Prince Caeladan reached for his water flask to quench his parched throat. The army had marched into an ancient riverbed which looked like it hadn’t seen rain in centuries. The dust in the air stirred up by the march of his troops was choking. A meandering line of miserable scrub grew in the lowest part of the valley, giving away some trickle of moisture that still drained from the distant eastern mountains out to the sea in the north.
His side still ached from the wound he had suffered a week ago in single combat with the captain of the human knights. He had been knocked out of the saddle in the fight while his retinue completed the rout of the mercenary army without him. His apothecary had advised him against venturing back out on campaign, but pride would never allow him to lie idle after such a humiliation.
It had taken a week but Caeladan had tracked the mercenary band back to their camp in this valley. Across the riverbed he could see their tents. Not far from the camp site were some ruins and he couldn’t be sure, but they looked Elvish. The elf prince had sent his scouts to investigate and prepare an ambush for any human troops that tried to outflank them while the rest of the army mounted a frontal assault on the mercenary force. If it wasn’t enough that these foreign soldiers had embarrassed him in battle, they were plundering the sacred sites of his own ancestors too?
Already he could see the humans forming up a solid defence around a rocky hill just outside their camp. There was no sign of their knights though, and Caeladan wanted nothing more to exact his vengeance on their leader. He knew they would be here, and he would find them.
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Prince Caeladan leads his knights into the desert |
Caeladan turned to his trumpeter and gave an order to sound the advance. He had deployed his cavalry to the right of a rocky crag that stood in the desert valley like a weather-beaten island in an ocean of dust. As he spurred his horse forward with his company of knights alongside him, he saw the eyes of his army, one of his mighty great eagles, land on top of the rock. In typical fashion the savages opposite him had taken aim at the noble beast with their primitive crossbows. All creatures were little better than rats to them, the elf general supposed
As the elves moved toward the hill, a squadron of men on fast horses came riding down the slope to meet them. Behind them were a pair of huge monsters, ogres armed with fierce weapons. These humans must be desperate for allies, chuckled Caeladan to himself. Next they would be recruiting orcs to fight with them, he presumed.
The horsemen fired their bows at the elves, but they were poor shots. In return the elvish archers rained down white-fletched arrows on the hill occupied by the crossbowmen. Caeladan could see men struck by missile fire falling and tumbling down the face of the slope as he gave the order to charge the horsemen in front of him. Trumpets blared as the elven knights galloped into the light cavalry. The humans drew their weapons and stood their ground. They were brave, thought the elf, although foolish as he swung his ornate sword, cutting a man from the saddle.
The combat was short lived, but the ogres had followed the cavalry down into the valley and were waiting behind the horsemen. Caeladan saw the danger as the last of the humans fell from his horse and yelled at his knights to continue their charge into the monsters. Foul, dark blood burst onto silver lance tips as one of the monsters fell bellowing to the earth. His companion, roaring, lashed out at the elves, cutting down the knights like stalks of wheat with his huge weapons.
…
To their left, Gryxus watched the knights do battle as he marched with the company of elvish swordsmen toward the mercenary camp. He was the prince’s lieutenant and carried the army’s banner, but he had been in enough battles with humans to know not to dismiss them. He was sure that the elves would be outnumbered and he was concerned about attacking without support from the cavalry, but Prince Caeladan had made it clear that he wanted to strike as fast as possible, and not give the mercenaries any chance to escape. Captain Ellaroth, the commander of the swordmasters turned to him and said. “We must continue the attack”. Gryxus nodded back.
As they marched beyond the tall scrub which grew in the bottom of the riverbed, the mercenary soldiers came into view. Ranks of troops in heavy steel armour, wielding enormously long pikes glared back at the advancing elves. They looked an immovable object, and Gryxus doubted for a moment that they could break through such a disciplined force entrenched in a solid defensive position. But retreat was not an option and they would have to press the attack and hope that the cavalry would catch up to them.
The trumpets sounded, the swordmasters hefted their blades and charged toward the imposing wall of pikes. This would be a battle of nerves as much as of blades. Gryxus watched Ellaroth, leading from the front, as he shouted a challenge at the enemy officer. Yelling their war cries, the swordmasters clashed with the pikemen.
