by P D Ceanneir
‘Shields!’ shouted Powyss and there was a loud clashing noise as the tall, green two-piece shields shifted as one entity over their owners’ heads and interlinked. Seconds later the pitter-patter of quarrels rippled over them. Havoc stood alone without a shield, he lifted a hand and the shafts that came close to him popped into brown and grey dust. Beside him, Powyss did the same, so a wide swath of the arrows burst and sprayed down harmlessly upon the Raiders, but both of them would not be able to stop them all or destroy them for long.
‘Retail formation, forward at the march!’ shouted Havoc and the armoured behemoth of soldiers, covered by their protective shields, ambled forward. The hail of arrows did not halt them.
The Vallkyte archers, knowing that their volleys were ineffective, now moved back into the Battle’s footmen. Infantry officers ordered their soldiers forward with spears levelled.
At about thirty yards, the Raiders stopped and the front line opened the shield wall. They used the same tactic as they had done at the Battle of the Fess. They levelled their Spit Guns at the first rank of Vallkytes and fired. The hard wolfram tipped bolts penetrated shields and punched through thick leather and mail. The enemy fell writhing onto the ground to reveal the second rank of Vallkyte infantry which were decimated as the Raiders emptied their four bolts into them.
Havoc, standing in the front and centre of his host with Chirn beside him holding the princes standard, unsheathed SinDex and held it high.
‘Spears ready!’ he shouted, ‘form up!’ The fourteen foot lethal looking spears were extended to full length with a grating sound of metal. The Raiders reformed from a long line to a Phalanx in a series of fluid movements. The resulting formation looked like the prickly back of a hedgehog as the spears bristled in all directions with little or no gaps.
The Vallkytes were hastily organising their lines to fill the gaps where the dead had fallen. They watched in wonder as the host of green armoured warriors looked at them in stoic anger through the phalanx of spears and the low rims of their conned helms.
‘No quarter! Kill them all!’ screamed the prince loud enough for the enemy to hear. The Raiders shouted an acknowledgement. Their voices rose to the ears of the Roguns in the north and they shouted just as loud in return.
‘CHARGE!’ Havoc lowered his sword and broke into a sprint and a green mass of screaming death rushed headlong behind him into the Vallkyte host.
Mad-daimen was overjoyed; he had broken through to the enemies exposed rear lines. He was about to order a charge, but the sound of galloping cavalry deafened him. He turned to look behind him. One hundred and eighty heavy armoured horse and riders of the Ifor Lancers, with Dolment in front, smashed into the rear of Mad-daimen’s men. The arrow formation of the Lancers cut a path through the Nithi tearing them into bloody red ribbons. When they were through the enemy, Dolment indicated to his right with a quick jab of his sword arm and the Lancers performed a perfect turn while still in a formation. They came around two hundred and forty degrees and attacked the disorganised Nithi again leaving a trail of dead behind them as they pushed them back into the narrow streets of the town.
The Raiders stayed in a phalanx of hedged spears as they hit the enemy infantry. Still outnumbered, they managed to use their long spears to push the Vallkytes back a fair distance before the attack faltered to a crawl. The Eternals hung back a hundred yards to cover their infantry so the enemy could not swarm around them and press forward to gain any advantage by moving to overrun the Raiders flanks completely. The tightly packed Raiders used the Foygion spears to push the enemy back. The closeness of long rippling shafts made it impossible for any of the Vallkyte infantry to get close to the Raiders, they used their shields to batter down the spears and make a gap, but when one spear shifted, another two would appear.
Once the king found out about Mad-daimen’s force coming under attack by Dolment’s lancers, he finally ordered a general advance to help his son. As the Rogun infantry ran forward, it left Raimen’s Nithi warriors out in the open. Rogun Cavalry now made certain that those who died on the Rogun left flank did not die in vain, as they joined the Lancers and repeatedly charged at the Nithi ranks, forcing them to retreat towards Barnstown in disarray.
