Liwana’s Calling
Copyright © 2020 Stanley Wheeler
All Rights Reserved
Dured stood next to the side entrance of the crumbling ruin
where Sergeant Vilmo had stationed him. Vilmo himself guarded the main entrance
only about fifteen feet away. That entrance consisted of a complete archway. The rectangular, gray, lichen-speckled stones rose up ten feet or more over the
doorway. If there had ever been any door, it had long since decayed, or been
carried away by the wind, or by fugitives seeking firewood. The black stain in
the center of the ruined building hinted at the latter possibility. The
sergeant stood a head taller than Dured. Vilmo’s yellow braids stretch from
beneath the back of his dull gray helmet, and the long tails of his moustache
touched the silver scales of his long hauberk. Vilmo commanded respect—and he
got it. Not one of the five men in the detail would have ever considered
disobeying an order from the grizzled veteran.
Dured’s thoughts didn’t dwell long upon his leader, but
returned to the blue-eyed girl who had married him only three days before. “Be
brave, my love,” she had said, “but come back to me safe. Take this. It will
protect you.” She had handed him a small metal item on a leather cord to go
about his neck. The item consisted of two concentric circles; eight lines
radiated from the center beyond the edge of the outer circle where each line
ended in a two-pronged half-circle; each half-circle touched the sides of the
two next to it, forming a pointy ring about the outside of the trinket. “Wear
it always when you are away from me.” She had kissed him and watched him leave
with the rest of the men.
Dured caressed the charm between the fingers of his left
hand as if he were feeling the silken locks of Liwana. He placed his shield
against the stone wall. His eyes scanned the distance ahead of the ruin. They
would come from that direction. He let his eyes dart to his right from time to
time to watch Thordred. Like the other archers in their detail, Zared and
Frebored, Thordred possessed significant skill with the bow. He stood at the
rear corner of the ruined edifice. He too scanned the tufts of long grass and
sparse brush for the enemy.
“Sit down, young one,” Thordred said. “They will be here
soon enough. You will do your duty. Have no fear. We will return you to your
bride. The enemy will not be many today. Our horsemen may arrive before the
enemy, and I shall be deprived of sending the creatures back to the hell from
which their dark lady took them. They are fierce, but mortal. My arrows have
killed many. You may not even get to swing your sword at one of them.” Thordred
laughed, motioning Dured to sit.
Thordred wore his yellow hair loose. The hair
spread about the bottom of his helmet like a fan upon his shoulders. He carried
no shield, trusting to his bow, sword, and sturdy hauberk to prevent the enemy
from reaching him. He had seven children from the same wife. Seldom did a man
have such good fortune that all of his children—and of such a number—would live.
Dured sat, adjusting the position of his sword and sheath so
that he could lean against the remains of the side entrance. He looked to
Hubert who stood guard at the opposite wall. Hubert stood nearly as tall as
Vilmo. Hurbert’s portion of the wall reached nearly chest high. With his shield
and bundle of spears, he was well equipped to keep the enemy at bay. Like the
rest of them, Hubert wore a long brown cloak. He might throw it off before the fighting
started, or use it to distract an enemy in combat. Most men took off the long
cloaks on the battlefield, but here, defending in the ruin, that might not be
necessary. Dured did not know what Hubert thought as that one kept his thoughts
and words to himself. Dured did know that Hubert’s two children, a boy and a
girl carried water, and cooked for their sick mother while Hubert was away. His
wife had pleaded for Hubert to be allowed to stay with her, but the King’s call
had ordered all able-bodied men to battle. Small infantry detachments had been
sent ahead to hold key positions while the main army of horsemen assembled under
the king’s direction.
The great storm cloud which had arisen to the east was moving
in their direction, raining destruction and devastation as it came. For years
they had fought against incursions by the Kru skirmishers and raiders. Now the
enemy was coming in force. The stone ruin at the edge of the forest would be a
key point of defense should the enemy elect to make this valley the
thoroughfare for the invasion. Dured had heard it said that the enemy troops
were not humans, but evil imps encased in bodies which had been created from
earth and plant material by the wicked enchantress whose bidding they
performed. Dured didn’t know whether to believe that tale. He did believe that
they were coming. He had seen the smoke rising in the east; the entire sky had been
stained with the tokens of the enemy’s deeds, a parchment writ large with the
ink of destruction.
