Tarturan grabbed a hold of Tiegran’s arm and tugged him into the formation shouting, “You are with me. We fight until we have no fight left.”
The columns grew as men poured in from every direction. By the time the steady current of bodies rushing up the hill or from the castle or the trees surrounding the road up to the main gate slowed, more than three thousand men stood ready to fight with at least one hundred more on horseback. Some were grizzled men with years of battle reflecting in their hardened stares. Others were green, new recruits with fear in their eyes and innocence in their hearts. Tiegran thought back to his first battle. It had not been that long ago, and he remembered the feeling all too well, the fear in the eyes of those green recruits. It was nothing like what he felt standing in front of the gate at Havenstahl next to Tarturan. A chill of excitement shot up his spine. I have goosebumps. He nearly laughed out loud.
He looked over at Tarturan whose smile was just as big and shouted, “For Havenstahl!”
It nearly brought tears to his eyes when the group of soldiers formed up with him replied, “For Havenstahl!”
“For Druindahl,” he shouted back at them.
“For Druindahl,” they answered.
Tarturan let out a war cry as his heavy hand gave Tiegran’s shoulders a stiff pat. The crowd responded in kind. Tiegran hoped the giants could hear them. He hoped they knew Havenstahl would never surrender. As long as one man drew breath, they would fight until the Lake called them home.
Tiegran finally caught Daritus’ eye through the crowed. The general, the legend, gave him a wide smile and nodded. Tiegran shouted with all his might, “For Ouloos!”
The crowd answered, “For Ouloos!”
Then Daritus called the command, “Charge!”
A small group of giants had just rounded the bend onto the road into Havenstahl as three thousand screaming warriors began their charge down the hill. Behind them, the mounted men waited. Once the two forces engaged, they would circle up the invaders and cut them down.
At the bottom of the hill, there was no screaming, no charging, and no clashing of blades on shields. There was a bit of fear. Bom shot Kantiim a pleading look, “Is this a trap? I trusted you.”
“Betrayed,” Lito-Bi commented.
“No,” Kantiim reassured him, “this is no trap. They do not know of our truce. Remain here. I will ride up and meet them.”
Kantiim’s words did little to calm the group with the rumble of thousands of feet stampeding down the hill toward them, and the clang of swords being slammed against shields. At least they hadn’t time to bring out the drums.
“What choice have we?” Bom asked.
“Please,” Kantiim pleaded. “Though it seems otherwise, you have nothing to fear. Hold your white flag high, and I will stop the charge.”
Once Kantiim dug his heels into his horse’s sides and got the beast moving up the hill, he quickly realized how little he believed his own words. The mass of bodies charging toward him was terrifying, and they were his men. If they were enemies, he may have fled in the other direction. As it was, he shouted, “Halt.” Despite boasting a booming voice perfectly adapted for barking orders on the battlefield, the command was lost beneath the sound of the charging horde.
“Halt,” he shouted again and again, but still they charged.
Finally, he halted himself and held his sword high above his head. The group slowed. He shouted, “Halt,” again. They did not oblige his command, but they did slow further.
Then, finally, a glimmer of hope. He heard Daritus’ voice raised above the rest, “Kantiim, dare you stand against Havenstahl?”
“I would die first,” Kantiim shouted. “Stand down, old friend. The small force from Biggon’s Bay comes under a white flag seeking peace. I promised them as much.”
Daritus called out, “Hold,” to the men at his back and approached Kantiim. “And you trust them despite their vile conduct in all the battles they have waged against us since they arrived on our shores? They have no honor. Our dead lay festering, decomposing in fields of carnage, and you lead them right to our gate?”
Kantiim dismounted and walked up to meet him. “I do,” he replied as the two neared each other. Noticing Daritus had yet to stow his blade, he asked, “Shall I prepare to defend myself? Would you cut me down for accepting refugees fleeing a violent death, or attempting to broker a peace with a potentially valuable ally who could tip the horribly uneven scales of this war back toward our favor?”
