The Cavalier (57 page)

Graggis rode from the crowd and approached his prince, who also stood wide eyed as Jonas finished his speech.

“For your king! For Finarth!” Jonas yelled, raising one of his sabers in the air and turning Tulari towards the approaching enemy, his entire body glowing brightly.
 

“By the gods, I have never heard anything like that,” Graggis said in amazement.

“Nor I,” replied Prince Baylin as he directed his horse forward to lead his men. The magic in Jonas’s words spurred him forward confidently. He was not afraid, he would die this day if need be, and he would die next to his men, fighting for the land that he loved.

 
Dagrinal, Graggis, and Taleen followed close behind him. Soon they were all lined up next to Jonas, and behind them was a line of Finarthian cavalry, followed up by a line of infantry, all of whom stood tall, proud, and confident as they looked toward the huge giants.

“Knights! All with lances ride behind me! Target the giants!” yelled the prince. Ten knights holding long razor sharp lances spurred their horses forward to take up positions behind the prince. Prince Baylin glanced at Jonas and smiled. “Very impressive, Jonas, I feel like I have the strength of ten men. I pray it is not an illusion.”

“My Lord!” yelled a young warrior to their left. They all turned to see a young soldier carrying two lances struggling toward them. He was covered in dirt and blood and limped badly on his right leg. The boy’s face had the smoothness of youth, but his eyes revealed a maturity that was likely gained by the blood shed of battle.
 

“Good work,” the prince replied as the young man handed him and Dagrinal each a lance.
 

They were interrupted by the sudden shaking of the ground. They looked toward the advancing line and saw that the giants had started to run, their long strides keeping pace with the cavalry that rode on their flanks. The ground rumbled as each pounding step brought them closer.

Jonas glanced quickly toward the top of the hill. Sure enough the three minions of Gould were still there.

“Warriors of Finarth! Victory is won through courage!” The prince yelled. He lowered the tip of his long lance and spurred his horse forward.

The warriors behind them screamed ‘For Finarth!’ and followed their lord.

Twelve glittering lances led the three hundred defenders toward the enemy who was storming toward them with great speed.

Taleen brought forth her light to join Jonas’s, and their combined energy made the bright sun look small in comparison. Jonas urged his horse forward and Tulari’s great speed pushed him to the front of the line and beyond the bouncing tips of the lances. Jonas heard Taleen yell at him from behind, but the pounding of the horse’s hooves and the giant’s feet drowned her words.

He had a plan.

“Tulari, run like the wind!” he yelled, sheathing his sword and leaning forward in his saddle. Tulari surged forward, in a blur of speed and power, shooting toward the enemy. As Jonas flared his light brighter he could see the giants hesitate slightly as they squinted their eyes against the glare.

Then he called on more of Shyann’s power.

“Shyann!” he screamed, channeling an immense amount of her energy into his right hand. His fist burst with an intense blue flame, the power of the flames building within him until he felt they would consume his very being. Though he was relatively inexperienced in the use of this magic, he could feel that if he didn’t release the power soon that it would burn him to a crisp.

When he was close enough that he could almost smell the giants, he released his God Fire in a powerful burst of blue flame. The running giants saw the shooting flames and tried to veer away, but their formation was too tight, and all they succeeded in doing was tripping each other up and distracting them from the Finarthian lances that were quickly approaching.

Jonas’s flames hit two giants directly, blasting them from their feet and taking a score of their own infantry out behind them. The intense blue flames burned hotter than any known fire, creating a searing hole in the enemy ranks through which Jonas rode unharmed. Anything caught in the path of his God Fire was blown aside in a pile of ash.

Jonas erupted out the other side of the enemy ranks and continued up the hill toward his real targets, the trio of dark riders.

