The Warrior (The Hidden Realm)

by A. Giannetti

  “The enemy has fired the camp,” said Aetarch to Merula. “Had you not ordered us out of the encampment, the whole garrison would have died tonight.”

  Merula stared angrily at the distant fires. He did not seem pleased that Elerian had been vindicated in his prediction that a Goblin army would cross the Arvina.

  “We should leave at once,” said Dacien. “They will be moving in this direction soon.”

  “Mount up then,” said Merula harshly. “Anyone who falls behind will be meat for the Goblins,” he said threateningly, turning his angry gaze in Elerian’s direction.

  “Look to your own safety,” said Elerian in a cold voice, for Merula seemed to bring out the worst in him.

  Enias appeared at Elerian’s side without being called. Leaping lightly onto the stallion’s back, Elerian reached down with his left hand and helped Ascilius mount behind him. When the small company set off in a thunder of hooves, Elerian deliberately held Enias back a little so that he rode near the rear of the small group of horsemen, for he wished to stay as far away from Merula as possible.

  By chance, Aetarch fell in next to Elerian, on his left side. The old warrior’s eyes glittered with excitement at the prospect of going into battle again.

  “You should be home sitting by the fire Aetarch, not fighting a battle,” said Elerian cheerfully.

  “I would rather die well in battle then become an old, doddering fool who cannot stir from his bed on his own,” said Aetarch firmly.

  “See here, Ascilius,” said Elerian dryly. “Here is a warrior after your own heart, rushing to embrace death as eagerly as any Dwarf.”

  “You have reformed me,” said Ascilius, comfortably. “I now wish to live and see my city again.”

  “Turn your horse and ride north then,” said Aetarch grimly. “I do not think any of us will survive the coming battle. Our numbers are too few compared to the great army that opposes us.”

  “We have warriors of great valor on our side to balance their numbers?” said Ascilius serenely.

  “Even the strength of Merula’s and Dacien’s sword arms will not win this day,” said Aetarch gloomily.

  “We shall see,” said Ascilius with a grim smile, but his confidence lay in Elerian, not the leaders of the Tarsi. “He will have a surprise or two for the Goblins, I think,” thought Ascilius to himself.

  Elerian took no part in the conversation, for he was inclined to agree with Aetarch, not Ascilius.

  “This may be my first and last battle,” he thought to himself. He was pleased and surprised that the thought raised no fears in his breast. “If Ascilius and I are meant to survive, then we will,” he thought to himself calmly, thinking of all the other dangers he had passed through in his life.

  They rode in silence after that, alternately galloping their horses or walking them to give them a rest, for they had miles to go before they reached the meeting place. Once, in the distance, Elerian saw a herd of wild oxen, the starlight glinting off their white horns. Another time, a narrow road, about a dozen feet wide, suddenly appeared in front of them, stretching north and south across the plains. The hooves of the horses clopped loudly as they crossed the close fitting stones which made up its surface.

  “What is this road, Ascilius?” asked Elerian curiously.

  “It is the Dwarf road to Ennodius,” said Ascilius. “It runs south all the way to Silanus. If we survive the coming battle, we will return this way and follow it north to Ennodius.”

  After they crossed the road, Elerian continued to look around him to pass the time, but the plains, drained of color by the night and stretching out to the horizon in all directions, were empty now. As the miles continued to creep by, measured by the pounding of the horses’ hooves, Ascilius grew restless. When they were walking the horses once more, he said, “Let us run for a while Elerian. We can easily keep up with this pace.”

  For answer, Elerian stopped Enias and leaped lightly to the ground. Ascilius eagerly jumped down beside him. Enias tossed his head and snorted, looking questioningly at Elerian. Despite his double burden, he showed no sign of tiring. Elerian stroked his sleek neck while Ascilius stretched for a moment. The pair then began to run at a steady pace, Enias following behind them like a dark shadow under the starlight. Ascilius was familiar with their destination and paid little attention when they left the small company of Tarsi behind.

