Brave Men Die: Part 2 Page 11

  With a wave of his hand, Captain Fizdis signalled back to his detachment and a second officer shouted commands at the unit. Twenty men and women disbanded from the flanks of the infantry unit and raced into the pass. They were lean and dressed in greys, camouflaged to perfection for the mountain terrain. Bows slung over shoulders, they divided into two groups and ran into the shadows on either side.

  ‘What are we getting ourselves into?’ Pyxis asked.

  ‘Scouts have never seen more than twenty men on the walls at one time, but it’s expected that more are waiting beyond the gate hidden from sight. For them to have slaughtered the men led by Dale and Peake so quickly, I’d assume close to four hundred soldiers. The battlefield is covered with hoof prints confirming they have a mounted division, of no more than a hundred or so.’

  ‘Any survivors from the last attack? Surely the four hundred didn’t kill everybody? Anybody witness how they defended the walls?’

  ‘We arrived yesterday and have seen no one in the vicinity. Scouts said that there were no tracks leaving the pass, only going in. The ground is scorched where the bodies were burnt to ashes. Smoke could be seen two days' ride away. The bodies must have been piled high and so much fuel added to the fire to make it burn so. The smoke was black and acrid, and the stench was horrid.’

  Pyxis kept her eyes focused on the captain as she pondered his words and didn’t turn as the sound of hooves thudded behind her.

  ‘It’s been organised general,’ Cunx interrupted, after riding up from the column.

  ‘What’s this?’ asked Fizdis.

  ‘Death squad for magi,’ answered Pyxis before Cunx could query the man’s presence, let alone authority.

  ‘Surely they wouldn’t be involved so early?’

  ‘We had a problem at Black Claw. This time we will be prepared.’

  The man nodded, masking his distress, although the whites of his eyes revealed his concern. Fizdis turned away before his anxieties were questioned, riding back to the column of cavalry and organising his troops.

  Castor reached out and moved a branch with his hand to get a better view of the Kyzantines sneaking forward. He watched on from the top of the ridge as the scouts moved in the shadows toward the barricade. They moved with the utmost silence; even their bows slung against their backs tapped silently against their armour. Slowly the line of ten separated, moving into different positions behind trees and rocks.

  Castor nervously gripped the reins as the soldiers below unslung their bows and nocked arrows. Turning, he glimpsed the look of grim determination on Hydrus’ face as he held back an urge to rush in. As a youth Hydrus could never just stand by and let the world happen around him. There had been one seventh day where all three of the boys had been given leave and they'd gone went into Buckthorne town below the keep. Around the centre of the town a group of adolescent bullies had stolen a child’s toy and were throwing it to each other as the child whimpered and ran from one to the other in a hope to claim it back. The child’s older sister had yelled at them to give the soft bear back but they had just laughed and pushed her down. That was when Hydrus acted, walked straight up to the closest bully and hit him squarely across the jaw. The toy dropped from his hands and the young child had picked it up and scampered away to his sister as the other bullies joined the fight. Castor could remember the surprised look that Pollux had given him before they both went running into the fray.

  Volans’ was much the same, his knuckles were white from the death grip he had on his pommel. Volans was a tough bastard of a lieutenant but he wouldn’t stand for the other men beating on each other or starting the brawls at the taverns. That’s not to say he wouldn’t end them when he was drawn into it.

  Gods, it was so hard for both of them not to simply charge down there right now and gut them before they could even fire a shot. They could save the lives of those men on the wall who probably didn’t even know the scouts were out there.

  Rotating his shoulder, Castor reached up to touch the spot the bolt had gone through over a week ago. Gods, he couldn’t believe it was so long ago and now he was sitting in Virtue’s saddle waiting for the Kyzantine Empire to attack the barricade at Gorgon Pass. He'd never thought he would see the day. This was so much bigger than stopping some common thieves. The world had turned so quickly that he doubted it would ever sink in. The promotion, the bloodshed, the death of his best friend. At the thought of Argol his blood began to boil and anger built inside him. Someone needed to pay, and he was looking to stick his blade into the enemy’s soft flesh and watch their blood spill. He would take his vengeance on those below. On all of them. It wouldn’t be long now.