Frebored yelled, “I see them. I count nine. Three before us,
three to the right, and three more to the left.” The archer pointed from his
platform which consisted of some remnant of stone and wood at the front left
corner of the ruin. The platform was located to the left of, and above, Vilmo’s
head. The enemy on the sides, judging from the direction of Frebored’s pointing
were coming at 45 degree angles toward the ruin. The enemy advance scouts would
make a three-pronged attack.
Dured rose, stroking Liwana’s charm one last time before
pushing it inside his hauberk. He grabbed his round shield and pulled his sword
from the sheath.
Thordred grumbled, “Don’t get anxious. There may not be any
left for you when Zared, Frebored and I are done.”
Zared, positioned at the left front corner of the ruin heard
Thordred. He responded, “The wind is picking up. I see some of the grass
bending, but it’s not steady, mere gusts. Those will give our arrows trouble.”
“Speak for yourself, Zared,” Frebored said. “My shafts are
always true.”
“And your woman has always been faithful,” Zared laughed.
Frebored turned his bow, upon which an arrow had been nocked
but not drawn, toward Zared, “At least I have a woman,” he sneered.
Vilmo shouted, “Silence!”
Dured knew that Zared’s wife had been taken in a raid by the
Kru dogfaces several months ago while she was away visiting relatives. Zared
could only hope that they had killed her rather than kept her. Frebored’s
comment would have started a fight back in the village; here on the cusp of
battle, there was no time to fight among themselves.
The three enemy groups advanced slowly.
Frebored said, “I think I can make the range of the group in
the center.”
“Shoot,” Vilmo said.
***
Onu started when the arrow plunged into the earth at his
feet. He had not expected any accuracy from the Nahorn archers at this range.
He took a step to the side and waved the left flank forward. He had orders to
take the ruin at all costs. It would be a strong point about which the Nahorns
could rally to delay the advance of the Kru army. They would want to stop the
army before it reached the forest where their horsemen would be less effective.
Naturally, Onu would do as he had been ordered. The Lady in the Tower would
find rewards for those who served her faithfully. Some reward would surely
trickle down to him. The eight Kru he had with him were not the best soldiers.
They were young, but they would obey orders. They could fight. That was all he
needed—obedient fighters for the pack. He worried only that the Nahorn horsemen would appear
before he had taken the ruin. Upon the plain the horsemen would ride down and murder
his dogfaces. He smiled at the name given by the Nahorns. The term was
especially apt for the Kru with their jutting, fanged jaws and sloping noses.
Although they didn’t grow beards like the pale ones, a short course hair
covered their bodies. The Lady in the Tower had brought them down from the
mountains where they had lived in packs. She had taught them to make and to
bear arms like men. Now they did her bidding, slaking their lust for blood and
meat. They still ran in packs, but now with shields and swords they brought
down men and whole villages instead of animals. Men tasted better, and the
rewards from the Lady were to be desired.
On the left, Erth raced forward toward the ruin. His
companions, Neves and Evif, hesitated before following.
A Nahorn archer at the back corner of the ruin fired an
arrow at Erth who deflected the missile with his shield. The archer fired again
but missed.
***
“You said you would get him,” Dured said to Thordred.
“Shut up, kid. Don’t bother me when I’m working. I’ll hit
him this time.”
True to his word, Thordred put an arrow through the
advancing Kru’s shoulder. Not to be outdone, and still troubled by the comment
about the faithfulness of his woman, Frebored continued to launch arrows at the
Kru in the center, but the wind gusts spoiled his aim.
Zared was about to make a comment about Frebored’s shafts
being as true as his woman, but his own shot at the same target went wide.
Instead he said, “That Kru must be charmed. We’ve both missed him.”
Dured watched the wounded Kru stumble but stay on his fee.
The need to prove himself, to do something other than wait for the enemy, to
rush at him, rose within his breast and became overpowering. He saw that the
wounded Kru had become separated from his slower companions. “I can get him,”
Dured said. He wanted to finish the dogface before the others came to help.
Dured rushed forward from the ruin.
Thordred cussed at the stupid kid to stay put but he knew
his words were useless against the fear that forces one to fight it with brash foolishness.
