Chapter 9

The rain poured down in droves, and once again Elmar cursed the early spring rains. They had brought nothing but misery to him and his men. The rain made the dirt roads a mess, so muddy it often sucked up men's boots. The horses got stuck often too, and he sighed angrily. Two weeks march and they were still three leagues away from the River's hold. He could see the campfires twinkling in the distance at night. His people, his household… gods, he felt himself foolish. Why had he summoned all his men? It must have been a trap, incited by the spiteful Stormlanders. Or perhaps the Westerlanders. He didn't know. He didn't care really, because his hatred for both was still there. As they slogged through muck and mud, he eyed the sides of the road warily. While they wouldn't attack outright, bandits did often prey these lands in times of war and could raid his rearguard if they grew strong enough, or worse, his smallfolk. He sighed and scratched at his stubble, waiting for the report from his outriders on the further situation of the battle. Of course, they would soon arrive to assault the enemies for better or worse. The men continued their march through the muck, leading their horses along at a steady enough pace. The horses had to be kept in good shape for the battle.

He trotted along, the castle in view. An enemy camp was on the horizon, surrounding the River's Hold. They sat out of view in the woods, mounting up and preparing for battled. His squire clasped the last strap in place on his sallet and he nodded his head. The boy gave him a nod and backed away. His own palfrey was a little back and he moved to mount up on it. Seeing that everyone was mounted up, he nodded to his hornblower. The man put the horn to his lips and blew a mighty blast that rumbled the earth. Moments later, he and his men charged, rumbling the earth further. Lances were couched, spears pointed, swords drawn. He held his lance couched in his shoulder and a shield in his left hand. He gauged the distance every few seconds. Twenty yards... ten... five... He could see the pallid white of their eyes... and their pikes. Hastily formed but still there, the pike formation moved back a bit with the force of the attack. His lance connected with one man's neck, and he was unsheathing his sword when a pike impaled his padded destrier's neck.

Wrenching free of the saddle, He landed on his feet, stumbled a few steps, and eyed down a man charging at him with his pike. He bated away the tip of the pike with his sword, embedding it in the wood of the pike and pulling the man towards him. Pulling the sword out of the pike he stabbed the man through the heart. He pulled his sword out and turned, spotting the arrow a moment too late. It embedded into his leg and he cried out in agony. Ripping the arrow out, he kept moving, killing a peasant who came running at him with a knife. He looked around to see his force dwindling. Certainly, he had expected casualties... but so many? He guessed mayhaps four hundred remained. Spotting a horse with a recently deceased rider, he hobbled over to it quickly and hopped on.

Another arrow impaled his shoulder and he roared in pain. Turning around, he urged the horse into a gallop. "Retreat! RETREAT!" He spotted maybe two hundred men getting away from the fight. He aimed the horse for Riverrun and grunted, passing out. ... He woke up in pain. His wounds were treated and he recognized Riverrun. His brother Ellard Entered a few minutes later. "Good. You are awake, and you are lying down. You will need to be lying down for the news I am about to tell you of." Ellard paused and took a drink from his up, seeming to think of his words. "You have been asleep for three days. First of all... The River's Hold fell. I've good news and bad. Your children were able to be spirited away here. But your Hammer was taken. You have lost the symbol of Legitimacy, and while you still have allies in the Vances, Freys, Mallisters, and of course the Tully's of Riverrun, your other vassals have retracted their support." Elmar sat in thought for a while. "Gather all the men you can. I will not have my kingdom fall without a fight. Gather the Rangers that can be spared." Ellard nodded his head, and Elmar felt pleased about that.

After a couple weeks the host gathered, some nine thousand four hundred men had gathered. This was it. They marched east with all haste.

Just North of the River's Hold, in the plains there, they faced off. Though the Stormlanders outnumbered them half again, he felt optimistic. Saddled up once more, he felt as though death loomed overhead. The warhorn boomed thrice and the men took up the charge. The infantry charged after the cavalry, while the mail fist of the cavalry smashed into the enemy force. His lance smashed a man's shield, knocking the man to the ground. An arrow flew and killed his horse again, and he cursed angrily. He wrenched free but it hurt his leg in the process. Landing on his feet and nearly tripping, he caught a man's blow on his shield and deflected it, bashing him away. He went for the killing blow when an arrow pierced his side.

Grunting, he hacked the man's neck open, panting. Another arrow caught him in his back. Turning, he put up his shield weakly. His men were pushing hard, the enemy right having fled. The enemy was dangerously close to breaking... He just had to make it another few minutes. Another man came at him, sword in the air recklessly. He put up his shield weakly and the man knocked it away. Putting up his sword, he blocked a couple of blows before a knight sprinted at him, mace in hand. He deflected the man-at-arms sword and dodged the mace swing, but when the next sword blow came his block was not as strong and the enemy pushed his sword away. Cursing, he stumbled for a moment under the onslaught and that was all it took. The man at arms was hit by an arrow and died, but that didn't stop the knight from smashing his mace into his arm and dislocating it. A sudden, cold explosion of pain sent shock waves through his body, and he stumbled to the ground. The knight stepped over him, pulling the sword away from him and aiming at his neck.

At the last moment his head burst open like an overripe watermelon and he saw a Riverlander with a morning-star in hand. The Riverlander moved to fight off an enemy soldier. The enemies began to flee, but he spotted the banner of the Durrandon prince at the head of a small part of men charging at him. A few of his own knights surged forward, finally free of the enemies they had been fighting. He got up in time to be met with the enemies charging at him.

His knights and the Prince's guards fought with fury. The Prince charged at him and he put up his sword. His arm was out of place and he could not fight well. The Prince hacked away his defenses and he tripped over again. He grabbed the Prince's leg, pulling him to the ground. He pulled himself on top of the prince and grabbed a rock. He smashed the rock downwards but his adversary rolled out of the way. The Prince grabbed his dagger and stabbed him in the stomach. He grunted and felt the blade pierce his skin again. He felt the blade pierce his chest again. The Prince was killed by a pike moments later. Gods, I'm cold... cold on a spring day... he wanted to laugh but he hurt too much. A fellow encase in a shining thing stumbled over to him, said something that didn't make sense... Edmyn…

A/N I didn't know how to end this properly. I felt like I needed to. I'm sure many of you will be mad about this ending, but… Well, it's something. I also edited Chapter 8.