The Lone Traveler - Part Sixteen

The Lone Traveler

Chapter Sixteen



The morning of the battle begin with a clear blue sky and chilled but refreshing weather. All signs indicated that it would steadily improve as the bright sun climbed higher into the sky. Through pure luck, if not a word or two from Ryykon, Ogre had been returned to Pieter. It was a gift that he would always remember because he and Ogre had a special bond despite the war horse’s headstrong mannerisms. He and David had argued the evening before, and, although he was ready to forget their differences, David continued to sulk and would not talk to him. Ryykon and the four squires sat on their warhorses and watched as the forces took their places on the battlefield. Elise was there but instead of a warhorse, she rode a fast dark brown palfrey that she had named spirit.

As they surveyed the field, the Angalund forces arranged their knights along the flat bottom of the hill about half a mile from the small village. There were at least twenty thousand knights and mounted infantry arranged in four rows of five thousand each. Most of the knights in the front were all clad in full shining armor and many of the war mounts had armor protecting part of their withers and breast. Other, less wealthy knights, had plates of metal sewn over vital parts of their chainmail for added protection. The back ranks consisted entirely of mounted infantry. They all were armed with long lances with sharp metal tips. Each knight also carried a shield with their personal coat of arms displayed. The different rows carried several battle standards indicating the location of their commanders.

There was no activity on the north side of the field where mostly men-at-arms were posted, but on the right flank another block of armored knights numbering around ten thousand had been arranged in two lines of about five thousand each. Dismounted infantry and men-at-arms held the high ground on the other side of the small river as well as the east bank and the small village around the narrow bridge crossing.

Ryykon signaled for Lord Alwaythe to arrange his command to the front, consisting of the twenty thousand knights and mounted infantry and for Lord Haupt to prepare his force of ten thousand Alatarian knights on the right flank. He noticed that the enemy had also brought forth a large contingent of archers and posted them in and around the small village, and the enemy’s heavy ballista and scorpions had been brought to bear on the hills overlooking the small valley.

He gave the signal to Ruolf to bring his Sidhe forces over the hill and arrange them on the down slope so the enemy would see ten thousand powerful warriors on the left flank. He held the remainder of the men-at-arms in reserve to see how the initial charge went. He soon noticed that Lord Alwaythe was ready for the advance, but gave him the signal to hold because the knights on the right flank were not yet in position. In addition, a scout brought him a message indicating that another mass of enemy knights and mounted infantry was coming in from the north to hit their left flank. He signaled for his infantry commanders of ten thousand each, along with five thousand Khelti archers, to move to the left flank to counter the new threat. He also gave the signal for the Dragon Riders and Valkyrie to stand by to begin their bombardment of the enemy armored forces to spread panic in their ranks before Alwaythe and Haupt initiated their charges.

Well before each new move could be completed, he heard Lord Alwaythe give the command to advance down the center. At the sound of the bugle, the first line of his knights and mounted infantry charged down the hill keeping as tight as possible fighting to maintain their lines followed by each additional line at a twenty yard interval. The enemy forces, seeing the advancing knights of Camalund, spurred their war mounts forward to meet the charge.

The mounts on both sides accelerated to maximum speed before impact. As the lines met, scores of men were impaled on the sharp points of the lances and unhorsed. Both sides suffered terrible losses as the lances soon struck into the lesser armored mounted infantry soldiers. As wave after wave flowed into the attack, the ground became littered with the wounded and dying and the many mounts who had been impaled on the iron tipped lances.

When the final charge staggered to a halt, the few remaining heavy lances were dropped and the battle continued with swords, maces, axes and other preferred weapons. Although the knights of Camalund appeared to be winning the battle, the men and knights of Angalund quickly mounted and pulled back to the village supported by the archers posted there. As soon as most of them were clear of the bloody battle field, the massive Angalund ballista and scorpions started launching fire bombs and long spears into the ranks of the Camalund knights still milling around and wondering why the enemy had pulled back. Their ranks were slowly being decimated by the mighty weapons. When Lord Alwaythe signaled for the bugler to sound retreat, less than half of the men who had initially charged down to the field found their mounts and trotted back up the slopes on exhausted or wounded animals.