Taleen saw Jonas’s plan evolve before her eyes, but she could not keep pace with Tulari. No steed could. She screamed his name, hoping to deter him from his present course of taking on the vile minions of Gould on his own, and urged her horse to run faster. Jonas had blasted a hole through the enemy ranks but the hole was beginning to close quickly as the astonished giants stumbled to resume their attack. Her path to Jonas was closed, so she held her sword before her like a spear and targeted the nearest giant who stood in her path.

 
Taleen’s steed brought her toward the giant with lightning speed. At the last moment, she veered to the behemoth’s left. She had prepared herself for the sharp change in direction and leaned sharply over in her saddle, swinging her silver sword across the giant’s arm. It roared in pain as her blade opened its forearm from elbow to hand.

 
The giants had slowed their pace as they tried to recover from Jonas’s attack. That’s when the Finarthian defenders slammed into them. Five of the giants died instantly as the sharp lances hit them with tremendous force, spearing them through their chests. But the tremendous force of the clash sent many of the knights sprawling into the air, their horses broken and dying as they collided with the huge creatures.

Meanwhile, Taleen pushed through the giants into the other enemy fighters. Orcs and tribesmen alike fell to her blade as her bright light blinded them from her deadly attack. Her powerful steed pierced the lines of enemy soldiers, scattering aside infantry and horses alike. She continued her surge through the enemy ranks, swinging her sword mercilessly down upon any hapless soldier she encountered.

She looked up briefly to see Jonas, his light shining impossibly bright as he flew up the hill toward the followers of the Forsworn. She growled in frustration, urging her horse forward.

She had to get to Jonas. He would need her.

Back in the melee, Prince Baylin’s lance took a giant in the throat just as the beast had raised its huge club to crush him. The giant had been too slow and the prince’s lance sliced through its thick neck. His momentum, however, propelled him right into the giant’s chest, snapping his poor horse’s neck and sending the prince flying through the air. He quickly tucked his head as he smashed into the dying giant’s armored chest. He felt the sharp pain of broken ribs as he hit the ground hard, scattering a group of enemy infantry. Though dazed and in pain, he knew that he had to move or he would die. His broken ribs sent sharp pains shooting through his body, but he forced himself to bury his agony as he roared in defiance. Spinning his legs beneath him he leaped to his feet with remarkable speed for someone his size, simultaneously grabbing the leather strap that held his battle axe and un-slung the weapon.

Others were fighting frantically around the downed prince.

Dagrinal leaned forward in his saddle and held his lance firm as his warhorse barreled into the enemy ranks. It took many years of practice to become proficient at holding a lance steady as one’s horse charged ahead. Dagrinal was the elite of the Finarthian Knights. He was able to manipulate his body to counteract the galloping motion of the horse, keeping the silver tip of his lance on target. At the last minute Dagrinal steered his horse to the right just as he angled the lance tip to his left, spearing the giant right through its chest armor and taking Dagrinal past the astonished beast.

The lance snapped as Dagrinal rode by, but the tip had pierced the giant’s heart. He couldn’t see the beast stagger around before it fell dead to the ground since his horse took him right into the enemy infantry. He roared, “Finarth!”, as he used the sharp end of the broken lance to take an orc in the face, then he dropped the useless weapon and drew forth his long sword.

The fighting was chaotic; everyone was fighting for their lives. Graggis had never been a warrior who fought with finesse. His method of attacking the giant before him was impulsive and direct. He charged his horse right toward a giant, hoping to throw it off balance and finish it off with his axe. But this giant, being on the far right flank, was not nearly as disoriented as the rest, and quickly lifted its war hammer, thrusting it forward into the charging horse’s lowered head.

The head of the huge weapon smashed into the horse’s nose. The heavy hammer, the immense strength of the giant, and the power of the impact, caused Graggis and his horse to launch backwards as if they had hit an invisible wall of steel. The horse’s head collapsed under the impact, snapping its neck with a loud crack.

Graggis and his dead horse were thrown back, landing hard on the grassy ground. The air was driven from his lungs but he struggled to get up as he fought for his next breath. The giant, meanwhile, recovered more quickly from the massive impact.