  Castor had argued with Hydrus for twenty minutes earlier in the morning to have a squad of the Nails positioned on the other side of the pass for this inevitability. If Kyzantine scouts were creeping down in the shadows on this side then they would be on that side too. Left to their own devices, enemy archers could pick their targets at will. Finally, Volans had agreed with him and Hydrus reluctantly gave in. At this very moment they would be stealthily moving over the rocks, knives in hand and slitting the Kyzantine’s throats.

  For a moment Castor imagined blood running along his blade as he dragged it across an archer's neck. The thought made his heart race and he didn’t know whether he would have enjoyed leading the group on the other side more than having the opportunity to sink his blade into as many as possible.

  Castor shook the thoughts from his mind and turned to Hydrus who signalled them to be prepared.

  Pyxis cantered into the pass as the scouts opened fire. She watched on in the distance as silhouettes on the wall fell, screams rang out, and havoc was spread along their lines. Men on the wall looked around frantically for the archers as the arrows hit. Pyxis judged what the Murukan response would be, what she would do — locate the threat and send a heavily armoured, mounted response to deal with it. The knights should come thundering out of the gate, probably only a handful of them, just enough to ensure that the threat was dealt with. And as those gates opened her cavalry would be already charging down the pass to intercept them and break through the gates and take the compound.

  Pyxis drew her scimitar and looked at Cunx and Fizdis. The blade glinted as it caught the sunlight.

  ‘Forward!’ she screamed, kicking her mount's flanks to drive the stallion on. The Kyzantine cavalry surged forward, hooves thundering through the pass as they hurtled closer to the barricade. The stone walls loomed ever closer as the dust kicked up around the column.

  The scouts continued to fire at the figures along the wall, fewer and fewer were falling now as the remaining soldiers shielded themselves as they peered in vain at the mountainsides. Those on her left had stopped firing and Pyxis wondered what the fuck had happened.

  The gate wasn’t opening like she expected. Those on the walls turned their attention toward them, the visible target, and fired. The shafts fell short as they barrelled forward. Her troops would be in range soon. Where was the mounted response that should have ridden out to deal with the archers? Pyxis looked frantically around for the trap.

  The screams and cries came from behind her and off to the right. Travelling hard and fast they came through the scattered trees and between the boulders in a suicidal charge. They were above the scouts’ position. The column wouldn’t have time to react. This was going to hurt.

  Hydrus ordered the charge from their concealed position atop the ridge once most of the column had passed. Volans and Castor charged by his side, hurtling toward the enemy. Branches snapped against his armoured chest and scratched his exposed flesh. Hydrus focused on hitting the side of the column with as much force as possible. He was unaware of the scouts directing their fire at the advancing threat. Arrows flew around him, one whistled by his ear.

  He raced past the scouts' hidden locations — they were ridden down by those following. Swinging his sword he cleaved the first cavalier at the waist, his horse barrelling into another as he sliced a horse’s hind
leg. The horse stumbled, throwing the rider into another Kyzantine. Battering his way across the width of the column, Hydrus suffered minimal scraps and cuts. He kept going, gave the rest of the Nails time and space to get through. He looked around: the whole unit had broken through and shortened the Kyzantine cavalry column. The front kept riding but the rear had stopped, lost and confused, milling around the fallen bodies of their comrades.

  Before the enemy could regain the momentum of the charge, Hydrus wheeled Honour around and led the Nails at the Kyzantines. The enemy reacted and leapt forward to engage, but the Nails had the speed and split, forcing the enemy’s charge to pass between the Nails as they switched their angles and attacked on either flank. Sabres bounced harmlessly off shields as the Nails struck their victims down. They leapfrogged around their fellow brothers fighting in front, darted out to pick up speed before diving back into the line. Blades dripped with blood as horse and man died under vicious blows. The Murukans were clearly superior. The Kyzantines fell quickly to the barrage.

