On the Field

There were too many alive to risk a volley. The enemy had prepared for our attack, traps and carefully laid bundles of lumber hindered and slowed our advance. Amidst the darkness, sight of such devices became near impossible from a distance, our efforts only hindered further by the surrounding trees. Behind me, the line of archers stood ready, arrows nocked for our first attack. But before us were more of our soldiers, our shield bearers, men I had fought with for years. I could not betray them with arrow fire, but what other option was there? The enemy cavalry would be upon them at any minute, and then their lives would be forfeit regardless…

"What are your orders, Holden?" Asked Mercy, standing by my side. I looked at her and considered the options before me. We would still have over one hundred warriors for our charge, but without a direct path, trying to push forward with the rams was a fool's errand. This wasn't even mentioning that the cavalry was faster than my foot soldiers, and my archers would have a difficult time hitting them all through the wood. Then again, with how outnumbered our opposition was, we would not need to hit all of them.

"Mercy, how confident are you in a volley?" I asked, turning my attention back to the field of war. My stomach churned as I watched my warriors desperately raise shields against the wave of hooves and steel, futilely trying to fight them off. Amongst the defenders, I could just make out a distinctive shape leading them from the front, one of a fully armored warrior wielding not a spear, but a longsword in his hand. My chest tightened as I realized that Belial had exaggerated his success. Liam O'Carrick was alive, twice now his death had been a lie, and both times the lie had come from those I had trusted.

"Two, maybe three warriors. If the enemy is wise, they will leave them behind." Replied Mercy. Two or three, that was enough to disrupt them should they decide to pull back. Every soldier counted on their side, much more the few with battlefield experience. Besides, with Liam most certainly alive, I could count on him leading these warriors. While I may have had my concerns and questions about master Apollyon, I knew she was right on at least one thing. Liam was a noble warrior, too noble for his own good.

"Liam is leading those warriors, he won't leave them." I said aloud. Holding up a hand, I held for a moment as I watched the first skirmish conclude. In the distance I could hear a voice, Liam's voice, too quiet over the sounds of battle to distinguish, but ever so clearly his. I could just see him twirling his sword in the air, calling his soldiers to him as he turned and spurred his horse into a sprint back to the fortress. Not even a single moment had he taken to celebrate his success, time had not changed my old friend. Before long the first of his warriors followed his lead, and I knew it was time. With a single motion I ordered our archers to fire, and within seconds witnessed a torrent of arrows fly through the cracks in the trees.

The scene of battle quickly turned sour for the defenders as the first of the arrows landed. One unfortunate rider was riddled with enough shots to resemble a pincushion, both he and his horse screaming out in agony as they fell over. The horse landed with a thud atop his rider, both dead in an instant. Another rider avoided the arrows himself, but was flung violently forward as the horse collapsed and fell forward, the victim of several arrows lodging into its hind legs and rear. The soldier flew until he collided with the ground head first, his neck and back twisting in a sickening and unnatural motion that left him limp, and unmoving.

The third was Liam himself, or so I thought at first. He mostly avoided the arrows at first, but a single stray shot landed just close enough his horse, striking it in the side and sending it rearing back. I know not whether his grip on the reins was too loose, or if he was weak from his recovery of Belial's duel, or some unseen third factor, but Liam was thrown from the horse. Even from a distance, however, I could see him land on his side, rolling with the impact and landing face down, on his hands and knees. Before he had a chance to rise, the horse ran into the forest, spooked and clearly caring not for its master as it abandoned him.

In only a moment the enemy's direction shifted, the furthest from the line of fire pressed forward, while some others further from the safety of the walls saw their commander fall, and moved to secure him. Others still turned around completely, urging their horses back towards the treeline with spears tucked close, but ever ready to thrust. Buying time for their fellows to retreat, perhaps? I counted three horses charging towards our position, five rushing to retrieve Liam, and three clamoring for the safety of their fortress. I was stunned to see such a response, there was no chance they had prepared for this, the warriors must have adapted that quickly upon seeing him fall.

These men had been allied with him for less than a week, and yet a majority of them had already rallied around him so absolutely. For so many to express loyalty of that nature so quickly? As much as the idea of killing Liam appalled me, I could not deny the danger such an influence posed for Blackstone. And beyond all else, I had sworn my loyalties to Blackstone, my legion. I knew I would take no joy in what came next, I may even despise myself for it. But I knew what needed to be done.

