A/N: Hey, sorry it's been a while. Things just sort of happened then snowballed. Come up with a heap of story ideas though, too many to write all at once. I'll try and focus a little more on this one though.
Thanks for all the support!
You will definitely like this chapter. Let's say I was listening to some of Jeff Van Dykes awesome music he made for Total war while writing ...
Jakkalz: There will most definitely be some more character development when the time comes.
Charge!
Talan had ordered Till to form the archers into four rows and spread out. The Sword Brethren took up position behind them. They stood in the long grass before the fort, watching the frantic movements of its bandit defenders.
The fort was in a sorry state. It was poorly defended and under manned. There was no real gate except whatever the defenders could find to barricade the entrance with and the archers were few and far between.
'So disorganised.' Talan muttered, before clearing his throat and raising his voice. 'Do you reckon we should let them get organised? I think they need it.' he said, to the general laughter.
This would be a small battle, barely even a skirmish, but even so the men were on edge and it was good to give them something to laugh about.
'Bugger it.' Talan muttered, smiling without humour, and striding forward. 'All right lads! Don't give them time to think! Till! Lead the archers forward! Pick off anyone stupid enough to be out in the open!'
'Aye!' the Sergeant barked enthusiastically, turning to his unit. 'Get moving you sons of mothers!'
'Swordsmen! Hold here! Advance on my command!' Talan called.
As the archers started forward, Talan watched as the already frantic defenders ran for cover.
The Prussian archers halted, drew and raised their bows. There was a threatening hum of bow strings snapping back into place and a hail of arrows sailed upwards and over the walls. Among the desultory clatter of arrows on stone, there were a few cut-off screams from inside the fort as a few arrows hit something much softer.
One or two forlorn shots fired back from the fort but they fell painfully short of the more experienced and better equipped Prussian archers.
'Sword Brethren! Forward-march!'
There was an answering roar from the eager swordsmen as they drew their swords and started towards the gates.
'Faster!' Talan yelled, breaking into a run. Nearby, the Prussian bowmen sent another volley of arrows over the walls.
Talan, with the Sword Brethren close on his heels, leapt over the meagre barricade into the courtyard and was met by a wave of bandits coming the other way. He did the only thing he could. He raised his shield and charged like a bull, raising his sword and bellowing a war cry.
The Sword Brethren followed suit. As both sides met, the Order used their shields to smash into the bandits, pushing them back before lunging forward with their swords.
The bandits were disorganised to say the least and they had a mish-mash of different weapons.
A thickset man with a war hammer swung desperately at Talan. Deftly, almost lazily, Talan let the blow glance off his shield before bringing his sword round and dragging it across the man's stomach, spilling his guts across the ground. The bandit was spun round by the violent motion and Talan used the opportunity to drive his sword into the bandit's back, shoving the man hard to the ground. Talan stepped over him as the dying bandit tried desperately, but futilely, to crawl away and drove his sword into the nape of the man's neck, finally killing him.
Out of nowhere another bandit suddenly loomed, trying to take advantage of Talan's momentary distraction, but got Talan's steel blade shoved in his face instead. The bandit dropped to his knees, his sword clattering to the ground, and was about to fall forward dead when Talan reversed the motion of his hand and brought his sword round in an upswing, cutting the man's head in two from the chin upwards. Blood flew high in the air.
As the mutilated body fell backwards, Talan, blood splattered across his helm and dripping down his sword, leapt forward and brought his arm round in an overarm swing and buried the steel blade deep into a third bandit's shoulder, shoving him down to the ground hard, before Talan withdrew it and kicked the lifeless body aside. Talan's onslaught was clearing a small circle around him.
Suddenly there was a burst of fire to his left that made Talan jump back in surprise.
One of the bandits stood over a fallen Sword Brethren, flames held in his hands. As Talan watched, the flames engulfed the fallen Sword Brethren, who screamed and flailed around, fruitlessly trying to beat out the flames that enveloped him. The acrid stench of burned human flesh assaulted Talan's nostrils.
Novgord.
The flashback was brief. With a roar Talan surged forward but the mage was suddenly surrounded by Sword Brethren, who tackled the bandit and started brutally beating him with their fists, not having the room to use their swords.
As quickly as they arrived, they separated and charged back into battle, blood and gore on their gauntlets. Talan saw that the bandit had been, and this was the only way to describe him, pulped. The skull and body was caved in. It was barely even recognisable as human. Talan felt oddly proud at the display of violence.
