He left the sword there and drew two shorter swords, which were more convenient for ground fighting. Looking up for a split second, he realized he had almost fifty yards to reunite with the increasingly diminishing defensive hold around the king’s carriage. The task was hopeless, but instead of despair, Eyfenn was filled with a sense of determination.
“For the king!” he cried and charged forward. Swinging his two swords, one blow to fend off the opponent’s sword, then returning the sword, giving a fatal blow to the neck. Then he did the same with the other sword. To get back as soon as possible, he stepped over the bodies he had just slayed. Half of the savages were facing the other way and were rammed in the back. In seconds, he had closed the distance down to thirty feet, and he regained hope he might make it back to reinforce the line.
***
Oakentere watched the battle from behind his spruces. He was delighted as he saw that his side was winning, but at the same time disgusted by the cruelty of the battle. He was also impressed by the courage of the king’s guard. His job was to shoot anyone that tried to flee, but no one did. Still hopelessly outnumbered, they stayed and fought, holding their ground for as long as they could. As the horses charged through the attackers, Oakentere thought they might lose when he saw the ease with which the riders separated the crowd. Now all those horses that charged out were lost, and either overtaken or killed. Some of the horsemen still put up a fight, though Oakentere knew it was a matter of time before they would be victorious.
***
“What is going on out there?” Queen Amrya asked as she lay face down on the floor.
“I am afraid we are about to fall into the hands of the savages, my Lady,” Borthon replied.
“What will they do to us?” the maid whispered.
“Kill us and strip us for anything of value, I guess,” the guard said. He peeked out of the windows to check if his assessment was right. Their carriage was placed on the south side, and the majority of the battle concentrated on the north side of the field. Still, he couldn’t see enough to be certain of the outcome.
“My Lady, will you please rid yourself of your overcoat?” Borthon suddenly stripped the dead nurse for her outer garment.
“But, sir, why?”
“They will never let a queen slip away, but maybe they will not waste their time on a simple maid.”
“True...” The queen hesitated but unbuttoned her coat.
“And your shoes; these shoes are better for running.”
When the queen had removed her overcoat and shoes, the guard handed her those belonging to her nurse. While the queen put on her nurse’s clothes, the guard clothed the dead nurse in the queen’s clothes.
“I will get the soldiers on the south side to help me create a diversion while you run for the forest.” The queen nodded, and the guard looked at the maid, making sure she understood that he also meant her.
“You’ve got to run in separate directions to increase your chances.” They nodded both this time. “If the queen falls, you’ve got to retrieve the prince, okay?” The maid nodded, but Queen Amrya looked terrified as it first now dawned upon her that her and the prince’s life were in danger.
“Sooner or later, troops from Gardir will be sent out when their king doesn’t show. Stay in hiding until they arrive. I believe that’s our best chance, my Lady.”
“And you? What will become of you?” the queen asked.
“I will die today, but if my queen survives, I will die a happy man,” Borthon said with a smile. “Are you ready?”
They nodded, and Queen Amrya picked up the sleeping prince.
“Wait for my signal,” the guard said as he stepped out of the carriage. “Eithel, are you still here?” he screamed and drew both of his swords.
“I am here.” Eithel, the other guard that was following the queen from Engriole, had been on top of the carriage. He had joined the royal guard of Gardir with the defense.
“We must drive away the savages to make a way for the queen.”
“Okay, what’s the plan?”
“You take right, and I take left. Tell the other guards to follow our lead.”
***
On the southern side of the carriages, the guards still had control, as the highlanders had concentrated most of their efforts on breaking through to the king’s carriage. Now more and more highlanders came around to this side, and Oakentere could watch more of the actual fighting. Then a soldier in a different uniform from the others stepped out of the carriage. His chest plate was black with a red dragon on it, which set him apart from the shiny ones of the riders. Soon he was joined by another in a similar uniform. They each drew two swords, and they ran in front of the horses and attacked the highlanders that tried to break through the horse perimeter around the wagons. With tremendous rage, the soldiers in the black uniforms pushed the highlanders back to either side, with their swords moving at a speed that Oakentere could hardly notice the blade. He only saw the blood that poured out of the falling bodies. Whoever managed to escape the swords of the two swordsmen was slain by the riders following straight behind them. In the matter of a minute, the south end of the field was cleared of people. Oakentere wondered if these could push their whole army back, but he soon realized that was not their intention. The door of the carriage opened once more and two girls stepped out, looking carefully both ways. They looked like they were only maids, judging by the clothes. A bit like himself, Oakentere thought, sitting in the clothes provided him by Lord Roden.
The girls both ran towards the forest at the end of the slope, but they soon split and ran one to the right and the other to the left. Oakentere pulled an arrow out of his quiver and aimed at the one running to the left. She would be the first one out of range. The other one partly ran towards him and would stay within range much longer.
