Authors: Jason McWhirter
“We will use the goblins first to expose their archers,” hissed the Banthra. The demons voice was soft and guttural and it made the men and monsters alike fidget with apprehension. “How many warriors do you have, Grazzit?”
“Five thousand, my Lord,” muttered the goblin. His voice was high pitched and he mumbled slightly due to the many teeth that filled his mouth.
“Lord Moredin, you will use the phalanx, sending your cavalry around to the west while Prince Bomballa leads a second group of cavalry from the east. Arg’on will stay in the center with Ongessett and the orcs. I will leave the hundred ogres under your command, Chief Ongessett.”
“Very good, Lord,” replied Ongessett. The orc’s expansive chest gave his voice a deep, rasping baritone sound.
“We will flank them and crush them.” The Banthra’s speech was slow and calm, but it carried the weight of power, and darkness. To Lord Moredin it felt like someone was running a claw down his spine. The others felt it too for they glanced around the room nervously.
“Lord, what will your part be in the battle?” Moredin asked boldly.
The demon slowly turned its spiked helm toward Moredin. The black knight’s voice sounded like a whisper on the wind and its eyes sucked any shred of confidence from Moredin’s body. “I will be where I am needed.”
“Will our spy do his job as expected?” asked Bomballa nervously.
“Yesssss,” whispered the demon. “Everything will be ready.”
***
The Finarthian army had marched hard for several days before they reached the Lindsor Bridge. Scouts had been sent out periodically to assess the progress of the approaching army. Every modrig had been briefed daily as the enemy advanced into their lands.
Fil, Calden, and several other warriors sat around their fire discussing the news. Their army was spread as far as they could see and thousands of sparkling fires covered the grassy plains just beyond the Lindsor Bridge. The warriors with Fil and Calden were new recruits. Jack was a tall lean warrior who had joined the king’s forces a year ago. He was a kind quiet man who Fil had immediately taken a liking to. Lumis, his short haired blonde friend, had just joined the army several months ago. Lumis was stout and more square shouldered and definitely the talkative one.
“What do you think?” asked Lumis as he stoked the warm coals with a stick.
“What do you mean, what do we think?” asked Calden.
“About the orcs and goblins,” replied Lumis. Scouts had come in just that day and informed the king that Lord Moredin now marched with over ten thousand orcs and goblins. And to their dismay, they had also sighted ogres and boargs in the enemy ranks.
“I think we will kill them just like the rest,” muttered Fil under his breath. Fil’s mood had changed the last couple of days. He had become somber and agitated, his fear being replaced by a cold resolve to enact his revenge. Fil wanted nothing more than to kill and destroy the army that was approaching.
“Yeah, I guess we will,” added Calden, looking at his friend with concern.
“I’ve never seen an orc or goblin before, have any of you?” asked Lumis.
“I saw a dead orc once,” said Jack. “My father and I were hunting at the base of the Tundrens and we came across a ripped and torn body of an orc. A bear had killed it. It was hard to recognize, but my pa said it was an orc. It was pretty big and thick.”
“If it has a heart it can be killed,” Fil said, looking up at Jack. “If it bleeds, it can die. Boargs are tougher than orcs, but I’ve killed them before, and I will kill more.”
Lumis and Jack looked at Fil with interest. “You’ve killed a boarg before?” asked Jack.
Calden knew of Fil’s story but Fil had not brought up what had happened to his village to anyone outside of his knight apprentice group.
“Yes. They massacred my friends and family.” The intensity in Fil’s eyes was unnerving.
“I’m sorry, Fil. I did not know,” Jack responded sincerely.
Fil stood up abruptly. “I will get my revenge. Let them come.”
He reached down, picked up his spear, and walked away into the darkness.
They watched him leave before Lumis spoke up. “I didn’t know that his family was killed. What happened?”
Calden added another log onto the fire. “Fil and his friend, Jonas, lost their entire village to boargs almost four years ago. He has not forgotten it.”
