Light of Elliana: Book One—Of Tears & Darkness

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Righteous Vengeance

Five days ago, as King Tarran led his military force to Mern, couriers and Henna Falcons were sent with an order to send reinforcements to Gildeborough, a sleepy town ten miles west of Mern. For, no one at the time knew the invasion force’s size and if more enemy was en route. This decision proved to be both wise and pivotal as well. Due to insufficient time to gather greater strength before the march to Mern, their force had been outnumbered and nearly destroyed. They had retreated from the battlefield, having lost a third of their men and suffered many wounded.

Immediately after their resounding defeat, the word was spread to every Keep, Hold, and Watchtower garrison within four days ride, to send every man they could spare. His father sent the wounded back with Changa and others to Kandalare; his brother had decided he was going to work on returning the Menduwaka to the alliance. Meanwhile, Maska, King Tarran, and Prince Donovan labored to rally and regroup their force. The king and his men decided the fell deeds in Mern would not go unanswered. They would return to avenge their countrymen and lay low the enemy.

The enemy had made mistakes that would cost them dearly. First, their army had chosen to remain encamped north of Mern for three days. Maska and King Tarran thought the enemy believed they had cowed Etmindore’s men and military. In reality, their foes had kindled a white-hot rage, which was all-consuming amongst Prince Donovan and his countrymen. Lastly, their adversaries had ventured too deeply into enemy territory, through their arrogance.

For four days, scouts observed the enemies’ movements, leaving nothing to chance. During the morning of the fourth day, their dark foes broke camp and started marching back the way they had come. The scouts reported there were about five thousand enemy soldiers, plus ten Giants. Most were on foot. Thus, it would take many days to leave the country. The dragon had departed later the same day his father’s force had retreated. The beast’s decision to leave removed a critical obstacle to Etmindor’s plan to counter-attack.

King Tarran’s encampment outside Gildeborough rapidly expanded over the last four days, as riders answered the king’s call. Dawnbreaker Mounted Brigadiers mounted Militia, and retired military riders gathered. They were joined by numerous Noblemen, over two thousand additional Centaurs, and every man available who had a horse and could keep up.

Numerous campfires were now blazing, as cooks prepared the evening meal. Laughter and voices filled the air as men joked, told stories, and discussed the upcoming battle. The night air was mild, with no wind, and the sky was partly cloudy. Prince Donovan walked over to the fire to refill his cup with tea and strode to the Command Tent.

King Tarran, Maska, and some Nobles stood around a simple table made of wood slabs sitting on wooden barrels. Two brass oil lamps filled the large tent with golden light. At present, his father and second father were busy catching everyone up on what had occurred four days ago in Mern. Everyone present listened quietly with somber faces, realizing what they were facing.

Barron John Adley cleared his throat to gain the attention of all. He was a broad-shouldered man, of Donovan’s height. He had dark brown hair and a mustache lightly sprinkled with gray, brown eyes and a pleasant smile. The nobleman wore a dark-green tunic and dark-brown britches, and brown leather boots. The lord also wore a wide brown belt with a thick silver buckle. “King Tarran, what is your plan? I’ve known you and Maska long enough to understand you have thought this out. Where will we meet this enemy of ours and make them pay in blood?”

The Barron’s comment brought a round of chuckles and gentle mirth, for each knew his words rang true. Maska reached into a white oak chest and pulled out a rolled map, which he spread out on the slab table. “Our scouts have determined the attacking force traveled through Mercer’s Valley previously and are now heading back in the same direction.”

“Mercer’s Valley is surrounded by forested hills and is a rather long gorge, which narrows at its northern end, which is where we’ll trap the invaders. We plan to split our force in half, and I’ll command one half, which I’ll position on the Eastside. Maska will lead the other half and place them on the West,” King Tarran explained in detail. “At present, we have about fourteen hundred mounted archers, crossbowmen, arbalesters, and three thousand five hundred Centaurs.

