Ok so it has been a little while and I am so sorry about that but things in life have just been hectic in the last year. I was dealing with a lot of stuff in my personal life and still am in some ways. I don't really want to talk about it here but I am going to try and get back into this after taking a unintentional year long break. I am also currently rereading the series in preparation of the new book that is set to release early November of this year. I am looking forward to it. Hope you enjoy this chapter if you were still waiting. If not I guess I will know and understand.
I don't own Ranger's Apprentice; if I did Alyss would still be alive and Gil and Jenny would be married.
The Burning Bridge: Chapter 34
Gilan much to his annoyance had drawn the short straw and had been chosen to read. Gilan picked the offending book up of the table knowing that it would not be a fun chapter. Then he frowned at himself where had Mr. Positive gone?
MORGARATH WAS WHEELING HIS HORSE IN A WIDE CIRCLE TO gain room. Horace knew that he'd swing around and charge down on him, using the momentum of his charge as much as the force of his sword to try to strike him from the saddle.
Guiding his horse with his knees, he swung away in the opposite direction, shrugging his buckler around from where it hung on his back and slipping his left arm through the straps. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Morgarath, eight meters away, spurring his horse forward in a charge. Horace clapped his heels into his own horse's ribs and swung him back to face the black-clad figure.
The two sets of hoofbeats overlapped, merged then overlapped once more as the riders thundered toward each other. Knowing his opponent had the advantage of reach, Horace determined to let him strike the first blow, then attempt a counterstrike as they passed. They were nearly on each other now and Morgrarath suddenly rose in his stirrups and, from his full height, swung an overhand blow at the boy. Horace expecting the move, threw up his shield.
Rodney snorted, "it is still going to hurt," he grumbled.
The power behind Morgarath's blow was devastating. "Told you," Rodney grunted. Horace could not decide if Rodney was just anxious or if he was angry. The sword had Morgarath's immense height, the strength of his arm and the momentum of his galloping horse behind it. Timing it to perfection, he had channeled all these separate forces and focused them into his sword as it cleaved down. Horace had never in his life felt such destructive force. Those watching winced at the ringing crash of sword on shield and they saw Horace sway under the mighty stoke, almost knocked clean from his saddle on the first pass.
"I mean we all know what is going to happen, but this does look pretty hopeless doesn't it," David said.
"Thanks for reminding me," Horace grumbled.
All thought of a counterstrike was gone now. It was all he could do to regain his saddle as his horse skittered away, dancing sideways, as Morgarath's mount, trained for battle, lashed out with its rear hooves.
Horace's left arm, his shield arm, was rendered completely numb by the terrible force of the blow. He shrugged it repeatedly as he rode away, moving the arm in small circles to try to regain some feeling. Finally, he felt a dull ache there that seemed to stretch the entire length of the limb. Now he knew real fear. All his training, he realized, all his practice, was nothing compared to Morgarath's years and years of practice.
Halt held the bridge of his nose and Crowley could tell his friend was trying really hard not to sigh at Horace's predicament. Maybe Pauline had taught him some sensitivity.
He wheeled to face Morgarath and rode in again. On the first pass, they had met shield to shield. This time, he saw his opponent was angling to pass on his right-his sword side-and he realized that the next shattering blow would not land on his shield. He would have to parry with his own sword. His mouth was dry as he galloped forward, trying desperately to remember what Gilan had taught him.
The tall Ranger gave a nervous hiccup. "I didn't really intend for you to be fighting Morgrath in your second year," he said. Horace gave him a small wan smile.
But Gilan had never prepared him to face such overpowering strength. Gilan made a see there gesture with his free hand. He knew he couldn't take the risk of gripping his sword lightly and tightening at the moment of impact. His knuckles whitened on the hilt of his sword and, suddenly, Morgarath was upon him and the massive broadsword sung in a glittering arc at his head. Horace threw up his own sword to parry, just in time.
The mighty crash and slithering scram of steel on steel set the watchers' nerves jangling. Unconsciously, everyone listening shivered as well. Again, Horace reeled in the saddle from the force of the blow. His right arm was numb from the fingertip to elbow. He knew that he would have to find a way to avoid Morgarath's near-paralyzing blows. But he couldn't think how.