In his excitement, Dured crashed his shield into the Kru,
knocking him to the ground. Hubert, seeing that Dured has left the side
unguarded, and seeing that the Kru had not yet made any attempt to rush his
side of the ruin, sped to the side entrance.
“Watch him!” Vilmo shouted. “Don’t let him get killed. I
want to kill him myself. Drag him back to his place!”
***
Neves and Evif ran forward to assist Erth who had just
pulled the arrow from his shoulder before being knocked to the ground by a
Nahorn warrior. Before Neves and get within striking distance, the Nahorn
archer at the back corner or the ruin put an arrow through Neves thigh. Erth
kicked at the Nahorn warrior’s legs, nearly knocking him down, and scrambling to
his feet as the warrior fought to keep his own balance.
Onu waved to his dogfaces on the right. He saw that the Nahorn
spearman had left his post. He would close the other jaw of the trap. Rorf, on
command, sprinted in, leaping brush and dodging trees to approach the Nahorn
archer on his side of the ruin. Xis also followed but some of that rotten horse
he had eaten last night started to climb from its bed, and he stopped to hack it up.
***
Before Zared could target and shoot, the big Kru was upon
him. Zared dropped his bow and shoved his attacker away, but the Kru leaped
right back at him. Zared dodged the enemy sword and slashed his attacker’s arm,
running the edge of his blade along the Kru’s ribs in the process. The Kru
yelped and ran back into the trees, checking his wound and glaring at the
Nahorn archer.
“I’ve got more for you!” Zared screamed at the beast, thinking
of his wife in those clawed Kru hands.
Thordred fired again, putting another shaft into the Kru who
was trying to remove the arrow in his thigh. With both legs wounded, the Kru
turned and hobble-hopped away, yowling with each leap upon the injured limbs.
“Well done,” Hubert said.
Thordred nodded in acknowledgment. It was rare that Hubert
spoke. Even less frequently did he speak words of praise.
Frebored couldn’t stop thinking about his woman. Had she been unfaithful? He loosed
another shaft at the apparent leader of the Kru, only to miss again. Stinking wind gusts.
***
Evif charged in against Erth’s opponent. He could see that
the Nahorn was a young man with little beard upon his face. If Evif and Erth
could both attack together, the pinkskin would go down easily—he would go down
easily again at the feast after the battle. It was not to be an easy kill. The
Nahorn spearman intercepted him before he could strike the young one. The
spearman’s impact knocked Evif away from the fight.
Onu saw that it was time to pressure the center. He signaled
and moved forward, dodging arrows sent by the Nahorn archer on the platform
near the doorway. “Worry the man in the doorway!” He yelled to Enin. “Pin him
in position, but do not try to enter the ruin!”
Enin was a friend. They had hunted together much. The big
Nahorn in the center with the long-handled axe was probably the enemy leader.
If anyone could take him, Enin could, but Onu only wanted the leader occupied,
unable to direct his troops or defend his flanks. The advantage would be lost
if Enin pressed the fight and was wounded or killed. Obedient, and experienced,
Enin closed with the axman in the doorway.
Xis, feeling refreshed after liberating his gullet of the
rancid horse meat, ran through grass and brush toward the archer who had taken a
sword to Rorf. On that same side, Otwu found a burst of speed and bounded into
combat against that same archer. The Nahorn deflected his blade, but their
faces drew near. Otwu panted sultry, stench-laden breaths into the face of the
warrior before pulling him away from the ruin wall.
***
Dured, tasting for the first time, that battle bloodlust
which tamps down fear into a small pouch in the pit of the stomach, and seeing
that Hubert was about to be set upon by two dogfaces, let the frenzy possess
his body and mind together. He slid under a blow from the wounded Kru and rose
in his power to cleave the head from his enemy. Hubert had held his two
attackers at bay. Dured, surprised at the ease with which the Kru neck severed,
hurled himself at one of Hubert’s attackers.
Thordred, unable to put any arrows into the fight for fear
of hitting his Hubert and Dured, ran inside the ruin to try for a shot against
the attackers on the opposite side where Zared had become engaged with two
attackers.
***
Rorf, finding all of his vital organs were still in place
and fully functioning, licked the blood from his arm and bounded in to join Otwu
against the archer. Otwu brought his sword high for a killing blow to the
archer’s head, but the Narhorn warrior’s blade pierced his guts before the blow struck. Otwu thrust his shield down, pulling the bloody sword from the gaping
wound in his belly, and dropping to his knees. The warrior drove his steel
forward once more, plunging the blade into Otwu’s chest.
