An Old Wound
Copyright © 2020 Stanley Wheeler
All Rights Reserved
Fleroth squinted against the
breeze and held one hand against his thick, gray brows to shield out the sun to
sharpen his vision. Those brows had grown gray in the service of Nahorn. Yes.
He could see the six dark figures loping toward the ruin at the end of the
valley. They had to be Kru scouts coming to discover the status of the strong
point. Eoroth had first spied the Kru scouts as dark specks moving against the
gray-green landscape of the plain, hurrying from one patch of scrub brush to
the next. Fleroth remembered when his keen eyes had been the first to spot the
enemy in the days of his youth when the men of Rognod had thought to expand
onto the plains. That war had concluded many years ago. Rognod had become a
trusted ally.
Fleroth allowed his thumb to
caress the handle of his axe which extended from the scabbard at the front of
his saddle. Fibnig, his gray horse, snorted beneath him and pawed the ground as
it sensed Fleroth’s anticipation of combat.
Defling, a season warrior
still in his prime, pointed. “That patch of scrub in the dry wash will be their
last refuge from us. Beyond that, they have but a short way to where the ground
rises and they will be able to see the ruin. From there, they will return to
get reinforcements, or they will go on to the ruin. The white flag with the
black tower already waves over the ruin at the edge of the forest.”
“None must escape to carry
word about the taking of the ruin. Kill them all,” Fleroth ordered.
“Forward,
we will overtake them in the dry wash.”
***
Eno saw the three Nahorn horsemen
drawing near. He yelled to the Kru dog faces in his little pack, “Get to the
brush where the ground is rough. They won’t take their horses in there. When
you get a chance, hustle up the rise and report on the ruin. I want to know if
our boys took it, or if the stinking pony men still hold it.”
Ethre and Woto loped into
the brush after Eno. Rufor, Vefi, and Ixs trailed behind. They had not reached
the safety of the brush before the horsemen of Nahorn made the depression upon
the plain echo with the thunder of galloping hooves.
Defling aimed his spear at
the dog face nearest the patch of scrub. The Kru deflected the spear with his
shield but the force of the blow knocked him from his feet.
Fleroth felt the familiar
pain in his shoulder as he lifted his axe. Two years earlier a Kru blade had
pierced that shoulder. He would have to swing the axe many times in battle
before the shoulder ceased to remember the wound. Fleroth brought the axe down
before swinging it backwards and over the top at the head of the dog face
before him. Fibnig stumbled in a hidden tributary to the dry wash. Fleroth fell
forward as the horse regained its footing. He would have reseated himself had
the dog face not hooked his axe with its shield and pulled him to the ground.
Fleroth bounced on his shoulder, the weight of his scaled hauberk and shield
doing him no service. He was uninjured, but lay at the feet of the snarling dog
face.
Vefi snarled in exhilaration
at his good luck. He saw fear register in the eyes of the fallen horseman as he
rolled to see his enemy standing over him. He would take the human’s head as a
gift to the pale lady in the dark tower. Vefi raised his black blade to plunge
into the old horseman, but the man raised his shield before the blade fell.
Defling wheeled his mount
sharply and charged down upon the dog face who had driven his sword into
Fleroth’s shield. His spear pierced the Kru in the back. The Kru chainmail held.
The dog face was hurt and knocked down, but Defling had failed to kill him. Fleroth
rolled away and to his feet as his attacker went down. He did not want to risk
being set upon by several Kru while he finished the wounded dog face. Fibnig
stood ready and Fleroth remounted. He urged his horse over the wallowing enemy
but his stroke went wide. His shoulder again recalled the pain of the old
wound. Fleroth ignored the pain, galloping into the Kru whom Eoroth had knocked
to the ground. Fleroth raised the axe again, still trusting in the surefootedness
of Fibnig, he leaned from the saddle to better target the Kru. As Fibnig raced
by, Fleroth drove the axe down upon his enemy’s skull, killing him instantly. Flame
exploded through Fleroth’s shoulder.
Eno watched from the scrub
as the horseman split Ixs’ helmet along with all its contents. His hopes had
risen briefly when Vefi had dragged the human to the ground. Like Vefi, Eno had
anticipated the head as a gift for the lady in the dark tower. It was folly to
howl over victories not yet won. Woto sprinted from the scrub and up the low
rise to view the ruin.
