by A. Giannetti
Swinging his forces to the north, Merula cleverly positioned his company in another valley. Waiting behind a grass covered ridge until half the Goblin army had passed by; Merula suddenly gave a silent hand signal to his forces to attack. For a second time, the Tarsi stormed over a low knoll to strike at the column of Goblins, this time overriding the Wood Goblins in the middle so that Goblin army was cut in two. Splitting his small force, Merula led half his riders west and Dacien led the other half east, driving the ranks of Mordi infantry in on themselves with the weight of their horses, until the two ends of the Goblin columns became a milling, disorganized mob. When the Goblin cavalry raced toward them, Merula fled back over the knoll with his forces, splitting them into small units again so that the Urucs would have a multitude of trails to follow.
It was well into the afternoon before Agorix restored order to his forces. The sun was high in the sky now, beating down relentlessly on the Goblins who staggered and felt ill under its bright rays.
Agorix was furious at the delay, and his inability to come to grips with the elusive riders. He decided to prepare a surprise for the slippery commander of the Tarsi. At his orders, the mutare, who, up to now, had traveled at the rear of the column, were brought up and spread all around the perimeter of the ranks of Mordi. Spears and shields were put aside and bows appeared in the hands of the Wood Goblins. The Goblin cavalry took up a position at the rear of the column, and the Goblin army began to move east once more.
“Perhaps we may hold them after all,” said Elerian to Ascilius from where they lay hidden on the top of a knoll, spying on the Goblin army. “Merula has done a masterful job of delaying the Goblins.”
“The issue is still in doubt,” said Ascilius pessimistically. “We must hold them for hours yet, and the mountains are barely five miles away now. I also judge that the easy work is done. Look how their commander has pushed the mutare to the outside of the column to cushion his Mordi troops. I see many bows in evidence too, but the greater danger comes from the mutare. They are not affected by the sun and are too nimble and powerful to be completely overridden by a company of horsemen as small as Merula’s. I think I should warn Merula not to make another direct attack.”
“I do not think Merula will welcome us meddling in his strategy,” said Elerian doubtfully. “He has performed well up to now, and he may have already taken the mutare and the bows into account.”
“I will still speak to him,” said Ascilius stubbornly.
Working their way back down the hill until they were below the skyline, Elerian and Ascilius mounted Enias, who was grazing on the lush, spring grass at the bottom of the knoll. Keeping out of sight, they rode north to where the company of Tarsi was concealed in a shallow valley. Ignoring Elerian’s advice, Ascilius slid to the ground and made his way through the ranks of Tarsi warriors, who had dismounted to rest or tend to their horses, until he found Merula and Dacien standing together, planning their next ambush. Merula’s face was flushed with triumph from his victories over the Goblins, and his pale eyes gleamed as he talked animatedly to an admiring Dacien.
“You must not make another direct attack Merula,” said Ascilius, interrupting their conversation. “The Goblin commander has put mutare around the outside of his column.”
“My scouts have already brought me that information, Ascilius,” said Merula, irritated at being interrupted. “I see no need to alter my methods. Now that the Goblin cavalry has gone to the rear of the column, we can attack the van again. The changelings are little more than animals. They will scatter when we override them, leaving us to face only Mordi who have been weakened and had their wits addled by the sun. Even armed with bows, they will pose little danger to my riders. We will strike them hard and then retreat again.”
“I must side with Merula, Ascilius,” said Dacien, hoping to forestall an argument. “His tactics have delayed the enemy for hours already, with few losses to our own forces.”
“Little thanks to you or your companion, Ascilius,” added Merula sarcastically. “I have watched the two of you skulk about the fringes of the battle. Your companion has yet to draw his sword despite his brave words earlier.”
Ascilius instantly went dark with rage, but before he could make any reply, Merula turned and mounted his horse, riding away to ready his troops for another attack.
“Pay no attention to his words, Ascilius, for he has weighty matters on his mind,” said Dacien, attempting to soothe the furious Dwarf. “I saw many a Goblin fall beneath your ax, and I did not fail to notice the Urucs who fell to Elerian’s arrows.”