Chapter 8
Oakentere had the girl in sight and was ready to release the arrow when he noticed a highlander on horse pursuing the girl with his sword held high. He recognized him as Ayreto, the one who blew the signal as they departed from Berkin. Oakentere lowered his bow and left her to Ayreto. He raised his bow, aiming at the other girl, having her in sight when he heard the other girl’s cry of being slain. The thin female voice cut right through the noise of the battlefield. The girl Oakentere was aiming at turned and screamed, and as she did, Oakentere saw she carried a baby. It was a mother and her child. He hoped that he could slay someone so he could come home and brag of being at war and actually did kill someone, but how could he face his mother having killed a mother and her baby child? Oakentere instinctively knew it would be better coming home without killing anyone. He saw Ayreto had taken up pursuit of the other one, and he knew if he could leave her to be killed by Ayreto, then he wouldn’t have to do it.
Ayreto closed in on the girl and the child; she almost reached the tree line, but she would fall for Ayreto’s sword. Oakentere watched, as Ayreto lifted his sword, the woman turned and stopped running as she realized it was hopeless. It was as if everything his mother taught Oakentere over the years about taking care of those who were smaller and weaker than he had all led up to this moment. He raised his bow, aimed, and the arrow flew off and plunged into Ayreto’s neck. He fell from his horse and landed right in front of the girl. She looked up and saw Oakentere, still with his bow in hand. Then she made a slight bow as if to say “thank you” before she disappeared into the forest. Ayreto’s horse also left, leaving Ayreto’s body alone on the south end of the field, pierced through the neck with Oakentere’s arrow. The offensive started by the men with the red dragon on their chests had been halted, and in a matter of minutes, the battle would be over. Then someone would find Ayreto, and someone would see that the arrow that pierced killed him was made by Oakentere.
He realized he had to remove the arrow. Though he didn’t dare cross straight over the field, he ran as fast as his legs could carry him within the tree line. Branches whipped his face as he passed between the trees, but he didn’t
care. His fear drove him even faster; he had to reach it in time, or the arrow would not only kill Ayreto, but him as well.
***
Eyfenn was about ten feet away from his defending comrades when he realized there was no defensive hold left. No horses and no swordsmen in shining armor. Someone still fought on the flanks, but no one defended the king anymore. Having no strength left to push on, he stood still, just fencing away the savages in front of him, but with no real strength in his blows. He felt the icy pain of cold steel piercing his side just below his armored plate. He turned towards the pain and struck the man piercing him in his neck. He fell down, but the sword remained in Eyfenn’s side. Then another sword pierced him on the other side. Eyfenn reacted with a stab to his chest. The effort brought Eyfenn to his knees, and the death he had anticipated since the start of the battle was about to come. A savage in front of him raised his sword to decapitate him, and behind him, Eyfenn spotted a man climb onto the king’s carriage. He gathered the little strength left inside him, got his right foot under him, and pushed upwards. With a left-to-right upwards movement with his sword, he lashed the savage’s thorax, and then he threw the sword into the back of the savage climbing the king’s carriage. Then Eyfenn fell to the ground as the last in the King of Gardir’s lifeguard.
***
Queen Amrya ran into the forest but couldn’t resist turning to see what was going on. The guards still fought their best, but they were hopelessly outnumbered. She saw the savage with the bow that saved her life coming through the woods. Her first thought was that he regretted saving her and would try to kill her anyway. Or maybe he killed the other one so he could kill her himself. She had heard savages doing worse. She hid in the bushes and tried to calm down little Endir, who had woken up during their escape. The savage didn’t seem to care about her at all; he ran out to the dead savage on the field. Seconds later, he came back with the bloody arrow in his hand.
She turned towards the battle as the line broke. The savages burst through and they climbed up on the carriages. Her personal guard, Borthon, had fought all up till now, but he turned towards the forest. Then he kneeled down and put his sword on the ground. He smiled and bowed just as all knights of Antuk greet the royals. She wasn’t sure if he could actually see her or he saw she had made it over the field and expected that she could see him.
She put her hands over her chest and bowed as if to greet him back. Borthon never raised from his bow, but fell to the ground, cut down by the swords of the savages. Amrya wished he had been with her now, but she understood that it was the only way to save her.
She couldn’t see anything, but she heard the screams of people drawn out of the carriages and killed. She didn’t recognize her father’s voice, but she wasn’t expecting him to beg for mercy as he was slain. No mercy was given, Queen Amrya reckoned that the only mercy shown on this battlefield was bestowed upon her by the young archer. She looked over to where he still stood and watched the endgame.
“Who are you, child?”
The savage smiled but said nothing.
“Why did you save my life?” she asked.
“Because of my mother. I could never look her in her eyes if I had let you die.”
“Then your mother is a blessed woman.”
“Stay here; no one will care about you, and we will leave swiftly.”
Queen Amrya nodded, and the savage turned to leave. Then a sound made him stop and listen. It sounded like the distant rumble of many horses.
***
“They’re all dead, sir.”
“Good,” Lord Roden replied. “Pile up the bodies of our men and burn them.”
“And the men from Gardir?”
“Leave them to General Sarim.” Lord Roden looked around. The other knights were busy looting the royal carriage, but he couldn’t take his eyes off all the dead bodies. They lost so many, and all this because he had agreed to do General Sarim's dirty work. He hoped he one day could look back on this battle and say the gains were bigger than the cost, but right now, he couldn’t.