"Ready the ram, Mercy. I will lead the vanguard and clear a path."

—-

I could barely hear anything over the cries of alarm and shock as the volley fell from the tree line. From atop the wall every Ranger could witness the sudden wave of enemy fire, and in a matter of seconds, what devastation it would bring.

"Everyone take cover!" I yelled, turning my head and crouching below the wall. Across from me I could see my fellow rangers ducking for cover, and from the sounds of it, none too soon. As soon as we were down, our ears were cursed with the sound of steel colliding and embedding into wood, each dull thud closer and louder than the last. Worse than that, however, was the screaming. Beyond us we could hear the terrified and agonizing yells of struck warriors, the death throes of the horses caught in the crossfire. The volley lasted only a second or two, but even from my hidden position, I knew it had struck true.

Quickly peering back up from my cover I rapidly assessed the damage of the enemy's fire, and was met with a grisly scene. One warrior was covered in more arrows than I could count, and one laid still on the cold ground below, his body contorted in a distressingly unnatural way. Looking closer to the wall, however, I saw a sight that frightened me most of all. The Warden on his hands and knees, clutching at his side his horse abandoned him.

"The Warden's down!" I shouted. We could not lose him so early into this fight, without him our morale would plummet, and Blackstone would surely destroy us. More than that, he had given far too much to die a senseless death, I would not have it. Looking to the rangers across from me, I pointed at my compatriots, each nocking fresh arrows for the next wave of attackers.

"Rangers! Give us cover! Kharion and I will take the militia to recover him!" I ordered.

"What?" I heard from behind. The indignation in his tone gave Kharion away as the speaker immediately, and already I could feel a mounting anger. As I turned to face him, Kharion spoke once more, throwing his arm up and gesturing towards the enemy as he did.

"Berrat you can't be serious! We need as much fire on the enemy line as possible, we cannot-"

"He is struggling down there, FOR US!" I yelled, stomping over to him. I was done being nice to him, I did not care he was grieving, I did not care that he was elder, this was war! Lives hung in the balance and he had the audacity to try and mask his motives? I would not have it, I would not let him sulk in the middle of our greatest struggle! With great force I grabbed hold of his collar, yanking him within inches of my face as I stared him down, his expression quickly changing to one of shock as I yelled;

"That man has risked everything for this hamlet time and time again! You will do the same or I will personally see to it that you never walk among us again!" With a mighty shove I pushed him away, shock still written on his face as physically recoiled at my words. Any other time I might have seen my words as harsh, but not today. Not to him.

"Now shut your mouth and fall in line, boy! You are WITH ME!" I shouted. I gave him no chance to respond, rushing past him and stepping quickly down the steps. In the side of my vision, I could see the Conqueror Stone practically tearing the mechanism holding the gate, militia members banging their shields behind him as the clattering of hooves quickly approached. Three riders rushed through, carefully avoiding the Militia as two of them cast aside shattered spears. The third, the scout who had carried Adelaide behind him, drew a sword as he turned and positioned himself beside the militia.

"What's the word, Berrat?" Stone asked, pulling away from the mechanism and readying his weapons in one smooth movement.

"The Warden has fallen from his horse, we must go to his aid!" I replied as I leapt off the last step. Stone's demeanor shifted in an instant, turning towards me as I slung my longbow over my shoulder, then took both my arming sword and my dagger. With a brief flourish I drew them both from their sheaths, Stone twirling his flail as he walked beside me.

"Oh to hell with these Blackstone dogs, I'll kill them all!" He barked, banging his weapon into his shield as he did. Out of the corner of my vision, I could see the rearmost ranks of the militia handing spears to the unarmed riders, each one taking them with a nod as they galloped to either side of the formation. Just to the side of that, I could see the shuffling form of Kharion, slinging his own longbow over his shoulder as he drew his blades. At the least, I thought, fear of losing his home had brought him around.

Focusing now on the open gate, I readied myself for a sprint. Beyond it, I could see that five of the riders had formed something of a makeshift wall around the Warden, with one of them dismounting to attend to him. The remaining three riders were missing, and I could see no sign of them. I hoped to God all of them had still made it. That's when I realized that despite the opening, Blackstone had still not yet released another volley, why? To my left, I could just see Adelaide ready another arrow, still sitting behind the Iron Legion cavalry.