Ascilius was somewhat mollified by Dacien’s words. “I will keep silent for now Dacien, but be assured that I will have some choice words for Merula when the fighting is done,” grumbled Ascilius.
“After the battle, you can say what you like,” replied Dacien, mounting Mylachen.
Merula was already gathering his riders for another sortie, so Ascilius returned to where Elerian waited, mounted on Enias. From the sour look on the Dwarf’s face, Elerian knew that his meeting with Merula had not gone well.
“He refused to take my advice,” said Ascilius gloomily to Elerian. “Merula is an admirable warrior, but he should have heeded my warning. He is badly underestimating the mutare. I saw what those creatures are capable of in the battle for Calenus. We will not come away unscathed this time.”
By the time Elerian swung Ascilius up behind him, most of the Tarsi had already disappeared, threading their way south through the low places toward the Goblin army. The Tarsi met no Goblin scouts, for Agorix now wanted the riders to attack his army.
Elerian and Ascilius eventually found Merula and his men gathered at the base of another steep sided knoll. At its summit, lying on his belly in the grass, Elerian saw a single rider, presumably watching for the arrival of the Goblin army. Suddenly, the lookout eased back, crawling on his belly. When he was below the summit of the knoll, he jumped to his feet and raced down the hill, waving both arms. Merula silently signaled to his riders with his right hand. As one, the company of Tarsi galloped up the side of the knoll, one of the riders leading a horse with an empty saddle for the lookout.
“Stay back,” Ascilius warned Elerian as Enias sped up the hill after the Tarsi. “This will not go well.”
Elerian thought this strange advice from the fiery Dwarf, but he slowed Enias, and they were among the last to crest the knoll.
“Wait here,” shouted Ascilius from behind him.
Elerian silently signaled Enias to stop near the summit. The stallion shifted restlessly beneath him, stamping his front hooves and flaring his nostrils as he took in the sights and sounds of the battle below him. Together, Elerian and Ascilius watched uneasily as the first of the Tarsi rode into the Goblin ranks. They were met by savage mutare, who snarled their defiance as they confronted the line of riders. Unlike the Mordi, they were not confused and weakened by the hot sun. Day or night, it was all the same to them. Many went down under the spears of the riders or were thrust off their feet by their horses and trampled, but the rest refused to panic, for fear was foreign to their savage natures. The survivors ran nimbly beneath the horses of the Tarsi, stabbing or clawing at their bellies so that they reared and unseated their riders. Any Tarsi who fell to the ground was instantly torn apart by the teeth and claws of the mutare. As more mutare raced from farther down the Goblin column to join in the attack, the line of riders slowed, becoming easy targets for the Mordi archers.
Safe behind the ranks of the changelings, the Wood Goblins narrowed their watering eyes beneath their black hoods and let loose a cloud of arrows at the riders, who sat above the fray on their horses. Their aim was poor, but Elerian still saw riders waver and fall, stuck full of dark arrows. Living or dead, they were torn apart by the ferocious mutare when they fell to the ground. Horses too were going down, bristling with arrows, their terrible screams rending the air as the mutare tore out their throats. Taken completely by surprise by the sudden reversal of his fortunes, Merula ord
ered the horns to sound a belated retreat.
The surviving riders raced back up the knoll, the mutare casting aside their weapons and bounding up the hill after them on all fours, howling for blood. Merula and Dacien fearlessly stayed to the rear of the retreating riders. Casting aside their spears, they fended off the mutare who attacked them with their swords, but others were not so lucky or skillful. All around Merula and Dacien, the beast-like mutare pulled down retreating riders. It seemed to Elerian that few of them would reach the summit alive.
THE KNOLL
“I cannot sit here and watch them being torn apart one by one,” said Elerian, drawing his sword from its sheath on his back.
“It will be certain death for both of us if we ride down that hill,” warned Ascilius.
“I can protect all three of us for a time with a shield spell, although there will be some risk in trying to maintain the spell while we are moving,” Elerian assured Ascilius. “You can stay here if you do not wish to ride with me.”
