Kingdom of Fire

by Nick S. Thomas

  “What is this, what are you doing?” asked Markus.

  “We have lived here, beyond reach of the world for too long. We are but thirteen men left, a dying people. We can either stay here in hope of peace to grow old, or we can follow a man who has shown he is worthy. We are here to follow you.”

  “What of your women?”

  “They have long left to make new homes in Werstria to the east.”

  He drew his sword, placed the tip on the ground, kneeling before it. The other men behind him followed suit. The sound of metal clattering rang out as each man, fully armoured, knelt before him. Vesart looked up from where he was kneeling.

  “Werstria is more a home to us than anywhere in this world, we will give our lives to defend it, lead us to victory, or a worthy death.”

  Markus looked out at his new command, thirteen of the finest fighters he had met, not including Bull. Tears almost came to his eyes at sight of what lay before him, and the men who were ready to follow him. For the first time in months, he was beginning to gain faith in the possibility of victory. As two strangers riding into a town to ask for assistance he could be laughed away, but leading a company of knights, he would be given the respect of a Lord.

  “Rise! Thank you all for your courage! I cannot tell you what adventures or horrors we may face over the coming months, but I can tell you that we will face them together, and together we will ride to victory! From hence forth, you shall be known as the Knights of Salbein!”

  The men stood and roared with enthusiasm. He looked out across the clearing before the tower. Every man was fully prepared, armoured and with a horse, with more mounts awaiting them and their equipment.

  “I have no authority given to me in this land beyond what I intend to take, just as all nobles have done before us. Bull, Vesart, you are now Captains of the Knights of Salbein, now bring us our armour!”

  The two friends pulled on their armour, they truly knew the importance of presentation among a people who had lost hope and were ready to lay down their arms. They strapped their extra equipment to their spare horses once they were clad in steel. The two men were covered from head to toe in plate armour, with mail voiders filling the exposed areas under their arms. Every man was clad in glistening armour.

  “We ride to Leonzal, we seek further recruits to our cause. We stay only a day there, before we head for Lienzberg. What I can promise you above all else is a fight beyond any that we have witnessed in this age!” shouted Markus.

  Markus and Bull mounted the horses that had been prepared for them. Markus had been given the grey he had eyed up the day before, though now it was adorned with barding. It was as if Vesart had been beside them when they first spoke of the matter, or perhaps they simply shared an appreciation for such a beautiful animal.

  “Markus, you know we have no authority or power in this land.” Vesart said.

  “Officially, no, but we do have the look, the attitude and the talent! Being a knight is as much about acting as one, as being recognised as one. The country is in turmoil. We will be a welcome addition to any force that is being mustered. Act as you wish to be treated and be recognised as such,” replied Markus.

  “I hope you are right.”

  “Do not hope, hope is for dreamers, we are riding to victory!”

  Chapter 6

  Being deep in the South of the Salbeins it was just half a day’s ride to the old market town of Leonzal. It was one of the oldest towns in Werstria and protected by a completely square town wall that kept all of its inhabitants safe from bandits, thieves and smaller armies. The town had no standing army, but used Citizen Soldiers to defend its walls and border, equipped with basic munitions grade equipment and infrequent training.

  From a distance, they could see that the gates appeared to shut on the side that they approached and the farmland before the walls abandoned. This seemed a strange sight in the light of day. Markus was already suspicious as they approached, but they could do nothing but investigate. They could not afford to leave without at least attempting to gain support for the war, nor could they not go to the aid of the town if they were in need.

  The Knights of Salbein approached the northeast entrance to the town. As they reached the gates they could hear musket fire in the distance. The towers of the gates were abandoned watched over by only a single man and the tall gates were shut, an unusual sight in the middle of the day for a busy market district. Markus rode up and down the wall, trying to find some sign of life, before he stopped again outside the gates.

  “Guard!” he shouted.

  The man peered over the wall at the knights below, unsure of what to make of them.

  “Why are the gates sealed?”

  “The town is under attack by a Karsian army to the south!” shouted the guard.

  Markus looked to his men in shock. An attack from the south must have meant that the Karsians had swept north from the base of Stocktl Mountains, a long way across Werstrian territory.

  “This is grave news,” said Markus.

  “Do we stay and help?” asked Vesart.

  “If Leonzal falls, there will be no hope of taking Lienzberg back.”

  “Then we fight,” said Bull.

  Markus looked back up to the guard who was still studying their appearance with intrigue.

  “We have come to aid in the fight, open the gates!”

  Markus lifted the concave round shield hung from his saddle, turning it so that the guard could see the face.

  “We are knights of Werstria, do not hinder our efforts!”

  The guard nodded, he was concerned as much about infuriating a noble as he was of the attack they were experiencing, disappearing from view as he climbed down to the gates. A moment later, the bolts drew back and the gates swung open. The knights rode through and stopped at the guard.

  “What is the state of the battle?” asked Markus.

  “They have ladders at the southern wall and have been fighting for an hour already.”

  “Then we have no time to waste! Let’s ride!” he shouted.