"Captain! The enemy has their rams backing up the rear! They're going to try and clear a path!" She yelled, ducking her head down behind her companion. Now their hesitance made sense. They weren't firing another volley because they intended to send in their warriors, a fearsome force, no doubt. We would not make clearing their path easy.

"Then let's make that path more difficult! Warriors! Ready charge!"

—-

It was already becoming a scene of chaos, soldiers dropping as arrows and horses clashed, and warriors were thrown from their mounts. My injuries seemed to erupt anew when Lefer had thrown me from his saddle, my side was burning with an intensity that threatened to consume me, as my aching and battered limbs fought against every move I made. Even as the Iron Legion rallied to me, I could scarcely determine my surroundings, every sense hijacked by the agony of my body. Even so, I would not yield. I had sworn to protect this fortress, these people. I would not walk away…

Around me were five of the Iron Legion's cavalry, each standing with their horses to provide a makeshift wall. At the center of the riders I could see Captain Obadia near leaping from his horse, then kneeling by my side.

"My lord! Are you hurt?" He asked, taking hold of my upper arm as I looked for my lost sword. After a brief search, I found the blade resting on the topmost layer of snow, only a few flecks of powder concealing the tip of the weapon. Groaning, I reached out and took the hilt in my hands, then strained against myself to rise. Obadia must have realized what I was trying to do, for her rose with me and pulled against my arm as I stood.

"I will manage." I said back to him. As I steadied myself, I came to recognize a quickly growing roar, a cry for battle as intense as any I'd heard in my years. Looking beyond my riders, my chest tightened as I saw another wave of Blackstone warriors charging from the tree lines. This time, the traps and ice did little to slow them, each warrior steadily sliding or gingerly stepping across before resuming the charge, bearing shields and spears. Among them I could see a number of longsword wielding lieutenants, and even the odd Conqueror or two.

The enemy was approaching fast, and in size that well surpassed their initial charge. Were they attempting to finish us off before we could close the gates to the fortress? Did they mean to clear a path for their rams? I did not know, but I could not dwell on that question. The only thing that mattered was the approach, I had to stop them from breaching our walls, no matter the cost.

"Captain, we cannot let the enemy get past our defenses, are you still with me?" I said, gently shaking off the Captain's hand as I spoke. The Captain merely smiled as he turned back to his horse and began to climb on top.

"Now and always, my lord. Say the word!" He shouted as he settled in the saddle. Despite the circumstances, I found myself smiling at the Captain's words. After so long wandering and seeing the worst among my fellow man, I was glad to see such valor. As if his spirit were infectious, I began to hear a similar, slightly less intense, but equally passionate roar approaching from behind. A brief glance was enough to see the militia, Stone, and Berrat charging forward, and even a few members of the cavalry. It seemed I had managed to inspire the warriors after all.

"Hold steady, Iron Legion! Hold for our reinforcements, then move to meet the enemy!" I yelled, readying my sword as the dull roar of battle grew louder and louder. The moments seemed to pass at a glacial pace, the pressure in my chest building and building as the riders before me shifted ever so slightly. Finally, I could just see the faintest hints of horses in my periphery and all at once the wall of men moved with them. Like a colossal wave rolling forward towards an unmoving shore, I charged and yelled as I joined with the others, the ground practically shaking from the force of our approach.

As I ran my eyes seemed unable to focus on any one thing for long. First the quickly advancing line of the enemy horde, then to Stone, quickly sprinting and rushing beside me, to Berrat, running low with his weapons held closely at his side, then finally back to the approaching force. The horses were the first to collide with the enemy, the front line of the vanguard was shattered as the cavalry plowed through, thrusting weapons into the crowded mass as many moved to avoid them, and others struck. Already I could see one of the horses collapsing, its rider being thrown into the congregation and left to its mercy. I whispered a silent prayer for the man as I saw as the rest of their number press forward, their warriors running as though possessed towards our own front line.