  “Those fools will lose themselves in the darkness,” said Merula harshly to Dacien when Ascilius and Elerian vanished into the night. “You should have sent them on their way north to the Dwarf’s doomed city.”

  “Ascilius knows these plains, and night or day, I have never seen Elerian lose his way,” replied Dacien, thinking of the trackless forests they had traversed after escaping from Calenus.

  Merula merely scowled and made no answer. When the horses had recovered their wind, they galloped them again. Elerian and Ascilius did not appear, and Dacien began to worry in spite of his confident words to Merula. Hidden by the dark, a pleased smile spread across Merula’s face.

  “Perhaps the Goblins will have them after all,” thought Merula to himself. “Good riddance to both of them.”

  Because of the swiftness of their horses, Merula and Dacien were a few lengths ahead of the others. Merula turned a speculative look on his cousin out of the corner of his eyes, as if he weighing some course of action that he preferred to keep concealed.

  “It would be risky,” he thought to himself, his right hand tightening on the hilt of the dagger that he wore on his belt. “I would also have to rid myself of the old fools who follow behind me.”

  Ascilius’s cheerful voice suddenly came out of the darkness ahead of them. Merula started so violently that his horse shied.

  “What took you so long?” shouted the Dwarf. “We feared you had gotten lost.”

  Ascilius and Elerian were both mounted on Enias again, the stallion standing like a still, dark shadow beneath them. Elerian’s sharp, gray eyes were focused on Merula, for despite the darkness; he had seen a furtive, guilty look play briefly across the man’s face after he was startled by Ascilius’s voice.

  “What thoughts would merit such a look?” wondered Elerian uneasily.

  “Have you tired at last?” asked Dacien in a relieved voice. “You have run for miles.”

  “No horse can match a Dwarf in a long race,” said Ascilius in a pleased voice.

  He was not tired at all and had only stopped at Elerian’s insistence, for with each mile they had put between themselves and Dacien, Elerian had grown increasingly uneasy. He had finally decided to wait for the others in order to ease his mind.

  United again, the small company rode through a country that became increasingly hilly as they drew closer to the mountains that lay to the east. Merula led them confidently through one shallow valley after another, a winding path that took more time but which avoided revealing their outlines against the sky line.

  “This is ambush country,” said Ascilius approvingly to Elerian. “Merula can hide his entire force in one of these valleys and fall on the Goblins without warning.”

  They reached the shallow valley Merula had selected as a gathering place just as the rising sun was gilding the eastern horizon. At some time during the night, the two companies from the south had arrived, for here, out of sight of the surrounding plains, almost a thousand men and twice that number of horses were gathered. Thickets of long spears were stacked everywhere, their steel points gleaming in the light of the rising sun.

  Elerian saw that the men were mostly seasoned warriors with stern faces and dark hair. Many of them looked to be past their prime, for the task of guarding the Arvina was considered dull, safe work, suitable for the older riders. Some of the Tarsi were sleeping, rolled in their blankets on the ground, but many were standing or sitting in the grass in small groups, talking quietly as they waited. Elerian saw no fear or panic in their faces, only a quiet courage and in the case of the few younger men, a high excitement. He saw young Gwerth sharpenin
g his long sword with a whetstone, anticipation shining in his eyes at the thought of the coming battle.

  The sight of the young rider saddened Elerian. “How many of us will still be alive to see the sun set tonight?” he wondered to himself.

  Dacien and Merula rode off at once to organize the men, leaving Ascilius and Elerian on their own.

  “It seems we must amuse ourselves for a while,” said Ascilius. “The van of the Goblin army is likely still an hour’s march to the west. We should take a bite to eat, for I fear it will be a long day.”

  “Let us find a quiet place to sit then,” said Elerian.

  He retrieved his pack and Ascilius’s from the pack horse before urging Enias toward the outskirts of the camp. On the side of a low, grassy knoll from which they could observe the whole valley, they dismounted and opened their packs. They found that Aetarch had packed cheese, dried meat, and fruit for them as well as filling their water bottles with a strong red wine.

