Slaves to the Sword

by Jack Cage

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” The advisor scurried away.

  The Red Guard archers pummeled Carpenter’s Army relentlessly with a rainfall of arrows. Unfortunately, Carpenter was correct: the impact of the Harksteadian arrows was hardly effective against his soldiers’ shields and the Red Guard’s supply of arrows was dwindling quickly.

  “Advance the infantry twenty paces forward,” ordered Carpenter. “Maybe this will entice the turtle to leave its shell.” Watching the opposition struggle, he and his leaders began to laugh.

  *

  “Carpenter’s men are advancing, Your Highness!” Singletary yelled down to Stuart from the battlements.

  “Tell the archers to hold their arrows,” Stuart commanded.

  “They have no arrows to hold!” he replied.

  “Come down from your perch immediately!”

  Once Singletary was back on the ground level, he met briefly with Stuart to discuss their next move. Several things were at play. Carpenter’s men were advancing, and the aerial strike was not as effective in eliminating large numbers of the enemy army as Singletary and Stuart had hoped. The two Midland leaders knew they could not allow Carpenter’s men to advance too close to the castle because if they did, the Red Guard would not be able to keep them from charging the castle gate.

  This knowledge led Stuart to make a tough decision. “We have to send a group of fighters out while holding a strong position in front of the gate.”

  “What if they try to advance while our men are rushing to their positions?” Singletary asked.

  “They will not risk advancing too many of their fighters at one time,” Stuart assured him. “We have the advantage with our numbers to prevent them from attempting that. However, if we take too many losses, they will be able to advance on our castle with little resistance.” Turning to his troops, Stuart commanded, “Raise the portcullis, and open the doors! Remember, men: try to go as deep into their ranks as you can. We must try to push them back as much as possible!”

  Slowly, the thick iron portcullis was hoisted up and locked into position. The heavy wood-and-iron doors were opened from the inside as the Harkstead cavalrymen galloped out of the castle, followed by a chorus of yelling Midland fighters.

  *

  “Ah! Here they come, screaming like savages,” Carpenter said.

  Hundreds of Harkstead fighters rushed into the hardened steel blades and shields of Carpenter’s men. The fighting began at a frenzied pace. Men swung their swords wildly at anyone they did not recognize as their own. Harkstead cavalrymen pummeled their opponents with weighted and spiked maces.

  Many of the first men to make it to Carpenter’s front line were impaled by the pikes that were raised just as they approached. The long and pointed poles were quite effective in slowing down the advance of Stuart’s soldiers.

  *

  After several hours of fighting, the Midland contingent had to reconvene at the entrance to Harkstead Castle.

  “Your Highness, we have taken many casualties,” one fighter reported.

  “Shall we send another wave, Your Highness?” asked Singletary.

  “Yes,” Stuart conceded, “but send the men with poleaxes and sparths to assist with removing those pikes. They must use their blades to fight and cut them down, so our men can advance without being impaled.”

  Once the men were given the proper weaponry, they were sent back onto the battlefield, but getting past the pikes was difficult. To cut the pikes down, the Midland fighters had to remove the impaled bodies of their countrymen, which was time-consuming and left them exposed to the barrage of arrows Carpenter’s men fired toward them.

  *

  “More arrows! More bloody arrows!” Carpenter commanded. “I will have my victory today!”

  “The Midlanders are trying to cut their way through the pikes,” said Davis. “They are not prepared for this battle, nor are they prepared for my battle plan.”

  “You mean my ideas for your plan. My brilliance is tantalizing. I cannot wait for this to be over, so I can look Phillip in his old, red face and order his head to be cut off!” said Carpenter gleefully. “Do you think he will fight with his men?”

  “No, Your Majesty, he will not fight with his men, but he will not run away, either. That is the type of man he is.”

  “Well, you should know. You were once a member of his Red Guard.”

  “We must continue pressuring them to send more men out to the battle.”

  “Advance the infantry again!” Carpenter ordered.

  *

  The bitter cold of the day gave way to the freezing night, and the fighting did not slow as the sun’s rays retreated into the horizon. The bodies of many fallen Midland soldiers lined the grounds leading toward Harkstead Castle. Wave after wave of Midland soldiers were sent out, and few returned. The earth began to soften with the moisture of the bloodshed on the battlefield.

  “We are not making any progress fighting this way, Your Highness,” Singletary said. “We are amassing too many casualties fighting a large force without our own formation and ranks.”

  “How many men do you believe we have lost?” Stuart asked.

  “I have been told the number is around four hundred, Your Highness, but there is no way to know with certainty,” Singletary replied.

  “Sound the horn to signal our men to fall back. We will regroup and join together in formation.”

  “What of the Red Guard, Your Highness?”

  “The Red is our last defense and best used in melee with hand weapons.”

  “We do not have enough soldiers to fill the ranks.”

  “Give the archers swords, and that will help fill in the ranks”

  Singletary offered to lead the group out, and after a long pause, Stuart shook his friend’s hand, and said, “Thank you for fighting with me. I shall see you on the battlefield or in the afterlife, good friend.”