The few remaining bandits fell back. Talan and his men pressed forward, now joined by Till's bowmen who had sneaked in amongst the confusion of battle and were now using their long knives with practised hand.
The last few bandits, outnumbered and outmatched, dropped their weapons. Some fell to their knees, pleading for their lives. Some tried to make a break for it. Most wet themselves. The Order rolled over them all, cutting them apart.
Talan withdrew his sword from a corpse and wiped it on the fallen bandit's clothing. He sheathed the blade and looked around. He nodded in satisfaction as he pulled out a cloth, took off his helmet and wiped his forehead.
'Not a bad result, lads!' he said, to all round cheers as the victors celebrated. Some of the more enthusiastic soldiers waved their swords in the air. There had only been around a dozen bandits in comparison to Talan's forty infantry. Casualties on his side had been minimal; four dead, two wounded.
Talan had to yell to make himself heard over the cheers. 'Alright, you shower! I want archers on the walls keeping lookout! Two small patrols and a guard on the gate! You, you and you.' Talan said, pointing out two Sword Brethren and a Prussian archer. 'With me into the keep. And keep your weapons ready, there might be one or two bandits still in there. The rest of you clean up this mess!'
'Captain!'
Talan turned to the source of the shout. Till was standing on the wall of the fort, staring out over the plain. His voice was frantic. Frowning, Talan climbed the stone steps to the wall, taking them two at a time and regarded the scene before him.
Closing in on the keep was another force. Flying above them was a banner bearing the red horseman of Lithuania. And this time the Order was outnumbered.
Something broke inside Talan. Maybe it was the constant warfare he'd been involved with in Lithuania. It was possible for a solider to go mad that way. Maybe it was the sudden strangeness of everything that had happened in the last few days. Maybe he had just lost the plot completely. Or maybe this was just another strange dream. But all Talan felt like doing, right now, was killing.
Till watched his commanding officer nervously. Talan's eyes had lit up when he'd seen the approaching force. He turned when he saw the Sergeant's gaze on him and smiled. Till stepped back uneasily. It was almost manic.
'We've got a fort. As long as we can bottleneck them, we've won.' Talan said confidently.
Till had many misgivings about Talan, especially in the last few day. He remained loyal because, well, because Talan was one of the best damn commanders he'd ever served under. But right now he was worried about his superior's mental state.
'Talan, You've lost your mind! There's near three hundred of them!' Till said incredulously. Talan only chuckled.
Aware that he was being watched by his men Talan carefully, and dramatically, put on his expressionless horned helmet before turning to address them.
'Let's go put the boot in the heathens!' he roared cheerfully, to which the other soldiers roared their approval, although it sounded a little hollow. But Till still marvelled at Talan's charisma. He had a way of talking that seemed to give hope to all who listened. Till got the impression that Talan was grinning under his helm.
'Sword Brethren, shield wall by the gate! Archers, hold the walls!'
Talan gave Till a curt nod and rejoined the throng of soldiers lining up in the courtyard, shouldering his way to the front by the gate.
He could see the Lithuanians were getting closer. They were spread in a wide, loose formation, which would make it difficult for Talan's archers, but they would have to close up when they reached the bottleneck in the keep.
'Hold!' Talan roared, drawing his sword and steeling into a defensive crouch, shield raised. He eyed the advancing Lithuania's.
Samogitian axemen walked in front, at least a hundred of them. Walking behind them were Baltic archers, maybe two units of them. Call it a further two hundred men. This was a small skirmishing force. But it was still too big for Talan and his men.
'Brace yourselves, it's those bloody axemen.' he warned, raising his voice. Even from here, he could hear the deep, menacing thundering of their footsteps and the clank and rattle of their chainmail.
'Archers knock!' he heard Till shout.
Talan frowned.
'Listen!' he said suddenly. They listened. Above the sound of marching boots game the steady drumbeat of hooves. It was coming from behind a rise to the west.
'They've got cavalry back-up!' a soldier whispered, his face turning white. Talan looked up at the approaching axemen, saw them falter. Then they broke into a run, heading away from the hoof beats.
'No, we do.' Talan said, grinning like a mad man.
Then all hell broke loose as a contingent of Ritterbruder crested the rise in full gallop.
A horn rang out and the knights lowered their lances, uttering a war cry. They caught up with the fleeing Lithuanians and smashed into the back of them, spearing men with their lances or crushing them under their hooves.