Seeing the Camalund forces in retreat, the surviving Angalund cavalry poured out of the village and lined up for a maneuver to their left flank to support their forces preparing to charge the smaller Alatarian force of knights who had yet to advance. Ryykon signaled for Lord Haupt to hold in place and sent Pieter to tell him to pull back to the hill top and form a defensive line supported by the infantry and remaining archers. He also noticed more enemy cavalry pouring in from the north into his left flank. Obviously, the deception made by the Sidhe had not worked and they were forced to pull back to safety leaving the entire flank open since the infantry and archers he had sent to reinforce them had yet to arrive in numbers. Angalund infantry in the thousands were also pouring down from the hills on the other side of the river and making their way over the small bridge to join their companions in the village and on the flat plain just outside the village.

As soon as the remnants of Lord Alwaythe’s exhausted knights and cavalry reached the top of the hill, Ryykon ordered him to form a defensive line in front of the infantry and to be prepared to repel the enemy infantry advancing across the flat ground. There was a mere eight thousand left of the initial twenty thousand who had made the devastating charge, the remainder were either dead, wounded, or captured. It was a crushing blow all because one man could not wait for the command to advance.

Ryykon had kept a force of ten thousand knights and mounted infantry in reserve, five thousand each of Alatarian and Camalund. He ordered the commanders to reinforce both flanks and be prepared to defend the high ground. He then signaled for the Dragon Riders and Valkyri to start their attack on the advancing enemy forces. They were his only chance of regaining momentum in the suddenly desperate battle.

Analia draped the large net of clay jugs filled with incendiary material over the back of her saddle and placed the closed bowl containing a glowing coal in front of her. Her bow and arrows were in their sheaths hung from the saddle with an extra bundle of arrows tied securely behind her. Although her shoulder was a little tender, she still had full use of it. The Wing Commander planned her attack by squadron with a short interval between bombing runs. Analia’s squadron was the first to go into battle.

“Ready Little Lady?” Whiff mind-spoke. “I do so enjoy the smell of burning naphtha, but I can’t stand the stench of burning animal flesh. Are you certain you want to go through with this, they are human just like you after all?”

“People who want to conquer us, take our land, and make us slaves,” Analia replied as she climbed up into the saddle. She glanced to her right to watch for the signal from her Squadron Commander, a young girl named Meg. She sorely missed her friend, Talina, however, she was still somewhere in Vituria seeking an alliance with King Charles. Within moments the commander waved a bright blue banner, the signal for take-off.

Analia and Whiff took to the air with a beating of powerful wings. She was always surprised by the brute strength of the mighty dragon as he plowed his way into the late morning sky. Within minutes they were circling in squadron formation high over the hilltops and small valleys below. They were high enough for a beautiful panoramic view of the battle field, the men and horses not much larger than ants. They knew where the friendly forces were aligned, along the ridge tops to the west of the small river, leaving the enemy forces in the valley along the river and to the northeast and southeast. The majority of the enemy infantry were still deployed on the high ground among the small hills to the east as was the deadly ballista and scorpion crews.

The briefing orders from the Squadron Commander, Meg, were to make their strafing run from southeast to northwest and to concentrate on the armored knights and mounted infantry. Where possible they were to remain as far east as possible to avoid the deadly missile throwers.

Analia was third in formation as the run began. She watched as her squadron mates lit the fuses on two of their incendiary bombs from the glowing coal, and swiftly glided at a sloping angle down towards the enemy cavalry massed on the field. She followed suite, lit her bombs, and angled Whiff down the flight path, the cold air bringing tears to her eyes. Mere seconds later, she released her bombs and ordered Whiff to quickly pull left towards the friendly lines. She watched as the clay jugs full of incendiary material burst open spraying the mounted horsemen with a shower of deadly fire and destruction. Their ranks turned into turmoil with screaming men and animals running in all directions in an attempt to get away from the burning pitch.