“Lord, riders from Gardir are coming.”
Lord Roden turned and saw riders coming in from the opposite direction from what the convoy had come. The archers still within the forest made themselves ready. The riders had their face guards up, a signal that they didn’t ride into battle, and the leader, General Sarim, had great black feathers on top of his helmet. “Coming to inspect the job, are you?” Lord Roden said to himself. Then he noticed all the people reaching for their swords, and the archers making themselves ready in the forest.
“Stand down,” he commanded. “It’s okay; they’re friendly.”
The highlanders looked at Lord Roden, bewildered, but they did as he said, and put their swords back into their sheaths.
Chapter 9
The riders came into the field at great speed, and Lord Roden expected that as soon as the horses had jumped over the barrier, they would slow down, but they didn’t. Instead, the riders lowered their face guards and drew their swords. The horses formed an attack formation, and they uttered a war cry.
“To arms!” Lord Roden screamed, but for many, it was too late. In the first wave, highlanders were cut down before they could defend themselves.
General Sarim headed straight for Lord Roden, but Roden manage to fend him off and ram his knee as he passed. Lord Roden looked at the bloody tip of his sword and smiled. Then he looked around for his horse. He ran to it, managed the reins, and placed one hand on the saddle. As he climbed his horse, he could see a Gardir soldier swinging his swords against him. With both hands on the horse, he could not defend himself. He froze as he saw the sword’s edge moving towards him. Then, inches before the sword hit him, it fell to the ground. The soldier swayed backwards in his saddle with an arrow in his neck. Lord Roden recognized the arrow as the ones made by Oakentere. He got up on his horse and he saluted towards the forest where he had placed Oakentere. Then he pulled out his sword and charged into the battle, fueled by rage over Sarim’s betrayal. He rammed one soldier in the back with his sword and recognized his coat-of-arms as a knight he had met only two days ago. He decided he should take the betrayers with him into death. Circling around the battlefield, he looked for the knights with the right marks on their shoulders. He found the second one and crossed straight towards him, having to fend off two men before he reached the knight. Lord Roden swung his long sword and beheaded the knight. Then he turned and rode away from the battle. He had to kill one soldier on his way out. Then he searched for the next one of the five.
He found number three, and was about to charge in once more, when he saw the third man fall off his horse with an arrow planted in his face. My good squire, Lord Roden thought.
He realized that time was running out for him. The battle would end soon, and all his men would be dead. Lord Roden spent the last minutes of his life on something that really mattered. He searched for the helmet with the black feathers. He spotted him in the midst of the battleground, far out of reach for Lord Roden. If I only had Oakentere’s skill with the bow, he thought. Then he raised his sword and hoped for the impossible. His horse had battled longer than the other horses, but the other horses had run all the way from Genora this very day and were fatigued when they reached the battle. Lord Roden made a circle away from the battle before he charged back at full speed. His horse plowed through the more tired horses of the Gardirians. He had almost made it, maybe less than fifteen feet away, when a lance was thrust so heavily into the side of his horse, it fell over sideways.
Lord Roden fell off and tumbled around, landing face up, and before he could react, four swords pointing at him pinned him down and made it impossible for him to get up. Lord Roden was forced to lie still and watch as the rest of his men were slaughtered.
At last, around ten men surrendered. They were brought to their knees, holding their hands up. General Sarim took off his helmet and tossed it to the ground. He went over to the first one and drove his sword through his
heart. The rest of those who surrendered objected but were effectively pinned down. General Sarim killed each one of the defenseless boys with no sign of mercy.
***
Both Oakentere and Queen Amrya had stood and watched the battle, each hoping for their side to win. The young savage had shot two arrows, both of them as precise as the one that saved her life. Now, however, the savages were all slain, and she could be brought to the safety of Genora.
“Stop,” the savage said as she was about to step out of the forest.
“Don’t worry; I won’t give you up, but these are my people,” Queen Amrya said to calm down the savage. Even though she now was the Queen of Antuk, she had grown up as a princess in Genora, and still felt that the Gardirians were her people as well.
“If you serve the king, then these people will not do you any good,” he said.
“I am not a servant of the king. I am his daughter.”
“Even more reason for them to kill you.”
“If you didn’t notice, it was the savages who killed the king, and almost me as well. These are Gardirian soldiers and they killed the ones that killed the king.”
“But it was a trap.” The savage came towards her with his right hand flat in front of him to indicate he meant no harm. “I serve one lord of Berkin, and two days ago, we met with the leader of that group, General Sarim.”
The queen was at first impressed by the savage knowing who Sarim was, but then she reckoned his fame stretched even into the highlands, or they had spoken of whom they feared to meet during this raid. He spoke of the meeting the knights had two days ago and the deal they made with General Sarim, and how they now had been betrayed. As the queen heard him out, she shrugged. “And why should I listen to a simple savage?" Then she straightened herself up and started walking out onto the field.
“Stop.” With a lightning fast movement, he drew an arrow from his quiver and pulled the bow, pointing straight at her.