Chapter XXIV
Combatants
The King waited where he was his horse restlessly began champing at the bit as if it too understood the ordeal ahead. The columns of Mandrake warriors began to cheer, as from their lines strode a confident Marshal Ti, walking purposefully and without fear toward his prey. The King dismounted and drew his sword, holding firm his shield, beneath his helm he stared defiantly at the advancing Marshal.
When they stood face to face, Marshal Ti towered above the King; his unwavering stare was unsettling, though the King would not be bowed by it.
”I didn’t expect for you to accept," said Marshal Ti. “You, like your army are clearly inferior, I’m curious, before I kill you, I would like to know; why have you now come out to meet us?”
“We know your army is half starved, your men weak, and we have the means to drive you from our lands once and for all,” replied the King. “You have come like ravenous wolves to our gates, and we shall send you as beaten dogs back across our border. I do not fear you, nor my fate, whatever that may be. You have come to these lands with the mightiest army you could muster, and with all your strength of arms, you still have not bested us.”
The Marshal’s eyes flashed angrily. “The Mandrake have never been defeated. You must know that the most important battle to win is not the first, but the last, and no matter how long it takes, we are always victorious. So save your words for someone who is willing to listen to them, for they are wasted on me.”
The Marshal took his mace in his hand and advanced, as he did so the King took a couple of steps back covering the main part of his body with his shield. His sword held high, his helmet glistened beneath the sun, looking out through it, he saw his adversary move in a deliberate menacing step toward him. The Marshal began to circle like some predator waiting to pounce; so tall and large was he, that his ominous form even eclipsed the sun.
He lifted his heavy mace as though it were an extension of his arm, his malevolence ready to bring it crashing down on the King. This was the moment he had waited many months for; his mind focused on his prey, his senses sharpened by many years of conflict, he was keen to strike at someone as impertinent as this King of Findolin. The King braced himself ready to jump out of the way should the Marshal attack, he knew that he could not afford for this clash to end quickly, not while the Dragon Chambers were being made ready. The Marshal hit out with all the ferocity, speed and might he could bring to bear. Bringing his mace down full on where the King stood, but as he did so the King leapt to his side avoiding the blow. The two moved step by step in unison as though dancing with one another in some strange courtship ritual. Again Marshal Ti brought his mace down. This time the King rolled to one side before springing to his feet, the mace once more missing its target. The King brought down his sword hoping to break the mace in two. The sword seemed to jar and bounce back. The Marshal merely laughed raising his mace above his head proudly.
“Do you not know,” said the Marshal. “The might of Hammerhead, known as the scourge of the Central Plains, you shall feel its power too.”
“We do not fear the weapons of our enemies, nor their dark magic,” growled the King.
“Then you will learn to even though the lesson be brief,” replied the Marshal.
In the ranks of the Finns, Achil watched the contest with growing concern, it was a true mismatch. The King was dwarfed by the Marshal. As each blow of Hammerhead struck, hurling up dust and earth, he could feel the land beneath his feet tremble. The scene became a dust bowl covering the two combatants in a hazy shroud. A glancing blow from the mace threw the King back, but he would not be defeated. He pounced forward, hurling himself beneath the flailing mace; in the next instant the King slashed Ti across the back. The Marshal staggered forward and fell to his knees, leaning heavily on his mighty weapon. Gazing back at the King he grunted, and rose ominously to his feet, he quickly swung Hammerhead round, almost catching the King off guard. In the distance Achil cringed, feeling each blow as it struck. He could tell that the King had begun to tire, all it would take is one direct hit and the clash would be over. Achil could see the Marshal mocking the King, which merely stimulated the King to hold off muscular fatigue that little bit longer, thereby preventing an end to the struggle. The Marshal was hoping to goad his opponent into some rash action but the King was too wily for that; and took time to back away and catch his breath extending the struggle that little longer.
There were murmurs throughout, from both sides, from one came anxiety from the other excitement, as in front of them the twists and turns of conflict unfolded. Marshal Ti scarcely drew breath, such contests gave him a more pronounced feeling of purpose, more so even than when he had helped kill the bear in the wood; he turned to his men and lifted his mace above his head, they cheered all the more. In front of him the King had staggered back breathing heavily resting on his sword. The shadow of the Marshal like a gallows reached out to him, as though pronouncing his doom.
