Battle of lindly, p.26
Battle of Lindly, page 26
His men and women stamped their feet into the dirt. “Wuh-huh! Wuh-huh!”
Thorm smiled, watching the human soldiers. Fifteen or so dwarves huddled near their leader. He spoke to them in dwarven, and Titus could not understand it however, when Thorm finished, all the dwarves moved in front of the legionnaires. The first row of dwarves held giant war-hammers and their spacing was gapped appropriately for the weapons’ radius. The second row of dwarves were melee berserkers. They carried two weapons and at least one of them was a hammer. The armor they wore was pointed like thorns. Titus understood the reason for this special armor, it was so that every part of the dwarves could be used as a weapon– knees, feet, elbows, helmet each piece represented the thorns upon a rose-bush: beautiful, sturdy, deadly.
Thorm turned and answered the question Titus was thinking. "We will be the tip of the spear here, lad. Better armored than ye lot. Let us suck 'em in and you spread out to their flanks."
Titus pursed his lips, then slowly nodded. "As you say, master dwarf."
The dwarf spat into his hand, "Bah." Grumbling, he stuck it out to Titus. "Ain't no master. Ye be calling me brother or Thorm."
Titus reached his hand out, then quickly pulled it back spitting into it and reached again to the dwarves extended hand. "Then I wish you the best of luck brother Thorm."
Shaking hands, the two warriors shared a brief moment before Thorm spoke again. "Keep your feet! And hit 'em hard."
Titus moved to the front of his men and behind Thorm's. The dwarven leader moved directly to the front of his soldiers. His hands holding his wonderfully crafted warhammers. He yelled out towards the approaching elves, "A’ight ya gray-skinned bastards, come on in!" He said gray-skinned, equating the dark elves to dark dwarves, thus degrading their stature to a lower species. They hated it, just as their cousins hated being compared to their lesser races. Most of the dark elves were the color of night, however, a few were grayer and when any of them was killed they would turn ashy gray. The dark dwarves had the same color pigments as the dark elves only lighter, most were known as graybacks or gray skins. The insult worked as the main group of dark elven soldiers marched straight towards the human and dwarven army and Titus saw that they were no longer concealing themselves or maybe the barrier was somehow revealing them. The dark elves’ spears were tipped down, only one line thick. The rest behind this formation began throwing their spears towards Thorm and his dwarves, the first line of defense. As the spears flew towards Thorm he lifted his hammer up towards the sky and they dropped to the ground. More elves were spreading from the sides of the streets.
"Hundreds," Titus said as he looked to his sides and then back to the front. Titus yelled up to Thorm, "They are surrounding our flanks!"
Thorm nodded and bellowed back, "Aye! Me berserkers will herd them back like cattle. Be ready lad! You'll be a knowing when to strike."
Titus yelled back to his legionnaires, "On my command, we break down the middle to the left and right flank. Pushing the sides as Thorm's men hit the front!"
The legionnaires’ response was stomping into the ground with "Wuh-Huh! Wuh-Huh!"
The first row of elves, the phalanx, quickened their pace towards the dwarves. With that, Throm's first row stepped up in sync with their commander. Thorm's berserkers bolted from in front and began to run towards the pockets of dark elves approaching the legionnaires’ flanks.
The battle for the River Gate had begun.
28
Aris took in the magical dome and then turned his attention to the souls already being harvested on the outskirts of the city. The young squire did not understand why people were not noticing the dome, nor the souls being ripped from their bodies and soaring up to the crystals. Musing to himself about the myriad of possibilities of why, he concluded that some type of magic had transfixed most of the city. It seemed Victus had interrupted the process, as some people were leaving towards the River gate but it was not the majority and was not enough. In the wake of Victus' speech and Brandan’s defiance towards his father’s leadership, some people were set free from the enchantment, but not all.
Aris understood his father had wished to delay the formation of the crystals. However, that was not happening. But at least his father could keep the leaders of this darkness close to himself, perhaps thwarting their full success. Nibarn and all of his counselors were there. The dark elf leaders were there, though veiled as high elves. Victus' duel would hopefully keep them in place for when help arrived, allowing justice to be done and removing the roots of darkness from the city.