The plan is for our archers and Centaurs to ambush and soften up the enemy ranks. Once the enemy is sufficiently disorganized, Maska will blow his horn, signaling us to charge. My calvaries will enter the fray from the North as Maska’s mounted force rides up from behind, and the Centaurs sweep in from each side.”

“What did I tell you? I told you they’d have a good plan. So how far away is Mercer’s Valley from here?” Barron Adley asked while rubbing his bearded chin.

“Our scouts reported the enemy marches about twenty miles a day. So they’ll enter Mercer’s Valley, three days from today. It will give us plenty of time to ride around them and get into position.” Maska indicated the planned route of travel King Tarran’s counter-attacking force would take.

“When do we leave?” Barron Adley asked while nodding with a smiling face.

“We leave tomorrow morning. Three days from now, we shall meet the enemy on the field of battle. They shall know our anger and courage and the strength of our steel.

Everyone in the shelter cheered loudly, along with those outsides who had overheard his father’s vow. Each of those gathered inside the Command Tent walked up to shake King Tarran’s and Prince Donovan’s hands vigorously with broad smiles.

Three days later, the day broke calm and bright, with not a cloud in the sky. Prince Donovan sat upon a log, eating dried beef and a small grain loaf. Lowered voices and muffled laughter filled the forest around him. The men were in good spirits and more than ready to avenge their countrymen and kin. The sound of footsteps drew Prince Donovan’s attention to Girard, Sir Alfred, Mathew, and Davis, who was preparing to join him.

“Well, it won’t be long now, my friends, before we can give this filth marching towards us our regards. It is about time, too, for my blade has grown thirsty,” Sir Alfred said with a wide grin.

Girard laughed lightly. “After what happened in Mern, it will be my pleasure to send as many as possible to the Dark Hag’s black bag. If you believe one blade is hard to satisfy, you ought to try two.” The swordsman bit off a chunk of dried beef and started chewing.

The five of them chuckled, appreciating the humor. It served to break the tension forming concerning the coming battle. All of them expected to make it out of this battle alive, but one never knew till after it was over. Between three sticks of dried meat and a small grain loaf, Prince Donovan managed to become comfortably full and stood to stretch his legs. A small twig snapped, and he turned to face a smiling Maska.

“It’s time for us to get into position, the scouts have told us our guests will arrive in about three hours. I want everyone in place, sitting quietly before the enemy arrives. Good luck, and make them pay!” Maska said and trotted to the head of his group. Two groups were formed, according to a list King Tarran and Maska had made last night. All their avenging force had to do was ride the quarter-mile to the valley, get into position and wait.

Donovan’s father rode out in front of everyone gathered there, wearing his plate and chainmail armor, bracers, greaves, and barbute helm. “Men, I stand before you and can say I’m privileged to lead the most excellent fighting force in the five kingdoms, nay in all of Aederan. There’s not a man among you I wouldn’t proudly call Brother! Family, Friends, countrymen, we are gathered here today to defeat a foe who has committed many wrongs against our countrymen and kin,” King Tarran’s voice boomed. “Don’t worry your pretty heads, for we are the rolling thunder which echoes across the plain. Our fury is terrible, and our vengeance is swift. Should any of us fall, fear not, for the Great Lady Elliana keeps a special place in her heart for the homely and brave!” This speech brought a rousing round of laughter and cheer.

In a little under two hours, their forces had managed to enter the forest and worked their way into position. The mounted archers and Centaurs sat hidden behind their leaf-covered blinds, made yesterday afternoon. There were fifteen hundred cavalries who would charge the enemy from behind. They sat on each side, farther back in the forest, out of sight. Right now, Prince Donovan and King Tarran sat on their mounts in front of over fifteen hundred mounted troops within a shallow depression, which mostly concealed them.

Approximately an hour later, Prince Donovan spotted the first of the enemy force through his spyglass. His father sat astride his horse, monitoring them through a similar device. “Keep coming. Come on, no need to take your time,” Donovan thought with a grim smile.