The King cast his bent shield aside the weight of it had begun to slow him down. He knew that if the mace hit him full on, it would most likely kill him, so he braced himself once more as Marshal Ti took a step closer. The King this time stood his ground and waited for him, on his brow a bead of sweat slowly slid down the side of his face, like some gleaming drop of nectar.
From a distance Achil watched with growing despair. He had seen enough battles to recognise the final moments of one. He had not realised that the Alchemist was by his side shouting into his ear.
“It is done the Dragon Chambers are ready, end this…..”
With those words Achil flung himself onto his horse and raced forward across the plain. Marshal Ti looked up, saw his approach and smiled. He then brought his mace down on the King; who tried to parry the blow but instead his sword shattered beneath it, he was struck full on the chest, throwing him across the plain like a rag doll, landing and rolling onto his back, his lifeless eyes staring up at the sky.
Achil yelled as he reached the scene, jumping off his horse and sliding down by the side of the King. Marshal Ti had already turned to walk back to his cheering legions. Arms outstretched his mace high in the air like a trophy of victory. Achil picked up the body of the King placed it over the horse and retreated back to the Finns. He had been too late.
Marshal Ti did not concern himself with the dead, only with creating more of them. Din raced up to him with an elite guard of Shadow Warriors that surrounded him.
“Before we strike,” said the Marshal. “Let them take their King back, so that they might all realise their fate.”
He then turned with satisfaction to face the Finns, he watched as Achil carried the King away, his body was taken reverently into the City. The Finns would have to grieve later, now was a time of war.
“Sound the attack,” shouted Marshal Ti.
A horn blew out echoing around the camp. The legions on the flanks began moving forward. The march was deliberate and methodical; they would draw the Finns out so that they could surround them.
As the Mandrake closed on their prey, the Cashel moved to the front of their lines. Pulled back their bows and fired into their ranks. Some Marauders fell to the ground, but the arrows for the most part fell upon hardened shields. The Mandrake then charged crossing the short ground between the opposing armies in double time. Their shields clashed into one another. With the King dead, the Prefect had assumed leadership of the army; he stood at its centre with the Vangarian Guard of the Dragon People protecting him. The Mandrake were fully committed to the cause.
“We have to retreat back behind the Dragon Chambers, we need to use the weapon before we’re over run, sound the signal,” cried Andreas.
A horn blasted out, and was answered across the many ranks of the army.
Achil still enraged by what had happened to the King had to be hauled away by the Prefect and Andreas. The Vangarian Guard shielding them as they withdrew.
As they retreated behind the Dragon Chambers, the Mandrake
sensed victory, but did not rush forward. They held their formation as they had been trained to, waiting for the order to charge. And then another horn bellowed out loud and clear and their massed lines descended upon the Finn alliance. The Elementals, Agoran, Kranz, Victor and the Seer had watched the battle unable until this moment to show their powers, they formed a circle and began to concentrate.
Agoran lifted his arms and a dust storm seemed to materialize in front of the advancing army swirling and growing, the Seer then lifted her arms and powerful winds gave it life. The Mandrake were halted by the sheer ferocity of the storm.
“Marshal, it's the Elementals they're free,” shouted Din.
“Yes, but what they do not know of is the fifth element,” he said. “Which is where Hammerhead comes into its own, the strongest element of all is the element of surprise.”
Marshal Ti stepped forward lifted his mace and brought it crashing down causing the land to tremble beneath their feet.
The resultant shock waves knocked the Elementals off their feet. The dust storm dissipated immediately, losing all force and strength. But the Finns and their allies had been given the time to take up their new positions behind the Dragon Chambers. The Mandrake Army warily faced this unknown weapon.
The weakness of the Dragon Chambers was the strength and range of their fire which was limited, but it was still hoped that Victor, the Elemental of the sacred flame, would be able to intensify the power they had. Victor began to concentrate, as he bent his mind towards igniting the substance within its brass cage. The Dragon chambers began to steam, he waited for the Mandrake to get in range. And the Mandrake duly obliged.
