Solomon shoved Kasa forcefully behind him with his sword arm, knocking him over backwards in the process.
"Wake up and swing you're damned sword!" he screamed over his shoulder as he blocked another deadly blow. The warrior trying to kill him this time was a good six inches taller than Solomon and had a sword arm as thick as his leg.
Solomon struck back, but the big man easily brushed aside the slashing attack with his shield then stepped towards Solomon and kicked him directly in the stomach knocking him over backwards with brute force.
Fortunately Solomon was experienced and his instinct was to grasp onto his sword and shield even harder as he fell rather than letting them go to try and break his fall. As a result he was able to pull his shield up over his chest and face to stop another hacking blow aimed at cutting him in two.
He tried to roll out away from his attacker, but the big man anticipated the move and kicked him hard in the side again to prevent it. He yelled something in a strange language fiercely and accusingly as he raised his scimitar for the final blow.
In the failed attempt to roll away Solomon had managed to pin his own sword and was not able to get it into position to defend himself, so he closed his eyes and prepared himself for the end.
The scimitar was stopped sharply in its trajectory however, by another blade. Solomon opened his eyes to see that it was Faolan who had managed to save him. Unfortunately in the process of blocking the fatal attack the swing from the big man was so hard it knocked Faolan's sword from his hands.
Solomon ignored the pain in his side, rolled out of the way and quickly regained his feet. He leapt forward to try and get between the big man and the now defenceless Faolan, but he was too late to stop a slashing cut that sliced a deep diagonal line from Faolan's right shoulder down to his left hip. The serrated blade easily cut through the conscript's shoddy leather armor and his blood spurted forth freely as he fell to the ground and started writhing around in agony.
Solomon's reaction was immediate. Triggered by the blood of a young man, who should have been tending fields instead of fighting in an army, his anger was volcanic. It was a deep burning anger born of a decade living with dishonour and ridicule.
As a seasoned veteran Solomon had long ago learned to curb his fear and his anger in battle. He was no berserker and he had always found that a cool clear mind was a better path to staying alive and besting your opponent. However, this time he let the anger feed him. He became single minded and emotionless, intent only on killing.
He launched at the big warrior with ferocity, slashing and thrusting hard with his sword. The attack was so intense that the big warrior fell backwards a few steps as he desperately deflected the series of rapid strikes.
Solomon pulled back briefly and the big warrior swung hard back at him in a counter attack, but Solomon ducked under his swinging blade and cut him across the back of the legs as he stepped behind him. It dropped the big man to his knees and Solomon did not hesitate in taking the chance to leap into the air and drive his sword down hard in through the back of his neck and deep down into his chest.
Solomon ignored the blood that spattered across his face as he withdrew his sword and then launched at the next nearest foe. He cut and hacked down three more enemy soldiers and the remaining conscripts rallied around him to hold the line.
Solomon felled yet another opponent then stopped as he withdrew his sword from the man's side. His bloodlust had started to subside and his conscious mind took over again. He quickly surveyed the situation. Their part of the line had now been surrounded and although the centre of the king's army was holding strong it was clear that the flanks were about to disintegrate.
The only way for them to have any chance of survival was to link up with the rest of the army. Solomon bellowed at Tobias, who was still unscathed, but breathing raggedly as he neared exhaustion.
"We have to fight our way back towards the centre right now or we are done for!"
Tobias nodded and started barking orders to the surviving conscripts and the smattering of regular foot soldiers that had been trapped with them.
Solomon lead the way forwards and the surge sideways across the front of the enemy initially caught them by surprise. Just as he thought they might actually make it back there was a blood curdling roar from behind him followed by terrifying screams.
Solomon turned back to see a huge dark brown manticore had pounced right into the middle of his men. The beast mauled the nearest conscript with its sharp lion claws while the rider on top loosed several arrows in rapid succession from a short bow with deadly accuracy.
Surrounded by the enemy there was nowhere to go so the manticore was easily able to pounce on top of another conscript and rip out his throat. At the same time one of the regular foot soldiers attempted to thrust his sword into the manticore's side only to have the beast's deadly scorpion tail strike him in the neck with whip like speed before he could land his blade.
The man screamed in agony for several seconds as his blood turned to fire inside his veins, before falling dead to the ground from the terrible poison.
"Keep them pushing towards our lines!" yelled Solomon at the top of his lungs as he stopped and turned back towards the manticore.
"What are you doing?" yelled Tobias who has pushing the survivors to attack towards friendly lines, now less than 20 yards away.
"Just get them back to the main army. It's time that I reclaim my honour!"
Solomon ignored further protests from Tobias and walked intently towards the manticore just as it finished dismembering yet another conscript.
"Let's see how you like the taste of a Black Ram!" yelled Solomon waving his arms wildly in an attempt to have the manticore focus on him and not any of the other men still cornered by the beast.
The rider turned immediately towards him and rapidly loosed two arrows at Solomon, but he was able to deflect them with his shield. In the process of doing that however, the beast was briefly hidden from his view by the shield. When he lowered it again the manticore was already bounding towards him.