As soon as the six dragon riders in her squadron finished their bombing runs, they were quickly followed by the other two squadrons, then, it was the turn of the six Valkyri squadrons to make their runs. They were to concentrate on the enemy cavalry advancing down from the northwest. Analia watched as they completely decimated the mounted warriors, sending them reeling from the field in panic and terror. All squadrons made several more passes, dropping bombs on clusters of enemy cavalry, and angling in towards the enemy infantry to spread them out. When she sailed over the top of the ridge as she left the battlefield, she saw the friendly forces waving their shields and pennants and jumping up and down in joy.

What seemed like minutes to her had actually taken hours and it was after the noon hour. When she returned to the staging field, Meg ordered them to stand down and await new orders. The enemy had been so fragmented and disorganized it would be some time before they were capable of developing a new plan of attack. The third squadron was ordered to take turns gliding above the battlefield to report enemy dispositions to Ser Thoragild and the other major field commanders.

Pieter was jumping with joy as the Dragon Riders and Valkyri sailed overhead after making their devastating bomb runs, and looked for Analia among the huge flying beasts but did not spot her. He was suddenly punched in the arm by Elise who told him that Ser Thoragild wanted him to find Lord Alwaythe and escort him to his private tent, without delay. As Pieter and Ogre weaved their way through the masses of shouting and dancing men, many reached up and patted his leg or saddle in praise. They knew he was the squire of the great Ser Thoragild and at that moment in time, he also became a hero. Pieter finally sighted Lord Alwaythe’s standard and saw the man leaning heavily against his mount. He had a dour and downcast look on his haggard face.

Pieter dismounted and politely saluted the Lord. “My Lord,” he stated, “Ser Thoragild requests your presence in his private tent.” His request was staged in such a manner that Lord Alwaythe knew he was meant to report immediately. Without saying one word, he mounted his war horse and nodded for Pieter to take him to Ryykon. Pieter was aware that Lord Alwaythe had ordered his forces to advance before the signal was given, everyone was aware of the idiotic move. The man had lost the lives of far too many good knights and infantry soldiers.

Ryykon offered Lord Alwaythe a camping stool as he entered the small tent. His face was still red from anger and he could barely keep his temper in check. He was also aware that the man knew of his fatal error. Lord Alwaythe set heavily down and stared at the grass in front of him, his gaze indicated that his mind was still back on the battlefield.

“I have no choice but to relieve you of your command,” Ryykon stated. “A choice I am happy to make. What possessed you, a man of past battles, to make such a foolish and devastating move?”

Lord Alwaythe wrung his hands and continued to stare at the grass. It was a long time before he finally responded to the question. “I lost three of my sons in the charge,” he quietly muttered. “Each fell in the first wave. My forth son is an imbecile, a blithering fool. He will never be allowed to succeed to my name and title. I am ruined. You do not need to relieve me of my command, Ryykon, I resign. I will leave for Camalund as soon as I can prepare for the journey. The knights and men-at-arms will remain here under your command.” With that said, Lord Alwaythe, a broken and bitter man, stood and quietly left the tent.

The squires watched as Lord Aalwaythe solemnly made his way back to his mount and without a backward glance, slowly rode back to his broken command. His shoulders were sagging and his chin was down on his chest.

Ryykon called them into the small tent. “No need to say it, Lord Alwaythe has resigned his command and will be returning to Camalund. Pass the word to the field commanders, but, do so quietly. The man is broken enough that we do not need to rub salt into his wounds.”

As they moved to leave the tent, Ryykon asked David to remain behind. “Your father is a proud man, David. You and I both know he has failed to be much of a father to you, but, like it or not you are still his blood. Three of your half-brothers were slain in the tragic charge and the forth has the mind of a two year old. I think it is time that you and your father heal the wound that separates you.”

