Young Writers Society

Sixty riders were bogged down by the horde surrounding them, unable to break free. As the ring of troops encircling them grew tighter, one horse reared, tossing its rider. Before any of the other riders could react, the fallen Darrodin was set upon and dragged from the protective ranks of his comrades into the mob that surrounded them. His fine armour proved useless as, beaten into unconsciousness by his enemies, his helm was torn from his head and his throat cut.

The encircled riders fought with consummate skill, but the sheer weight and numbers of their opponents forced them back. Unable to turn the momentum, their horses proved an encumbrance, rather than an aid. As the horses were so much more vulnerable than the Darrodin riders, the infantry around them would often seek to unseat the rider by killing his mount. While mounted, the Darrodin formation could not find a suitable formation.

Larrel watched as more riders were unhorsed, and the infantry encroached even further on Lord Kano’s defensive position. The company’s banner had been unfurled and driven into the hard earth by its bearer, so that he might continue the fight. Larrel’s own men were riding hard to cross the battlefield, and to the south he could see infantry battalions advancing north to support him. Still, his would be the company that would affect Lord Kano’s fate, as the infantry were still too far off, and slowed by the hilly terrain.

As his company neared the melee, Larrel saw another company holding their ground nearby. Like the infantry he had already fought, these cavalry were armed with a poor selection of weaponry and armoured only in thick leather jerkins or poorly constructed mail. However, this large band of horsemen, more than one hundred strong, held their ground due north of Lord Kano’s position, waiting.

As his company continued their advance, Larrel realised that this enemy company would be invisible to the high command, whose pavilion would be obscured by the sprawling melee. His command to aid Kano was now invalidated, as this company would clearly charge his flank if he sought to enter the main combat, a fact unknown to the high command.

Raising his visor, Larrel shouted to his company.

“Eighth turn to the right,”

There was a moment’s hesitation from several of the riders, and Larrel realised he would have to reinforce the importance of instant adherence to his commands. Nevertheless, the reform was nearly perfect, and his company was now charging directly toward the enemy cavalry. He heard a harshly barked command permeate the ranks of the unit, and the enemy cavalry lurched into a canter, before accelerating to a gallop.

“Reform for charge” he bellowed, before slapping his visor down across his face. He dug his heels firmly into the flanks of his mount, and once again found himself at the tip of the formation. Though they were poorly equipped, these men rode with a modicurn of skill, and seemed to handle their own weapons in a far more familiar way than the spearmen had. Without even looking around, Larrel knew his men were wedging their horses further into the formation to minimise their exposure to their more numerous enemies.

The two formations collided with a force that sent several of the riders tumbling from their mounts. Larrel felt the impact of a sword on his shield with the force of an anvil behind it, while the jarring impact of his own sword being parried wove its numbing way up his arm. Manoeuvring his horse with only his legs, Larrel swerved to his left and hamstrung a horse as its rider passed by. His own men tore through the formation, emerging from the other side in scant few seconds. The enemy line had buckled under the concentrated force of his own, but Larrel saw that many had already turned about. Rather than swerve to avoid the confrontation, Larrel ordered his soldiers to engage.

The horsemen ripped into each other with unexpected energy. Many of Larrel’s men realised the importance of besting these riders before Kano was overrun, while the enemy horsemen were clearly aware of their importance in ensuring the doom of the Darrodin cavalry. Larrel knocked aside the blade of an enemy warrior with his own, before knocking the man from his horse with his shield. His horse, trained for battle, trampled the man beneath its hooves as Larrel rushed to engage another opponent.

He saw an enemy rider leap onto the horse of his standard bearer, a man named Jordis. There was something odd about this enemy, and as the enemy casually threw Jordis from his mount, Larrel realised that there was something profoundly wrong. The man wore lacquered plate, and as he grabbed Jordis’s reins, the jewelled hilt of a sword came into view. He was far too finely equipped for his company, for the army he fought with.

Larrel drove his horse toward the figure, whose face was obscured by a helm of blackened iron. The figure turned, but did not rush to meet Larrel’s charge, he did not even draw the jewelled sword. Instead he raised a gauntleted hand, pointing it, as if in accusation, at Larrel. Larrel flung up his serpent shield a moment before a tide of black flame washed over both he and his horse.