'Get them!' Talan yelled in excitement and he and the Sword Brethren charged, sprinting out the fort gate and onto the battlefield.
They heard the strum of bow strings and arrows whistled over head as the Prussian bowmen let loose a volley of arrows.
Talan closed the distance and caught the axemen coming and going. Caught between the two forces, the Lithuanians began desperately fighting. But every time they tried to break through the smaller force of infantrymen, they were speared by the cavalry. Every time they tried to fend off the Ritterbruder, they were stabbed in the back. Eventually, they were cut down.
As the last were trapped in circle that was getting smaller and smaller by the minute, one of the Ritterbruder, presumably the commander rode up to Talan, his sword bloody.
'Greetings, brother.' he said in heavily accented voice. He dismounted and sheathed his sword before removing his helmet.
'Cathbar?' Talan said incredulously, staring at his comrade in arms, before hauling off his own helmet.
'Talan?' the knight said, taken aback.
'You English bastard! I thought you'd be dead!' Talan said, throwing an arm around the surprised knights shoulder.
'So did I. When you didn't report back to Thron, we were sent out to investigate.' the knight said, clapping Talan on the shoulder. Talan stepped back.
'Let me guess,' Talan said, holding up a hand to stop him. 'You found carved pillars with a blue circle in the middle, right?'
'How did you know?' Cathbar said, raising an eyebrow.
'Happened to us too. And presumably the Lithuanians. From what I've found out its some kind of magic.'
Nearby, the last of the axemen were put to the sword. Amidst the back drop of screams and clash of steel, the two knights had a friendly chat.
At the start of the battle the Order had gone for the heavier troops, the axemen, leaving the bowmen free to run. They had fled in the direction of Whiterun. Cathbar nodded at them as an indication.
'I think we should talk later. First we ought to deal with them.' he said.
'Lets.' Talan said. 'Got a horse?'
Cathbar looked back at the Ritterbruder as they reassembled.
'Looks like we lost a man.' he sighed. 'It happens. You can have his mount. But what about your men?'
Talan grinned.
'You remember Till? He's over by the fort. He'll hold the place until we get back. Lets get them!'
'My lord, there's a small force approaching from the west!'
Jarl Baalgruf looked up as the guardsman ran panting into the map room, where Baalgruf was leaning over a table, studying the map of Skyrim.
'Is it the Teutonic Order?' he asked.
The man came to a stop, breathing hard.
'No, a different one. They fly the banner of a red horseman.'
'Show me.' Baalgruf ordered.
He followed the guard out the room and down the great hall, his personal guards automatically falling in behind him. Irileth took up her position next to him. He followed the guardsman out into the city and down to the walls in the plains district. Not totally to his surprise, he saw many of the citizens had gathered on the walls, including many of the guardsmen.
'Make way for the Jarl!' Irileth called, as the guards cleared a path for the Jarl. The crowd parted to let them through. Standing on the wall, he looked down on the scene before him.
At least two hundred men were fleeing across the plains, obviously running from something. True to his word, the guardsman had not lied when he said they held the banner of a red horseman.
'What would cause two hundred men to flee in panic.' he murmured worriedly to himself.
'My lord, look!' Irileth called, pointing.
A unit of cavalry had appeared further down the road, maybe less than one hundred. They were all dressed and armoured like Talan and they were moving at full gallop.
'What the-' Baalgruf breathed.
Below them, in full view of the city, the Order charged after the two hundred Lithuanians. There was a glint as the sun caught the light of eighty swords being drawn from eighty sheaths. A war horn rang out as the heavy cavalry caught up with the fleeing soldiers and they rode into the back of them with a terrifying bellow.
'No quarter!' Baalgruf heard one of the horsemen yell.
They were merciless. They rode down any who got in their path and cut down any man in passing. Even as some begged for mercy, they were hacked down. Some raised their bows to fire but their arrows clattered harmlessly off of shields and heavy armour. Those few who had tried to mount a resistance were broken. The Lithuanians scattered, fleeing in all directions but they were swept up by the Order.
It was all over in a few minutes, the last man having his head cut from his body as he tried to run. Baalgruf was staring hard at the battlefield. The merciless brutality was shocking. Baalgruf had fought in wars and seen atrocities, but this was on the same par as fanatics. He needed to have a serious word with Captain Gwynek.
'Who are these men?' he muttered to himself as he turned and walked back to Dragonsreach.