  Markus kicked his spurs in and launched into a gallop towards the southern wall. The knights rushed through the narrow streets of the town, the sound of their armour clanging together and horses hooves echoing. The only sound they could hear over themselves was that of musket fire and the faint ambience of screams and shouts all mingled together, the sound of a battle.

  The horsemen reached the perimeter and rode parallel with it until they arrived at the southern gatehouse where the fighting was most intense. Markus leapt from his horse and tied the reins to a nearby fence. Pulling back a cover over his saddle, he drew out the huge runed greatsword that was slung horizontally on the horse. He ran straight to the nearest steps and stormed up the wall.

  The men defending the town were equipped in a rag tag mix of equipment, but mostly various forms of quilted gambesons, mail coats, shields, swords and spears. Those equipped with muskets along the walls and towers fired in their own time in a haphazard fashion. He pushed his way through a line of hand gunners and looked out beyond the wall.

  Several thousand Karsians were bunched up against the perimeter. They had no cavalry or cannon, a stroke of luck for the defenders if they could hold back the initial assault. The defenders had done well, many of the attackers lay dead among their orc comrades, and they had so far held at the walls. New ladders were being brought forward of the Karsian lines.

  Looking down the battlements four ladders were propped up against the wall, and several Karsians were among the defenders, fighting bitterly. Markus lifted his sword ready for action and left the visor of his great bascinet open, thankful of the air and visibility. His armour covered his whole body, but it was magnificently forged and designed, far lighter than it looked. He ran towards the breach.

  Gripping the massive sword with one hand on the long grip, the other on the leather ricasso, he held it like a spear, charging at his target. The Karsian turned to face him but it was too late, the wide bl
aded sword speared the beast, driving through his chest and out through his back. Markus drew the mighty sword back, blood dripping from the blade. He swung it back and now held the grip, the blade above his head. He smashed it down on his next target, the Karsian lifting his sword to parry, but the greatsword cleaved through it, slicing deeply into the orc’s head.

  Looking to his right, a massive Karsian in fine bronze armour hacked with a huge glaive against one of the defender’s shields. The Werstrian was knocked to his knees with the force of the strike but before the savage could finish him, Markus swung with all his force. The blade cleaved into the Karsian’s collar, spewing blood over Markus’ armour and the man who lay cowering in front of him.

  Bull arrived at the wall and immediately ploughed in with his new sword, eager to put it to the test, the rest of the Salbein Knights at his side. Markus stretched out his hand to the Werstrian man still on the floor. The man lowered his shield and looked up at his saviour in astonishment, he had a mottled and scarred face.

  “Markus?” asked the man.

  It was in that moment that he recognised his old friend Alix, who he had not seen since the fateful battle of Raubuck. His face was barely recognisable beneath his helmet and the scarring. Markus hauled him to his feet.

  “Alix, I had no idea you had survived that fight!”

  “Likewise,” said Alix.

  The battle raged behind them as the knights and men of the town battled to save Leonzal. Within moments a loud horn resounded in the distance, shortly followed by the Karsian attackers fleeing from the wall. The men shouted and roared with the excitement of victory.

  “They’ll be back!” shouted Bull.

  “Alix, this is my good friend Bull, and Vesart. This is Alix, previously of my Wolf Pack and a man who saved my life.”

  “As you have now done for me.”

  “Bull, how long till they return?” asked Markus.

  “A few hours, enough time to regroup and organise their ladders, they will want to strike before the day is out.”

  “Alright, grab that box of yours, looks like we’ll be holding up here till dusk.”

  Alix examined their equipment in detail, amazed at what he saw before him.

  “What are you now? This armour is fit for a Lord.”

  “I am a Lord, of Salbein, and these are my knights.”

  “You never cease to amaze me.”

  “Tell me, how did you survive?” asked Markus.

  “I woke up long after the battle had finished, there was nothing left in the town but bodies.”

  “My brother among them?”

  “Yes, I am sorry. I piled some of our dead together and set their bodies alight, it was the best I could do in the time I had, and the only way to keep them from being treated as trophies by the barbarians. But I had no time to finish my task and I am not certain your brother was among them. The area was still awash with the bastards when I tried to take the road back to Ambstern, so I did the only thing I could, head south. By the time I eventually arrived here, I was almost dead and the townspeople cared for me over the winter. How about you? Yours was the only body I couldn’t find, I had no idea what to think of it.”

  “This fine man saved my life, and I have been preparing for the counter offensive ever since. We came here to recruit before heading north to meet the armies at Lienzberg. We could never have imagined an attack from the south.”

  “Nor us. Several days ago the Ardian States withdrew their forces from their border, allowing the Karsians to travel through their lands and bypass our border defences. It is incredible the speed at which they have managed to drive north. Will you stay and help us defend the town?”

  “Yes, if Leonzal cannot hold, then we are beaten before we have even started. If Bull says they will return before sundown, then we will set off in the morning.”

  “You are confident of victory?” asked Alix.

  “Yes, I only hope there are men left with the stomach to ride north with us.”