Aris' eyes then turned back to his father, who was rising from his prayers to face his opponent. Serin tugged on Aris' arm. “Aris, do you see that?” She was pointing to the River gate tower. The Inquisition flag was gone, and underneath were two new flags.
Aris shrugged, looking quickly, then back to his father. He did not want to miss the fight. “Wait,” he said as he looked again. Reading the words painted in House Andreas blue on a black flag, “Dwarven for brothers in arms?” The young man shouted a yell to get his father’s attention, pointing when his father turned. “Father... Commander Victus! Dwarven friends?” he asked. Victus followed the invisible line Aris pointed from to the River gate.
Victus nodded, smirking in disbelief. “Allies!” The commander turned back to his upcoming fight. Tears welled in his eyes as a knot grew in his throat. He steadied himself and inhaled deeply, directing all his energy towards the current task, whispering to himself, “Thank you, Thorm. Brotaks ven blouda!”
Aris looked at Jess and Janus curiously. “Do you know who they are?”
Jess answered, “Dwarven, friends of your father. Leader is Thormhammer, and his people are the Hewer clan.”
Aris smiled, feeling hopeful as he knew the name. “Thorm helped create the armor I wear.”
Jess clenched her jaw, her voice hinting towards anger. “Thorm is duplicitous. You father is wrong to trust him. If we survive, ask him how many masters he has served? Ask him how many of our people he has killed. Your father has a soft spot for the dwarf and sees him as noble. But he is a traitor to his kin and to us.”
Aris squinted in confusion, “Is he not here now to help us? Did he not raise a flag that says, ‘Brotaks ven blouda?’ That is not an expression used lightly. It is used by dwarven clans to unite them under one banner. What Thorm is saying is that he fights with us. Yes?”
Jess turned back to watch Victus, who was moving to the center of the platform. “Perhaps. But be vigilant. And how do you know so much about the dwarves?”
Aris smiled broadly, “Da has made sure that I studied the histories and languages of all the mortal races before I could train to be a warrior.”
Jess chuckled, “Work before play.” Her own laughter calmed her as she continued speaking to the young squire. “If he is truly here to help us, then I will stand corrected and make my apologies.” She smiled at Aris, reassuring him with a tight grab on his shoulder. “Just because I don’t trust Thorm, doesn’t mean I don’t trust your father. He is my commander, the true leader of this city. And my lover.”
Aris' face blushed as he turned to look towards his father. He was aware of their relationship and comprehended why it was not flaunted publicly but hearing her speak about it to him, of all people, had made him uncomfortable.
“Aris, when this is all finished, I would like to be a part of your life. That’s to say I wasn’t there for your birth, but I intend to be there for you in the future. And perhaps, in time you will see me as your mother...” She paused, embarrassed.
Aris picked up on her tone and quickly added, “I already see you as a part of our family, Jess.”
Jess nodded, “Yes... thank you.” The woman was uneasy. She knew that if Victus died, she would be the one looking after him. But if everything went to plan, Victus and Jess would marry and she would be Aris' mother. The difficulty came in explaining that to the young man. But his maturity and understanding had relieved her tense timidity. Jess and Aris twisted their heads and then shifted tensely to the sound of Nibarn speaking.
Aris quickly added, “Don’t worry about being my mother or none of that. We have our duty now to focus on. Besides, you will be an exceptional mother.” It was Jess’s turn to blush, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks as she kept her thoughts to herself while listening.
“Citizens! We, as we bask in the glory being bestowed upon us, let us enjoy watching justice meted out against the deceiver, Victus.” Standing in front of his throne, Nibarn had to pause his speech as the crowd erupted in a deafening roar. To him, it seemed that the audience was divided, with half booing and the other half cheering. Nibarn thought, decent enough odds. If I was a betting man, this would be worth betting on. Nevertheless, the fools are doomed anyway. He raised his hands up to silence the crowd. “Are both combatants ready?”