Madness danced about Daritus’ eyes as he circled Kantiim treating him more like an adversary than an old friend and faithful general, “That depends on your reasoning for guiding a pack of filth from across the Great Sea to our gates under your protection.”
“You are one of my oldest and dearest friends. I would never draw my sword against you except to defend myself from the fury of your blade. Please do not force me to do that. The prospect of battle may have your blood boiling, but your fight with Bok in the great waste left you unfit for battle. You cannot beat me, and our men cannot see you fail. Our numbers are far too small to allow them to lose their belief that a slayer of giants is the man leading them into battle,” Kantiim grew increasingly tired of the treatment.
After a few deep breaths, the wildness began to leave Daritus’ eyes. Within a few moments he stopped circling. A few moments after that, he finally stowed his blade and said, “Fine, tell me why you believe we should trust these monsters.”
“Why not call the men to hold and come see for yourself?” Kantiim shrugged.
“Men, hold,” Daritus shouted up the hill. Then he turned back to Kantiim and said, “Lead the way.”
Packed in the middle of three thousand men wild with adrenaline and ready to cut down anything that got in their way, Tiegran slowly deflated. “Why would we hold?” he asked Tarturan.
“The white flag they fly might have something to do with it,” Tarturan shrugged.
The answer failed to satisfy the young soldier. White flag or not, he had witnessed too much blood and too much suffering to accept any kind of peace. He was camped just outside Fort Maomnosett when the boulders crashed through the walls and crumbled the thing to dust. He lost many friends that day, friends crushed in a cowardly attack with no chance to defend themselves. The bastards at the bottom of the hill had a debt to pay. Tiegran intended to collect.
Tiegran worked his way through the formation until he stood alone in front of it. He stopped there for a moment watching his general, the legend, the giant slayer walking toward those monsters who killed so many of his kin with his sword stowed. A tear teetered on his eyelid for a moment before rushing down his face. He licked it away when it hit his lip. Something deep in the saltiness of it tasted like betrayal. It was more than he could stand.
He barely heard the words, “Tiegran, stand down,” leave Tarturan’s lips as he sprinted down the hill with his sword raised. Those had probably been Tarturan’s fingers trying to grab his sleeve, but he paid them no mind. He was not sure in that moment exactly what he was going to do. Attacking his general would be treason. Disobeying a direct order would also be treason. He was fairly certain the latter was his plan, so what was the difference?
Tiegran had nearly reached Kantiim and Daritus when he heard the sound coming from his own mouth. It was an unconscious thing. Something hovering between battle cry and pitiable wail. If sorrow, anger, and betrayal all smashed together had a sound, that was what poured from his mouth. By that point, the young soldier had decided he would not attack his own, regardless of their betrayal. His plan was to run right past them and attack the invaders. When Kantiim spun and drew his blade, Tiegran knew that plan would fail.
“You were commanded to hold, soldier,” Kantiim growled.
Daritus recognized the young warrior, “Tiegran, what is the meaning of this assault?”
Two generals known far and wide as titans on the battlefield stood with swords at the ready. Right at that moment, Tiegran’s hurt and rage and woe and
feelings he had no names for dimmed enough for him to recognize the folly of his actions. His feet slipped as he tried to stop himself. The wet ground would not allow it. Just before he was close enough for Kantiim to have his head off with a clean swing of his blade, his face was squishing into the wet ground. It did not spend much time there. A moment later, he was effortlessly lifted from the ground. The sloppy muck of the road was a full six inches beneath his feet when he finally released his grip on his sword.
“What in Dragon’s Fire has gotten into you?” Tarturan’s voice still sounded sweet even as it shouted into his ear.
“I cannot stand by and watch these monsters spoil the dirt my friends died defending,” Tiegran replied, his voice barely more than a choked whisper as his collar dug into his throat.
“Let him down,” Daritus commanded before Tarturan could shout anything else into his ear.
“How could you?” Tiegran hissed. The words had barely passed his lips when Tarturan’s massive hand connected with the back of his head. The man hit like a bull tubber charging with a full head of steam.
