Rise of the Darekian's, The

by Wood, Andrew

  Luken was asked if he wished to return to the city, to be with his son and the Lady Sarena. If this was to be his last day on this earth, he would not want to spend it anywhere else, but he knew, his place was to be seen. His presence on the battlefield would show his soldiers he was one of them. If he were going to ask them to risk their lives, then he had to do likewise. Despite all the times the General had guarded and protected him since leaving Hamalin, scalded him when he had put his own life in danger, moaned at every occasion he had not had a guard with him, he knew it had been for one purpose. That purpose was now; it was to be here amongst his men, showing a defiant, united front. Here, today Corlan would finally say, enough is enough; no more will it be pushed around. Today it would make its final stand.

  In the city, the final preparations were now complete. It was hoped the enemy would not get this far, yet all standing across the top of the wall, watching their comrades at the bridge, knew it would likely come to them. As much precaution as possible had been given to the safety of the non-combatants, as a result they were all now sat upon the top floor of the keep. Darak was given charge, he was not really in any fit state for fighting, yet he was the last armed man between the people huddled in the rooms and their slaughter. He knew if it got to the point of him being engaged in combat, everything had already been lost, the bridge, the city and the keep. He would of course do his duty, needlessly giving his life, to give those he was with a few more seconds of theirs.

  He stood at the window of the study, the smell of freshly sawn timbers still lingered around the room. Attempting to look through the glass, he could not make anything out. The panes were not of particular quality, full of bubbles and defects. They were useful as far as letting in daylight, though not much in allowing a clear view. He sighed, returning his gaze to the occupants of the room. Most in the study with him were children, huddled together, with a few elderly women to help keep them calm. All the rooms that had been repaired on the top floor were now crammed with similar groups, all placed as far from danger as possible.

  Chapter 22.

  The first sign something was about to happen, was the stomping of feet, in time to a number of loud drums being pounded. The calls went out, for readiness, the final words of encouragement spoken to try to ease the nerves. Slowly the Besemian infantry moved forward, taking a long rectangle formation at is marched. Luken had some knowledge on the strategy, front rank would have its shields before them, and those on the left would hold them out to the vulnerable side, as would the ones on the right. The soldiers in the middle would hold their shields aloft, above their heads, and all would march forward, as a single giant armoured, metal clad machine of death.

  The first arrows were launched, and unsurprisingly at such distance, the ones on target were just deflected by the heavy shields. Another two further volleys were fired, before the long continuous line of shields reached the bridge, some now with protruding arrow shafts. Luken watched atop his horse, from behind the lines, he may be on the battlefield, but it would be foolish for him to stand himself in immediate danger. He knew at once that somewhere under all those shields, there would be men carrying ladders. When they reached the gates, the front rank would break formation and lift the short ladders up to the battlements. This is when the real fighting would start. The ladders would be held by men at the bottom, to try to stop those at the top pushing them over, while others would try to climb up to get that important foothold.

  Luken also knew that once the enemy got so close, his own archers would have more success. At such close range, some arrows would find gaps, crossbow bolts could puncture through the shields. The stamping of feet got louder as the first victim fell. A crossbow from the battlements hammered its bolt straight through a gap in the front shield line. Before the man even had the chance to fall and leave a gap for others to strike, another from behind quickly filled the vacated space. The archers continued regardless of their success rate, they also knew, the closer the enemy, the more chance to score a killing blow. As the front lines of infantry finally reached the gate, the first four ladders appeared and quickly raised up to the battlements above.

  A shout was given from above, and though the archers were now scoring hits on those, unprotected, trying to ascend, they briefly stopped. Two big urns were turned over, and lamp oil poured out to the bridge below. This was quickly followed by a number of burning torches. Black smoke billowed skywards, as the noise of men burning alive beneath the shield wall reverberated around. Luken could hear it, and then he could smell it, as the stench of burning flesh drifted his direction on the breeze, and he was suddenly grateful for having an empty stomach. "We can only do that once," General Skalton leaned over to tell him, "Else we risk setting fire to our own gates. They were damped down as best we could first thing this morning." Luken nodded, steadying his horse, probably getting agitated by the smell of death, just as he was.

  The arrows continued in earnest, and after the Besemians had taken a hit from the oil, they resumed as before. Every now and again, a corpse could be seen dropping from the bridge into the river below. Every fallen Besemian left dead on the bridge would cause nuisance to the others trying to push on, and so unceremoniously, those lost, were tossed to their watery graves. Waiting at the top of each ladder were men wielding large battle-axes, smashing down upon any Besemian who made it up. Their bodies were then tossed down onto those below for further hindrance.

  This repetitive action appeared to go on for some time, that was until the Besemians at the end of the bridge started spreading out a little. Quickly lowering their shields, and revealing rows of crossbows, all firing simultaneously at the defenders above, before quickly being covered by shields once more, to allow them time to reload. Those atop the battlements took a heavy toll, and taking advantage of the time given them, a number of Besemians made it to the top of the ladders. Climbing up on to the battlements, it was only a resolute stand by the quickly reinforced men defending them, that stopped the enemy gaining the important foothold it sought.

