The Merchant and the Menace (40 page)

The cavalry officer ordered his riders to form into
groups of fifty. The Keltaran, on the other hand, formed into a wedge, two men
deep. Those in the front rank crouched low with heavy headed axes at the ready.
The back line extended long pikes over the heads of the men in front.

The Zodrian cavalry leader lowered his sword and
the first line of fifty shot forward. The turf churned under the steel shod
hooves of the Zodrian mounts. A second wave of fifty sprang forward a few
moments later. The horses’ breath steamed in an unusually chilly morning air.
The first wave raised their shields and lowered their heads. They crashed hard into
pike, ax and Keltaran. Riders spilled from their horses, skewered by the sharp
tipped pikes. The Keltaran wedge faltered, but held. Horses with and without
riders spun from the wedge and bolted from the ravine along its walls. The
second Zodrian wave hit the Keltaran wedge.

The second wave fared as the first. More riders
spilled from the saddle and several Keltaran fell under the hooves of the
charging stallions. Once more the wedge held, but now its members were bloodied
and injured. Horses raced along the ravine walls back out of the valley to form
up in the rear of the cavalry. New waves of fifty took the forward position and
waited for the signal from their commander. He lowered his saber and once again
they leapt forward. Armored horses slammed into the wedge and the sickening
sound of grating metal and breaking bone could be heard. Bodies lay strewn
about the ravine’s opening, and the wails of the injured carried down the
valley. The Keltaran made a brave stand, but the shear number of horsemen made their
task nearly impossible.

Runners arrived in Keltar to inform Hrafnu of the
battle. The ancient giant grimaced at the news. Once again the Zodrians
destroyed his hopes for peace. The giant gathered his remaining sons about him
and they headed to the gate. When he arrived, Hrafnu scaled its wall to better
assess the battleground below. As he stood on the wall, he watched his
courageous masons and carpenters face the sixth charge of the Zodrian cavalry.
Their numbers were thinned and the dead and wounded lay bleeding across the
ravine’s mouth. The gate beneath him lay on its side, ready to be hoisted into
position. The masons were just hours away from completing their task. He
determined not to be cheated. These Zodrians would not enter his valley. The gate
would hold.

The General Staff remained with the siege engines,
the strength of their upcoming assault. Manreel’s cavalry circled them. The
young colonel and a group of retainers trotted forward to scout the terrain
ahead. Zodrian messengers from the battle appeared with news. The cavalry
engaged the enemy and intended to take the ravine.

The Zodrian colonel was a warrior at heart. He knew
how the best laid plans of generals meant nothing once the fight raged. The
conquest of Keltar would not be fought against the walls of the mountain city,
but in the narrow ravine that hid it for centuries.

The battle at the gate was disastrous news for the
Zodrian General Staff. Their intentions were thwarted.  Even if the ravine
gates were taken, the journey through the narrow passage would be a bloody
affair more suited to foot soldiers than horsemen. Every step the cavalry
progressed toward Hrafnu’s city would be paid for with massive Zodrian
casualties. Zodra’s strength lay in her cavalry and the open spaces. This campaign
turned to folly.

Manreel analyzed the situation. Once again Hrafnu
appeared to choose peace. If his intentions were so murderous, he would have
set upon the Zodrians at night while they camped. Ambushes would have been set
to take advantage of the Guardsmen when they were off their mounts. The Zodrian
cavalry would have been separated from the siege engines through diversion. The
engines would then have been burnt where they stood.

This giant proved time and time again his deep
understanding of tactics. Hrafnu’s choice was obvious. He refused to fight.
Hrafnu intended to finish his gates before discovery and allow the Zodrians to
expend all their energy for naught.

Hrafnu planned wisely in all things but one. The
giant falsely assumed the Zodrians would not separate their forces. The General
Staff followed a rulebook of tactics established through centuries of rigid
tradition. They believed in one way to encounter all situations. Hrafnu did not
perceive the desperation of the generals. Years of peace eroded their standing
in the eyes of the public. Their power waned as Manreel’s notion of peace took
root. When faced with the devastating ruin of their plans by the gate, they
broke from their hallowed tradition. They gambled all and separated their forces.

Ironically, it was Manreel, the champion of peace,
who allowed them to roll the dice of chance. Without Manreel’s Guard standing
ready to protect the siege engines, they could never have split forces.
Confident in his ability to protect the engines, their decision was both
desperate and sensible. Their strategy to force their way down the ravine to
Keltar, however, was not. Manreel was correct as usual. Capturing the gate was
one thing. Running the ravine to the valley was quite another. It could never be
done.