General Plysov noticed the Rogun infantry charge. He already had men watching the northeast. They took the brunt of the attack and they died as the momentum pushed them back to the main body. The clash sent a ripple through the soldiers of the generals Battle. The shockwave pushed the infantrymen, already engaged with the Raiders, forwards so they fell onto the Foygion spears. However, Vallkytes were flanking the Raiders on their left. Felcon, on that side, turned his men one hundred and eighty degrees to meet them to stall the inevitable, although their sheer lack of numbers could not hope to hold them back for long even with the Eternal archers aiding them. The Raiders lunging and hacking tactic with their spears was giving then forward momentum. They were cutting their way through the Vallkytes who had no defence against these long hooked weapons. Some of the enemy were so frustrated at not being able to get close to the green armoured demons that they started throwing knives and swords just to make a kill.
Whyteman, about a hundred yards away from the main fight, had cleverly split his men into three groups. Linth took his to the east and used the structure of an old barnyard fencing as cover to shoot volleys of arrows into the Vallkyte left flank. Brynd took only a hundred as reserves to watch out for the Vallkyte cavalry who were yet to make an appearance. Whyteman took the rest and marched forwards in a line, shooting shaft after shaft into the enemy ranks that had engaged Felcon’s side of the phalanx. It was enough to relieve the pressure on the doughty warrior’s men as the Vallkyte infantry decided that the Eternals were a greater threat and so charged them instead.
Whyteman and his company stood their ground as they sent a direct volley of swan-fletched arrows into the charging soldiers. The result was devastating. Hundreds dropped as the cloud of shafts struck, but more soldiers yelled as they stepped over their fallen comrades and bore down on the archers. Luck was with Whyteman, the din of hoofs thundered close by and the attacking Vallkytes fell to more arrows, this time, fired from the Rogun Horsed Archers.
Inside the tight press of the Raider Phalanx, Havoc could not see if the enemy surrounded his men. His father was still out there to help anyway, and his soldiers were making good progress. However, when the Roguns hit Plysov’s northern ranks, the force of the attack stopped the progress of the Raiders in their tracks. Havoc now pushed himself forward through the hedge of spears and lashed out with SinDex causing more damage than the Raider spears with the lethal black blade. More Vallkyte infantry, packed together in a line, stood just beyond a wall of the already fallen. The prince and several others surged over the bodies to meet the enemy. The Vallkytes pushed through to the phalanx, the prince had to block a lunge from a spearman, but a black bolt from a Spit Gun lodged into the enemy soldier’s neck and he fell away as blood pulsed down his tabard.
Fear, anger and hate all merged into a hot ball of volatile energy that tugged in his guts begging to be released, but Havoc used it to recharge his energy as the slaughter continued. Inside his head, the Blacksword watched the fight with earnest, relishing the screams of the dying and the cloying smell of blood in the air. With his almost inhuman ability to detect movement around him seconds before it happened, he lent aid to the prince whose single focus in combat had already heightened his senses. He growled at the enemy through gritted teeth. Blood gushed from slashed flesh as the Sword that Rules cut through armour, flesh and bone. Young Chirn beside him protected his right, swinging his blade like the man he was becoming. His father, yelled death threats to any Vallkyte that came close to him as he fought beside the prince and his son. He had discarded his spear and opted for his small, but weighty, battle-axe. The big Nithi lord franticly hacked men down with shear brute strength. Verkin fought on the prince’s right. He had also lost his spear in the body of an enemy infantryman and discarded it. He u
nsheathed his short sword swinging left and right, slashing away and screaming through the pain in his head. He had also lost his shield and a sword had dented through armour on his upper left arm. His old wound opened again, but he ignored the pain. He concentrated on protecting the prince.
Somewhere in this melee was Powyss of the Hoath. Bor-Teavan, wreathed in flame, slashed right to flay open a Vallkyte man-at-arms from right shoulder to left hip. As the body fell away a large soldier, wielding a huge axe, drove its wide blade down towards the head of the Rawn Master. Powyss caught his arm, skewered him with his sword, and then kicked him off his blade. After that, most of the enemy stayed clear of the flame-wreathed sword. Many were reluctant to engage the prince also as he used the Rawn Arts to summon a condensed gale to punch holes large in the Vallkyte ranks. The Raiders instantly filled those breaches so that they moved that much closer into the centre and within spears throw of General Plysov.