  The archers positioned on the banks of the river, continued their nonstop deluge of arrows, firing indiscriminately into the flanks of the attackers on the bridge. Another volley of crossbow bolts struck again atop the battlements, taking down more of the defenders. A number of corpses could clearly be seen floating face down, as they were carried away by the currents. Another flurry of bolts was fired at the defenders, and Luken watched in anguish as more of his men fell. General Skalton watched alongside him, his face emotionless, studying the battle, kill by kill. He stood up on his stirrups, to gain a little extra height, noticing the attackers were once more atop the battlements.

  Leaning down from his horse, the General gave a command to a runner stood beside him. Luken watched as the man run to another, just a short distance away. Three loud blasts of a horn came, and then repeated. "Come we are losing the gate, get yourself to safety" the General said to Luken, whilst still keeping a close watch on the worsening situation. Another three blasts of the horn came, and Luken watched as his own men created their own shield wall. The archers on the bank continued firing, giving cover for the defenders of the gatehouse to retreat behind the shields.

  It was not long after, when the gates were thrown open, and the horde of Besemians pushed forward. Moving through the ranks, came the Darekians, all mounted on their warhorses. Luken had already made it back to the city, and stood atop the walls watching the action unfolding before him. His own men were nearly half way back to safety, though he could see the enemy riders, swinging further south, in an attempt to flank them. He hoped he could at last help, and attempt to use this power he had been given. Knowing he had to time it right, or risk hitting his own men, he started building his rage. He did not want to wear himself out in one hit, so tried his best, to only do what was needed.

  As the Darekians swung around, driving headlong for the exposed flank of the retreating soldiers Luken pointed his hand. He felt a strange surge, and watched as the front ride
rs slammed into a blast of impenetrable air. The front row of riders came to a sudden halt, causing those behind to go smashing into the back of them. Horses and riders cried out, as the pile up grew. He felt a wobble, and steadied himself, realising it had taken more out of him than he had hoped. The retreating men now moved back, and the archers from the city walls opened fire to give them some cover.

  As the last man ran through the gateway, wagons were hurriedly pushed, one after the other, all piled high with as much clutter as possible, to block the entrance. It was hoped they would prove a good enough barrier, to allow time for the arrows now raining down from atop the high walls, to deliver a fatal blow. The General was stood next to the prince," well at least they followed us, thank heavens for small mercies," he said. "Oh, and I assume that strange event, of Darekians running into a wall of nothingness was your doing," he added with a smile. Luken nodded, his eyes still transfixed on the enemy soldiers below.

  The Besemian infantry again lined up in their units, once more forming into a giant shielded rectangle, before moving towards the makeshift gateway blocking their way. The enemy now knowing they would not be able to scale the much larger battlements of the city walls, it now seemed they had only one option to proceed. With arrows raining down upon them, some punching straight through the shields, torches were lit, and pots of oil thrown over the obstacle blocking their way. Slowly they retreated a short distance, the wagons immediately bursting into flame, now they would wait, out of range of the archers, to let the fire do its work. It would now only be a matter of time before they could smash their way through and into the city.

  Caldar picked up the pace as he noticed smoke rising from afar. He had sent scouts ahead about an hour ago, and now he could see them hurrying back. As the smaller advance group closed the gap, a single rider reported. "Your highness there is fighting ahead, a few miles or so. I could not ascertain exactly who was doing what, but we are not talking small scale. I saw Darekian flags and a few Besemian..." he did not wait for the end. He kicked his heels, shouted "For Corlan," and a loud roar came up from behind as the hundreds of riders set off to join the battle.

  The dust from the dry track flew up as the horses sped their way onward. The thundering of hooves were all that could be heard, as Caldar could feel his pulse racing. He was not certain what he would find across the brow of the next hill, but kept pushing forward regardless. Other riders with him started spreading out; widening the once narrow line, they had ridden earlier. Another few minutes would see them in sight of the battle.

  General Skalton knew the scenario, knew that barring a miracle, it would only be a matter of time before the enemy force now standing out of range, would come charging through the cities entrance. He and his men would do everything they could to stop them, but he was feeling as if any victory was slipping away. Luken turned to look at his General, and he saw a look he had never seen on the man's face before. It was a look of defeat, as if he was going through the motions, and was accepting the ultimate failure, which was looking increasingly likely.

  Luken stepped to the edge of the battlement, down at the flames leaping up part of the wall, and an idea struck him. Feeling the rage, letting it fill every sinew in his body, he opened his eyes and thrust both his arms forward. The flames from the burning wagons blocking the gateway roared outwards, thrusting towards the attackers. The intensity of the heat grew as it neared the shocked enemy lines. If the stench and noise from the oil dropped earlier onto the Besemians had been bad, what came now was far worse. Whereas the earlier attack with burning oil had struck down maybe twenty or more, now hundreds screamed, falling to the ground as the flames continued onward.

