The Cavalier

by Jason McWhirter

  Jonas turned his gaze to Kiln who stood next to the king. He reached down from Tulari’s back and gripped his hand firmly.

  “Be careful, Jonas. I still need a training partner and no one is good enough with a blade. Bring yourself back,” he said seriously.

  “I will,” he answered back as Tulari took the lead and moved forward in anticipation.

  Taleen’s and Fil’s horses followed and they moved off through the meadow. Jonas looked back at the group, who were silently watching them depart, and yelled. “May Shyann be with you!”

  Epilogue

  Allindrian angled her hand out slightly and flicked her wrist, the subtle move slicing open the orc’s throat just after she had skewered the monster to the left of its windpipe, right through the artery that snaked up its neck like a thick ropey vine.

  The orc fell back into the throng of enemies without a sound.

  Allindrian whipped her head around to survey the situation. She had only a few moments before more orcs were upon her, but it was enough.

  Their retreat from Tarsis was turning into a rout. Chaos surrounded them as King Kromm and maybe a hundred knights battled for their lives.

  They had barely made it out of the city alive and when they emerged from the king’s secret tunnel several hundred paces from the city’s western wall, they were set upon immediately by the enemy.

  They had been fighting for their lives ever since.

  Eight hours ago, in the dead of the night, Allindrian had heard something, her elven hearing more acute than that of the humans around her. Her private room was near the king’s chambers, and she knew that something was amiss, as the sound was out of place.

  The walls of Tarsis had been breached, impossible, but nonetheless true. Malbeck’s army had descended upon the city like the plague, slaughtering all of those who were caught unaware, and eventually even those who had had the time to rise from their warm beds and arm themselves. There were just too many of them and the Tarsinian Knights had been caught completely by surprise. They’d had no time to prepare a proper defense. It was a blood bath.

  Allindrian was able to rouse King Kromm and his family and escape through the secret tunnel with a small group of castle guards.

  Allindrian dodged another strike from an orc’s axe and shuffled backwards, cutting the beasts arm off at the elbow. They had to move; if they stayed there fighting, eventually they would be overrun by sheer numbers.

  Several knights fought next to her with shield and sword. She jumped back and the trained knights closed the gap, offering her the reprieve she needed to race up the slight hill on which they were fighting.

  The terrain consisted of rolling hills covered with huge old timber, interspersed with low growing shrubs and a mixture of mosses and grass. Winter was approaching and the typically dense forest was opening up, its greenery tucking away from the quickly dropping temperature. Soon the mountains would be covered with snow.

  There were pockets of fighting all around her and it only took her a few moments to find King Kromm. The giant monarch stood near a stand of trees swinging his mighty sword in great arcs of steely death. He was flanked by a hundred of the elite knights and Allindrian knew that behind them would be his family, and probably Addalis, his court wizard.

  When they had emerged from the escape tunnel they had found pockets of resistance all throughout the forest. Some of the Tarsinian soldiers had escaped and the king had wasted no time in uniting the forces and establishing a quick defense.

  Kromm’s son, Prince Riker, was coming of age and beginning to fill out, looking like his massive father. The young man could fight if he needed to but Allindrian would bet with confidence that he was safely hidden behind the king and protected by Addalis and the prince’s mother, Queen Sorana, who was a decent blade wielder in her own right.

  More orcs were scrambling up the hill toward the king, and as Allindrian looked down through the trees she saw even more black armored beasts scurrying upward.

  She swore under her breath, racing the last thirty paces toward the king. Several orcs leaped from behind a few nearby trees and came at her with black steel. But her silver blade danced left and right and she spun by them in a blur, hardly slowing as both orcs fell to the ground, eyes wide with shock, trying to register how such a small form could be so deadly.

  It took only moments to reach the guard behind the main fighting force. Her guess was correct. Queen Sorana was standing alert, sword in hand as if expecting at any moment for the wall of knights to break and the orcs to overrun them. Her beautiful full eyes were wide with fright but her stance was determined. Her long blond hair was pulled back, gathered with a leather thong, and then braided down to mid back.

  Standing next to her was her son, Riker. He, too, held a blade and his height made him recognizable immediately. He was almost as tall as his father, but his build was slighter, taking after the more petite stature of his mother. Even so, his figure was impressive at such a young age.

  Six armed knights formed a perimeter around the two, while Addalis was glancing left and right looking for attacking orcs. The fighting was so chaotic that no one knew when or where the enemy would appear.