Achil lifted his arm and brought it down. The Chambers began to spew fourth a liquid flame, like burning bile. The initial flow incinerated the nearest Mandrake warriors, behind them others were set alight their shields no protection against the fire; people were lit up like torches and fled, setting alight the ranks of their legions. As each Dragon chamber fired, the Marauders panicked not having a defence against the liquid flames that were now consuming them. As they did so the Cashel fired volley after volley of arrows that plunged into their now disintegrating columns. Marshal Ti realising the battle had turned, stood firm preventing his men from losing their formation. He shouted to Din to order a general withdrawal to give them more time to consider this new weapon of their enemies. A horn blasted out signalling the retreat. As the Mandrake frenetically tried to orderly remove themselves from the scene, a problem occurred with the Dragon chambers, they were beginning to seize up and so strong was the heat contained within them that they began to melt.
The Alchemist turned to Achil, “Its now or never we either attack, or withdraw back into the city.”
Achil still thirsting to revenge the killing of the King looked icily into the Alchemists eyes.
“Then we attack!” he roared.
The Prefect hearing his words gave the order for the advance. They surged forward like a wild wave that breaks upon the rocks and rushed right into the retreating legions of the Mandrake. Mandrake warriors turned shields at the ready to block the initial thrust of the Finn alliance, but they were overrun by the frenzied assault. As they moved further into the ranks of the Mandrake, they had not realised that that was exactly what Marshal Ti had wanted, as they had become exposed on both flanks.
Marshal Ti had hoped that the death of the King would make the Finns act rashly, which they had, but he had not anticipated such a crazed attack. Realising the precarious situation that his army was in he rushed his reserves into the fray to bolster the centre of his line, preventing the withdrawal of his men turning into a rout. Once the initial tied of the Finns had been abated his men were ready for the counter offensive. He was ready to close his trap.
Achil was in the thick of the battle hoping to press home the advantage won from the Dragon Chambers, but the losses suffered by the Mandrake were not as extensive as he had at first hoped.
“Achil,” cried Wei. “We are in danger of being encircled we must fall back or all may be lost.”
Achil looked around and sure enough what he saw horrified him, the Wrath had begun to change turning to Wolfmen, and were ripping into his men, and worse still he could see the Mandrake on the flanks, ready now to cut off any retreat.
“It's too late,” said Achil.
The battle was raging uncontrollably. At that moment a mighty roar like thunder echoed round the field of battle. The Mandrake warriors to the rear faltered, turning to see what was going on, and there unbelievably were thousands of large Golden Bears and Grey Wolves. They launched themselves forward. The Wolfmen turned to meet this new threat. The Battle was joined now on both sides, for once it was the Mandrake caught between the hammer and the anvil. The Golden bears and wolves on one side, fighting the Wolfmen and the Vendigo, and on the other the Finn alliance fought the Marauders, Shadow Warriors, and Mead Cavaliers. It was as if a great hurricane had been unleashed, with all its unrestrained, untamed, intense savagery. And there in the midst of this chaos of biting, thrashing, blood spewing and clawing was Achil, who had fought his way to Marshal Ti. The Marshal began circling him, swinging his giant mace over his head and thumping it down on the ground in front of Achil. The earth trembled at his feet almost knocking Achil to the ground. He repeated the action again. This time Achil did lose his footing and stumbled, as he did so he managed to roll to his side lifting his sword to meet the next blow from the mace. To the amazement of Marshal Ti his sword did not shatter but deflected the blow. Achil jumped to his feet, he was close enough to the Marshal to feel his stale breath on his face.
“My sword was cast from a metal that fell from the heavens,” said Achil. “It is a gift from the Gods and more than a match for you.”
Marshal Ti pushed him back and picked up a two headed axe which lay close by, and started wielding both the mace and the axe, almost slicing Achil apart. His back arched back almost touching the ground as the axe went over his head, Achil moved one way then the other desperately trying to avoid each blow, as the mace would rush past his head only to crash against the ground with a heavy thud. Achil with a swing of his sword managed to knock the axe from the Marshal’s hand. As it escaped his grasp, the Marshal hit Achil with his gloved hand. Dazed for a moment he fell back; by the time he recovered the Marshal was already on top of him, he tried to lift his sword arm but the Marshal pinned it down leering into his face.
”More than a match for me,” said Marshal Ti. “You’re no match at all.”