The enemy kept coming and showed no signs of alarm until feathered death filled the sky from both directions. Enemy archers who attempted to return fire were quickly picked off by rested accurate bowmen. Suddenly, a shadow filled the air, and Donovan felt a sense of dread fill him. It renewed memories of Drennard and Mern. Almost immediately afterward, there was an explosion, which hurled some Centaurs into the air. From somewhere in the center of the enemy force, a fireball arced out, which exploded amid mounted bowmen, tossing them backward. Two more fireballs impacted the other side of the valley and struck more archers.

Prince Donovan abruptly felt as if he’d been punched in the gut, as a dark-purplish cloud appeared around them. “It’s the same thing which had happened in Mern,” Donovan thought in horror, yet try as he might, he couldn’t spot the Black Dragon. A black-hooded individual was standing by four Dark Binders, and he realized it was another Adumorda Priest. The Necromancer waved his hand, and some of the enemy dead rose and gathered weapons. Moments later, they charged towards the men on the West-side.

The blare of Maska’s horn echoed loudly, and King Tarran led his force towards the enemy at a trot. As they rode from the depression into the valley, the men drew their weapons. Prince Donovan kept glancing at his father, expectantly waiting for the order to charge, but they continued to close in on the enemy. At about sixty yards, the king turned to Daniel the signalman and shouted. “Now!” The stout lad brought a bullhorn to his mouth, and its blare filled the air. Immediately, Donovan and the others broke into a charge.

Some of their enemies saw them coming before Daniel blew his horn. How do individuals who are not in formation stop armored horses and riders weighing well over a ton? They don’t. Prince Donovan swept past a Nyen who held a hand ax and was turning toward him. The savage never had a chance to use it before Donovan’s longsword slashed his throat. His foe reeled to the side and collapsed. A minute later, a Kang met a similar fate, and Shadow trampled a Nyen down.

The four Dark Binders were unleashing fiery hell on both sides of the canyon. Brush and trees were on fire, and Donovan saw three men rolling on the ground, attempting to put out the flames. Meanwhile, the Necromancer was continuing to raise the dead.

Girard shouted to King Tarran. “We’ve got to do something about those Dark Binders. They’re going to fry the lot of us.”

King Tarran studied the dark mages in the distance and turned towards some Centaurs. “Kill those Dark Binders, concentrate your fire on the dark priests!” His father shouted.

There were only two of the dark mages standing now. An arrow struck a third, and the Dark Binder collapsed. The enemy was unable to put up a strong defense to provide cover for the dark mages and Adumorda Priest, who were now vulnerable to Centaurs who had found their range. Abruptly, the fourth vanished in a swirl of black smoke. Now the Adumorda Necromancer stood by himself, but he alone was terrifying. Something within the haze was preventing any arrows or crossbow bolts from hitting him. The missiles started to thin, degrade, and fell to the ground as harmless remnants.

Upon closing with the enemy, heavy knights with pikes, split off from the ranks of both forces and charged the Giants. The hulks were trying to band together, but the charge caught them flat-footed, even as soldiers with heavy arbalesters found the titan’s range. More than a few knights became crumpled armor and shattered bodies. The arbalests were doing severe damage and distracting the hulking brutes. It was all the assistance the knights with pikes needed, and they quickly finished them off.

The Adumorda Necromancer was weakening, for his attacks were becoming less frequent. He raised his arms, and six Kang collapsed before he shot fire from his hands. Prince Donovan realized he was draining his men of life to keep fighting. Suddenly, a strange thing occurred. One of the arbalester’s must have found his range, for the heavy projectile penetrated the dark priest’s wavering shield and slammed into his head. The deadly figure collapsed in a whirl of black cloth, as the black haze lifted.

Prince Donovan surveyed the battlefield, watching mounted archers’ stream down from the forest on each side, as the cavalries gathered. The battle had lasted for almost two hours, yet Etmindor had triumphed. Now—all they had to do was bury their dead, burn the enemy corpses, break the curse on the dead in Mern, and lay them to rest.