  “Bless that old man,” said Ascilius after taking a strong pull from his bottle. “I hope he survives the battle.”

  “I hope we all survive,” said Elerian quietly as he considered in his mind the size of the army that followed them. “When do you suppose Orianus will arrive?”

  “Tonight at the earliest,” said Ascilius around a mouthful of cheese. As far as Elerian could tell, the thought of the coming battle had not affected the Dwarf’s appetite at all.

  “This will be my first real battle,” said Elerian with uncharacteristic seriousness.

  Ascilius raised his bushy eyebrows in surprise.

  “You must have led a peaceful life in the south then. I have fought in more battles than I care to remember. I will tell you now to forget any romantic notions you might have gleaned from the histories of past conflicts. This will be an ugly business today.”

  “I expected no less,” said Elerian. He took no food, only a few sips of wine as he honed his two knives and his sword. He still felt no fear, only a rising tension brought on by waiting.

  When the sentries hiding in the long grass at the crest of the knoll suddenly cried out softly, “They are coming,” Elerian felt only a sense of relief that the time for action had come at last. Springing to his feet, he sheathed his knives and slung his sword over his back, along with two quivers of arrows. Elerian left his shield behind with his pack, carrying only his bow in his right hand when he mounted Enias, who stood nearby, nervously shifting his feet and flaring his delicate nostrils. His amethyst eyes had gone dark, almost black, and he tossed his head restlessly as Elerian pulled Ascilius up behind him. The Dwarf carried his shield over his left arm and his ax in his right hand.

  All around them, the Tarsi were mounting their horses, the steel spearheads of the tall lances they held in their hands gleaming brightly in the light of the rising sun. In the middle of the line they were forming at the base of the knoll; Elerian could see Merula and Dacien, side by side. Behind the line of horsemen, the few disgruntled warriors who had been assigned to guard the spare horses were gathering up the packs and preparing to move the herd farther east to a place of safety.

  Merula and Dacien had arranged their horsemen into a line of one hundred, stacked ten deep. Elerian rode down the knoll and took a position at the southern end of the line. Enias shifted restlessly beneath him as they waited for the signal to attack. A lone sentinel at the top of the knoll suddenly stood and waved. With a rumble of hooves, the lines of horsemen suddenly galloped up the side of the hillock. Elerian saw the lookout swing into an empty saddle and then they were over the summit, the Tarsi cavalry cresting the knoll like a dark wave.

  THE AMBUSH

  Merula had picked the place for his ambush well. At the bottom of the knoll was the van of the Goblin army, black clad Mordi marching one hundred Goblins across in a column that stretched across the plain behind them like a vast snake. The Goblins at the head of the column froze in place, startled and confused by the sudden appearance of their enemies. Although their heads were covered by black hoods as a protection against the rising sun, Elerian could imagine the shock on their pale faces.

  Bunched closely together, the first wave of riders overran the bewildered Mordi, sweeping them off their feet and crushing them beneath their horses’ hooves. Weary from their forced march bearing heavy packs, weakened and confused by the bright sun rising in the sky, the Goblins suddenly broke before the Tarsi charge. Some ran to their right or left, others turned in a panic, trying to climb over the ranks of Wood Goblins behind them. The air was filled with their shouts and screams, the blare of horns, and the neighing of the Tarsi horses. In a solid mass, the riders continued to drive against the Goblin column, trampling some and striking down many others with their spears as they sought to flee.

  Because Enias was too light for the brute work being done by the heavier Tarsi horses, Elerian kept him near the southern fringe of the Tarsi cavalry. He and Ascilius saw no action at first, but once the Mordi scattered, they had enough Goblins in front of them to make even Ascilius happy. Hanging onto Elerian’s belt with his left hand, the Dwarf leaned precariously from side to side, happily striking down any Goblin who came within reach. Elerian finally cast a shield spell over himself and Enias; for it seemed to him that they were in more danger from the Dwarf’s razor sharp ax than the fleeing Goblins. He took no part in the slaughter, for he found that he had no stomach for striking down a fleeing enemy, not even Goblins.