“For my wife,” Otwu heard the warrior whisper through
clenched teeth.
Otwu’s world went black. He came forward as the blade
receded, to slump in the expanding pool of his own blood.
Xis charged over Otwu’s body, slashing at Nahorn warrior.
The warrior ducked beneath the blow and Xis grabbed his hauberk. The two combatants
spun, trading places.
***
Thordred saw that Zared had been separated from one of his
opponents and loosed an arrow at the Kru with the arm wound. The arrow glanced off
the iron ring around the Kru’s shield. The Kru yelped in surprise and dashed
behind a tree. Unfortunately for the Kru, the tree lacked the girth to block
Thordred’s next shot, which penetrated
the beast’s midsection. The Kru broke from cover, leaving a trail of blood
marking the path of its retreat from the battle.
***
Xis wondered if a general retreat had been called when he
saw Rorf dash into the trees and run from the field. He pushed away from the
Nahorn warrior and retreated a few paces before he saw Onu still on the field
directing the other dogfaces. Rorf had always been a yelper. Xis looked to the
other members of the pack—only himself, Onu, Thate, evif, and Enin remained.
Four of his pack mates had fallen or fled. An arrow zipping past his face
brought Xis back to focus on his own circumstances. He threw himself to the
ground and began to roll. The Nahorn archer upon the platform put a missile into
his exposed seat. The wound burned like fire. Xis leaped to his feet and ran away. Once
more his responsibility to Onu and the pack stopped him. He removed the arrow
and turned back toward the battle.
Onu had snarled when Rorf had loped away to lick his wounds.
He had snarled again when Xis had twice retreated. Xis had potential. He had
been frightened and his inexperience had made him react by flight, but each
time he had stopped. That one might make a true pack mate in time. Onu, angered
at the inability of his right flank to maintain pressure, loped forward to
throw himself upon the Nahorn warrior who had killed one and frightened another
of his pack.
***
Dured allowed himself to feel Liwana’s charm against his
chest. She would be proud when she heard of his bravery. He raised his sword
and jabbed it into the eye of the nearest Kru. That one flung himself away
before the sword could drive into his brainpan. He backpedaled for several
feet, having lost only an eye. Dured, the bloodlust mounting within him, spun
to attack the remaining Kru facing Hubert. Dured’s ferocity knocked the dogface
to the turf.
Hubert stepped in with spear poised to skewer the falling
Kru, but the crafty Kru deflects the spear and thrust the point of his sword
under the warrior’s loose hauberk. The blade penetrated clothing, skin, and
liver. The Kru rose as Hubert dropped, open mouthed, to the sod where darkness
closed upon him.
Dured knew fear. The rage left
him. The panic seized him like a helpless mouse in the jaws of a mountain cat. He
ran into the trees, not stopping until he had put significant distance between
himself and the murderous Kru. He leaned against a tree, gasping for breath,
trying to process the loss of Hubert. What
would Liwana think? Could she ever take him back knowing that he had fled from
an enemy? He forced himself to remember the bloodlust. He had slain one Kru
and wounded another. He had Liwana’s charm. He gathered his courage to pound
the fear back into a small pouch that he could carry back to the fight.
Vilmo cursed. The right entrance
has been left undefended. Hubert has fallen, and Dured had disappeared into the trees.
He had to dispatch the Kru harassing him before an enemy entered and attacked him
from behind. He supposed that this Kru was too inexperienced or fearful to
carry-though with his assault. Vilmo forfeited the advantage of defending the
doorway against the Kru and launched himself at the troublesome dogface. His
assault bowled over the Kru. He stepped forward to cleave the enemy’s skull with
his axe, but the fallen Kru was not as inexperienced as he had seemed. The Kru
kicked Vilmo’s feet from beneath him, and turned the long blade on the bottom
of his shield toward the falling warrior. Vilmo, surprised by the move, came
down too hard and too fast to bring either his shield or axe to counter the
move. The blade took Vilmo between the long tails of his moustache to pierce
him beneath the chin, ripping through his neck and into his spine before
tearing out the side of his throat.
In a matter of seconds, the Nahorn
had lost two of their best warriors, including the veteran leader Vilmo.