“I imagine not, nor would I,” Jack replied.
“What happened to his friend?” asked Lumis.
“I am not at liberty to say. But I will tell you that Jonas left the knight apprenticeship several years ago. We have not heard from him since.”
“Why would he leave and give up the chance to become a knight? Doesn’t make much sense,” Jack said.
Calden snorted softly. “If you knew the circumstances you wouldn’t be saying that.”
He offered no more information so they went back to staring into the fire.
After a couple of minutes Jack spoke up. “Are you scared?”
Calden and Lumis looked at each other, replying together, “Yes.”
***
The trio had made it past Ta’Ron in good time. They passed through the city quickly, staying only long enough to learn that Lord Dynure had joined forces with his brother, King Olegaurd, four days ago, and was marching toward Finarth. Ta’Ron was a vassal city to Annure, and although not as large, still held a standing army of five thousand. The combined force would reach the Lindsor Bridge and join forces with the Finarthian army within the week.
The three rode hard across the grasslands staying clear of all major roads. The long journey was uneventful until they set up camp two days from Finarth. Kiln decided it was okay to light a fire so he went about collecting wood. They had run into no problems and since they were not traveling the roads they had not seen anyone else since they left Ta’Ron. Kiln figured it wouldn’t hurt to have a fire for as long as it took to cook a warm meal. They could put it out after they warmed their bellies with good food and hot tea. As he collected small branches from the plentiful shrubs, Taleen set up their sleeping rolls, while Jonas tethered the horses to one of the thick shrubs that grew like weeds across the grasslands.
Jonas was tying off the rope when he heard a horse whinny in the distance. “What was that?” he asked, standing up quickly, his hand moving to one of his swords.
Taleen and Kiln got to their feet as well, looking towards the sound. In the distance, cresting a gentle hill stood a magnificent white horse. The sun was setting behind the hill, silhouetting the majestic animal like a fine painting.
The horse whinnied again, rearing up on its hind legs. Jonas looked closer and saw that the animal was wearing silver plate mail that covered its head and chest. The horse also had a saddle that was rigged with sparkling silver buckles.
Taleen looked at Jonas and smiled. “I think your steed has arrived,” she said as Jonas stared at the horse in wonder.
“You think so?”
The horse was now running down the hill toward them. As it neared them, Jonas’s breath caught in his throat. It was the most striking horse he had ever seen. Its bright white coat was perfectly smooth and shining like it had been recently washed and brushed. The horse’s white mane bounced and fluttered in the wind as it galloped towards them.
There was not a speck of dirt on the animal. Its entire body was milky white, like freshly churned cream. The horse stopped ten paces away and looked right at Jonas. The plate mail on its chest was embossed with the silver and blue emblem of Shyann. The silver steel was mirror-like and it shone with brilliance. The black leather saddle was polished and lined with gleaming pieces of metal. Under the saddle lay a blue and silver cloth that rested over a blanket of sparkling chain mail. The horse snorted, nodding its head toward Jonas, seemingly beckoning him to approach. Jonas stood there awestruck.
“I think he wants you to come to him,” muttered Kiln, who was also staring in wonder at the incredible animal.
Jonas slowly approached the white horse. It gazed at him calmly, standing perfectly still. As Jonas neared the animal he was surprised at how big it was.
Taleen was also awed by the animal’s size and splendor. “That is the biggest, most magnificent horse I have ever seen,” she said.
“He must be over twenty hands tall,” added Kiln.
Jonas reached out, touching the horse on the head. Instantly Jonas felt a warmth flow through his hand. The horse turned and looked at him and Jonas clearly saw the intelligence in its deep black eyes. He gently stroked the animal’s head, laying his other hand on the horse’s muscular neck. Its glistening coat revealed rippling muscles forming the most perfect specimen of any steed Jonas had ever seen. He noticed that the saddle was covered with intricate artwork, embossed symbols of the gods, many of which Jonas recognized from the Kulam. Every piece of leather and shining metal that made up the saddle and harness had some sort of etching or carving. There was also a place for his bow and quiver.