Ellaroth was the first to fall. The human captain struck out with his long weapon, and the elf dodged to one side. But the mercenary soldier had anticipated Ellaroth’s move and caught him in the ribs with the tip of the pike. Emboldened, the other humans pressed forward against the advancing elves, who broke against their formation like waves on a shore. Elves collapsed bleeding on the cracked ground, more warriors stepped forward only to be struck down by the wall of steel barbs facing them. In the face of such defiance, the elf warriors hesitated. The attack stalled, and Gryxus feared disaster.
…
Prince Caeladan gripped his runesword with both hands, the ancient heirloom of his family which had slain countless enemies of the elves, and struck at the beast, but the ogre dashed his blows aside. The monster may have looked savage, but it was clearly a veteran of as many battles as the elf.
But no matter his skill, he was surrounded and there were too many elves for a single warrior to fight. Caeladan yelled as he lashed out, aiming directly at the ogre’s head. The creature was fast and howled back as he brought his weapon up to meet the elf’s blade. Then his howl was cut off abruptly as the captain of the silver helms, behind him, had cut deep across the ogre’s back with his own sword, and the monster fell bleeding into a heap. The elf general nodded to the captain. Gasping to catch his breath he motioned with his sword to the top of the hill, and the knights began to press up the slope.
Silvered arrowheads lay scattered on the dry hillside. The last human crossbowmen had retreated rather than be cut down by deadly fire from the elvish bows. Glancing around, Caeladan saw his company of swordsmen in combat with the mercenaries. Beyond them he finally caught a glimpse of the human knights he had been seeking. He would have to finish with their infantry before he could pursue them. He ordered his company across the hilltop to join the battle below.
…
Gryxus was desperate. Ellaroth had fallen, elves lay dead in piles and the pikemen were unwavering. The swordmasters began to step back, and the elf lieutenant knew he had to act before this hesitation became a rout.
Raising the banner in his hand, he shouted at the swordsmen “Warriors of Ulthuan, with me!” He stepped toward the mercenaries, striking out with his sword. The tip of a pike fell to the ground as he cut through the shaft. A soldier with an ornate helmet saw Gryxus and pushed his way through his men toward the elf. The man shouted orders to his troops to continue the attack and the elf recognised that this was the mercenary general. He looked around, but Ellaroth was gone. There was nobody else to fight the challenge and Gryxus knew that if he retreated from the human captain then the remaining elf soldiers would fall back with him, the retreat would become a rout and the battle would be lost. He raised his sword in a salute to the approaching warrior and smiled.
Gryxus grasped the banner pole in one hand, his sword extended before him. The general came on undeterred. He saw that the elves were beaten by his soldiers, their morale broken. The standard bearer was trying to rally them, and he would cut this elf down, take his banner as a trophy and scatter these troops back to where they came. He hurled himself at the elf, his blade flashing in the bright sunlight.
The mercenary general was fast, but the elf was faster. Gryxus parried the attack and struck back with a hail of blows. The elven blade crashed against the side of the general’s helmet, dazing him momentarily. The sword cut through his armour, and the human fell to the ground. Gryxus raised his sword in triumph as the elves cheered. Closing ranks, they crashed into the humans, greatswords slicing into armour and flesh. The humans began to fall. Once the swordmasters were inside the tip of their pikes, the men were defenceless.
With their general defeated, and the elite elvish warriors cutting a swathe through their formation, the mercenary soldiers dropped their weapons and ran. The elves chased after them far enough to catch their standard bearer and seize the banner, while the rest fled the battlefield.
…
Prince Caeladan and his knights crashed down the hillside toward the remaining regiment of pikemen. He watched his swordmasters cut down the fleeing soldiers of the other unit. Suddenly a giant eagle swooped in from behind the humans. Screeching, it lashed out at the soldiers with its talons, disrupting their carefully arranged formation as the battle chariot accompanying the elvish knights smashed into the front of their unit. Pikemen were tossed aside or crushed beneath iron-shod wheels and hooves alike as the chariot rumbled through their ranks, the charioteers lashing out with their long spears.
Knights fell as they rode into the ranks of the humans, smashing down soldiers with their silver-tipped laces. Overwhelmed, the pikemen turned and ran. The elves rode on, chasing down the survivors until they were scattered into the desert. Looking back across the valley, Caeladan saw the human knights riding off into the distance and a fury rose inside him. He had crushed their army, but his quarry had escaped! The campaign must continue. He would have his revenge…
A bloodbath ensues but the elves prevail
The knights break through the elf archers and escape to fight another day