  The Nails rode around the end of the chargers, wheeled around as Hydrus looked over his men. Three empty saddles. The horses had gathered with their companions, still following the orders of the group. Hydrus turned toward a groan from a knight on his right, and watched as the man slumped over and fell dead from the saddle. His armour crunched as his body hit the dirt, his leg still tangled in the stirrup. Blood pooled around his body, seeped through his armour from a hidden wound.

  Hydrus’ nostrils flared, his eyes narrowed in the shadow of his helmet. Those that survived fled down the pass, dragging their sorry arses out of there. He turned his attention back to the Kyzantine cavalry that had remained on course and watched as some started to perform a turning manoeuvre while under fire from Duncan’s archers.

  Half the Nails pulled hand crossbows from their saddles, aimed, and fired at the back half of the Kyzantine cavalry who charged to meet them. The short, sharp bolts punctured armour and exploded into flesh. Those at the front of the charge dropped from their saddles, slowing those following.

  ‘Nails! Charge!’

  Pyxis cursed the One God that she didn’t have the foresight to see this coming. She raised her shield to protect herself from the hail of arrows.

  ‘Turn you fuckers!’ Pyxis screamed. ‘Aim for their cavalry, stop them from hitting our rear!’

  An arrow thudded into her shield and another into the saddle close to her leg. Turning sharply, her thighs gripping tightly, Pyxis exposed her back to the enemy archers as they released another payload. Cavaliers around her fell with arrows in their backs.

  The company wheeled around, urgency spreading amongst the cavalry to avenge the soldiers lying hammered on the ground. Pyxis analysed the battlefield. The Murukan unit had decimated the column’s rear and was battling those left alive. There were barely two hundred of them and they were slaughtering her troops. They were good, too good for foot soldiers trained to ride a horse. Suddenly she realised her reinforcements were not good enough to deal with these men.

  Pyxis screamed in frustration as she hurtled toward the regathering Murukans. Her Wraiths spread out in a line to prevent the enemy repeating the tactic of dividing their forces. Her standard bearer rode on the right, her unicorn on purple fluttered in the wind as they rode hard and fast.

  She searched for the leader, his voice carried on the wind. She judged he was the one in front but as they closed the gap other riders screaming war cries surged forward and formed the head of the lance. The others formed up behind them and barrelled into one section of her line.

  Pyxis led the move to envelop the Murukan formation. She raced across the pass and engaged an unsuspecting soldier from the side, her scimitar flashed, sliced across his neck. He spun from his saddle, blood splashing his horse’s mane as he tumbled to the ground. Striking out again she stabbed a horse and hit an artery in its neck. Blood sprayed over her armour as the mount crashed into another Murukan knight.

  Her warriors had engaged the entire Murukan unit and were locked in bitter combat. Even though they outnumbered them she didn’t see this going her way as cavalier after cavalier was cut down. Most stood back as others engaged, unable to get close enough to make a strike.

  The gate creaked open and the contingent of stationed knights at the Gorgon Pass came charging out. Their armour was already covered with a layer of dirt, tired eyes looked out of the slits in their dented helmets. Shouts rang across the pass as they kicked in their heels to join the fray, riding forth under a blanket of arrows that covered the way.

  Commander Avil watched on as the Nails stood together and defended against the superior Kyzantine numbers. In pockets close to the mountain side knights were in pairs, their horses head to tail to give them the better chance. Others moved about quickly from one spot to another, blocking a blade that would have killed a man, slaying one of the enemy before they could take one of them. The Nails were holding, but just.

  Several hundred of the Kyzantines turned at the sound of the charge and moved to assault them. Duncan blew his horn and his men rallied. Three hundred lances dipped, held steady by unmoving arms. They crashed into the enemy, impaling men and horse alike. Sabres struck the counter, hacking into the garrison company. Steel battered against armour as the momentum of the charge stopped and they fought hammer and tongs.

  The garrison company had been fighting skirmishes for years, been soldiers for longer and riding for decades longer than that. The warriors they were fighting were green and uncomfortable in the saddle. Their sword work was average, they could counter the blows but their distance was wrong, and the saddles hindered them from moving forward to close the gap like the infantrymen inside them wanted to.