  The fighters sat about the town walls for hours, eating and drinking where they had fought earlier in the day. Markus and Bull handed out the bombs from the crate, spreading them among the defenders and explaining how and when to use them.

  Markus was propped up against the battlement drinking from a cup of water, his helm on the floor beside him. He could see the Karsian army out on the plain before they began to move on mass, he knew the time had come.

  “Listen up! You may feel that you are fighting for your town, but we as a people are fighting for the survival of our nation! Defeat is not an option! A draw is not an option! A pyrrhic victory is no victory at all! We must break their army on these walls, because tomorrow we ride to a bigger battle!” shouted Markus.

  The men along the battlements cheered with ecstasy, eager to spill the blood of their foul and barbaric enemies. Markus looked to his old friend Alix who sat relaxing on the battlement.

  “Do you have many horses here?”

  “A number in the stables and more at the horse trader.”

  “We need all that you can muster, and as many men that are capable of riding and fighting. I don’t just want to drive them from the walls. I want the head of every bastard who faces us. They cannot regroup when they are dead.”

  Alix walked along and looked up to the tower above their wall.

  “Lena!” he shouted.

  A soldier from the tower appeared over the battlement’s edge.

  “I need a favour!”

  A few moments later, the soldier appeared at the door to the tower. Markus was surprised to see the small and slight figure, until he removed his helmet, revealing the face and flowing hair of a beautiful young woman.

  “Lena, this is Markus. We need to assemble as many horses as we possibly can. I am putting you in charge of this task. You probably only have an hour to do so.”

  “No one will be keen to give up their horses, Alix,” replied Lena.

  “That is why I am sending you, as many of their owners are upon this wall, you should not have too much opposition.”

  “It is vital to the safety of this town that you secure those horses, we need to run down this army, removing the threat of it completely,” said Markus.

  “I’ll do what I can.”

  “Thank you,” said Alix.

  She threw down her helmet onto the battlement below, still wearing her well-fitted mail coat and arming sword about her waist. Markus smiled with appreciation at the grace at which she went about her task. Finally, he turned to Alix, a wide grin upon his face.

  “Why send a woman?”

  “She is the Mayor’s daughter, and therefore carries much influence, and just look at her, wouldn’t you give her your horse if she asked?”

  “True, but why is she fighting at the walls?”

  “She is the equal of any man who took up arms to defend this town, and the Mayor is proud to say that his blood defends their homes, for his son is too young to do so.”

  Markus looked out across the plain to where the Karsian army had retreated earlier that day. They were reforming at quite a rate, ready for the next assault. They had no cavalry at all, the barbaric people never being good at such a fine art as riding. The cavalry among Karsian armies were always their nobles, none of which were present this day. This told Markus one thing, this was not an army of importance, but more likely one sent to divert forces from amassing to support Lienzberg, and perhaps a cheeky attempt at trying to take Leonzal. The blitz across the southern lands may well have worked if the Salbein Knights had not arrived, for the town’s people were already growing weary of combat, their morale faltering.

  Bull stomped back up the steps to the battlement with his cannon slung on his shoulder. The militiamen watched in awe as the giant of a man, clad in steel, carried a device that would take several of their best to manoeuvre. He heaved it off his shoulder and slammed it down on the battlement near where Alix and Markus stood. The gun was nothing more than a huge iron barrel placed on a thi
ck wooden block.

  “That is not the weapon of a gentleman,” said Alix.

  “Bull is a special kind of gentleman and one you well appreciate at a time of violence,” replied Markus.

  “Does he intend to fire that without a carriage? Surely he does not understand the kick it will have?”

  “Trust me, he understands, leave him to it.”

  Bull lowered the back end of the cannon down, the barrel now as tall as his chest from the ground. He threw a large bag of gunpowder down the barrel, followed by a handful of wadding. He reached down for a box which he had placed on the ground and removed the lid. Cupping his hands into the box, he pulled out a huge pile of rusty metalwork, nails, studs and jagged pieces of unfinished ironwork that he had taken from the blacksmith. He simply poured it all down the barrel, followed by more wadding.

  Markus walked down to his horse and took off the four-barrelled musket and his bag of powder and ball. He walked back to the wall, calling his knights to his side.

  “I want you all to spread out across the wall, so that we have no weaknesses in our line, have the men use the explosives first. They will smash their first line and hopefully their morale. After that, all I can say is that we fight them on the walls until they break. The second we have evidence of that happening I want you to rush to your horses. We should be able to muster a hundred cavalry.”

  “A hundred cavalry to ride out with? That’s crazy,” said Vesart.

  “Then we better be certain they have broken. We cannot ride north tomorrow knowing there is a threat to the south. This is a perfect opportunity to send a message to the Karsian barbarians, a message of defiance and absolute stubbornness. They must know that it will cost them dearly to toy with us.”

  “Let’s do this,” said Bull.

  “Alright, spread the word, load your guns and be ready to give them hell!” shouted Markus.

  The knights spread out across the southern walls of the town, ready to smash their enemy. Markus took up his previous position and laid the stock of his musket on the ground before him.