With a mighty roar I reared back my sword as the lines began to impact one another. Wasting no time, I swung at the first warrior I saw, who failed to raise his shield in time as my blade sunk deep into the crevice between his neck and the rest of his armor, a sickening squelching sound echoing in my mind as I pulled the weapon through. I saw just enough of the man to see that only half of his neck remained before he dropped dead onto the snow. Beside me, Stone had slammed his shield into the head of one of their warriors, a sickening crunch followed by a nearly as disturbing squishing sound following as the man crashed onto the ground below. Berrat had opted instead to thrust the longer of his blades forward, then jabbed his dagger into the neck of an unfortunate soul when he had blocked the thrust.

Another foe quickly approached, and raised her shield as she thrust her blade forward, aiming right at my chest. With a flick of my wrists, I threw the blade upward with my own sword before quickly adjusting to bring my sword down on her, only to be met with solid wood as she blocked my blow. The warrior followed with a shove and an attack to my left, forcing me to quickly raise my blade and catch it. The colliding steel rang out to near deafening levels as it seemed to multiply throughout the battlefield. Forcing the sword away, I quickly brought the tip of my blade below the lowermost edge of the shield, the harsh scraping assaulting my senses as I forced the shield up and away from its defender, then followed with a stab into her heart. My weapon sunk several inches before it was stopped by the armor, but by then, the blood had already begun flowing. Not wanting to watch her suffer as she coughed and stumbled, I used my forearm to push her off the blade, and quickly raised my weapon again.

Even as I charged and fought, my arms screamed in agony, my side felt as though it had taken in the depths of hell itself, and my head resembled a church bell more than anything, its ringing pounding becoming almost unbearable. Still I fought to endure, pressing on through what seemed an endless onslaught of foes, and a senseless parade of viscera and destruction. To my sides, I could see the edges of Blackstone's advance attempting to move past the edges of our formation, only to be held at bay by arrow fire and the returning cavalry. Immediately beside me, Stone adjusted to catch a spear, wrapping his flail around the long shaft as he dragged its wielder forward. A mighty shove from the shield sent his foe staggering back, and Stone quickly raised his weapon up, slamming the head into his opponent's chin. I swear I saw the top of his jaw cave into the rest of his head as he was carried off his feet and fell on his back…

Focus, I told myself. I needed to focus on the battle, too many lives hung in the balance for me to lose myself. Looking back to my front, I could see a lieutenant rushing towards me, his hands reared back in a ready position. Readying myself , I lifted my blade to catch an overhead blow, stopping it mere inches from my face. Hoping to catch my opponent off guard, I dipped the sword below my waist, trying to carry his blade with it. My adversary realized what I was trying to do, however, and back stepped before thrusting forward with his weapon. Fortunately, my action had left me in a position more beneficial to deflect such a blow, which I did by quickly moving my arms to the side, and parrying the blade away from me.

Before the warrior could recover, I adjusted my weapon to have the pommel facing his face, and lunged forward with as much ferocity as I could manage. The blow connected with a painful clanging sound as the metal of the helmet dented in slightly, sending my adversary stumbling backwards. Taking this opportunity, I took careful hold of the middle of my blade and pivoted to my other side, the tip of my weapon now pointing directly towards my enemy. With one more thrust, I buried my sword into the nape of his neck, his eyes widening in shock as he dropped his own sword and reached up to mine. His gauntlet became coated with his own blood as I pulled the blade free, and dodged another blow coming from my right.

This new combatant was another foot soldier, sword and shield primed for use as he growled at me and launched forward with a powerful thrust. This attack I ducked under, allowing me to see my opponent's stance as I kept my hands steady, one locked on the handle, the other firmly grasping the center of my blade. The warrior had overstepped, and left his midsection completely exposed to me. One thrust was all it took to gain a startled, and frightened gasp from him as I rose and threw my arms to my left. His body flew to the ground below before being stomped on by another soldier. For his sake, I hoped he was dead before the trampling began. Just as I turned to ready myself once more, I noticed a single word being yelled across the field of war.

"O'Carrick!" The screaming of my family name stood out to me amidst the tearing of flesh and clattering of metal, and I found myself drawn to its call. Looking out beyond the lines of orange and black, I could see a tall figure, pauldrons in the shape of a lion striding the battlefield like Goliath among the Philistines. Cross. Beside him a horse and his rider charged, but their advance had not gone unnoticed. Cross had not moved even a foot as he pivoted his body to face the rider, and in one terrifying display, swung the back of his weapon at his adversary. The force of the blow carried the man off his horse, and he slammed down hard on the ground below. Cross was quick to withdraw his weapon, and as the horse rode off masterless, he drove his weapon into the cavalryman, a modest gush of blood spurting from the man's chest as Cross ripped it away, sending the crimson flying across the snow.