The thundering of heavy footsteps directed Graggis’s gaze toward the giant that was now standing above him, its hammer raised in the air, ready for the downward descent that would crush him. But before it could strike, a young Finarthian warrior flung himself at the giant and stabbed the thing in its thick muscled leg. The blade barely broke the skin, but the attack distracted the giant enough to give Graggis a split second to recover.

As he sucked in desperately needed air, he saw the enraged giant pivot, swinging its huge hammer down onto the boy. Everything seemed to be in slow motion to Graggis as he saw the look of shock and horror on the boy’s face. It was the same boy who had brought the prince and Dagrinal the lances. The monsters hammer slammed into the young warrior, crushing him into the ground.

Graggis roared in anger as he gripped his magical axe. “Now it’s your turn!”

The giant looked down at him with a confused expression on his face, as if trying to understand his words
.
But the giant’s expression changed to one of pain when Graggis bolted forward and swung his axe in a mighty swing at its unprotected ankle. The attack was so quick that the giant didn’t have any time to respond. In a blur, Graggis went to work on the giant’s ankles like he was downing a tree, and he might as well have been, considering the size of the beast’s massive legs. Graggis’s immense strength, fueled by his anger, drove the magical axe head through tough skin and muscle to stop dead at the beast’s strong ankle bones.

The giant bellowed in pain as it toppled to its knees. As the beast fell, however, it was able to reach out with its right hand and seize Graggis around the waist, lifting him in the air. Though the hill giant’s hands were not able to totally encircle Graggis’s thick waist, its grip was so powerful that it was able to grasp and hold him securely in the air. Even though the giant was on its knees, Graggis was still several paces from the ground. Graggis struggled, but it was no use, the giant’s fingers squeezed harder. Luckily Graggis’s armor was protecting his flesh, but even that was beginning to bend under the sheer power of the beast.

The giant, groaning from the pain in his ankles, brought Graggis closer to his face. “You hurt Toglin, now you die,” the giant growled, its deep voice covering him with breath that stunk of rotting flesh.

Fortunately for Graggis, giants were not too bright. The injured giant had overlooked the fact that Graggis was still holding his deadly axe.

“This is for the boy!” Graggis growled back as he lifted his enchanted axe with one hand. Most men could not wield an axe that size with one arm only, but Graggis was not like most men; he was as strong as dwarven steel, and right now, as angry as a wounded bear guarding her cubs.

By the time the giant processed the angry human’s words, Graggis’s axe had cleaved the stupid beast’s face. The giant convulsed several times before it fell backwards, releasing its deadly grip on Graggis. Graggis landed hard on top of the giant’s chest. He stumbled to his feet and stood tall upon the dead giant’s chest. He reached down, gripped the axe handle, and placed his booted foot on the dead giant’s chin. The axe head was buried deep in the giant’s skull, but he pulled hard and the axe broke free from the grisly wound.

As soon as he had retrieved his axe, he looked up and saw four orcs running toward him. Glancing quickly around him he saw that the fighting had turned to complete chaos; everyone, man and beast alike, was fighting wildly to try and stay alive.

Graggis growled, and yelling maniacally he leaped off the dead giant to meet the orcs. The boy had saved him, and his death had caused a fire to burn inside him, a fire that needed more blood before it could be extinguished.

As the chaos of battle continued, Jonas was rapidly approaching the dark trio on the hill. Tulari’s effortless strides quickly narrowed the distance between them. He drew forth his long bow. From his magical quiver he could draw an endless supply of arrows, another gift from Shyann, one he had realized a few days earlier as he and Taleen practiced their bows one evening before the sun had set. He nocked an arrow, and though he was still some distance from his target, he took aim.

This was no ordinary weapon. He pulled back the string and leaned forward in the saddle, in harmony with Tulari’s movement, his light still pulsing bright with Shyann’s power.

The two clerics of Gould drew their swords and spurred their horses down the hill to meet Jonas’s attack.