  “Addalis!” Allindrian yelled as she jumped over a log to land in the midst of them.

  Addalis quickly ran to her as did the queen and the prince. “Allindrian! What do we do?” He questioned frantically.

  They had all been running and fighting for the better part of the day and the constant struggle was starting to takes its toll. Everyone’s nerves were strung tight and it was clear to Allindrian that they were beginning to lose hope.

  “We must retreat! Many more orcs are converging on us now! If we stay, we die!”

  “How will we escape? They are upon us!” yelled the queen over the clashing of metal near them.

  The fighting was so loud that they didn’t even hear the sound of approaching men. Kromm moved toward them with haste, flanked by General Farwin who had luckily escaped with the king in the middle of the night.

  The king was dripping with sweat and covered with the blood of his enemies, yet his blue eyes still shone with the lust of battle. His giant two handed long sword was held low in one hand, dripping dark crimson from its shiny suface. The battle king was seven feet tall and covered with rippling muscle, dense and powerful, the kind of muscle built from constant warfare.

  General Farwin held a shield and long sword and he breathed heavily from the relentless fighting. His dark hair was laced with many strands of silver. He was not a young soldier anymore and Allindrian wondered how much longer he could keep up the fighting.

  “King Kromm, we must get you away, and now! More orcs are storming the hill and they will reinforce the group you now fight!” Allindrian yelled again.

  “How many, Blade Singer?” asked Kromm, his voice deep and masking any emotion he might be feeling.

  Allindrian had never seen someone so calm and deadly in battle before, at least no human. The man had been swinging that massive sword all day and he still looked like he could crush an ogre with his bare hands. His focus never faltered. Allindrian was impressed, and that was no easy feat.

  “Hundreds, and it will be thousands soon after.”

  “Father, what should we do?” Riker asked.

  “We have few options and none of them are desirable,” Kromm said.

  “My Lord! More are upon us!” screamed a soldier as he ran from the fighting men behind them. He stumbled from exhaustion and General Farwin caught him before he fell. “Hundreds of the vermin are racing up the hill,” the soldier stammered as he righted himself and stood up straight before his king. “And I saw several ogres in the distance!”

  “Ogres! In Ulren’s name, my husband, what can we do,” Queen Sorana cried, her eyes flicking to her son and back to her husband. Kromm did not miss the look and he gritted his teeth in anger. He would not let anything happen to his son, or his wife, they had to get away at all cost.

  “We will keep a
force here to protect your backs while you flee into the mountains, it is the only way!” Allindrian yelled.

  “I cannot leave my men to die!” Kromm yelled in frustration.

  “My Lord Kromm, it must be done, you know we have no other options,” General Farwin said as he gripped the king’s muscled arm tightly, making him understand. Kromm stared at his general, his eyes hard and filled with anger for the decision that he must make.

  Kromm would normally never leave his men. He would fight, and die, next to them. But this time he had his family with him. He could not stay behind knowing they were alone in the mountains being hunted by Malbeck’s minions. He knew that deep down every one of his personal guards would lay down their lives for him, and his family, as he would do the same for them. Sometimes leaders had to make difficult decisions. This was one of those times. “See to it,” Kromm ordered reluctantly.

  And with that, things were set into motion.

  Before the orcs could be reinforced by the others, the knights pressed forward with reckless abandon.

  But the maneuver was expertly executed under the direction of General Farwin. It seemed reckless, and it was, but it had a purpose, and the knights under his leadership knew it. They had fought hundreds of battles together and they had complete trust in their sword brothers and their officers. They followed his orders without question.

  They pushed forward and moved into a tight formation, shields and swords cutting down orcs as they crashed into the steel wall of bodies. Slowly they moved down the hill, pushing the orcs back and getting closer to the enemy reinforcement that would surely crush them.

  General Farwin was yelling orders at the rear the entire time.

  Simultaneously, as the formation shrunk into a tight V shape, men would move behind the formation and disengage completely to run back up the hill to join their king.

  About thirty or forty men had disengaged from the formation when the enemy reinforcements appeared through the trees.

  General Farwin was behind the formation standing on a downed tree. “Hold!” he screamed over the fighting.

  Fifty men instantly stopped their forward momentum as hundreds of orcs raced toward them to reinforce their brethren. Tarsinian steel came down again and again with deadly efficiency at the orcs before them. But as one fell back another took its place, and it wouldn’t be long before there would be two or three replacing the one fallen.