However, from all around the enemy pressed in.
Carras Knights now charged into the Vallkyte right flank relieving some more of the pressure for Felcon’s men, but half of his unit had fallen already as the sheer mass of enemy caused the left side of the Raiders phalanx to crumble. Felcon looked over the heads of his men and saw Whyteman and his Eternals throw away their bows and run to his aid with short swords drawn.
Plysov knew he was in trouble. From the view of the battlefield astride his horse, he could see the Rogun army spread around his Battle and surrounded them. Rogun cavalry now contained Mad-daimen’s Nithi in Barnstown and the Rogun Kings host had stalled his foot soldiers to the north, crushing them in a half circle so they bunched. Most of them could not bring their weapons to bear and so were neutralised. The Rogun Prince, on the other hand, was a different problem. His host surrounded the Raiders, but they were still hacking through his soldiers like an unstoppable force and coming closer with every second. The prince’s men were on the verge of attacking him and his Horsed Guards. He could even see the De Proteous himself clearing a path through to him with the use of the Arts. The battle around him raged like an angry beast. He felt utterly humiliated at the outcome. Survival was his only option left.
Plysov turned to his aid and sadly whispered, ‘give the order to break out.’
Chapter 22
Paladins
With the troop of Carras Knights riding in and out of the Vallkytes that were surrounding the Raiders left wing, causing panic amongst the enemy. Most of the soldiers that attacked Felcon’s company turned to fend off the heavy armoured horses and riders with their short spears, but it was the sight of Prince Magnus, and his Legion sallying forth from the citadel, that finally broke them into a panicked rout.
The phalanx formation on the Raiders right still held formation and began to split from the left as they pushed the enemy back and gaining ground. There came a time, maybe an hour or more into the battle, when the pressure to the front lessened as the Roguns began slaying the enemy and weakening any shield walls in front of them. The infectious panic from the Vallkyte’s left now reached them and they broke and fled. The only place to flee to was Barnstown where dead Nithi clogged the streets. When they exited the town, on the old road to the east, they found death waiting for them on the steel tips of the white ash lances belonging to the heavy cavalry from Ifor.
Havoc, and the even more deadly Sword the Rules, drew blood in copious amounts as he continued to hack through the enemy. His friends joined him in the stinking bloodbath. Little Kith and Furran fought alongside Powyss and Mad-gellan, Jericho, wounded in the leg, hobbled at Velnour’s side as they both caught up with the prince’s party.
The dry ground became muddy with blood and they sweated as the heat of the day wore on. The Raiders now fought in groups or individuals battling away with their preferred weapons. Havoc, in a boundless fury swung his sword at six Vallkytes; the volatile charge from the emotion of anger shot through the blade and sent the soldiers through the air like a human geyser.
Verkin took a knock on his helmet from a spear and he fell to his knees. Velnour came out of nowhere and swung his shield into the spear-carrier’s face, rupturing the man’s nose and breaking his jaw, Mactan finished him off by ramming his sword into his throat. Jericho thumped the club end of his spear into a second Vallkyte who was bearing down on Mactan, the man’s skull caved in from the blow and blood burst from under the rim of his helmet.
Hexor and his brother, Foxe, who sported a nasty gash above his left eye, joined the prince’s party as they used sword and shields to push into the Vallkyte centre, trying to get to the command troop where the enemy general sat astride his horse with his guard. However, General Plysov took that moment to put into action his plan to break out of the battle. He decided to take the easier option and head away from the Raiders. His bodyguards galloped through their own men and smashed through the mass of Roguns at the north end of the battle, this still caused many losses to the general’s bodyguards. They headed in that direction hoping to escape via one of the mountain passes.
King Vanduke saw the generals escape and ordered his last reserves, The Royal Company of Longbow Archers, to take down the retreating equestrians. The black armoured Plysov and his men could do nothing as the dark cloud of shafts fell amongst them. Each rider fell, horses and all.