  Fitzgerald led the newly formed Harkstead contingent—armored cavalrymen with spears and foot soldiers carrying double-edged axes and spiked flails—out toward the blood-soaked battlefield. [DS15]

  *

  The resulting casualties of Carpenter’s army were surprising, and Carpenter was not pleased with the Midlanders’ change in strategy.

  “Why did you allow them to form their ranks?” Carpenter bellowed. He was red in the face, and spittle flew from his mouth with every word. “They are going to push us back from our position!”

  “They will not, Your Majesty. They do not have enough men.” Davis said. “They have one more push in them before their ranks will be depleted.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “Order the archers to fall back, and send more of our heavily armed soldiers ahead of the armored ranks.”

  “Make the order.”

  *

  Under the cover of night, most of the horrific fighting occurred. Heavy broadswords and axes produced more blood and limbs lost than the fighting during the daylight hours.

  The sounds of men fighting could be heard far beyond the castle walls. The Sefu brothers would have heard it in their room, but they were asleep after the long day in service of the king.

  A knock was heard at the Sefu brothers’ door, but it went unanswered. Another series of knocks sounded quickly. Amri, stirred from his slumber, opened the door and was told by a king’s maiden that he was needed in the king’s chambers.

  Inside the chambers, King Phillip was standing at his window, looking out into the darkness; listening to the constant clanging of metal and screams of pain from the men below. He saw Amri from the corner of his eye and said, “Go down to the castle gate and get word from my son on the status of my armies.”

  “Very well,” Amri replied. Ordinarily, the king would never allow anyone to talk to him in such a manner, but Phillip’s mind was tending to more pressing matters, like how to keep his only biological son safe from Carpenter. He knew if Harold was killed, there would be no true heir to the throne, and the Midlands would be lost.
r />   As Amri made his way down to the castle gate, he could see the men who were injured earlier in the day.

  The scene at the gate was frantic. Amri saw Stuart plotting strategy with his advisors, but he did not bother approaching him. Instead, he decided to continue walking. This was the freedom he spoke of earlier with his brother.

  Amri walked under the portcullis and beyond the castle walls. He could see the men fighting in the distance, he could smell the blood in the air, and could hear the moaning of the injured men laying on the ground in front of him. Amri thought about how easy it would be for him to slip away from the castle, and the fighting, and take the opportunity to explore this new land on his own. But he could not. Thoughts of his father and brother flooded his mind. Amri knew he had to do as he was told to protect his family. Reluctantly, he turned around and ran back toward Harkstead Castle.

  He found Stuart Miles and said, “Your father sent me to get a status on the battle.”

  “Status? Tell him we are taking great losses, and he needs to be prepared to leave the castle if we cannot hold Carpenter’s men off,” Stuart said.

  “I will tell him what you said,” he replied.

  Amri was walking toward the entrance to the palace when a voice called for him, “Amri! Over here!” It was the metalsmith. “I am sorry but you must come with me. Your father…” he said.

  Amri’s heart began to beat violently. “What happened? Is he alright? Please take me to him!” he said.

  The metalsmith escorted Amri through the courtyard to the stables, and as they approached he ran past the metalsmith.

  He went into the stables, ran along the hallway that separated the horse stalls, and up the stairs to the attic. As Amri’s feet touched the top of the stairs he saw the sheet covering his father’s body, and in despair he fell to his hands and knees.

  He wept with such sorrow his massive body could not gather the strength needed to stand and walk, so as he sobbed, he crawled to his bedside.

  The metalsmith heard Amri’s wails of sadness as he lifted the sheet to reveal his father’s lifeless body. Distraught, he fell onto his back; his long black dreadlocks could not absorb the tears falling from the corners of his eyes and covering his ears. The pain of losing his father was too much for Amri.

  Thoughts of all he had lost rushed through his mind: Coffa, Nsia, his mother, and now his father were all gone. In back of his mind he hoped it was all a bad dream and when he woke, his father would be sitting up working on some project with Endesha by his side. Amri cried himself to sleep that night, and, unfortunately, when the morning came, his father was just as he was hours before. The sun was suppressed by the clouds, and Amri could only think of his beloved father as he sat on the floor next to his bed.

  All the tears Amri had were shed, and the emotions had produced an unwelcome headache. He felt a vast emptiness in his heart, and for a brief moment, he felt jealous of the fact that he had to live in this new world where men were fighting each other to the death just outside the castle walls. Suddenly, Amri remembered that there was a war occurring outside.

  He then also remembered Endesha was still back in their room and did not know about their father’s passing. He gathered himself and proceeded to leave the attic.

  He did not want the image of his father lying motionless to be in his mind, so he refused to look behind him before he went down the stairs.

  As Amri made his way back to the palace entrance he saw a large group of people gathered around a fallen soldier.

  He proceeded in the direction to get a closer look, and as he drew closer, he saw it was Prince Stuart.

  During the overnight hours both Fitzgerald Singletary and Prince Stuart joined the battle hoping one of them would be successful in pushing Carpenter’s men back from their position. The morale of the remaining men was broken. Many of the Harkstead fighters were too injured to go back into battle. Singletary’s reduced cavalry proved to be more efficient when fighting in formal military formation, but the losses were too much.