Although David had no respect what-so-ever for his father, he highly respected Ser Thoragild and knew that if he did not at least try to make amends, Ser Thoragild would think less of him. He nodded his head and quietly left the tent.

Analia was in the squadron headquarters when one of the aerial scouts reported in with great news. The Angalunders were leaving the field, pulling back across their small hills, dismantling their scorpions and ballista and slowly moving east. They had lost the battle. She quickly requested permission to take the important information to her uncle. It was news that the entire army needed to hear as soon as possible. She smiled and quickly ran from the tent, raced across the field of trampled grass and up the slope to Ryykon’s position. She arrived completely out of breath and had to hold on to the tent post to regain her composure before she could report.

Before she entered the tent, a loud voice boomed behind her. “What are you up to, lass?” Lord Ruolf stated, heading in another direction.

“I have great news to give my uncle,” Analia quickly replied. “The Angalund Army is leaving the field.”

“Ryykon is over there,” Roulf pointed to a group of men standing around and cheering. “Come on, I want to hear this great news also.”

David hesitated as he stood outside of his father’s large tent. He didn’t feel like facing the man after witnessing his despairing condition less than a bell before. He also felt like a beggar, seeking the crumbs from the Lord’s table after the feast had been consumed. He did not expect much from the man, but, to satisfy Ser Thoragild he would force himself to talk if nothing else. There were no guards outside the tent opening, which was unusual in itself, but given the circumstances he opened the flap and entered.

Lord Alwaythe was sitting on a cushioned stool with a large goblet of wine in his hands. It was plain that it was not his first cup as his eyes were already shining and drooping. He glanced up as David approached him.

“So, the prodigal son returns,” he snidely remarked, taking a sip of wine. “Here to gloat about how great your Ser Thoragild is, are you?”

David started to turn and leave, but sudden anger kept him in place. “He’s man enough to accept blood kin into his home regardless of the circumstances,” he replied, referring to Ryykon taking Analia in when she desperately needed someone, “something you have not been man enough to do.”

Lord Allwaythe took the words without a riposte. “You do know three of your brothers were slain,” he stated rather than asked.”

“Half-brothers,” David replied. “We did not share the same mother if you remember correctly. Yes, I know of their demise, I also know the only son you have left is Samuel the idiot. I did not come here to beg you to offer me legitimacy and succession, but to show an old man that half a son is more of a man than a full father. I respect you for the blood we share, nothing else.”

“Lord Alwaythe suddenly looked David straight in the eyes. “Yes,” he stated. “Yes. You could be the son I have been missing. You could have it all, wealth, estates, respect, and be my legitimate heir. But there is a price. There is always a price!”

David wanted to turn and quickly leave the man’s presence, but curiosity and hope held him back. He knew that as Lord David Alwaythe, his chances of providing Analia with everything were greatly improved. His present chances of marrying Analia, as a vagabond who sold his sword for hire, were slim if not impossible. He would listen and see what price the man put on his future.

A decision was made to strike the Angalund forces from the air one bell before twilight to create panic and stir them up. Both Wing Commanders conferred with Ryykon in the squadron tent to obtain the disposition of friendly forces. They did not want to risk striking their own knights by error. Their final plan was to strafe the retreating enemy forces but to leave an opening for the allied cavalry to hit their right flank.

Analia was anxious to get back into the air. Her first taste of battle had produced an exhilaration that she had never felt before as she plummeted from the heights towards the rushing ground with the wind blowing in her face and her hair flowing behind her. She now knew what it felt like for the knights to charge recklessly into an enemy formation.

As they gained altitude for the strike, they spotted Ryykon’s mounted forces maneuvering to their right to engage the enemy’s left flank. She knew that her uncle and the squires would be in the thick of this charge since they had held back earlier due to Lord Alwaythe’s impetuous move. Ryykon would trust no one but himself to make this daring and critical charge.