Thordred, awestruck at the image of his dead sergeant sprawled at the feet of
the triumphant Kru, could not believe his eyes. With a scream importuning his
god, he flung himself over the back wall to escape the coming wrath of the Kru
demon. Dismay and consternation gripped Frebored with frigid claws. He jumped
from the platform, falling and breaking ribs against the stone floor. He
remained on the floor, stunned by the impact.
Dured heard Thordred’s rasping
prayer. He saw Frebored fall from the platform, and the fierce Kru move over
him. Dured, already shaken in his newfound courage, backed farther into the
trees, but does not flee. Thoughts of Liwana pressing upon him. He had to see her again. He could not die
here.
Zared, locked in combat with the Kru leader,
hissed a challenge and waded in swinging.
***
Onu swept the legs from beneath
the attacking Nahorn warrior. He followed with a series of slashes at the
downed man, but the twisting target’s hauberk deflected each strike. Victory
had suddenly reared its toothy maw and Onu desired to embrace it if he could.
***
Thordred, regained enough
presence of mind to nock and fire an arrow at the mighty Kru towering over
Frebored. The bolt whistled straight and true, slashing through the throat of
the dogface. The Kru fell. He dropped his weapon and shield, trying to staunch
the spurting blood with both hands.
***
With the loss of Enin, the Kru
pack had lost over half its numbers. Thate and Evif began backing away in confusion,
waiting for some command or reassurance. Onu remained engaged with the downed
warrior. Xis, already some distance removed from the combat but near his pack
leader, found the courage to remain on the field.
Onu growled in rage and hacked,
his blade finally biting through the metal scales and into ribs of the Nahorn
warrior. The man grunted in pain, rolled away and scrambled to his feet. He
fled in fear but Onu ran at his heels, anxious to bring down his prey. He
succeeded in sinking his blade into his enemy’s shoulder, and knocking him
down. As the man scrambled to his feet, Onu stabbed him in the back, piercing
the hauberk again. The man neither fell nor turned to fight. Onu let the man
run. He had other enemies to slay. There were still three enemies upon the
field.
Thate took courage at his pack
leader’s success and loped to the ruin.
Onu rushed the archer behind the
ruin.
***
Frebored got to his feet in time
to see another Kru about to enter the ruin. Hurt, but able to fight, the archer
sent a warm welcome at the end of a feathered shaft. The Kru dodged, running, throwing
himself to the ground, and rolling back to his feet.
Dured roared from the trees with
his fear crammed deep. He collided with the Kru, who deflected his blade but
tumbled to the ground. Dured glanced to his left in time to see Thordred’s body
drop from the blade of the Kru leader.
Frebored has seen the Thordred’s death
as well. He dropped his bow and ran from the ruin, clutching his broken ribs.
There is no hope. Liwana’s calling me. Liwana’s calling me. Dured
backed away from his foe.
***
Thate couldn’t believe his luck.
He got to his feet and pursued the young Nahorn into the trees. The young
warrior at last turned to face him. In the combat, the warrior forced him to
the ground twice, but Thate was able to avoid the attack and regain his footing
each time.
Onu sped toward the combat. This was the last enemy on the
field. He must fall. Before he could reach the combat, the young warrior opened
Thate’s stomach with a mighty swipe of his sword. The dogface’s innards came out in a
bloody roil. Thate went down with his hands grasping to gather his intestines.
With Thate’s imminent death, Xis and Evif loped from the
field.
***
The big Kru leader barreled into Dured. They were the last
combatants on the field. The intensity of the Kru attack threw Dured back
and to the ground. He avoided the ensuing sword thrust and slashed the Kru across the
side as he rose. His hopes ascended for a moment. He would be the hero of the
day. He would win the battle and save the ruin. The Kru feinted low and then
brought the blade high. The steel clanged against the side of Dured’s helmet
before biting into his shoulder. Dazed but not out, Dured's thoughts waded as though through a swamp by candlelight. He realized that with such a wound he could have no hope of
slaying the Kru. He felt the charm against his chest. Liwana’s calling me. Liwana’s calling me. My death will serve no
purpose. Liwana’s calling me.
Dured raised his shield with his good arm and retreated
beneath it. The Kru let him go.
Copyright © 2020 Stanley Wheeler
All Rights Reserved
No comments:
Post a Comment