbone. There was a muted crunching sound and the lights went out in his eyes.

  I barely heard the sound of an attacker behind me and swung around to see another beast with a battle axe charging in. He had not learned from his companion’s earlier experience and was, himself, charging at top speed with his axe raised overhead in both hands. Meanwhile two of his friends were inching in off to my right side. I could not handle all three at one time so I gambled and threw my sword at the two. They both dove away from the blade allowing me time to give my full attention to Mr. Battle-axe. Using my greater reach I swung the mace like a baseball bat into his ribs. His entire body folded up sideways like a snapped pencil and he went down screaming in pain.

  I swung back around to meet the remaining attackers but was happily surprised to see them all sprinting at top speed back to their lines, abandoning the effort to stop me. Now cheers raised up behind me again from the Olvioni ranks. I tried my best to appear casual as I picked up my sword and sheathed it then strolled the rest of the way to our battle formation. I was swallowed into the cheering and backslapping crowd of warriors.

  ***

  On Gallan’s side of the battle he could see that the Grey’s had now mostly overcome the barrier presented by the spiked shields because that obstacle was now covered over by dead raiders. The fighters behind were quite simply stepping on and over their bodies.

  The front lines of both sides now finally clashed. Immediately the number of casualties on the human side went from zero to dozens. The pikes at the front shield wall continued to exact a toll on the beasts but there too many of them to stop. Some of them were now able to reach over the tops of the shield wall and score kills with spear and sword. They were paying dearly for it. For every warrior who fell three to four Grey’s went down. But they had a seemingly unending supply of fighters to expend.

  Gallan climbed up on an overturned wooden grease pail that someone had brought to the battlefield. He had dismounted his horse earlier and had no idea where his mount had gone. He used the height of the bucket to survey the condition of the shield wall. It was holding but there several bows here and there. He glanced back at the city. Timing. It all would come down to timing. Gallan had faith in his King but, mostly, he had faith in his commander. If Ruguer said it could be done then Gallan would believe it. The stars knew they had practiced the maneuvers long enough. He looked again at the gates. When?

  ***

  Ruguer raised up in his saddle, trying to see the last of the line of cavalry behind him. His head swiveled back to the aides standing to the side of the open city gate.

  “Now”.

  The aides spoke into communication tubes that were monitored in the war room high above them. Unseen to Ruguer and his officers, orders went out which resulted in flag signals being raised on the highest section of the castle walls. On the battlefield the signal riders saw the castle signals and raised the appropriate pennants. All along the rear of the human lines trumpets and bugles blared out three specific notes. Again and again the notes were repeated. Down on the floor of the valley battlefield other bugles took up the call. Even over the din of war the sounds of the horns could be heard, repeating themselves over and over.

  Along the ranks of the Olvioni warriors every man and woman heard the sounds and tensed, remembering the tactics that were drilled into them over and over in the days leading up to this final battle. All knew they were about to execute the most difficult battle maneuver that had ever been attempted.

  Ruguer relaxed down into his saddle now. To a man like Ruguer, a born soldier and warrior, waiting was always the hard part. When the time came to attack, that was when he relaxed. And now it was he who gave the order. All along the lines of the mounted troops warriors prepared themselves. Maces were checked, lances were readied, reigns were gathered and boots were tucked snugly into stirrups.

  Then, finally, the relentless repeating of the three notes by the horns above and below stopped.

  “Attack,” Ruguer shouted, and spurred his mighty black stallion forward. From all four gates the cavalry stre
amed. Two thousand men on horseback. At their head was their king, resplendent in green and red armor, surrounded by his royal bodyguard. Ruguer and his closest aides were directly behind, ready to surge forward and help protect the monarch should such action be necessary. “Now,” the military commander thought. “Now, if only they can execute as we taught them during the fog of battle.”

  Vynn was on one side of the battlefield and Gallan, the other. Vynn had seen Tag-Gar fight his way into the fold but he had been too far away to do anything to help him. Thankfully the big man had succeeded. But Vynn had other things on his mind now. The horns were signaling for preparations for performing one of the most complicated battlefield maneuvers that Vynn had ever heard of. In his heart he knew his warriors could do it. In the back of his mind he knew that so much could go wrong. He caught the attention of his officers, arrayed evenly down behind the shield wall. He kept signaling until he was satisfied that each of them had heard the bugles and knew what was coming. They were sending their subordinates around to make sure all of the warriors were aware.

  Then the horns stopped.

  “Execute!” he shouted.

  All through the Olvioni battle formation officers and sub-commanders shouted the word. There was a terrible half second in which nothing seemed to happen. Then, almost like a loaf being halved by a sharp knife, the human battle formation cleaved itself, separating into two solid bodies. An alley some fifty yards wide opened in the middle of their formation, as thousands of warriors sidestepped in almost flawless unison.