“Tarturan,” Daritus scolded, “that is enough. Let his voice be heard.”
“Raising a sword against your commander is treason,” Tarturan argued.
“It is,” Daritus agreed. “I would like to hear him answer for it. How will he do that if you knock the wits out of him?” He turned to Tiegran and added, “Well, now is your chance. Let your accusations be heard.”
Tiegran shot Tarturan a look as he fixed his collar. Then he looked at his general and prepared to spew forth a big pile of venom on him. However, when he opened his mouth, the words refused to come. The thoughts were in his mind. The pain squeezed his heart. Articulating these things, that was tricky. He struggled to define exactly what he felt in that moment. The best he could come up with was, “You broke my heart.”
Daritus gave him a dry smile. “I understand your pain. Do you suppose I feel differently? The beasts standing at the bottom of this hill showed my men no mercy, no honor,” he paused and pounded his chest, “My men, mine. Men who look at me with admiration in their eyes like you did. How do you think that feels? This man,” he pointed at Kantiim, “is more than just a general in my army. He is a friend, a trusted confidant. I have never known a man who provides wiser counsel. When this man whom I love and trust with my life stands before me ready to trade blades over any topic, I am nothing more than a fool if I fail to at least listen. Believe me, there is nothing I want more than to charge down this hill and cut those bastards down right where they stand, smear their vile blood all over the soggy soil. But…” he trailed off as he looked first down the hill, then at Kantiim, and finally back to Tiegran before he finished, “they ride under a white flag. That means something to me. It means something to any honorable man.”
“So, their vile acts against our city, your men, remain unpunished,” Tiegran spat.
Daritus sighed, “The fact they come to us seeking peace gives me hope they already punish themselves. Fleeing your post is as treasonous as raising a sword against your general, and most are far less forgiving than the one standing before you. It is a bold thing they did, and I want to hear why.”
Tiegran remained unmoved, “We should grind them into the dirt beneath our feet.”
“We could do that,” Daritus nodded. “We could ignore that white flag and destroy them. It would feel good. The men would revel in the victory. We would celebrate over their rotting corpses,” he paused to look down at the group of invaders, “but we would be no better than them. You would soar high for a time, but eventually you would recognize how empty it was. They have already surrendered. We have the high ground. We outnumber them nearly five to one. Is that the kind of vengeance you seek? It is not the kind of vengeance I seek. I forgot that for a moment,” he glanced over at Kantiim before adding, “Luckily, an old friend reminded me. That does nothing to dim the pain I feel over what we have lost, nor does it dampen the rage I feel about what they did. Are you willing to take a chance with me and listen to what they have to say?”
Tiegran scratched his head. He honestly was not sure how he felt about it. Every shred of his being boiled with the urge to charge down the hill and kill them all, alone if necessary. He would fight with everything he had until he was dead, or they were all dead. And yet, Daritus’ words made sense. The group had surrendered. Was he no better than the monsters who cowardly attacked in the dead of night? After a few moments of wrestling with the competing ideas in his head, he finally agreed, “I do not like this one bit. No, I hate it, but I am willing to listen. I wish not to be as low as the monsters we face.”
The tension among Bom’s group was thick by the time the four men approached. Kantiim’s men felt it just as strong. There were only nineteen of them. If the fragile calm among the giants and trogmortem they accompanied broke, they would all most certainly die. They would be avenged swiftly. However, the truth about avenging is it really only helps those doing the avenging toward closure on what they lost. The dead remain dead, completely unaware of the effort.
Bom looked over at Ychorell and asked, “What do you make of this?”
“Best I can tell, them men had a mind to charge down this hill and cut the lot of you down, but Kantiim swayed them off that idea,” Ychorell replied.
Lito-Bi added, “Though we seek peace, we will fight if the need arises.”
“I would expect nothing less,” even seated high upon his horse, Denigran had to look up to wink at the massive trogmortem. “If I know my general as much as I believe I do, the decision as to whether this day ends in battle is completely up to you.”