  It was Dagon who scurried as quickly as he could to the front of the battlement, "stop him" he shouted. General Skalton turned to look at the old man shuffling towards his direction. "Stop the prince" came the shout again, "why?" came a reply from one of the other soldiers, "he's massacring so many of them." A few others cheered their approval, "Because he's dying you fools," the old man cried out. Luken was still stood with his arms thrust out, his skin was pallor and his body was convulsing. "Stop" Dagon screamed in his face, but the prince was oblivious to everything else apart from the flames that continued soaring across the fields below. General Skalton tried shaking him, "forgive me your highness, but I cannot let you do this," he uttered, before slamming the hilt of his sword around Lukens head.

  The flames died down almost immediately, the devastation they had caused then became clear. The ground itself was blackened, scattered with hundreds of similarly coloured, smouldering corpses. Luken felled by the blow, was caught and his limp cold body, was quickly carried away by Lord Galliss. Father Dagon tried to keep pace, "is the boy still alive?" he asked. Galliss did not reply, taking long striding steps up the main street. Soldiers not involved in the fighting on the walls, watched in silence as the body of the prince hung limply in the arms of the large man carrying him. Tears rolled freely down the man's face as he walked, but he kept up his pace, continuing towards the keep.

  Caldar felt a sudden blast of warm air before he saw the massive fire ahead of him. He watched as the flames strangely stopped, totally disappearing. Not dwelling on the bizarreness of the situation, he slowed just a little, to make sure he had some resemblance of an attacking line before continuing. Drawing his sword and shouting once more, hundreds of weapons held skyward, they charged. The only ones who had been forewarned to hold back were a handful of people to take care of the packhorses. Amongst these were Arthur, and much to their utter disgust, Vanessa and Mitch.

  The remainder of the Besemian and Darekian force, were still in shock, as from the hill behind them came the rampant charge of hundreds of Cavalry. General Skalton quickly gave orders for the burning wagons blocking the entrance be dragged away, "get the cavalry out" he yelled. Men, who had only a few minutes earlier been atop the wall, awestruck at what they saw, were now remounting their horses. Those infantry, who had been waiting behind the blockade at street level, now had the task of removing what they had just used to block the entrance. The riders waited agitated, restlessly, for the wagons to be moved, and the flames from them to be put out.

  The enemy was scattered, and could not hold any defensive shape as the large contingent of Cavalry slammed into them. The mixture of Corlan and South Besemian men, cut down at the dwindling number of enemy. They struck, mercilessly taking the life of any men not wearing the colours of their own. The South Besemians had taken to wearing a yellow sash across their own colours, to differentiate themselves from their northern counterparts. A few tried to make for the bridge, with others fleeing to the open fields further south.

  Eventually the gateway was cleared, allowing the first riders from with the city to join battle. General Skalton made his way out to direct them, sitting upon his horse, he scoured the area. He waved his arm first one way, then the other, a signal for his men to head to the bridge to give chase to the enemy attempting to flee. He did notice that every single Darekian stood his ground, not one as much tried to retreat. Whether the men were still on horseback or had been taken down, they fought on. The only way to stop a Darekian was to kill him, he would not surrender, he would not lie injured, and he would fight until his last breath.

  It was not long before the riders of Corlan and her ally rode about with impunity, the last few enemies slain. Once his men were all back on the south side of the river, General Skalton ordered the gates closed, and barred once more. Not giving the men chance to rest on their laurels, he put a guard back on the bridge. The young prince Luken had turned the battle, hugely in their favour, even before the unexpected soldiers from the east joined the fray. He quickly looked around for an indication on who led the other force. He could see Besemian cavalrymen, but with slightly different colours. It was obvious these were fighting on his side, and he was thankful for it.

  The area outside the city walls, where once they had camped was now nothing but scorched earth and bodies. Not a single th
ing survived the intense heat of the flames. Caldar looked around, unsure at what could have caused such a thing. He had seen and fought battles, but had never witnessed, nor heard of anything such as the destruction that lay about him. He stopped his horse and glanced down at a corpse. It was now unrecognisable, little more than a black charred, shrivelled lump, encased in an armoured shell. Such was the heat, even some of the weapons and armour appeared to be misshaped, as if the metal had wilted in the extreme temperatures. He looked up, and saw a face he knew.

  "General" came a shout, causing Thomas Skalton to look around behind him. There sat upon a horse, was a man he recognised, and that bought a lump to his throat. Others from the city were now venturing out to help clear the field. The General stared for a moment before getting down from his horse. He walked the few paces to the other rider calling him, placing his sword tip to the ground and bending down to one knee, "Your highness, it is good to see you." Seeing their General kneel, others started doing likewise, and it was only a short time before most of the field was knelt. "It is good to see you Thomas. Now get up, your embarrassing me" Caldar chuckled.

  The General smiled, and Caldar dismounted, stepped to him and gave him a big hug. Releasing and stepping back, the two looked at each other, before Caldar took a deep breath, and asked the question he dreaded to hear the answer too. "My parents are here?" were the only words he asked, and Thomas sadly shook his head. "What of Luken? Please do not tell me..." Caldar noticed the expression on his Generals face change, he thought, for the better. "He is alive?" The General smiled, if a little wryly, "well, I am not sure. He was, until he won us the battle. I fear he may have sacrificed himself to save us."