He lifted his mace to finish his impudent adversary. Achil realising it was time for desperate measures grabbed some dry dirt and threw it into his enemy's eyes. The Marshal loosened his grip, blinded for a moment; instinctively he tried to rub the dirt away. Achil brought both arms down hard, smashing them into the Marshals chest forcing him to slump to the side. Achil then kicked out, hitting him full in the chest and knocking him back. The Marshal was briefly disoriented, which gave Achil enough time to retrieve his sword and leap away. As they both recovered facing each other, the Marshal bowed his head as if acknowledging the audacity of what Achil had just done to survive.
They were about to have at it again when a Golden bear pounced on the Marshal, wrestling him to the ground. The Marshal managed to kick the bear away and bring his Mace, with great force round and smash it into the side of this new foe, there was a loud crack as its body crumpled beneath the blow and it fell to the ground dead.
Achil was now set upon by two marauders from either side. Andreas and Nicholas fought to reach his side as other Shadow Warriors joined in the fray, some surrounded Marshal Ti, preventing anyone or anything from getting to him. The Mandrake were slowly being squeezed from both sides but they fought tenaciously forming a barrier with their shields. The battlefield descended into a growth of chocking sinewy massed bodies. Pieces of ripped flesh and un-limbed body parts lay strewn all about. People were crying for help and were trying to crawl to safety, but there was no where for the injured to go.<
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The Finn alliance withdrew beyond their own shield wall. On the other side the Golden Bears and the Wolves were driven back. In the centre stood the Mandrake Imperial army and the bloody carnage of battle, thick with excrement and the congealed, twisted and mangled bodies of the dead. All gathered together, the living and the dead in a ghoulish embrace.
An eerie silence suddenly descended upon the scene, no one now wished to lose the advantage by attacking the other, the Finn alliance did not have the numbers required to breach the shield wall and win the day, the Golden Bears and the Grey Wolves had destroyed enough of the Wolfmen and Vendigo to revenge the loss of their fallen at Findolin Wood.
They roared and howled one last time before retreating back from whence they came. Marshal Ti looked around within his lines at his tired emaciated warriors. He could see that with his camp completely overrun, trampled down and destroyed, he would have to either fight and take his chances against this new weapon of the enemies, which he did not have the numbers now to do, or retreat, which the Guilders would now probably want him to do so that this adventure did not turn into a disaster.
He looked over at Din and shrugged, “I do feel we may have a problem. Raise the standard I wish to speak to the Finns.”
They raised the flag, the Marshal, Din and his Attendants then went out to meet the Finns. Achil, Agoran, the Prefect, the Alchemist, and Wei came forward to meet him. Marshal Ti looked at them all, wondering, how he could have been fought to a standstill by such a people, some of them did not even look like warriors, but merchants ready to peddle perfumes or silks.
"It appears we are at an impasse, you cannot win and neither can we, now we all can spend the rest of the day just silently glaring at each other, or we can start discussing terms.”
Achil looked to Wei and the Prefect at his side, “We have lost many good men today, you have also destroyed the City of Hecata and killed the King of Findolin and his son, and the Queen of Askalon still remains gravely ill. This is what we propose your army is to withdraw back into Mead never to set foot in these lands again. You Marshal are to remain here as our prisoner, to pay for the crimes and ravages of the Mandrake. All those that you have captured are to be released.”
The Marshal Looked at him and shook his head with a scornful grin, “The beast that aided you have left, our two armies are evenly matched. You cannot hope to win, and I know that as soon as you disappear back behind your city walls, I do not have enough men and resources for another lengthy siege. So I tell you what you do, you either attack us, or go and hide back in that castle of yours, but I will not surrender my self or any of my men, and as for your people, we have sent many back to the Central Plains already; those that are left here, I will return to you, including your Prince Paladin who you believed to be dead and his retinue which we captured after Hecata. So once they have been returned to you, we‘ll be on our way. Oh one last thing,” Marshal Ti leant forward menacingly, “Until next time.”
The Marshal and his attendants returned to their lines leaving Achil and the others to contemplate his words. The Din looked back at them shaking his head.
“Such a shame, that City of theirs has so much wealth.”
The Marshal smiled, “Not to worry, the board has been laid; let us see how the parts play out. And then we can at last turn our full might against the Witch King of Baronia.”