Will and Cassnadra leaned forward slightly. Out of everyone present they were the only ones to hear about this through a second hand account rather then actually seeing it themselves. Halt had left some of this out maybe so as not to reminded Horace of his near experience with death's door.
He heard hoofbeats close behind and, turning, realized that this time, Morgarath hadn't gone on to gain ground for another charge. Instead, he had wheeled his horse almost immediately, sacrificing the extra force gained in the charge for the sake of a fast follow-up attack. The broadsword swung back again.
Cassandra wasn't aware she had covered her eyes till Horace gave her a gentle nudge to remind her that this was all in the past.
Horace reared his horse onto its hind legs, spinning it in place, and taking Morgarath's sword on his shield once more. This time, the force behind it was a little less devastating, but not by much. Horace cut twice at the black lord, forehand and backhand. His smaller, lighter sword was faster to wield than the might broadsword, but his right arm was still numb from the parry and his strokes had little power behind them. Morgarath deflected them easily, almost contemptuously, with his shield, then cut again at Horace, overhand this time, standing in his stirrups for extra purchase.
"This is so bad," Cassandra said. Horace raised an eyebrow. He really was out matched but he did manage to stop the sarcastic 'you think' before it escaped.
Once again, Horace's shield took the force of the sword stroke. The circular piece of steel was bent almost double the two massive strokes it had taken. Much more of this and it would be virtually useless to him. He spurred his horse away from Morgarath scrambling to remain mounted.
His breath now came in rapid gasps and sweat covered his face. It was as much the sweat of fear as of exertion. He shook his head desperately to clear his vision. Morgarath was riding in again. Horace changed direction at the last moment, dragging his horse's head to the left, taking him across the path of Morgarth's charging horse as he tried to evade that huge sword. Morgrath saw it coming and changed to a backhand stroke, crashing it onto the rim of the Horace's shield.
Everyone winched at that and Horace rotated his shoulder as if the memory of this actually hurt.
The broadsword bit deep into the steel of the shield then caught there. Seizing the moment, Horace stood in his stirrups and cut overhand at Morgarth. The black shield came up just a fraction too late and Horace's blow glanced off the black, beaked helmet. He felt the shock of it up his arm, but this time, the jarring felt good. He cut again as Morgarth wrenched and heaved to remove his sword.
This time, Morgarath caught the blow on his shield. But for the first time, Horace managed to put some authority behind the stroke and the Lord of Rain and Night grunted as he was rocked in his saddle. His sword dropped fractionally.
"There you go Horace," Will said encouragingly. Halt, Crowley, and Gil exchanged looks. They knew that it would take more then that to beat Morgarath. They suspected Will knew this too but Horace was paling as he relived his experience. Horace tried to smile but it was wan effort.
Now Horace used the shorter blade of his sword to lunge at the gap that had opened between shield and body and drove the point at Morgarath's ribs. For a moment, those watching felt a brief flare of hope. But the black armor held against the thrust, which was delivered from a cramped position and had little force behind it. Nonetheless, it hurt Morgarath, cracking a rib behind the mail armor, and he cursed in pain and jerked at his own sword once more.
"You got to admit he was fighting pretty well for a second year," Arald said. Rodney nodded in reluctant agreement. Horace had scared him half to death so he wasn't really in the mood for giving the boy praise.
"I hope it really hurt," Crowley said with a snort. Horace tried to smile again. Cassandra meanwhile had her head buried in her arms. She didn't need to hear any of this. She would have nightmares for a while. Not all of it her fault of course.
And then, disaster!
"Or course," Halt said with a annoyed snort.
Weakened by the crushing blows Morgarath had struck at it, Horace's shield simply gave way. The huge sword tore free at last, and as it went, it ripped lose the leather straps that held the shield on Horace's arm. The battered misshapen shield came free and spun away into the air. There was a startled gasp from Will and Cassandra. Horace reeled in the saddle agin, despertlly trying to retrain his balance. Too close to use the full length of his blade Morgarath slammed the double-handed hilt of th sword into the side of the boy's helemnt and the onlookers groaned in dismay as Horace fell from his saddle.