"O'Carrick, show yourself!" He yelled as he stepped forward again, scouring the battlefield for any sight of me. He was challenging me. I knew there was no chance of a trial by combat now, not with so much blood already spilled, not with so much already sacrificed by both sides. No, this was a matter of honor, now. I was in no shape to fight him, even at my best, I could not claim to be his superior. In this diminished, tired state, I could only hope to hold against him for a time. But I could not abandon my allies to him, much less could I hope to avoid him forever. As it turned out, however, I would not have the chance.

Before I could take another step, I came to hear a ferocious yell coming from beside me. Quickly turning, I saw yet another familiar figure rushing towards me, a familiar looking poleaxe rushing towards me. In a flash of panic I raised my sword to parry the blow, only just catching it as the tip of the weapon rushed past me. The bear of a man was quick to recover, however, and laughed as he launched an overhead strike at my shoulder. I let out a cry of alarm as I raised my sword to catch the blow, the intense weight of the attack forcing me back a few steps as my attacker stepped with me. There, staring me dead in the eye as we held in the bind, was Belial. Immediately my mind was flooded with questions as I struggled to hold him, how had he found me in all this chaos? How had I not seen him? How had he known to look for me when he'd thought I was dead?

"Should have just stayed dead when I met you, proditor! Now I'm going to rip you apart in front of all your friends!" He half screamed, half sang. Was that sick monster taking pleasure at the idea? Without warning he pushed against me, trying to force the axe down on me even as I held, and I cried out again, this time in pain, as I desperately tried to hold it. Out of the corner of my vision, I could see Cross notice our commotion, and begin striding the battlefield as he shoved aside one of the militia. I could only groan in effort as I tried desperately to hold against the seemingly demonic strength of Belial, my arms shaking violently as his sinister chuckling shook me to my core.

Just as I felt like my arms might have given out on me, I saw a massive, heavy looking shape slam into the side of Belial. The monster yelled in a mix of alarm and pain as he was forced away from me, and I gasped in relief as my arms practically fell from their elevated position.

"BACK OFF, TEPES!" I could hear the shape shout, and I admit, I almost laughed myself out of gratitude as I turned to face the voice. Stone had rushed to my aid, and I could not thank God enough for that fact. I winced a bit as I raised my sword again, and growled in frustration at the bizarre mix of numbness and burning pain I felt in my body. Beside me, Stone moved to position himself in front of me, shield extended as he held his flail steady.

"You alright, brother?" He asked, briefly turning his head to look at me. I could only wordlessly nod as I raised my sword into my ready position, my breath growing heavy as I tried to recover from everything that had happened. Beyond us, Belial growled himself as he tightened his grip on the poleaxe, so much that I thought he may have intended to ring it out of whatever fluids it had accumulated. Behind him, Cross approached, slowing his pace to a walk as he held his weapon in both hands. Even now, he seemed to carry regal air as he moved past his soldiers, and locked his eyes on me.

"O'Carrick, it didn't have to be like this." He said, only just loud enough to be heard over the chaos surrounding us. For a moment I was confused as to what he was talking about, after all, trial by champion would never have been what the Elder would want. However, I deduced what he meant quickly enough, that we could have ended this at the meeting, and talked in private even as the elder refused to see reason. I knew better than to be surprised by his desire to avoid bloodshed, but his words still left a rock in my stomach. Perhaps at another time, I might have agreed. If I had not seen what renegade knights had wrought in Ashfeld. If I had not experienced the treacher of Blackstone firsthand, maybe I could have hoped. But as I steadied my breathing and readied myself, I knew that was exactly what it would have been, only a hope.

"No. But I will not raise swords with Blackstone, never again." I replied. Even with his helmet blocking his face, I could see the regret on Cross' face, and could see the hesitation as he took his own stance, poleaxe positioned defensively across his body. To his side, Belial angrily tensed as he took the first steps towards us, with Stone quickly moving to match him. Cross was the next to move, his steps heavy and solemn, but determined. I would not enjoy what came next, but I knew now that it was inevitable. So, tightening my own grip, I breathed deep, took my first steps forward…

…And braced.