“I said nothing about remaining behind,” said Ascilius impatiently. Stop talking nonsense and cast your spell.”
Raising his right hand, Elerian watched with his third eye as a golden tide of light, pale under the bright sun, spread from the fingers of his right hand until it completely covered him, Ascilius, and Enias. At Elerian’s silent command, Enias shot down the slope through the retreating riders, Ascilius holding tightly to Elerian’s belt with his left hand to avoid falling off.
When Enias reached the first of the mutare, he slipped through their ranks like quicksilver. Elerian did his best to protect the stallion, but found it difficult to keep Enias’s legs inside the safety of his magical shield. Only the stallion’s wondrous speed and agility allowed him to evade the reaching claws and teeth of the changelings and remain unharmed.
As Enias swiftly quartered back and forth across the hill, descending lower down the slope with each pass, Elerian and Ascilius reaped a deadly harvest, cutting down any changeling who came within their reach and leaving a trail of bodies in their wake. Two thirds of the way down the knoll, Elerian silently signaled Enias to stop his deadly race, for the mutare racing up the hill below him had abandoned their pursuit of the Tarsi, turning on Elerian and Ascilius instead. Dismounting from Enias, they stood back to back with Enias between them inside a circle of snarling, leaping, hairy bodies.
Elerian found it difficult to maintain his spell now that he and Ascilius were separated, and each of them suffered wounds from the teeth and claws of the mutare as their weapons rose and fell in quick, deadly strokes. Enias, too, was wounded as he reared and struck at the mutare with his forelimbs, splitting their skulls with his sharp hooves.
The pack of changelings gathered around Elerian and Ascilius ground their teeth and howled in rage, but eventually none dared to advance past the grim wall of gray and black furred bodies that slowly rose up around the two companions and Enias, for they had learned to fear the bright sword and the ax held by the two companions.
“Let us go Elerian,” said Ascilius, as arrows sang around them. The Dwarf flinched as one shaft struck his chest over his heart before falling harmlessly to the ground without doing any damage, repelled by Elerian’s shield spell. “You cannot hold them off forever with your spell. We are all three of us already wounded, and the Goblin cavalry approaches on their atriors.”
Elerian spared a quick glance up the side of the knoll and saw that the company of Tarsi was gone. Only Dacien and Merula, along with a few other riders, were still stubbornly maintaining their position at the top of the hill. Hairy bodies lay still in the grass before their horse’s hooves, for they had slain the few mutare who had gotten past Elerian and Ascilius. Elerian lifted his right hand, signaling Dacien to retreat.
“Come cousin, he is signaling us to go,” said Merula wearily when he saw Elerian lift his arm. He bore little resemblance now to the confidant commander who had led his riders down the hill only a short time before.
“It goes against the grain to leave them,” said Dacien indecisively. “They have saved all our lives.”
“No great feat if you are protected by magic,” said Merula sourly. No mage himself, he was still familiar with magic and guessed that Elerian had shielded himself, his mount, and Ascilius with a shield spell, something only a very powerful mage could have accomplished.
“Stay, if it pleases you, cousin,” said Merula shortly as an arrow whistled past his left ear, “but bear in mind that you have no magic shield to protect you like your strange companions.”
Turning his stallion, Merula rode off, followed by his men, leaving Dacien alone on the hilltop. Once more, Elerian signaled Dacien to leave. Reluctantly, it seemed to him, the Tarsi finally disappeared over the crest of the knoll.
Elerian looked around him and saw that the pack of mutare surrounding them had thinned out. The warm smell of fresh blood was now thick in the warm air, rising from the slain Tarsi and their horses as well as the dead mutare. It was proving to be an irresistible lure to the changelings. All across the side of the knoll and at its base where the initial battle had taken place, they began to tear at the bodies on the ground. The crack of whips came sharp and clear through the still air as Urucs moved among those at the base of the knoll, seeking to force the rebellious mutare up the hill toward Elerian and Ascilius, but as more and more changelings joined in the bloody banquet, the Goblins gave up and left the creatures to feed unrestrained. With furtive eyes on the Uruc drivers, many of the Mordi began to battle with the mutare for the bodies of the riders, and several savage fights broke out on the hillside between the Wood Goblins and the changelings. The sharp crack and pop of whips filled the air again as the Urucs sought to restore order.