Eoroth, saw the speeding Kru
and raced toward him. He pulled up when he saw another dog face lurking in the
edge of the scrub. Whichever direction the dog face on the rise went, he would
have him. His sword was as yet unbloodied in this encounter. He had fought the
dog men once before, riding them down and splitting them from shoulder to
groin. They had not had shields and armor then. Those Kru had fled like the
dogs they were, and suffered death for it. These Kru with armor and shield
carried themselves differently. Perhaps they were more experienced, or better
trained. He did not turn his back on the dog face in the edge of the scrub.
Eno scrambled from the brush
to launch himself at the horseman who watched him. Both human and horse shied
away from his attack, turning to gallop toward Woto on the rise.
While Defling and Fleroth
took turns galloping over the Kru who had unhorsed Fleroth, wounding it again
in the process, Eoroth collided with the Kru upon the rise. The collision sent
the dog face sprawling but unwounded. After the pass, he circled back toward
the Kru who had leaped at him from the brush. He did not like fighting these
Kru with armor and shield. They seemed smarter, more mannish than the Kru he
had previously encountered. There was something about the one he approached
now, something more dangerous and cunning than he remembered. Were the Kru evil
imps given form by the lady in the tower? Eoroth brought his sword forward as
he galloped at top speed toward his enemy.
Eno watched the horseman
send Woto to the ground and turn toward him. He knew the Nahorn man would be
over confident from his high position and atop the pounding hooves and
barreling flesh. He waited, holding his shield hanging down in one hand with
his sword held loosely in the other hand. He waited. As the horse drew near, he
flicked the sword at the nose of the beast. The horse swerved. The trailing
sword pierced only the steady breeze. Eno growled in what might have been a
laugh had it come from a human throat.
Defling again charged the
downed Kru. His spear found the target’s shoulder, and came away red. The Kru
was not so wounded that he could not use his shield, and he turned Defling’s
next pass.
Eoroth, unsettled by the
crafty Kru who had detoured his attack, wheeled to race once more at the Kru on
the rise. Eoroth drove his mount into the dog face who was forced to go to his
belly to avoid Eoroth’s blade.
Fleroth abandoned the Kru
that had unhorsed him to Defling. He raced passed Eoroth to strike at the
downed Kru on the rise. His axe bit into the Kru’s upraised arm but did not
sever the limb as Fibnag thundered by the target.
Defling pulled his spear and
slowed at the last moment of his pass against his downed Kru, and jabbed the point
over the top of his antagonist’s shield and under the rim of the helmet,
putting the dog face hors de combat.
Eno did not see Vefi succumb
to the Nahorn spear. He did see the wounded Woto finally rise to his feet, only
to be knocked back to the ground by another pass from the axe-wielding
horseman. He knew only that Ixs had been slain by the axe-wielder, and that
Woto was unlikely to live through the day. His pack seemed sluggish today. He
growled a command for Rufor to join him. Perhaps together, they could drag down
one of the humans like they used to bring down deer. At the command, Rufor
moved toward the edge of the scrub brush, but did not leave it.
Eno turned his attention to
the mounted swordsman who was bearing down upon him again. He knew better than
to use the same trick again. He crouched behind the shield, preparing to leap
forward to upset the horseman’s timing and strike him with his sword. At the
last moment, the horse veered toward him as he leaped. The horse crashed into
him, hurling him to the ground.
Fleroth made another unsuccessful
pass at the dog face on the rise. His shoulder still flamed, refusing to forget
the old penetration by the Kru blade. He turned about and rode once more over
the dog face, his axe opening a wound on the Kru’s back. He wheeled and passed
once more, missing the wounded creature this time. He rode on, gritting his
teeth, with his shoulder afire.
Eoroth followed in Fleroth’s
wake but his sword turned away on the Kru shield.
Eno bounded over to take the
slight shelter offered by a lone, scrubby tree. He waved Rufor forward, and the
laggard left the shelter of the scrub brush. Ethre had become entangled in some
of the brush and had fallen. At Eno’s growl, he rose and moved forward. The
shelter of the tree was too little to protect Eno from the mounted swordsman’s
charge. Once more the impact threw Eno to the turf, but the human’s sword did
not touch him.