The priestess twirled the spear around in her wrists so quickly the motion was a blur. She tossed it up high, spinning in the air and she caught it, wrapped it around her body, the point forward in a display of mastery. She ended her flair with both hands holding the spear out in front of her pointed directly at Victus. “The Inquisition stands ready to meet this challenge,” she said sardonically, placing the spear down into a relaxed but ready stance with both hands gripping the spear.
Nibarn turned to look at Victus and waited for the man’s counter response. Victus pulled his glowing silverish-blue bastard sword up into his ready position called The Fool. His right leg was extended back as an anchor and his left foot was lined up with the crossguard of his sword. The sword was low by his inner thigh, pointed down. The name, The Fool stemmed from the fact that it hindered the defense of the upper body. Most trained warriors considered it too slow in countering and a very dangerous defensive position. The sword appeared so heavy that certain members of the crowd thought it couldn’t be lifted.
For Victus, this was an advantage. The dark elves, especially spear wielding ones, loved to sweep the legs out from heavy armored opponents. Victus was lighter than most knights, because he preferred half-plate armor. Victus adopted the fool position with an aggressive intent instead of a defensive one. Releasing his grip on his sword, he repositioned his hands slightly, exhaling and taking in a deep breath. “Family, Duty, Lindly!” Victus waited for a response from Nibarn.
“Then let it begin!” The steward of Lindly cackled, coughed and sat down on his throne, watching in delight. The dome was nearly formed, and the souls floating to his mistresses’ bosom gave him the undeniable sense that all they had planned would succeed.
Victus heard the word “begin” and sprinted from his side of the platform. The priestess, taken aback by the knight’s aggressive move, had no choice but to respond with a sprint towards the center. She wanted to be the first to engage and to keep him off balance. Victus kept his sword low and pressed forward. The two covered nearly the same ground, with the priestess just barely beating him. While still sprinting, the priestess swiftly side shifted and aimed her spear towards the man’s feet, ready to strike. This attack was fast and she had executed it to perfection and like many knights who had fallen before, she knew it had caught Victus off guard.
However, Victus did not get swept from his feet, nor did he get clipped by the spear. With his sword held low, he ignored the opening the dark elf had left him and deftly parried her spear. The force with which he knocked the spear up was enough to knock the elf back a few steps. But Victus did not stop there. He spun, lifting the sword in a fluid motion with his momentum, deflecting upwards as he repositioned on the elf’s right flank. She barely got the spear back to block the downward blow and even that pushed her knees to buckle. She was forced to roll in retreat. And Victus was on top of her in less than a second. The priestess flipped and cartwheeled with her spear a few times from the ground, backing away from the wrath of this knight. Once she was far enough, she began to spin her spear in acknowledgment that he had won the first bout but she was also stalling as she cast a spell. Weaving a curse into her spear, she reengaged. She pressed Victus now, who lifted his sword to parry and deflect the attacks. Victus watched the thrusts and swings carefully, learning her strategy. When she went to thrust towards his left side, he released his two handed grip and wrapped his arm around the spear. The elf pulled the spear back hard. As she did, one of the barbs sliced into his side. Victus held on through the pain, and swung hard down, snapping the spear.
The dark elf hissed and rolled away in anger and the veil in which she held her appearance concealed faltered for a moment and the crowd was aghast. Some yelled, “She’s a dark-elf!” Others yelled, “Traitor!”
Victus heard the shouts, but his vision was blurring. Immediately he understood– poison or magic? he wondered and then he knew. His eyes burned from within his helmet, melting down his cheeks, and he dropped to his knees. He screamed in pain, which morphed into words, “FAMILY! DUTY! HONOR!”
Aris tried to jump up to the platform to go to his father’s aid, but Janus held him back. “Your father is not done.”
Aris tried to unclasp the man’s grip but couldn’t. He pleaded, “We have to help him!”
Janus shook his head no. “This is a sanctioned duel. We will not interfere.”
Aris yelled, “She cheated! Let me go!”
Janus nodded, “She has, but your father is not finished. We hold our honor higher in value than the dark elves. Understood, squire?”
Aris straightened, ending his outburst with a submissive, “Yes sir.”