“Let them all feast,” Agorix ordered his lieutenants when he rode up at the head of his cavalry. “The mutare will be less savage when they have gorged, and the taste of man flesh will stiffen the resolve of the Mordi.”
Reining in his atrior at the base of the knoll, Agorix made no effort to pursue the Tarsi who had fled over the top of the hillock. He saw with savage pleasure that many of them lay dead on the hillside. The rest, likely enough, had already scattered, bolting for cover like frightened rabbits. His mount grew restive and savage at the smell of fresh blood, but the Uruc reined him in with an iron hand.
“Inform the troops that when the feasting is done, we will rest here until evening,” he said softly to his commanders. “We are now but five miles from the mountains, and I no longer fear any reinforcements that might come from Silanus. We will be safe in the mountains long before they arrive here. If they are foolish enough to follow us into the forest, all the advantage will be ours.”
After his Urucs rode off to disseminate his orders, Agorix turned his attention to the strange pair still standing next to the gray stallion on the knoll. Despite the black hood that he wore, the strong sunlight pained his eyes, and he could not get a clear view of the stallion or its riders. Like Elerian, however, Agorix possessed mage sight, and even in the bright sunlight, he saw the pale, golden light that cloaked the stallion and its riders. Black arrows were still falling around Elerian and Ascilius without doing any harm.
“A mage,” thought Agorix to himself. “One of the two is a powerful mage, but where did he come from?”
Rumors had reached him from Calenus that Torquatus had been wounded by an unknown mage accompanied by a Dwarf. Could this be the same pair? Agorix cursed the sun that blurred his vision, preventing him from seeing the figures on the hillside clearly. It did seem to him that one of them was shorter than the other.
On the hill, Ascilius said again, more urgently, “Let us go, Elerian. The Tarsi have all ridden to safety. There is nothing we can do for the dead except join them. I do not like the sight of all those atriors gathered together so close by.”
“Very well Ascilius, we will go,” said Elerian, “but I do not think we need fear any pursuit. Those who died here have bought us time with their lives. First the Goblins and
their allies will feast and then they will rest. See how some of the Mordi have spread blankets to shade themselves from the sun.”
“Go!” said Ascilius impatiently. “We can talk later where it is safe. That Uruc commander below us is almost certainly a mage. Who knows what he may be capable of?”
Giving in at last to Ascilius’s demand, Elerian mounted Enias, pulling Ascilius up behind him. He did not fear the Uruc commander, but he was growing weary of maintaining the shield spell that protected them. He had also tired of the scent of blood that filled the air, and the sight of the savage feast going on around him sickened his stomach.
The gray stallion lightly leaped over the ring of bodies before him and then galloped up the hill, weaving between the mutare feasting on the hillside. The changelings raised their heads, baring bloody teeth, but they remained crouched protectively over their kills as Enias sped past them, mane and tail flying in the wind of his passage.
“He rides a merghi,” thought Agorix to himself in surprise as he watched Enias run. “I thought the last of those creatures either died in Fimbria or departed over the western sea. Now I have another mystery to solve, for a merghi will allow no one but an Elf on his back.”
When Enias crested the summit of the knoll, Elerian saw that the valley on the far side of the hill was empty, but the trails of the fleeing Tarsi were plain in the lush grass. As Enias descended the side of the hill, Elerian wearily ended his shield spell. He had taken a risk in maintaining it for so long, for it had taxed his strength heavily. Selecting a trail at random, Elerian silently urged Enias to follow it.
A mile to the east, Dacien waited on his stallion next to Merula and his mount in a shallow valley between grass covered knolls. The survivors of Merula’s company were gathered around them. Dacien had taken a head count which revealed that almost a third of the company had fallen in the last disastrous attack. Many of the survivors had sustained serious wounds, further reducing the ability of the company to fight.