After the General Plysov’s escape from the centre, the last of the Vallkyte host, who had not fled the field, fought on for another half hour. They all added their bodies to the pile of dead that littered a small section of the plain; patterning the field in a wide circle of dark shades on the lush green grass.
It was Chirn who cut down the last Vallkyte soldier. The boy brought down his sword on the helmeted head of a terrified sobbing infantryman in rusty chain mail, cleaving through the steel and splitting his head in two. By the smell of the soldier, he had defecated in his armour before dying.
Havoc and his friends stood panting in a circle of the fallen; blood caked their green armour. Mad-gellan, limping from a sword cut, hugged Chirn reassuring the boy that the battle was over; Chirn visibly shivered. Then the big Nithi lord went to the prince and despite the pain in his leg hugged him too, lifting him off the ground as he did so.
‘Once again, my lord, you have orchestrated another victory,’ said the big Nithi lord smiling broadly, ‘I’m proud to know you.’
‘It is I who is proud, Lord Gellan,’ said Havoc getting his breath back. The prince looked at his friends. Powyss nodded at him and smiled as he panted for breath with his hands on his knees, Verkin, supported by Velnour, grinned sheepishly back at him. Little Kith pushed his weight against his axe and there was a grinding noise of bone and a sickening squelch as he extracted the blade head from the skull of its last victim. Mad-gellan helped Mactan pick Jericho up off the ground as he massaged his wounded leg. Furran had lost two teeth when he lost a fight with a sword pommel, but he assured everyone that the other fellow was far worse off. He said this as he spat out blood and another tooth. Foxe and Hexor stood behind the prince smiling broadly. Their trademark freckles on their cheeks and nose could just be seen under the blood and grime from the battle. Whyteman, Brynd and Linth walked to the circle around the prince, followed by a bareheaded Felcon, who had lost his helmet early on in the fight and was lucky not to have his skull bashed in. The rest of the Raiders crowded round their officers.
‘It is I who should be proud to have such great warriors to command my soldiers. You are not just my officers and my friends. You are my Paladins,’ shouted Havoc with much conviction.
A loud cheer rose up from the Raiders. It carried over the plain, into the mountain’s and over the walls of the citadel, and it was the jubilant cry of victory mixed with the joy of being alive.
Surprisingly, General Plysov still lived. He had a snapped arrow protruding from his left side and another in his left thigh. He pulled himself through the mounds of dead men and horses, crawling on his right side and breathing hard through gritted teeth against the pain as he clutched at tufts
of grass to drag himself out of the mounds of groaning wounded.
A set of steel plated boots appeared in front of him and he looked up into a familiar face.
‘Looks like the Hawks wings have been clipped!’ said General Elkin with a little too much bravado.
‘Elkin!’ gasped Plysov, ‘I thought you died at Cosshead?’
‘Fortunately not, I would rather die in a battle that I won.’
A shadow blocked out the sunlight as another figure looming over the wounded general. Plysov squinted up into the face of King Vanduke; behind the king, he saw Lord Ness on horseback, his Sword-staff, Belthoin, sitting in the crock of his right arm.
‘King Vanduke,’ said Plysov, ‘I hereby seek your patronage and protection as your prisoner in accordance with the Royal Tables of the Continent and my rights as general of your enemy’s host… I would also give up my sword to you, but I seem to have misplaced it.’
Elkin frowned and looked up at Lord Ness, who shrugged.
‘He certainly has that right, sire,’ said the Ri to the king.
‘I understand Consul that I can also try him in a Rogun Court of Law as a war criminal?’ said the king, Plysov’s eyes widened in bewilderment.
‘That is correct,’ said Ness Ri.
‘But I was...’ began the general but the king interrupted.
‘...only following orders from your king? Yes, well, my brother shall not go unpunished either for his crimes. Meanwhile, to the dungeons with you until your trial, I certainly have that right.’
Mad-daimen and his brother were not amongst the dead at Barnstown. The prince later discovered from Dolment that they had escaped with the fleeing Nithi and Vallkyte survivors after the battle. Together they formed a cohesive host as they sought to defend against the harassing Rogun and Ifor cavalries who pushed them further south with unrelenting charges.