The Fall of Lord Kelvyn
By Commentaholic
A/N: Well, now that I've gotten the story out of those accursed flashbacks in a relatively smooth manner…
I'm not ashamed to say that I myself was driven into a very, -sigh- VERY long corner by those things. Those things are vicious, man. One can get lost, indeed...
Anyway...
Now it's time to rock and roll!
Chapter Thirteen: So It Begins...
Velvet and her cohorts emerged into the light of the glorious dawn. It would be the last dawn for many of those who would gather on this field.
Sunburst, Velvet's white stallion, stood ready for Velvet, the horse already fitted into his gleaming elven armor, vicious blades jutting down beside his mouth, ready to pierce anyone stupid enough to stand in the way of his rider and himself. Velvet slid the dark blade she was carrying into the sheath that was strapped to the side of the saddle and clambered up onto her steed. Her own armor matched Sunburst's, providing quite the impressive image of a strong warlord on the edge of combat. But however brave and battle-hardened Sunburst was, the horse could never measure up to Shadowmere's deadly strength. And what's more, Velvet never seemed truly at ease on the white horse that had replaced Shadowmere after... well... after what happened.
Helen appeared beside Rhesus as he readied his own horse, a battle-hardened black stallion. The vampire was wearing her usual black robes with a set of mithril mail concealed beneath it. No horse was seen, but Rhesus wasn't surprised. Helen preferred to go on foot, her vampirism providing a physical advantage that would be lost should she mount a slower beast, using a gray mare only when she traveled with the horde. "Are you ready, Rhesus?"
Rhesus sighed, "As I'll ever be, Helen. As I'll ever be. We've prepared too much to fail now," he said, double-checking the straps holding his shield onto his arm.
Helen nodded, patting his shoulder before moving off into the bustling throng of warriors preparing for battle. Rhesus glanced across the open field at the fortress. This would be a battle to remember.
He just hoped that it was a battle that he and his friends would survive.
Within the fort, just like in the bandit army's camp, there was the same preparations for war. Caecilius Saramius was certainly being pushed to his limits. Lord Kelvyn looked down from his balcony that overlooked the courtyard. He had chosen well. The young Imperial was living up to Kelvyn's expectations, nay, even exceeding them in some areas. Where nerve and fear would normally reside in soldiers standing as a bulwark against such destruction, only resolve and courage remained. The Knights of the True Horn were ready to stand and fight. Never surrendering, never retreating.
"My Lord?"
Kelvyn jumped at the voice from behind before he recognized it as the fortress's resident blacksmith, Niels. "Ah, come in, Niels. How can I help you?"
Niels bowed before he approached, "My Lord, I was wondering whether or not you wished for me to prepare your armor for combat."
Kelvyn waved his hand in dismissal. "You overestimate their chances, Niels. This fortress has stood for centuries, and against much more numerous foes. The walls are strong, and our men are ready to fight."
Niels looked nervous, but said nothing. He bowed and departed. "I shall prepare it nonetheless, My Lord. It is better to be safe than to be dead," he murmured as he shut the door behind him.
Half an hour later, Kelvyn stood on the walls alongside Caecilius, looking across the low hills at the assembled horde of the Velvet Rogue. In truth, Kelvyn did not feel all of the confidence that he had shown to Niels. He had heard the reputation of the Velvet Rogue, who had been slowly pillaging the surrounding lands over the last few months. She never stopped until her goal was achieved, and she certainly had the numbers to accomplish the conquest of such a target as Battlehorn Castle.
The low drone of horns was heard from the mass of bandits, and the army approached. Before him, the sound of swords, shields, and other implements of destruction. From behind, the sound of bows being strung, the rustle of armor, and shields being readied. A harsh grind of metal on stone drowned out all of it as the portcullis rose. A messenger rode out, bearing a flag of truce. Kelvyn still had hope that this could be resolved without combat, that the Velvet Rogue could be convinced to turn aside her path of conquest, but it was a slim hope. Kelvyn watched as the messenger reached the horde's lines, dismounted, and disappeared into the army.
They waited, on edge, for a response.
Helen looked on with emotionless eyes as the messenger's head thudded to the ground, followed a few seconds later by his collapsing form. Velvet wiped her claymore on the dead man's tunic, leaving a bloody streak on the dusty clothes. A cold laugh was heard as Velvet made as she sheathed her blade once more.
"Peace? They expect me to accept peace? Do they think I gathered this army here... just to turn back now?"
"Desperate words from a desperate people, M'Lady." Helen intoned. Velvet nodded, turning back towards the opening of the tent. She clapped her hands together once, causing everyone in the tent to jump with surprise at the sudden noise.
"Back to business. We can't leave them waiting, can we?"