  Leaving the Mordi to the bloodthirsty Ascilius, Elerian turned his attention to the tall Urucs who were trying to rally the panicked Wood Goblins. His bow was already strung, and despite the plunging and swerving of Enias, he felled several of the Urucs as they savagely plied their whips in an effort to stem the rout of the Mordi, adding to the confusion that reigned in the Goblin ranks.

  Suddenly, horns rang out behind Elerian. The riders on his right slowed their advance at once and, wheeling their horses around, raced back up the side of the knoll.

  “Why are they retreating?” asked Ascilius harshly. “The Goblin army is melting away before us.”

  Elerian, with his greater height, looked far down the Goblin column and saw that a large company of Urucs was approaching, mounted on sleek atriors, which leaped over the plain like great hunting cats. Merula was wisely pulling back his forces before the advance of the Goblin cavalry, for they far outnumbered his own riders.

  “Back,” Elerian silently warned Enias.

  The gray stallion wheeled at once, following the retreating Tarsi back up the knoll. When the Goblin cavalry finally crested the same knoll, the hidden valley below them was empty. Dozens of trails led away from the valley in all directions, for Merula, who knew the surrounding country well, had split his forces into small groups, all of them avoiding the skylines as they threaded their way east through the shallow, interconnected valleys that scored the plains.

  Fearing another ambush, the Goblin commander deemed it unwise to split his own forces to pursue the Tarsi. Scouts were dispatched to follow the riders, but the greater part of the Goblin cavalry retreated back to the summit of the knoll where they could see all the countryside around them.

  At the base of the knoll, the Goblin army, under the direction of tall Uruc drivers wielding long black whips, reformed itself into a compact, roughly circular formation. The perimeter bristled with long, heavy spears, each one held by two Goblins. Twelve feet long, with a wide cross guard beneath the two foot blade, they were braced against the ground with their points lifted high; making an impenetrable fence that would stop all but the most determined cavalry charge.

  In the center of his army, Agorix sat his restless atrior, consumed by anger. When his forces had entered the Tarsi camp and found that it had been abandoned, he had assumed that the riders had fled south to seek help and that the plains to the east were now unguarded. Speed had become paramount in his mind. As Ascilius had rightly guessed, Agorix abandoned his plan to travel to the mountains by following the Tanicus. Instead, he had savagely pu
shed his forces across the open plains toward the mountains all night long without bothering to send out advance scouts, a grave error, he now realized.

  Agorix was now faced with a dilemma. The company of riders that had attacked his forces was small, not nearly enough to defeat the great army he commanded, even under the light of the sun, but Agorix feared that they might only be a feint. Even now, a larger force of Tarsi might be waiting somewhere out of sight, ready to attack when the moment was right.

  Sitting impatiently on his restless atrior while the hated sun climbed higher in the sky, Agorix waited for the return of his scouts. When the Urucs began to trickle back, a few at a time, they all reported the same thing; the plains for miles around the Goblin army were empty.

  “A small company only then,” thought Agorix to himself. “They seek to delay me and have succeeded only too well.”

  In a savage mood, he ordered trumpets of brass and iron to sound their harsh notes. As the Uruc drivers began to ply their whips, the nervous Mordi put down their spears and arranged themselves into ordered ranks once more, even though the sun made them feel light headed and weak. This time the Goblin cavalry led the advance in case the Tarsi were rash enough to attack again.

  Far enough to the north to have evaded the Goblin scouts, gathered together with their men in another shallow valley, Merula and Dacien were jubilant, for they had delayed the enemy for hours with little loss to themselves. Merula sent out his own scouts, who easily evaded the Urucs sent out to track them, for the Goblins, even in their black hoods, felt lightheaded in the sunshine and their vision was blurred and weakened. When the scouts returned and reported that the Goblin army was strung out once more in a long column, Merula advanced his own forces west again, easily disposing of the few Mordi scouts his company met along the way.