Jonas’s hands moved down the animal’s side as he admired the horse’s perfect form. The horse was so large that the saddle was level with his eyes. He noticed that there was a blue cloth rolled up behind the saddle and strapped down with black buckles. Jonas unbuckled the cloth, lifting it off the horse. It was turquoise blue and made from a soft and flowing fabric. He unfurled it, holding it out before him. The outer fabric was like wool, but much softer, and the inside was lined with another fabric, something similar to cotton. It was a fine cloak, edged with silver thread, and on the back of the garment was a magnificent embroidered oak tree. It was the very same symbol that covered Jonas’s chest and the armor on the front of the horse.
“There can be no doubt, that horse is your cavalier steed,” Taleen said.
Jonas smiled, flipping the cloak over his shoulders. There was a silver clasp with a blue sapphire in the middle. He clipped the clasp together and glanced up at Taleen and Kiln. “How do I look?” he asked with a big smile on his face.
“Like a cavalier,” replied Kiln evenly.
Jonas turned his attention back to the horse who was still staring directly at him. “What do I call you? What would be a fitting name?” Jonas thought for a moment. Suddenly he smiled at himself. “I shall call you, Tulari,” he said, “my mother’s middle name. It is elvish.”
“What does it mean?” asked Taleen.
“Honorable,” replied Jonas.
“A fitting name for such a fine steed,” added Kiln.
***
King Olegaurd was a tall man, lanky, with sharp features like the craggy edges of broken rock. His armor was polished silver and edged in gold. Draped over his shoulders was a cavalry cape the color of deep purple, and embroidered in gold thread was the Annurien emblem. His hair was cut short, infantry style, and he was mostly shaven except for a few days of stubble. The king’s hair was dark brown and interlaced with silver. Thick bushy eyebrows edged his dark eyes, tired from hard riding and lack of sleep. But that did not take away the aura of power that emanated from him as he stepped into King Gavinsteal’s command tent.
With him was his younger brother, Lord Dynure of Ta-Ron, who was a spitting image of the king, but with lighter hair and much less silver. He too was tall, and together they portrayed a sense of calm power.
They had ridden hard with their army and had arrived at the Lindsor Bridge just before sunset. Orders were dispatched and their men had set up camp in the large open fields that covered the Finarthian hills for miles. Moments later they were escorted to the command tent.
Inside, King Gavinsteal was looking over several maps with his commanders. In audience were General Kuarin, General Ruthalis, and General Gandarin, along with first lance, Tilvus, leader of the Finarthian Knights. All the men were in battle armor and dressed for war. Standing next to their father were Prince Baylin and Prince Nelstrom. They, too, were in full armor in preparation for the coming violence.
King Gavinsteal withdrew from the map and moved to greet the king. “King Olegaurd, Lord Dynure, we thank you for coming, your presence is of great value to us.” The Finarthian king shook each of their hands in the warrior’s grip.
“Of course, we came in all haste and I’m glad to see that we were not too late,” replied King Olegaurd. His deep voice sounded like the rumbling of an angry mountain.
Lord Dynure spoke. “King Gavinsteal, please inform us what you know as we have received no other information from your messenger other than the fact that an army approaches bearing the banner of Lord Moredin. What else can you tell us?”
“Please, come and take a look at the map,” the king replied as he beckoned to a servant who was standing calmly at the edge of the tent. “May I offer you some wine?” he asked.
“That would be most gracious,” answered King Olegaurd. The servant went to a nearby table and poured several goblets of red wine.
“King Olegaurd, Lord Dynure, it is good to see you again. It’s been too long and I dare say I wish the circumstances were different,” Prince Baylin added as he greeted them both with firm handshakes. “You remember my brother, Prince Nelstrom.”
“Of course,” replied King Olegaurd with a nod to the younger prince.
“And General Ruthalis, Kuarin, and Gandarin,” continued Prince Baylin as they all greeted each other.