She grasped the messenger's head from where it lay on the ground. Proceeding outside, she used the dead man's long hair to secure the head to the saddle of his horse and sent it on its way back towards the fortress. She watched as the metal portcullis opened to admit the animal and closed behind it.
A mournful cry was heard, no doubt the wife of the messenger. Velvet shook her head. This was war, losses were inevitable. You either got over it or you died. Emotions other than rage, vengeance, and a lust for blood had no place on a battlefield.
"Sound the advance," Velvet said calmly.
Horns blew once more, and the horde charged forward, weapons and voices raised, crying out for blood.
Caecilius gritted his teeth as the bandit army approached.
"ARCHERS AT THE READY!" he called out along the walls. In response, threescore soldiers chose arrows from their quivers, sighting along them, ready to fire. Steely gazes watched the approaching wall of miscreants as it neared the lines of swordsmen that stood in front of the gate. While some had questioned this tactic, Caecilius told them that if the bandits had direct access to the main gate, it could be battered down by forces of might and magic eventually, no matter how unskilled the horde was. Better to have soldiers ready to repel the crazed assailants than to have your main gate break down. As such, Caecilius had positioned one hundred and twenty soldiers in front of the gate, with the remaining soldiers in the courtyard behind it, ready to relieve the soon-to-be-weary front line soldiers.
"FIRE!" Caecilius shouted. Arrow shafts filled the air, flew towards the bandits. Feathered shafts sprouted from the front lines of the shabbily-armored men and women. Those struck by the defenders' accurate shots cried out and fell, only to be trampled by the ones that came behind. No burials for those who fell on this battlefield, only death.
But such was war.
The knights on the ground below the walls raised their shields in preparation for the onslaught. The armies clashed with the sound of sword on shield, metal on metal. For all their lack of discipline, the bandits had one thing the knights lacked: Bloodlust. From his vantage point, Caecilius glimpsed a bandit take two blades through the middle and still manage to kill a knight before falling. Spears and javelins flew through the air from the rear of each crowd, glancing off of shields or piercing bodies.
The knights of Battlehorn were losing ground, though, despite the aid from the archers above. For every enemy a knight felled, three filled their place. It was a simple matter of attrition. Battlehorn just didn't have the numbers to easily fend off such an assault. As the day progressed, many on both sides fell, be it to the sword, arrow, or spear.
Caecilius let loose an arrow, catching a bandit in the head, the barbed shaft piercing the man's sad excuse for a helmet.
Velvet went charging through the melee on her horse, slashing left and right at the soldiers below, felling them with her long, glittering blade. Armor-clad bodies convulsed as the claymore's shock enchantment lit a fire in their veins. The last thing her foes felt was their mind shattering in a nexus of blue-white light as their nerves were burnt to cinders.
As she plunged her blade into yet another victim, Velvet was caught unawares by the knight on her blind side that had hurled himself at her, tackling Velvet from Sunburst's saddle, carrying them both to the ground. Velvet, however, was up in a few moments. She had much experience in falling from horses. Such was the inevitable result when learning to ride Shadowmere.
She rolled to her feet, drawing the dark metal blade from its sheath, her claymore having been torn from her grasp in the fall. She quickly impaled the soldier with it, relishing his screams of agony as she took his life. A cold gray mist rose from the body, swirling in the midst of the battle for a mere moment before streaming into the sword's pommelstone, which glowed for a few seconds before returning to its normal purple hue.
Velvet cut a swath of destruction through the ranks of the Battlehorn knights, each one screaming in terror as their souls were ripped from their bodies one by one, trapped in the limbo that awaited all who fell to Umbra's edge.
A dozen more knights fell to Umbra and Velvet's deadly dance of carnage before the armored soldiers managed to reform their line after retreating a few feet from Velvet. She only grinned and took a step forward. Then the world exploded before her in a ball of fire.
A/N: So... First real battle scene... I doubt I did well, but then again, the battle really has yet to get started in earnest. More exciting events to come, be sure of it!
I know, it's short. I haven't had a chapter this short in ages, but I just couldn't make a return to this story without ending it dramatically... That, and the library computer's time is running out. Either way, this should continue soon. I really only ended it right there because it's dramatic.
Plus, I need more time to think up the epic battle sequence that's coming up in the next chapter.
Aaaaand... No wait... that's it.
Shameless Announcement of Excitement: Alagaësia's New Dragon reached 10,000 hits on April 18th at 6:17 a.m.
-pops the cork on a bottle of champagne-
WHEEEEE! -sprays it everywhere, upsetting a sleeping dragon-
-regains his composure- Sorry Glaurung.
Anyway, I also hope to update that story as well, soon. The only thing standing in the way of that are these accursed plot bunnies that keep pestering me!
-=Commentaholic=-