Victus could hear the crowd yelling, “Dark elf treachery!” And all the “Boo’s” from the crowd. Some even tried to get on the platform, but the guards kept them at bay, spears piercing the few who charged in. Victus quickly pushed himself up from the ground and placed his sword in front of him. His helmet hummed with magic of its own and tuned itself to his mind. He regained his ability to see, but it was an unnatural vision. He could perceive in his mind the positions of the priestess and even his son. His vision was enhanced by his helmet and his psionics. Victus, recuperating, maintained composure but he appeared vulnerable.
The priestess was walking towards him, unaware that he could see her. She held a dirk and a whip in her hands now. As she approached, Victus turned to face her, waiting until she was just a few paces away. Her mouth sneered, as her face recoiled in disgust and disbelief. Victus' sword went out and blocked the dirk’s first strike. He reversed his sword’s position so that the crossguard caught her hand, smacking the dagger out wide, he swung down low to cut through the whip that was attempting to wrap itself around his legs. Since Victus had his right leg back too far, the whip missed its mark and wrapped around his left leg which the dark elf tugged taut but he quickly severed the coil.
The priestess backed away, tossing the useless whip handle to the ground. She turned and waved her free hand to one of her captains, who quickly tossed her a shortsword. Victus was trailing behind her, methodically marching towards her. The sound of his voice echoed underneath his magically enchanted face mask helmet– “Family, Duty, Lindly!”
Aris and Serin were cheering as they watched his father recover and press his attacks. Brandan leaned over to Janus. “When we inevitably fight the elves surrounding us, I am going to need a weapon.”
Janus grinned, “Don’t worry, I will make sure there are plenty on the ground for you to choose from.”
Brandan insisted, “Yes, but I may need one before then.”
Janus pulled out his dagger and handed it over. “This will have to do for now.”
Brandan thanked him and gripped it tightly at his side. “I appreciate it.”
Janus nodded, his eyes fixed upon the fight.
The priestess closed in again, matching Victus’ attack with her own. Both swords rang, echoing through the crowd. Victus was forced back defensively as she began attacking with the dirk plus two quick jabs and one strong strike higher from the sword. She was pressing the attack, and her speed was increasing, making it more difficult for Victus to keep up. Again, he understood she was using magic to hasten her attacks and make herself more powerful. He also understood that if he could continue to parry, the use of magic would weaken her and he would be able to strike back and overwhelm her. He backed away and allowed her to close in again. The clashing of swords and dirk echoed as Victus fought hard to sustain his defense. The priestess was putting all her effort into breaking through Victus' defenses, but her martial skills fell short.
The spells she weaved were taking their toll, but she began casting another. This one she would not hide in a weapon. She was going to cast it directly into the stupid knight’s chest. Dropping her dirk, she lifted her arm to cast a bolt of lightning. Victus slid his left hand down the sword, reversing his grip, so that he held the hilt high and sword tip down like a staff. He turned into her sword arm which she struck with and blocked it. He then jabbed up with the hilt towards the elf’s jaw. The bear pummel struck into her jaw and the crunch made everyone groan as it echoed. Unable to complete the spell, her head snapped back hard, her arms spreading wide. Victus used his left hand to push his sword upright. As it rose above his head, both hands gripped and swiped down hard. The elf’s failed, fizzling spell arm dropped to the ground as Victus' sword passed easily through. With the priestess’ jaw broken, she tried to scream a curse, but it sounded more like a painful howl from a banshee than anything else. As she stumbled backwards and fled from the knight, she could feel the blood rushing out of her arm, like melting snow flooding a river. It poured all over. She dropped her sword and grabbed the wound.
Her hand released a magical white substance that Victus could feel was as cold as ice. It cauterized the wound, and she crouched down to pick up her dropped sword. She held it in front of herself as Victus moved to engage again. “Family, Duty, Lindly!”
His mantra was now sounding more like a spell in the priestess’ head, annoying her already aching head further. What human daemon is this? she thought. For the first time, she felt uneasy, uncertain, unworthy of her opponent. All of these emotions weighed within her soul, culminating into what she realized was fear. Genuine fear– fear of death, fear of failure. For the first time in her two thousand years of life, she was terrified by this human knight.
