A Warrior's Redemption (The Warrior Kind) (43 page)

The gods were not with him, if there be any gods at all he thought abstractly to himself. Charging out of the morning mists like a monster from some forgotten fairytale came
a solid line of cavalry, several rows deep and as wide as Commander Orlanthis’s entire command.

Their lances were lowered as they thundered over the ground churning it up. The release of arrows that had been intended for the militia army from the city hadn’t happened, because when the horns had sounded out from behind the army the army had turned almost as one, with dread filled eyes to behold what new torment the fateful horns had her
alded in.

The army twisted about like a wounded animal between two predators not sure which would strike first and as a result
it wasn’t prepared when both opposing forces crashed into it. It was clear that Commander Orlanthis had undere
s
timated the militia too.

Older men retired from the ways of war, but fired up by adrenaline and the righteous cause for survival that they fought for sliced into the less experienced Zoarinian ranks, as if they were once again hardy warriors of thirty five and not seventy and older. The rust fell from off their old but sure blades, as talents won over a lifetime of war, came back to them, as if greeting an old friend long un
seen.

Farm boys of fourteen and sixteen made strong by hard work and a proud heritage to uphold, smashed away at the enemy soldiers, as if they were but ripe sheaves of corn ready to fall under the swings of their scythes.

Moments after the militia hit the enemy line, the full column of charging cavalry under General Nadero’s command, smashed into the enemy’s rear. There was an almost visible shockwave across the enemy for
mation as it absorbed the impact of the charging cavalry. Completely unhinged from their defeat at Kingdom Pass and this new brutal twist in their sad tale of invasion the enemy broke and ran screaming for their lives, too hysterical in their terror to even defend themselves.

It was a slaughter that none were allowed to escape from, for fear that they would regroup with the main body of the army and inform them of the loss. Before even all the enemy had been mopped up General Nadero separat
ed out from the fight to gallop towards the city gates in the distance.

“Open the gates!”

The gates clanged open and out poured a collection of carts and wagons of every conceivable description. Some were pulled by teams of horses others mules and even oxen, while spare teams were herded along by outrid
ers.

Their drivers were old shop owners, widows and anyone who could hold a pair of reins and drive a team. In a frenzy of action General Nadero issued orders to load the carts with the militia members still able and fit to fight. His actions were almost panicked as he was anxious to rendezvous with Roric’s forces on time.

He was already several hours behind that schedule by his calculations. He had lost time having to divert and travel out of the way of the Attorgron forces coming down from the north. The hastily put together misfit caravan groaned and creaked its way out of the valley in a flurry of its own dust as it was escorted by the cavalry northward towards the Shrine of Remembrance.

Chapter Twenty

Last Stand

Two days later, the Shrine of Remembrance on the shores of the northern sea.

I watched the banners grow closer over the plain of green rich grass. They had done just as Sebastian had theorized that they would, if first met with a significant reduction in force. They had bypassed our cities, towns and castles to come straight here to the Shrine.

Thank God! Little did the approaching army know that every city and castle would have fallen easily before them, because every available warrior capable of fighting had been gathered for the engagement to come upon this plain.
If General Nadero had been successful in his assignment, then we stood a chance in the battle to come. That is if we could hold out until he arrived.

There were a few other critical factors that had to go just right too, but so far everything had, so there was still reason to hope. General Sanjo came up beside me as I stood looking out over the dirtwork de
fenses at the enemy amassing on the plain before us.

“There sure are a lot of them aren’t there. General do you think that they will mount an attack on us given that it’s already early afternoon?”

General Sanjo stared at the congregating enemy force beyond the dirtwork fortifications, “We will be dealing with their more experienced commanders now. They’ll want to see what we’re made of and they have the time and men to spare to find out. I think they’ll attack at twilight. There will be a sudden heavy press and then a withdrawal followed by light skirmishes throughout the night meant to keep us awake until the main assault oc
curs in the morning. That is if we survive the first heavy press at twilight.”

I nodded, “You had best tell the men to get what rest they can then.”

General Sanjo turned to go, “General there’s one other thing.”

General Sanjo turned back to me expectantly. “I’m sorry for the men and women we lost in the city. I know that you trained most of them and knew many of them personally. The city had to be fired when it was or our position would have been overrun. Their sacrifice paved the way to a great victory, but I know that must be shallow comfort to you and their families. I wish there could have been a better way and I’m sorry that there wasn’t.”

The General looked back at the approaching banners of the enemy, “They knew what they were doing. They died for their nation as proud warriors should in the heat of bat
tle.”

“Still General I’m sorry for your loss and I assure you that your loss is mine also.”

His eyes flicked from the enemy banners back to me, “Roric can I share something with you?”

“Always General.
I value your wisdom.”

“Something I have learned during all my years of leading men into dangerous situations is the peril of getting to attached to the warriors you command. Every loss of life of those under your command can become a source of personal angst, which eats away at sound reasoning and the will to act as needed. Seeking to avoid the pain of additional loss can lead one to make a choice in battle that is the wrong choice just to avoid more personal pain for yourself and the families of those you command. You made the right choice at King
dom Pass Roric do not allow yourself to regret it.”

He started away, but my words stopped him briefly, “Tell me General, have you ever managed to achieve such a disconnection between your emotions and the fate your warriors face?”

General Sanjo didn’t look back around as he answered, “No, but I keep trying. If I didn’t keep trying I wouldn’t be of any use to anyone.”