“If your words are true, there will be no battle,” Stekka-Ha interjected.
“Welcome to Havenstahl,” Daritus’ said as he approached. “I am Daritus of Druindahl. I lead the armies of both fair cities. Please forgive the poor reception, but giants approaching the city I defend has recently become reason enough to sound alarms.”
“Daritus the giant slayer,” Bom’s tone was flat as he sized the small man up. “I would not believe it true had I not witnessed it with my own eyes, but you killed my father.”
“Have you come to challenge me in the name of honor?” Daritus asked soberly.
Bom chuckled dryly, “No. You met my father on the battlefield. It was a fair fight, and you bested him. On that day, with sorrow and rage fresh in my heart, I would have crushed you. Today, I carry no ill feelings. On the contrary, what I am feeling might be considered admiration. My father was a terror. I cannot say for certain I would have been so bold as to stand against him as you did.”
Daritus shrugged, “You might if it meant the safety of your kind. Speaking of which, my good friend speaks of truces and peace, but I have always been a bit skeptical. Why should I trust you?”
Bom dropped to one knee and bowed his head, “I pledge my might and my wits to Havenstahl. I am at your command. My grandfather seeks to destroy your fair city, take your land, and move on to take Alhouim back believing it to be his rightful city of Maomnosett. All who accompany me are tired of fighting to steal land.” He paused and raised his head to look Daritus in the eye, “I wish to see your people free from this terror. I oppose my grandfather and his ideals.”
“The aid is welcome,” Daritus scratched his head, “but what do you expect in return? We have very little to give right now. As you can see, most of our resources are pouring into reconstructing our city.”
“Nothing,” Bom replied flatly. “After we have turned back those who have invaded your lands, we ask only for safe passage back to the bay and enough ships to take us home.”
Kantiim nodded when Daritus glanced back at him. The gesture carried more meaning than anyone who saw it understood. The damage even a few giants and a few hundred trogmortem could cause within the city gates was monumental. However, they desperately needed the assistance.
“Rise,” Daritus finally said. He failed to realize he probably should have waited to give the command un
til after delivering his next line. When Bom stood, Daritus’ head stood nearly level with the giant’s belly button. That didn’t stop him, “If you betray us, or give me any reason to regret this agreement, we will cut you down.”
“It is my goal to earn your trust,” Bom nodded.
Daritus looked over at Tiegran, “Are you satisfied with this arrangement, or have you anything to add.”
Fear had finally gained equal footing with the rage Tiegran felt. Though he had seen several giants roaming the battlefield that day in front of Fort Maomnosett, he had not been near enough to any of them to fight or even get a fair estimation of their size. The monster looming above Daritus was the smallest of his group, and still towered over even massive Tarturan. He pushed that fear deep into his gut, raised his head high and confidently proclaimed, “If your words turn out to be untrue, it will be my sword you die upon.”
The words sounded laughable to Tiegran as they left his mouth, but the giant did not even crack a smile. He simply nodded and said, “If I betray your trust, the sentence will be earned.”
Chapter 28
Beware the Black Horse
The cave was cool and damp, a stark contrast to the hot dry air outside of it. Torches blazing along the rocky walls had shadows dancing all up and down them. Maelich sat near a modest fire turning a spit with a hunk of meat dribbling and spitting juice down into the flame. He had grown accustomed to the meat. It was bland, not bad, but nothing like tubber. Ding called the animal chukwoka, but Maelich thought they resembled grongs. Chukwoka were smaller, had long tails, no scales, and walked around on four legs. Beyond that they were nearly identical.
“Ding asked after you,” Maulom broke the silence and startled Maelich out of his thoughts. “They see less and less of you.”
Maelich smiled, “Ymitoth is a much better trainer than I, far more patient.”
“You seem troubled,” Maulom sat down on a rock across the fire from Maelich. The flickering flames cast eerie shadows about his face and gave his white hair an orange glow. He filled two cups from a jug and offered one to Maelich, “Here, give this a try. It is just ready to drink. It will nicely accompany your meat.”
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