"How in the name of all that is great did you survive this!" Will cried in amazement. Horace was shaking and Alyss nudged her husband hard in the ribs.
"You ok Horace?" Duncan asked in concern.
"Yea. Just reliving this it reminds me how close to death I really was. It is terrifying to relive this," Horace said.
"Do you need a minute?" Rodney asked in concern. He was found of the boy and wanted to make sure he was ok. Before Horace could answer he felt a nudge on his arm. He looked up startled to see Halt standing behind him and pushing him a cup of what Horace could only assume was coffee. He didn't look concerned only caring.
"Thanks Halt," Horace told him softly. The Ranger nodded once before returning to his seat.
"Horace?" Cassandra prompted.
"I will be ok. I can get through this. I won and I am here now," Horace said out loud. More or less to remind himself as his wife.
"That is a good thing," Will said seriously.
His foot caught in the stirrup and he was dragged for twenty meters or so behind his terrified, galloping horse. Oddly enough, that fact probably saved his life, as he was carried clear of the murdurous reach of Morgarath's broadsword. Finally managing to kick himself free, he rolled in the dust, his sword still grasped in his right hand.
Crowley, Rodney, Duncan, Gil, and Arald were all looking at Horace impressed. It would have been way to easy for him to lose his sword during that dash. Horace blushed.
Staggering, he regained his feet, his eyes full of sweat and dust. Dimly, he saw Morgarath bearing down on him again. Gripping his sword with both hands, he blocked the doward cut of the huge sword, but was beaten to his knees by the force of it. A flailing rear hoof took him in the ribs and he went down in the dust again as Morgarth galloped clear.
A hush had fallen over the watchers. The Wargals were unmoved by the spectacle, but the kingdom's army watched the one-sided contest in silent horror. The end was inevitable, they all knew.
Slowly, painfully, Horace climbed to his feet once more. Morgarth wheeled his horse and set himself for another charge. Horace watched him coming, knowing that this contest could have only one possible result. A desperate idea was forming in his mind as the dead-white battlehorse thundered toward him, heading to his right leaving Morgarath room to strike down with his sword. Horace had no idea whether or not his armor would protect him from what he had in mind. He could be killed. Then, dully, he laughed at himself. He was going to be killed anyway.
He tensed himself, ready. The horse was almost upon him now, swerving away to his right to leave Morgarath strike room. In the last few meters, Horace hurled himself to the right after it, deliberately throwing himself under the horse's front hooves.
"Wait hold on!" Will cried before Gil could go on. Cassandra was looking at Horace wide eyed.
"What?" Horace asked.
"Halt said you clumsily fell in front of the horse not that you attempted suicide," Will said in shock.
"I didn't attempt suicide," Horace corrected him.
"You kind of did," Crowley said. Horace shrugged.
"I didn't have a whole lot of options…. OW Cassandra," Horace said rubbing his arm where his wife had just hit him hard.
"Don't you ever do anything so stupid or reckless ever again," Cassandra said.
"Did you have a better plan?" Horace asked her. Cassandra regarded him seriously.
"I wouldn't have fought him in the first place," she said. Horace had no real answer to that.
Unprepared for his suicidal action, Crowley made a see there gesture, the horse tried desperately to avoid him. Its forelegs crossed and it stumbled, then somersaulted in a tangle of legs and body into the dust. A great, wordless cry went up from the onlookers as, for a moment, the scene was obscured by a cloud of roiling dust. Horace felt a hoof strike him the back, between the shoulder blades, then saw a brief red flash as another slammed into his helmet, breaking the strap and knocking it from his head. He was hit more times than he could count and the world was a blur of pain and dust, and most of all noise.
Everyone winched. "Given all that it is a wonder you only got a few broken bones after that fight," Duncan said in surprise.
"The body is surprising resilient," Halt said.
"It still hurt," Horace said and the others could only nod. None of them had experienced it and none of them wanted to.
As his horse went down, Morgarth somehow kicked his feet out of the stirrups and fell clear. He crashed heavily to the ground, the broadsword falling from his grasp.
"Hope that hurt too," Halt and Crowley coursed.