Instinct and experience saved Solomon from a quick death. He stepped hard to his left to avoid the beast while at the same time he swung his shield out in a wide arc to stop the manticore's deadly tail from striking him in the chest. The stinger at the end of the tail was nothing but a blur. It moved so fast it was nothing short of luck and anticipation that he was able to time the deflection with his shield.
Having missed its prey on the first attempt the manticore skidded to a stop and spun quickly. The beast was very nimble for its size. It was already charging back towards him again before he could raise his shield once more.
As Solomon starred down death for a second time something unexpected happened. The manticore, still in mid charge, suddenly tripped, throwing its rider from its back as it lurched forwards face first onto the ground.
The rider recovered quickly and rolled back onto his feet drawing a short scimitar as his did so. However, as he attempted to move towards Solomon the rider found he could not move his feet as they were now entangled with grass.
Solomon looked around and realised that the manticore was also struggling to regain its feet as it fought against the snaking entangling grass that appeared to be intent on dragging it down into the earth.
Solomon had seen too many strange things over the last decade travelling with Farrel to be truly surprised by what was now happening across the entire battlefield. While the enemy soldiers struggled with their dilemma and his comrades paused momentarily in shock Solomon took it all in his stride and quickly finished off the manticore rider and then approached the beast itself.
Every time the manticore freed a paw and put it back onto the ground more grass would entangled it. Its tail was however, quite free and still deadly. The manticore saw him approach and roared angrily in frustration as it tried to pounce on him only to fall forwards again.
Solomon took the opportunity to dash forwards towards the tail before the manticore
regained its footing. The tail whipped towards him, but Solomon's sword sliced the entire tail in half and the stinger dropped harmlessly onto the ground.
The severed tail wriggled around like an angry snake as its muscles continued to twitch spasmodically. Solomon ignored it, leapt onto the back of the manticore and drove his sword deep into its back. The manticore bucked hard in pain which threw Solomon into the air and onto the ground.
Enraged the beast managed to pull free of the entangling grass long enough to turn on Solomon, but just as it opened its mouth to bite down on him it stumbled and collapsed to the ground dead.
Solomon quickly regained his feet and turned back towards the enemy lines only to see them hacking at the grass around them and retreating as fast as they could.
Solomon sheathed his sword and rested his hand firmly on the hilt to clear his mind. His lungs were burning and his arms and legs felt like lead. Around him cheers suddenly erupted from the survivors when they realised he had defeated a manticore on his own and Tobias was the most vocal.
"To the Black Ram, slayer of beasts!" he shouted to anyone who would listen as he walked up to Solomon and patted him hard on the back. "If my sword was not already pledged to the king I would pledge it to you right now!"
Solomon looked around him at the faces of the men still standing. They were bloody, battered, tired and scared, yet they cheered him like a hero with hope in their eyes.
He had regained his honour with them at least, but at what cost? He looked around at the battlefield strewn with the fallen, friend and enemy alike. Most were already dead, others still slowly and painfully dying. Then he looked back across the plain at the retreating army and knew that hope was folly. Their lives rested in the hands of Farrel and his abilities, but he could not tell them that so instead he barked orders at them with the same confidence that was in his voice at the start of the battle.
"The enemy has retreated, but you have fallen comrades who can still be saved by the healers so let's get to work finding them and dragging them off this godforsaken battlefield!"
#
Farrel pushed urgently through the crowd of soldiers who stood gathered around Starria.
"Get back!" he yelled as he knelt down to be close to her. Starria's eyes were open, but she did not appear to see or hear him. He reached down and stroked the side of her head gently as he looked at her more closely. Both eyes were severely bloodshot and blood seeped from her nostrils and dripped slowly from the end of her beak. Her breath was shallow and rapid.
"We should put the poor creature out of its misery," said a nearby archer as he nocked an arrow. Farrel stood up instantly and shoved the archer hard in the chest.
"If anyone so much as touches her I will burn them alive!" he yelled. "Does everyone here understand me clearly?"
The archer placed the arrow slowly back into his quiver and stepped backwards hands raised. The rest of the crowd were silent and several started to quietly back away. Satisfied that they were all sufficiently fearful he stormed off to find Raamen.
He located the master healer inside a large tent set up to treat the wounded. He and several of the other wizards were busily brewing various healing broths, balms and potions to treat the myriad of injuries laid out before them.
Farrel walked directly up to Raamen as he was rubbing a healing balm into a large gash in the chest of a foot soldier. The wound started to close over before his eyes, but Farrel had seen it all before so he ignored the small miracle and grabbed Raamen by the shoulder firmly.
"Why are you not with Starria?!" he said angrily spinning Raamen around to face him.
"I have done everything I can for her. There is nothing more that can be done other than wait," replied Raamen calmly, as he gently pulled free from Farrel's grasp and turned back to his work.
"This is not some farmer's cow you are treating!" insisted Farrel grabbing Raamen again. This time Raamen shrugged him off curtly.
"Look around you! All of these men's lives are in my hands, so I am sorry if I cannot nurse your griffin through the night!"
"If she dies you will see a side of me you do not want to see!" threatened Farrel. Raamen shook his head and looked back at Farrel with pity.