  In the distance a male voice rang out and ordered the retreat, the order echoed by other voices. Duncan slashed out, taking the man he was fighting in the neck as he turned to pull away from combat. Sections of the Kyzantine force fled down the pass.

  ‘Give chase! Don’t let them re-engage!’ Duncan ordered.

  His men broke rank, chasing down the slowest of the enemy, and allowed the rest to abandon the field. When pursuit was pointless, Duncan turned them toward where the Nails where still locked in combat.

  Pyxis spat on the ground as the first of Fizdis’ cavalry rode past headed for the safety of the Empire. She had heard the idiot order the retreat when she had expressly commanded they hold their ground.

  ‘Fizdis, you stupid bastard! Get your men back in line and charge that unit!’ Pyxis' voice carried, as her scimitar pointed at the garrison company charging toward them and her destrier spun in tight circles beneath her.

  Some of his men rallied around them as Fizdis pulled at his standard bearer and ordered the signal. ‘Back, come back,’ he yelled after his men. Those who had fled before him were long gone, those behind slowed and grouped together.

  Arrows launched through the air and started landing amongst the massing unit. Taking the warriors squarely in the chest, they fell from their saddles clutching at the shafts. Pyxis could have sworn that the archers on the wall could not have hit from there, and they would not have abandoned the safety of the barricade. More arrows flew and hit as Fizdis moved his unit toward the garrison company for a second time. Pyxis located the archers and stared in open awe as she realised the scouts on the left had been completely overpowered and replaced by Murukan archers, who fired volley after volley into her troops.

  A lone figure stepped out from the gate into the afternoon sunshine. Her head turned to the bright sun beating overhead. She calmly walked in the tracks left by the garrison cavalry force, ignoring the noise of the battle around her. Kneeling in the dirt she put her hands firmly on the ground and, as she did, the dirt became soft like mud and her hands sunk into the earth up to her forearms.

  Mira’s eyes went dark and she began whispering the incantation. The ground began to rumble and even those on the wall of the barricade were not safe. Vibrations flung stones down from the mountain and trees shed the
ir leaves. The words slowly came out and when she finished four giant green roots erupted from the ground.

  Horses reared back from the wriggling roots that shot out toward the sky.

  Mira moved her mouth silently to control the roots as they whipped around and snatched at the Kyzantines. Flung into the air, the cavaliers screamed as the roots squeezed the life out of them. Once they were no longer moving she smashed them into the ground and grabbed at the next.

  The death squad moved. As the vines erupted from the ground Calan kicked his horse and charged past the new Murukan unit. His sabre struck out and took one man in the back as he broke the line and charged toward the barricade. Others across the pass did so too, some hacked down as they attempted to break the line, but a few made it and barrelled toward the mage.

  Calan looked out of the corner of his eye and counted that five others were with him. Frantically scanning the pass before the barricade, a growing urgency swelled in the pit of his stomach as the screams of men and women torn apart by her spells filled his ears. Finally he spotted her crouched on the ground in front of the closed gate.

  More screams followed by a sickening crunch sounded in the background as the mage’s spell continued to pick up its victims, tear them apart, and throw the discarded remnants away. The thought that two of the death squad would get there before him flashed through Calan’s head and he was disappointed that the glory would be theirs. As the death squad closed the gap the sickening sounds of the dying stopped and Calan’s heart leapt into his throat. Moments before the first two cavaliers rode the mage down the ground erupted under their feet, flinging them aside like dolls.

  One of the roots picked up another rider and flung them into the mountainside. Calan watched in horror as the death squad was torn apart. The root sank back into the ground as he pulled up, waiting for a moment to strike. Archers from the wall began firing and he pulled his shield up to protect himself. He didn’t have the time to wait. He kicked in his heels as the vine came up through the ground and wrapped around his horse’s neck. Calan leapt from the saddle, rolled across the ground as the root snapped his mount’s neck and hurled it at the incoming rider. It smashed into the rider’s body, throwing him to the ground. The horse picked itself back up and milled around, nudging the broken body of its rider.