  Amri could hear men still fighting in the distance, but he did not care. He needed to inform his brother about their father’s passing. He quietly retreated to the shadows of the palace walls, and slipped into a side entrance he had learned about from Harold. Once inside, he quickly ascended the stairs and found a guard waiting outside his and Endesha’s bedroom. “The King will have a word with you,” said the guard.

  “I have no words for him,” Amri replied.

  “My orders are to escort you to him immediately.”

  “Then you shall be a failure in following those orders. I must talk to my brother now.”

  The guard drew his sword from its scabbard and said, “I am warning you, you will go to the king as ordered!”

  Within seconds, Amri had hold of the soldier’s sword-hand wrist and drove his right elbow into the guard’s throat causing him to drop his sword.

  As the guard was gasping for breath with both hands on his neck, Amri picked up the sword and drove it so hard into his head, the guard’s body remained upright after his legs went limp. Suddenly, Endesha opened the door, “Amri what are you doing?”

  “Father…” Amri said.

  “What about Father? Oh no! No!” screamed Endesha.

  The Sefu brothers shared a brief embrace before they were interrupted by King Phillip. His face was saddened, and his body did not swell with the confidence it once had. “I was told about your father’s passing, and I want you both to know it was not by my word that he died. I also lost someone close to me last night, my son, Stuart. I have no right to ask anything of the two of you, but I know that you, Endesha, are someone that Harold feels safe with, and I am not sure we will be able to hold off our enemy from taking our castle, and the kingdom with it. Please, Endesha, take Harold away from here. He is the true heir to the Midland Kingdom and must be kept safe,” King Phillip said. “You do not have to do it for me, but would you do it for the child?”

  “I will,” Endesha replied.

  The broken king looked to Amri, and was not given the same empathy as his brother offered. “I owe you no such duty. The only reason you are alive is because I believe your death is coming by your enemy’s hand,” Amri said.

  “I have nothing to offer you, Amri. I deserve whatever happens to me, but know this—you are the most powerful warrior this land has ever seen. Even though my people do not deserve your protection, your brother needs your help so he can get Harold out of this castle. I deserve your vengeance for the way you and your family have been treated, but I offer you the chance to be what you are obviously destined to be—a warrior,” said King Phillip as he reached into his robe, pulled out a small bag of gold, and offered it to the Sefu brothers.

  Amri took the small, but heavy bag from the king and tied it to his belt.

  “Endesha, Harold has relatives to the north that he can take you to once you leave the castle from the entrance below the dungeons. You came in that way before, correct?” Phillip asked.

  “Yes, I’ve been there before,” he replied.

  “Please hurry.”

  “I will.”

  The two Sefu brothers looked at each other and shared a tight embrace. “Know who you are little brother,” Amri said.

  “I do. Be careful, Amri,” Endesha replied. Amri did not respond, instead he hugged his brother one last time before Endesha hurried away to Harold’s chambers.

  34

  A mri stood in the hallway and watched as Endesha hastened away to retrieve young Prince Harold. He then looked down at his feet and noticed the pool of blood from the dead guard was slowly traveling into their quarters. King Phillip, unsure of what the hulking Moor was thinking or feeling, knew Amri could easily kill him, said, “I have been informed by the metalsmith that your father left something for you. If you want to know what it is, he will show you where to find it.

  “You should not worry about Harold,” Amri said. “My brother is a greater warrior than me. That is what I love about him.
” He gave the king a menacing stare.

  Amri made his way to the metalsmith’s shop, and walked around the back to the small room where he was sleeping. The door was too narrow for Amri to walk through, so he knocked gently on the already opened door. “Oh, there you are. Did you have words with the king?” asked the metalsmith.

  “Yes. He said you have something for me from my father.”

  “Oh yes, let me show you.” He rose from his bed, and headed to the corner of his workshop. The small man reached into a large wooden chest and produced a long item wrapped in fabric. “This meant everything to your father. He risked his life making this for you. I caught him sneaking in to use my tools after I’d left for the day. We finished it together just days ago.”

  Amri unwrapped the fabric, and inside was the most beautiful sword he had ever seen. It was perfect in size and length, but it was something else that caught his eye; etched into the sword’s blade were words in the Sefu language, “The person that holds this sword is protected from evil by the creator of the land that evil travels on.” Amri also noticed his family’s journey was pictured with meticulous detail. On the other side of the blade, Zuberi etched the story of how Amri defeated the lion. Toward the bottom of the cross-guard he saw his father had named the sword “The Lion’s Heart.”

  As he continued to examine the blade, Amri discovered even more significance. He found his family’s history forged in hard steel, and the edges of the sword’s cross-guard were made to look like up-turned lion’s fangs. The grip of the sword was inlaid with what Amri thought were teeth, and as he ran a hand along them, the metalsmith said, “Those belonged to you and your brother. Your father had kept them since you were young. Including them on your sword was my gift to your father,” said the metalsmith. “From one father to another father. That was my favorite part.”

  “What is your name, sir?”

  “My name is Joseph Cannon.”

  “Thank you for this. It means everything to me.”

  “You are very welcome, young man, but there is one more thing you have not noticed.”