Okay! This is the next part in that story I posted a little while ago: Dragon's Flame. I'll be publishing at least once a week, so stay tuned!
Gurthsboar stood watching at the entrance to the cave he had spent the night sleeping in. Before him was a small village, with fields of half-ripe corn bending slightly in the light, refreshing breeze. A few robins played amidst the ears, holding on to vertical surfaces as if they were level floor. No clouds were to be seen in the beautiful blue summer sky. It was not the charms of nature, however, which had caught the Elf’s attention; it was the small band of soldiery, all mounted and armored who were on the opposite side of the crest of a ridge to the village, whose inhabitants were working peacefully in the fields. The men were obviously knights and their mounted vassals, there were many different designs on their shields, indicating who the noble knights were, but the most common design was that of the Eagle, red on a black shield. The men holding that design were either members of the family to whom the heraldry belonged or lower-born men, whose families did not have a heraldic design. There were about 20 men all told, who were all armed with a 3-metre ash lance, a shield bearing their device and mail armor. They also carried lighted torches, for the burning of the corn.
As these raiders were behind the unsuspecting farmers, so was another band, smaller then the first, behind the mounted raiders. They composed of eight men, including their leader, a youth in his mid-twenties. They were no less well armed but were dismounted, for some reason none, but the leader, had a horse. That they intended to attack the raiders before they raided the peaceful village, to whom it probably held allegiance to the family this second party also held allegiance to was plain. How eight men on foot intended to set 20 men on horses fleeing the county was less plain. Gurthsboar calmly descended down the ridge he had spent the night in towards the second concealed party.
Gerry O’Turrsbourgh was young and not himself of a noble family; instead his father was a officer in the service of Baron Kiksdorg. He had been visiting a leading merchant in the village the night before with a few men. They had not taken horses because the castle was a very short distance away and Gerry’s small command were infantrymen, not rich enough to own enough horses to become cavalrymen. A hunter who had been out very early in the morning after a local stag who had evaded him for several weeks now had alerted the young officer of the presence of a small band of raiders, no doubt Gersens. The Gersen clan was an extremely powerful local band of errant knights and their vassals who had risen to power (aided by some foreign power) around the lands of Baron Kiksdorg and some of his neighbors. They had become a great nuisance and had attracted many knights and soldiers from near and far to their cause. They raided and destroyed villages, as was a noble’s want in war against a rival noble and defeated the parties of the baron’s men who might have opposed them. It was against such a band that Gerry intended to attack.
He was very well aware that the enemy had the advantage in numbers and horses, as well as having slightly better arms, but he intended to take them from surprise and from the rear, and disorganize them as to prevent the raid. His men were deathly quiet as they prepared for the very dangerous conflict ahead of them. Silent prayers were offered. Then at the signal, Gerry and his men followed a hidden course towards the enemy, hidden by a small corpse of trees. Once the enemy was within 30 meters, Gerry blew his war horn and leapt out of the corpse. His men followed, bellowing the war cry of their baron and his country.
“Kara! Kara!” This unexpected attack indeed took the enemy cavalry be surprise, who for some reason had been waiting, probably for their scout to return. There was not much room for the cavalry to charge and use their lances to great affect, and before their leader could turn his men around to the new threat, a wooden shaft flew out of nowhere and sprouted out of his chest. Temporarily disorganized by the unexpected attack and the loss of their leader, the horsemen’s’ response to Gerry’s attack was a less effective then it could have been. Only a few seconds later, another arrow took out one of the leading knights as the cavalry charge met the surging infantry. Gerry’s spear took out one horse, and one of his followers quickly dispatched the unfortunate rider. A couple of knights went down quickly, but at least one infantryman was transfixed by a knight’s lance in the initial onslaught. It was a wonder that Gerry did not lose more at the onset, but the arrows and the surprise attack worked in his favor. One more arrow followed, again only a few seconds after the former. Then another yell pierced the air, besides that of “Klara! Klara!” and the fierce war cry of the Gersens.
“Tersun! Tersun!” It was the war cry of wandering Elves, whenever they joined battle, which was often as they traveled over the evil face of the earth.
Comments
May. 13, 2008 - Hey!
Posted by Rachsters
Cool! You did good. I like how you describe things...it put pictures in my head so I could imagine things. =)
Well I didn't read the first part but good job!
ttyl
~Eowyn
P.S. That message I sen't you..just delete it...it was an eccident. k! lol =)