Rufor found himself facing a
thousand pounds of horseflesh behind the tip of a Nahorn spear. Rufor took no
thought to attack the horse or rider. He had no thought but to avoid becoming a
decoration upon the rapidly advancing spear. He raised his shield and jumped
away. The spear struck his shield, throwing him to the ground. The mounted
swordsman immediately turned his charger to once more bear down upon Rufor.
Again, the beleaguered dog face, now on his back, raised his shield and
attempted to roll away. He felt the stinging kiss of steel as the sword sliced
the length of his calf. Rufor tried to stand but the Nahorn horseman turned and
bore down on him once again. Rufor cowered behind his shield, avoiding the sword-stroke.
But the horseman didn’t pass. He stayed next to Rufor, rearing his horse,
attempting to smash the wounded dog face. It only got worse for the poor Kru.
The Nahorn axe-man galloped in with his axe descending. Occupied in avoiding
the hooves of the swordsman’s horse, Rufor couldn’t react in time to protect
himself from the deadly arc of the axe. The pain was but an instant as he
collapsed with the blade buried where his neck and shoulder met, his spine
nearly severed.
Defling rejoiced at the
demise of another of the Kru when he saw the spray of blood around Fleroth’s axe.
He had been with the old warrior in the village where he had taken a sword to
the shoulder. As Fleroth had bent low from his saddle to lift a child from the
clutches of a grasping Kru, another dog face had risen from behind a broken
cart to stab his blade into the warrior. With the short sword still protruding
from his shoulder, Fleroth had lifted the child to his saddle at the gallop. Defling
had seen the warrior grimace once, and then set his jaw, when practicing with
his axe a few days ago. Defling knew that Fleroth was not the warrior he used
to be, but he had to admire his courage and his ability to ignore the constant
pain.
Defling couched his spear and
targeted the Kru near the lone tree. He knocked him to the ground on the first
pass. In an instant, he wheeled about and bore down upon the dog face. His
spear slipped past the Kru shield, penetrating the armor and breast of the
beast. That Kru would not rise again.
Eno coughed and snarled, pink
spume spraying with each cough. This was his final battle. He glanced about the
field. Only Woto, who was still down, and Ethre remained. If Ethre could get
word back to the army… Eno uttered a final, frothy sigh, whispering a praise to
the lady in the tower.
Ethre sprinted from the
patch of scrub. He ran between the mounted horseman and the spearman. He was
very nearly to the top of the rise, almost to Woto. He bounded over a small
bush, dodged a pass from the Nahorn axe-man, and the following charge from the
swordsman. The axe-man followed upon the heels of the swordsman, knocking Ethre
to the dirt. The swordsman immediately charged again. Ethre rolled away and
rose to his feet. He saw the ruin! The white banner with the black tower
fluttered on the breeze! The banner was upside down. The scouts who had taken
it needed help. He would have to return for more soldiers. Ethre saw the
spearman drove his spear through Woto’s thigh. Ethre knew that Woto would never
make it off of this patch of the great Nahorn plain.
Defling tore his spear from
the dog face’s leg and galloped toward the remaining Kru warrior. He drove his
spear through the Kru’s forearm. The beast fell, dropping his sword. Defling
stayed over the dog face, jabbing at him with this spear. The wily beast evaded
the thrusts and jumped to his feet. Fleroth joined him, and the two circled the
Kru, stabbing and chopping at the dog face. The slippery Kru rolled one way and
then the other, avoiding the chops and blocking the thrusts with his shield.
The thrice-wounded Woto
barked, but it sounded like a yelp. He slashed out in tormented anger at the
Nahorn swordsman and his mount, and tried in vain to rise. He was barely able
to defend himself against the flashing hooves.
Ethree snarled his own
challenge in echo of Woto’s yelp, and gathered his feet beneath him. A spear
point through his jaw forced him down again. Ethre refused to concede. He must
let the army of the pale lady in the dark tower know that they must send troops
in force to hold the ruin. He gave bark, fending away the axe strokes with his
shield as the spearman withdrew.
Defling turned his mount once
more toward the Kru, and galloped in, plunging his spear through the belly of
the dog face. The spearman ripped his weapon from the Kru corpse and sped
toward the last enemy. The spear tore into the side of the kneeling Kru, coming
away black and bloody. The dog face whimpered, then went silent.
Defling looked to Fleroth.
The old warrior had returned his axe to the scabbard. One shoulder hung lower
than the other. His jaw was set.
Copyright © 2020 Stanley Wheeler
All Rights Reserved
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