Since the enemy forces were spread out, it was decided to send in two squadrons at a time. As they hovered well above the retreating enemy, she noticed the signal from her Squadron Commander to commence the bombing run. They were arranged in wedge formation which allowed all six Riders to make their dive at the same time. As she began her descent, Analia copied the other Riders and lit the slow burning fuses on her incendiary bombs. The fuses would not burn through the stoppers, but would ignite the liquid paste when the clay jar shattered against an armored knight or the hard ground.

As soon as they got within range of their retreating prey and started their long glide path to drop their bombs, they were suddenly ambushed. Great covered holes opened up on the ground below exposing scores of the deadly scorpions and ballista with their crews prepared to launch their missiles and their own fire bombs.

Before their Squadron Commander could wave off from the attack, she was hit squarely with an incendiary bomb from one of the ballista. Both she and the dragon went up in billowing flames. They could hear the commander scream as she plummeted towards the distant earth below. On her right, Analia saw another dragon skewered by a shaft from one of the deadly scorpions. Even though the dragon’s hide was tough, the shaft penetrated deep into his body. He and his rider also fell heavily to the ground. All around her, dragons and war birds were falling from the sky, some in roaring flames, while others fell with long bloody shafts in their bodies.

“Get us out of here, Whiff,” she mind-spoke. Whiff broke left in an evasive maneuver and headed for the small hills on the west side of the river. He quickly lost altitude to present a faster moving target and glided down the slope and over the river into the small village. As they passed over the village, the walls from several buildings tumbled down exposing hidden ballista. They ran into a shower of missiles and one penetrated deep into Whiff’s left wing, striking a critical bone and sending him crashing to the ground.

Analia screamed as they struck the stone littered ground, and broke free from her saddle. Her head struck the hard surface and for a moment she passed out in pain. When she finally got her vision and senses back, she was completely addled. She was watching an enormous dragon trying to fight off a dozen men-at-arms with long spears and she had no idea who she was or what was going on. Others were trying to lower a giant crossbow to shoot the dragon. One of the men-at-arms grabbed her around the waist and pulled her away from the scene. As she watched, the huge dragon slowly limped into the sky dripping blood from the heavy shaft in its massive wing. Within minutes it was a dot in the distant sky. She knew that for some reason she should be sad, but could not figure out why.

The soldier, a huge bearded man, started to rip her clothing off. He quickly removed the harness and was preparing to tear away her tunic when he was struck in the head from behind by an even larger and much uglier soldier.

“She’s my daughter,” a man roared, striking the smaller soldier severely in the face. He grabbed Analia. “Yes, you’re my daughter,” he growled. “What shall I call you, little one?” When her befuddled mind could offer no reply, he shrugged his dirty shoulders then picked his long nose. “Name won’t matter, I been needin’ someone to warm me bed, I ‘ave.” He started dragging her towards a brick building when a knight approached and ordered all of the soldiers to leave. “We’re leaving!” he shouted, going back to join the siege. Everyone move.”

Pieter sat on Ogre’s back and stared in terror at the sky. Dragon Riders and Valkyri were falling everywhere. Although he could not hear the screams of the riders, he felt their panic as they plummeted to the earth. His only thought concerned Analia. Was she among the fallen? A messenger rode up and handed a missive to Ser Thoragild who had held back the charge due to the slaughter of the fliers.

“From Talina,” he stated, handing the message to Pieter. “King Lacouture accepted our alliance and has just arrived on the field with forty thousand men. I guess that’s why the Angalunders were retreating. They’re going back to join their siege forces at Alation.”

Analia walked behind the oxen pulled wagon with three other girls and one boy. The dust from the wagon wheels clogged their nostrils and made their eyes burn, but they were all tied in a line and could do nothing but walk or be dragged. She had no idea who she was, but, she was certain that the giant ugly soldier was not her father. She heard they were going back to the siege, whatever that meant, she also did not understand. Instead, she concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.

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The Lone Traveler - Part Seventeen  (13+) .A young farm girl undertakes a fantastic and perilous journey in a Medieval like world. #2070172 by Oldwarrior