"Although I am your senior I have a great respect for you and I have always treated you as an equal, even when others in the Conclave have not. Therefore I will ignore what you just said. Your griffin was stung by a manticore, one of the deadliest poisons known in all Umijia. I do not know how she has even survived this long, but then what I know about griffin's would not fill a single page in a book. Trust me when I say that I have done everything within my power to save her. It's now down to the will of the gods."
Farrel bowed his head and slumped forward to lean heavily against Raamen.
"I'm sorry, she has come to mean a lot to me in a very short time," replied Farrel forlornly.
"I can see that my friend," replied Raamen more gently as he rested a reassuring hand on Farrel's shoulder. "You should really go and get some rest. The word around the camp is that the enemy is expected to attack again before the sun sets, so you are going to need all the energy and concentration you can muster."
#
Solomon walked amongst the fallen, with Tobias to his left and Kasa to his right, checking for survivors. The healers were concentrating their efforts on the centre part of the battlefield where the regular soldiers and knights had fought and fallen. Solomon shook his head in disgust, equality in death, but the privileged saved first. As a consequence they were alone on their section of the battlefield.
"Make sure you check each one, open their eyes and see if they react to the light. They might still be saved," he ordered.
"Solomon!" called Kasa urgently. Solomon rushed over to him to find him on his hands and knees vomiting violently. To his left was a grizzled foot soldier sitting propped up against the dead manticore with the better part of his stomach and intestines sprawled out on the ground in front of him thanks to a claw strike from the beast.
Tobias arrived by his side a moment later then cursed and dropped to his knees beside the man.
"I don't think the healers will be able to fix me this time!" said the grizzled soldier through gritted teeth.
"Arkan you old fool I thought you had retired!"
"Y..you know me I could never...say no to the king." replied Arkan his speech interrupted by uncontrollable groans due to the pain. He suddenly reached out and grabbed Tobias with all the strength he had left in his hands. "Finish me by...your sword...so I don't die by that devil of a beast!"
"No I will not!" said Tobias shaking his head as he tried to pull away. "Kasa control your stomach and help me carry him back to the camp!"
Kasa wiped the vomit from his mouth, stood up and started to move shakily towards Tobias, but Solomon stepped in front of him.
"No Kasa, you get back over there and keep checking for more wounded," ordered Solomon as he placed a firm hand on Tobias' shoulder before speaking more gently."Go and help him Tobias and don't turn back."
"No, I cannot," replied Tobias defiantly.
"Go!" said Arkan half yelling and half screaming from the pain.
"I am sorry my friend, but it will have to be by the hand of another..." said Tobias disconsolately as he stood then slowly walked away.
"The Black Ram eh," grimaced Arkan. "I'd have spat on your shield a day ago. Give me my honour in death and don't forget to find your own you wizard's lap dog!"
Solomon did not respond or react, instead he just picked up a nearby sword from the ground and gently placed in into Arkan's hand. He then silently drew his own sword and gave a knights salute.
"Better to die with a sword in your hand old man," said Solomon as he swung hard at Arkan's neck and neatly removed his head.
After that Solomon was not in the mood to clean his sword or to look for wounded so instead he started checking the enemy soldiers. Any that he found with even the remotest sign of life left in them he ran through the heart with hi
s sword.
Slowly and methodically he made his way along the line of dead back towards the outer edge of the battlefield. That was when something made him stop. Just a few feet away was the woman he had smashed in the face with his shield during the battle and she was trying to stand up.
He ran over to her and kicked her back to the ground and she fell onto her back with a yelp. She did not stay there for long and was quickly back on her stomach scrambling for a weapon. His first instinct was to drive his sword through her back, but he resisted. A live prisoner might just be able to give them vital information so instead he drove his boot down hard onto her outstretched hand as she grabbed for a nearby spear.
She cried out in pain and tried to pull her hand free, but to emphasis her situation Solomon pushed the tip of his sword into the base of her skull just hard enough to break the skin.
"Don't move!" he ordered, hoping that the tone of his voice was enough to make her understand. She cursed loudly in her own language, but she did not continue to struggle. In his years of travel alongside Farrel, Solomon had heard many different languages spoken, but this was completely different from anything he had heard before.
He looked around to see Kasa and Tobias not far away still checking for wounded. "Kasa!" he yelled.
"Yes Solomon," Kasa shouted back.
"Go back to the camp, get some rope and bring it back to me. And hurry! Tobias get over here I need some help!"
Tobias came running up to him and stopped short when he saw the woman.
"A prisoner! Lord Cortria is going to pay us handsomely in silver for this!"
"Shut up and strip her armour. I want to get her back to our tent before anyone else sees."
"What?"
"You heard me. I want to find out what she knows before we hand her over."
"If anyone finds out Lord Cortria will have us both flogged, maybe even hanged!" protested Tobias.
"Then we will die a few hours before everyone else because the only hope we have of winning this battle is the Crimson Wizard. Trust me when I tell you that it's more important for him to interrogate this one than Lord Cortria, for all our sake's."
Visions of Magic - Invasion Page 6