  They were doomed. The vast numbers would enable them to flank their small formation and crush them. General Farwin looked around frantically, trying to come up with something that would slow the advance of the orcs to give his king enough time to get away. He looked back up the hill towards his king and saw Addalis running at him. “What are you doing?” Farwin asked. “You should be running with the king!”

  “Allindrian is leading them away as we speak. I have a plan to slow them down,” Addalis said through panting breaths as he stood up straight and tried to calm his breathing.

  “A spell?” General Farwin questioned.

  Addalis nodded. “Be ready to leave with me directly,” Addalis said as he took two calming deep breaths.

  “I will not leave my men.”

  “Kromm ordered it,” was all Addalis said before he began his spell. He closed his eyes, lifted both his arms wide, and recited the ancient words, the words that would allow him to access the power of the Ru’Ach.

  Suddenly a thick greenish mist materialized on both sides of the fighting formation. It appeared quickly and began to spread out in both directions.

  “What is it?” yelled General Farwin.

  “Stinking cloud! It will hold on both sides of the formation; hopefully the orcs will avoid it and funnel towards the center.”

  “Where they will be met with Tarsinian steel,” Farwin reasoned.

  They fought in the center of a natural gully so it came to reason that the orcs would take the easiest route to them, and the cloud would just give them another nudge towards the center rather than tempt them to flank the knights.

  It all depended on who the beasts had leading them, if anyone. Regardless, it would at least give them some more time.

  The thick green mist covered the forest floor on either side of the fighting men and sure enough the plan was working. The enemy reinforcements came howling up the hill and they joined their brethren with steel and claw. It tripled the numbers they were fighting, but at least they would not be flanked.

  Some orcs attempted to breach the mist but were repelled quickly as they inhaled the poisonous mixture. It would not kill them but the stink was so severe that they stumbled from the noxious fog, coughing and vomiting and struggling for clean air.

  “Let’s go, General, we need to catch up to them,” Addalis said as he turned to go.

  Farwin hesitated, looking back at his men who were fighting for their lives.

  “General, their sacrifice is for their land and liege, you know they would make the conscious choice if they were able,” Addalis reasoned.

  Addalis felt for the man, as he too felt for the men that would die so they could live. But he had not built close relationships with the men below them as had the general, and he knew that that connection, built over years of combat together, would be a strong pull to keep him with his men. It would be heartwrenching for General Farwin to leave them.

  “General, would you not die to save your king?” asked addalis.

  Farwin turned toward him again, his eyes pleading, begging for him to come up with a solution to his problem. “Yes, without reservation.”

  “And so would they. Your king ordered you to leave your men; he will need you in the trials ahead of us, do not let Kromm down,” Addalis said.

  And that was all it took.

  General Farwin turned toward his men and raised his bloody sword in the air. “For Kromm!” he screamed. “For Tarsis!”

  And his men, fighting for their lives, took up the cheer.

  Addalis and General Farwin raced up the hill to the sounds of Kromm’s name echoing through the trees.

  The End…

  Book Two, THE RISE OF MALBECK, Soon To Follow

  Look for it at TwiinEntertainment.com

  About the author

  Jason McWhirter has been a history teacher for seventeen years. He lives in Washington with his wife, Jodi, and dog, Meadow. He is a certifiable fantasy freak who, when he wasn’t playing sports, spent his childhood days immersed in books and games of fantasy. He’d tumble into bed at night with visions of heroes, dragons, and creatures of other worlds, fueling his imagination and spurring his desire to create fantasies of his own. When he isn’t fly fishing the lakes and streams of the Northwest, or wine tasting and entertaining with his wife and friends, he spends his spare time sitting in front of the computer writing his next novel or screenplay.

  Glossary

  Ru’Ach: An elven word used to describe the source of all life…thought of as a river of energy that created all things.

  Ekahal: An elvish wizard

  IshMian: Elven name for a cognivant, a person gifted with mental powers. Little is known of this power but the gifts range from telekinesis and ESP, to mind control.

  Ty’erm: Sharneen term used to describe a meditative state.

  Akron: Military term that means a thousand men.

  Modrig: Military term that means five hundred men.

  Ludus: Military term that means two hundred and fifty men.

  Pandar: Military term that means fifty men.

  Nock, or Nocking: The nock is the end of the arrow that has a crevice for the string. To nock an arrow is to put an arrow to string.

  Table of Contents

 

 

 
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