He continued on his way and I returned my gaze to the enemy that had drawn steadily closer across the plain. I wished that this day and responsibility had never come to me. Wishing had never gotten anyone very far in accomplishing something mean
ingful though.

Someone always had to do the hard work and make the sacrifice needed to affect any lasting change for good in the world. The only question I had was why did I have to be the one involved in the sacrifice?

They came at twilight just as General Sanjo had said they would. They stormed up and over our trench work and dirt work defenses around the Shrine in three places.

We were hard pressed to hold them back without calling out our reserve troops hidden within the Shrine and by the shore of the bay. Of the eight thousand warriors manning the wall of dirt and wood we lost over half of them throughout the long hours of the night. Before dawn’s early light we subbed out most of the survivors along the defenses for the fresher warriors still hidden near the Shrine building.

It was an exchange of roughly five thousand fresh warriors for just over three thousand worn out warriors. Not only had we lost over four thousand of the best warriors of my people during the night, but we had lost General Sanjo too. He had been one of my nation’s greatest all time commanders. Several of my old arena friends had fallen too and I felt their loss keen
ly.

General Sanjo had rushed to where the defenses were being pressed most by the enemy and there he had died, as a warri
or should in the heat of battle, with his sword running with the blood of his enemies upon it.

I wish I could say I was glad to see the first rays of the morning sun after the bitterly contested night I had survived through, but I found it hard to because of the ugly sight that it revealed. Easily within bow length a mass formation of at least one hundred thousand men stood apart from the rest of the army as they silently and patiently awaited their orders.

Two columns of cavalry flanked their position, but we were in no danger from them as they would be unable to charge up and over our wood spiked dirt work defenses. They were just for show to let us know how hopeless our situation was as if the greater mass of the un-deployed army still beyond wasn’t sufficient to accomplish that. What I saw by the ear
ly dawn’s light reminded me of something that had occurred during the night.

At some point during the night I had dozed off between skirmishes and I’d had a fitful dream or perhaps possibly a vision of the future, I wasn’t sure. I had dreamed that there was a field of dead and dying warriors, who had fallen in a great battle before the walls of a city. I was one of the fallen warriors. In the distance a storm was brewing its black swirling winds fast approaching towards the battle scarred, but yet un-shattered walls of the city. I lay on the plain before the city and glancing up I saw the storm ap
proaching, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. I looked back at the wall and I saw but a single man standing there, but what a man! There was no other man like Him.

He was my master for whom I lay proudly dying for. I leaned up on one elbow before my end came to me, deter
mined to gain the attention of my master one last time. I raised my blood stained sword in a final salute towards the silent figure standing on the wall behind me, hoping soon to experience His eternal peace even as those before me had. A sword came out of His mouth, which blinded me because of the cast off light from the power of the Word of God that issued forth.

I felt His power flow into me causing me to stand, as I could not otherwise and face what I alone could not defeat. All those around me likewise rose to stand both dead and alive as His power was greater than the death of the storm that raced toward us. United in faith, we stood against the evil of our time, even as we were built up from within, by He who is timeless.

The storm howled its glee, as it descended upon us only to shatter like black glass that reflected back the condition of its fallen nature that had failed to over
come my Master. The storm was gone as our foundation was sure and we found life in the words of our Master, which were enough to sustain us through the length of the day and past the terror of the night.

Now as I thought back upon the dream and the good feel
ings and the hope that it had inspired, it all seemed to fade away, as I saw so many of the enemy gathered before us poised for the killing strike.

Rolf who had been by my side all night through the heat of the action, as usual, asked a question sounding puzzled by the answer he was coming up with in his own mind, “Why
do they just stand there? Why not just finish us and be done with it! I’m tired of this lying around!”

“You know the an
swer to that one Rolf.” I said quietly as my eye was drawn toward something else.

Were those sails out there?

“Rolf look
over there and tell me whose ships those are!”

Rolf had the eyes of an eagle and if anyone could tell the identity of the ships it would be him. The small burst of hope died in my chest, as I realized the answer for myself. The horizon was now liberally dotted with sails.
Too many ships to be our friends the Tranquil Islanders coming to our aid.

“They look to be of Zoarinian construction Roric.” I nodded sourly. There went that part of the plan. Really it had been a wild chance of receiving any help from the island people, but still I had been hoping. If the enemies navy was off coast then that meant our friends had at least tried to come to our aid and had broken through the blockade around their islands. On the other hand perhaps they had failed and were even now all dead. It was a possibility to be consid
ered, but all that really mattered in the here and now was that they weren’t here to help us.

The western shore was the only place along this part of the coast where troops could either be landed or boarded. I looked past the Shrine at our backs, at the small north east
ern bay, that lay situated between two rocky headlands.

It was through this little bay that the mythical ships of our ancestors had supposedly journeyed through, but I did not see
how. The bay itself was a perfec
t
ly good harbor. It was even somewhat sheltered from the vicious storms that raged up and down this coast at times as it was shielded by the rocky headlands to either side of it.

What made it unusable however was the maze of jagged rocks that jutted above and below the surface of the water, at the mouth of the bay where it narrowed between the two rocky promontories.
It would be suicide to attempt to sail a ship into the turbulent white water breakers that washed around the bases of the rocks guarding the bay. We were alone with little chance of su
c
ceeding in the battle to come. It had been the chance we had all taken.