Screaming in rage and fear, the white horse struggled to its feet again. It kicked one more time at the prone figure that had brought it down, then trotted away. Horace grunted with pain and tried to stand. He came to his knees and, vaguely, he heard the swelling cheers of the watching army.
"So it is over?" Cassandra asked. Horace sighed.
"Not yet," he responded.
Then the cheers gradually died away as the still, black-clad figure a few meters away began to move.
"Darn it!" Cassandra hissed.
Morgarath was winded, nothing more. He dragged in a vast lungful of air and stood. He looked around, saw the broadsword lying half buried in the dust and moved to retrieve it. Horace's heart sank as the tall figure, outlined now against the low afternoon sun, began to advance on him, one long stride at a time. Desperately Horace retrieved his own sword and scrambled to his feet. There was hardly an inch of his body that wasn't throbbing with pain. Groggy and trying to focus, he saw that Morgrath had discarded his triangular black shield. Now, holding the broadsword in a two-handed grip, he advanced.
"Now he fights fair," David snorted.
Again came that nerve-jangling, screeching clash of steel. Morgarath rained blow after blow down on Horace's sword. Desperately, the apprentice warrior parried and blocked. But with each massive blow his arms were losing their strength. He began to back away, but still Morgarath came on, beating down Horace's defense with blow after shattering blow.
And then, as Horace allowed the point of his sword to drop, unable to find the strength to keep it up anymore, Morgarath's huge broadsword whistled down one last time, smashing into the smaller sword and snapping the blade in two.
"Now you are in trouble," Will said panic rising up as he thought about what Horace as going through.
"Still here Will," Horace reminded him.
"But how?!" Cassandra asked in anguish. It felt like alternate history. The odds were stacked against Horace. Horace glanced over at Gilan and smiled.
He stepped back now, a cruel smile on his face, as Horace stared dumbly at the shorn-off blade in his right hand.
"I think we're nearly finished now," Morgarath said in that soft toneless voice. Horace still looked at the useless sword. Almost unconsciously, his left hand reached for his dagger and slid it from its sheath. Morgarth saw the movement and laughed.
"I don't think that will do you much good," he sneered. Then, deliberately, he took the great broadsword up and back for a final, might overhand blow that would cleave Horace to the waist.
It was Gilan who realized what was going to happen, a second before it did.
David frowned turning to his son. "How would you know what he was going to do?" the knight questioned. David hadn't been present when Gil had taught Horace the double knife defense in the book.
"I taught him that," Gil said with a small almost careless shrug of his shoulders.
"And it saved my life so thanks," Horace said seriously. Gil smiled.
"You're welcome," he responded.
The broadsword began its downward arc, splitting the air. And now Horace, throwing everything into one final effort, stepped forward, crossing the two blades he held, the dagger supporting the shortened sword.
"The double knife defense but with a sword. Nice improv," David said.
The locked blades took the impact of Morgarath's might stroke. But Horace had stepped close to the taller man, and so reduced the leverage of the long blade and the force of the blow. Morgarath's sword clanged into the X formed by the two blades.
Horace's knees buckled, then held, and for a moment Morgarath and he stood locked, chest to chest. Horace could see the puzzled fury on the madman's face. Then the fury turned to surprise and Morgarath felt a deep, burning agony pour through his body as Horace slipped the dagger free and, with every ounce of his strength behind it, drove it through Morgarath's chain mail and up into his heart.
Cheers erupted around the table knowing that Morgarath was finally gone. Horace blushed a bright shade of red.
Slowly, the Lord of Rain and Night sagged and crumbled to the ground.
Stunned silence gripped the onlookers for a good ten seconds. Then the cheering started.
"Chapter is done," Gil said closing the book and stretching.
"Let's take a break to settle nerves before we get back into this," Crowley suggested. The others agreed wholeheartedly particularly Horace. He needed a good exercise to help him relax. Fortunately both Gil and David seemed wheeling to help. Rodney would of course referee.
Hope you enjoyed it. We got one chapter left. Again sorry it took so long but things happen. This chapter was hard to right to but I hope I got everyone's reactions on point. The next chapter has about ten pages to write so we will see how that goes. The good news is that I have already started working a little on the first chapter of the third book. This really is a dauting task. :)