Legends Lost Tesnayr

by Nova Rose

  * * *

  To Tesnayr’s relief the orcs had camped near where the Cym River forked effectively eliminating any avenue of escape. He spilt the troops into two groups planning to attack in two waves. The second group consisted mostly of King Slyamal’s soldiers with some of his own mixed throughout and with Nelyn in command.

  “Hide on the opposite side of the river,” ordered Tesnayr, “Stay out of sight and wait for my signal.”

  Nelyn saluted and left. Carefully, her group waded across the river making no noise. Once on the other side, they scurried behind the trees and rocks blending in with the background.

  Tesnayr waited atop a hill with the first group. He regarded the orcs as they sat around feasting, drinking, and quarreling with each other. Not even a sentry posted. Amazed at their lack of concern about a possible attack, Tesnayr had a fleeting thought about how this particular fight may be an easy victory. Mentally, he scolded himself for such foolishness. Tesnayr glanced at the sky. Dark clouds stretched from the mountains over the land. They reminded him of smoke instead of clouds. A foreboding of what was to come.

  “Now!” he yelled.

  A roar of thunder rose around them enveloping the entire area as his men mounted their horses and galloped toward the orc encampment. Tents and pots rolled in every direction clanging as they were knocked down. Caught off guard, orcs dashed about grabbing their weapons and armor.

  Tesnayr swung his sword downward cutting off the head of an orc as he attempted to put on his gear. An axe rushed past him barely missing his temple. Deftly, he turned his steed around, snatched a stake from the ground, and chucked it at the orc that had thrown the axe at him. It skewered the beast pinning him to the earth.

  “Drive them to the water,” Tesnayr shouted over the melee.

  Idæas rode erect on his mount with his double edged sword clasped tightly in his free hand. He held it above his head. Unique from most weapons, the elf’s sword had a slit in the center of its steel blade. The hilt curved around the elf’s gloved hand providing protection from cuts and scrapes.

  Concentrating fully on his target, Idæas twirled his blade severing the arm of an orc while tramping another. Clanging, clashing, and clomping echoed around him. He heard none of it. With expert skill, he steered his horse into a thick group of orcs as they attempted to mount a defense.

  He jumped off of his horse crashing into an orc as he prepared his slingshot. They rolled along the gravel twisting and turning until coming to a complete halt. Instantly, Idæas jumped to his feet. He plunged his sword into a charging orc.

  Dizzily, the one he had tackled stood up. He shook his head a moment to clear it. Finally noticing Idæas he wobbled toward him. The elf stabbed him in the chest easily.

  Pain filled his right shoulder as a blunt object struck the elf from behind. Instantly, he whirled around snatching the club from an orc and bashing the beast’s head in. He flung the club at another.

  The yell of a different orc alerted him to another oncoming assault. He raised his sword. The orc’s blade slipped into the slit in Idæas weapon. With a flick of his wrist, he twisted his sword wrenching the orc’s weapon away from his grasp. In the same movement, Idæas pulled the orc blade free with his other hand plunging it into the creature’s forehead.

  Jab, kick, stab. The elf remained a flurry of movement as he eliminated any who attacked him. Movement flickered in the corner of his eye. One orc charged Tesnayr who remained distracted by another two. Judging the beast’s intentions, Idæas snatched the dagger from his boot and flung it at the orc. The knife struck the beast in the back of the neck.

  “Idæas,” yelled Tesnayr, “The signal!”

  The elf rammed his shoulder into an orc knocking him to the ground. He seized a flag. Quickly, he jabbed it into a lone campfire setting it aflame and waved it from side to side.

  Nelyn watched from her place across the river. When she saw the signal she rushed back to the men that awaited her orders. “The signal’s been given. Mount up,” she ordered. The men of Tesnayr’s army followed her orders and charged across the river to join in the battle. Those of Sym’Dul stayed put.

  “You have been given an order,” said Nelyn.

  King Slyamal cantered up to her. “We ride to Hemίl,” he said to his men. He turned to Nelyn. “I will not let King Edrei have any glory for this day.”

  “You gave Captain Tesnayr your word,” countered Nelyn, venomously.

  King Slyamal scoffed at that notion. “I am changing the nature of our agreement.”

  “You know you will never reach Hemίl in time.”

  “I am a king and will go where I think is best.”

  “Coward,” hissed Nelyn.

  King Slyamal slapped Nelyn hard leaving a mark on her face. He steered his horse away with his men in pursuit. Nelyn picked up a spear, aimed, and hurled it in King Slyamal’s direction. Bits of bark flew everywhere as it plunged into the trunk of a tree missing King Slyamal’s face by inches. The king halted eyeing the spear. He glanced back at Nelyn. A deadly expression filled her features and he knew the she could have easily killed him, but had purposely missed. Nelyn kicked her horse charging for the river. A part of King Slyamal regretted his decision as he watched her leave. Ignoring such sentiment, he galloped away with his men.

  Air escaped Idæas’ lungs as a force rammed into his back knocking him into the dirt. Grit filled his teeth. He spat it out. Quickly, the elf grabbed a stone and threw it at his attacker striking him in the head. Idæas snatched the flagpole and jumped to his feet in time to block an attack. Whap! He struck the orc in the stomach immediately swinging the pole and hitting the beast in the back. Another charged him. Idæas slipped his pole between the orc’s legs, lifted him into the air and over his head before slamming the beast into the sharp rocks around him.

  Jarown backed away blocking and stabbing. Two orcs had him on the defense and he was unable to get free of their counterattacks. Each step took him closer to the riverbank. He blocked again. At any moment, Jarown knew the orcs would kill him if he did not break free. Suddenly, one orc’s eyes widened in shock as it slumped to the ground. Seizing his chance, Jarown used the distraction to jab the other in the stomach. Before him stood Nelyn.

  Jarown looked about him. The men she led across the river had shrunk. “Where is everybody?” he asked.

  “This is them,” she responded, “King Slyamal has left us for Hemίl.” She ran off.

  Rage coursed through him at such betrayal. Gripping his weapon, Jarown plunged back into the fray determined to kill every last orc.

  In the midst of the fight Tesnayr noticed that very few trekked across the river. What Nigilin had feared became a reality. King Slyamal had broken his word. Tesnayr noticed a mass of horsemen galloping away and concluded that they were King Slyamal’s. When other soldiers of Sym’Dul detected the same, they fled to follow their king. Apparently, they had been given orders to run away the moment their king gave the signal.

  “Idæas! Nigilin! Retreat across the river,” ordered Tesnayr, “And head for the Black Mountains.”

  Having been forced to retreat, Tesnayr hoped the river would slow down the orcs’ pursuit giving them time to escape. Instantly, a whirlwind of black dust flared up surrounding them. It circled repeatedly around them as they rode away. Tesnayr’s ears ached from the sudden dust storm, a magnitude of which he had never witnessed before. The wind raged ominously as it engulfed the orcs with thick, black dirt.

  The further he rode, the more Tesnayr noticed that the storm dissipated.

  “Captain,” yelled one soldier.

  “Just keep riding north,” Tesnayr yelled back.