The young colonel made a quick decision. He
countermanded the General Staff’s orders and commanded the cavalry to pull
back. Hrafnu could keep his valley. The General Staff could prosecute him for
insubordination later, but he would save the lives of most of these men. He
sent the cavalry’s messengers back to the staff and left with his retainers to
order retreat at the gate.

Hrafnu turned to a messenger and ordered
reinforcements. These arrogant Zodrians would lose many good men trying to
force their way down his ravine. It would be a bloodbath. Why were they so
ignorant? He determined to retrieve his brave masons and ironworkers and finish
the gate. With the gate intact, Zodrian and Keltaran alike would live. There
was no alternative. The eighth wave of Zodrian cavalry turned from their
charge. The remaining Keltaran scrambled to regroup their thinning number.
Hrafnu smiled at his beloved sons and stepped to the edge of the wall.

‘Zodrians!‘ bellowed the giant.

The field below silenced except for the moans of
the injured.

‘Why don’t you leave us in peace? In all of my
years, you have done nothing but murder and plunder. I was patient in the ways
of my Maker. Patience that lasted the lifetimes of normal men!’

The giant’s eyes went wild and angry. He clenched
his teeth and growled.

‘My Maker leaves my heart, and what remains is a
cold, dead stone. You will die here today, as will all Zodrians I encounter!
Peace is for fools! Now is the reign of death and destruction!’

With that, the giant stepped onto the parapet and
leapt. A causeway spanned the swirling trench of frigid water twenty yards
below. The stone rang out as Hrafnu’s steel shod boots slammed onto it. The
giant landed in a crouch and touched one hand to the granite surface. He
remained for a moment poised like a mountain cat ready to spring as his hand
caressed rock hewn from the mountains he loved. He slowly rose and moved into
the ravine’s mouth with fists clenched.

Even at the age of three hundred, he was an
impressive figure. His long, wavy red hair cascaded like flame over his exposed
shoulders and down his back. A vest of black sheepskin was tightly bound to his
torso. A jerkin of heavy deerskin draped to mid thigh, and the steel shod
boots, made of mountain ram’s hide, were bound by thick cords up to his knees.
Powerful, knotted muscles rippled on every portion of his body and his sweat
steamed in the chilly morning air. He marched forward like a fiery demon
stepping from the pits of Chaos.

Hrafnu approached his masons. The Zodrian cavalry
reformed. The giant’s right hand moved over his head to his back and drew out
the massive heavy-headed battle-ax that hung there. The other hand drew forth a
broadsword most men needed two strong arms to wield. Hrafnu held it like a
dagger.

His sons scrambled to the scaffolding behind the
wall. They were desperate to protect their father. It might take the
reinforcements some time to arrive. Hrafnu stepped amongst his fallen men. He
turned to those who still walked and barked orders.

‘They will sing songs of your bravery for centuries
my children. Return to the gate carrying the fallen. Complete the work you
started and protect our people. I will take care of the flies that bite and
pester us.’

They stared at him blankly for a moment.

‘GO! NOW!’ roared Hrafnu.

Those who were able grabbed their fallen comrades
and hauled them toward the causeway and safety. Hrafnu’s sons met them and
dragged many to the temporary safety of the wall. Hrafnu stood alone amongst
the dead and sneered at the Zodrian cavalry

‘You interrupt my plans for peace once more. Now
your people will never see peace. I remove my pledge. Borders and laws do not
matter to you, so they will hold me no longer. Once I gut you, I will gather my
troops and march on Zodra. All will fall before my ax. Women, children, all
Zodrians will pay for my centuries of sorrow!’ howled the giant madly. ‘The day
arrives Zodra, and you are ill prepared for the horrors Hrafnu will inflict!’

Hrafnu rammed the broadsword into the frosty ground
in front of him and firmly grasped the battle-ax with both hands. He raised it
high over his head and clenched his teeth. The Zodrian line was poised to
charge, yet sat motionless with fright. Their leader’s saber lay limp by the
side of his stallion.

‘Come to me, yapping dogs of Zodra! I grow weary of
your cowardice!’ shouted Hrafnu.

The Zodrian colonel’s saber snapped into the air.
He snarled and slid his horse in line with the next charge.

‘For king and country!’ shouted the colonel as his
saber slashed downward, its tip aimed at Hrafnu’s heart.

The steel shoes of the Zodrian stallions pounded
the ground, reverberating through the canyon like thunder after a brilliant
lightning strike. Riders spurred their nervous mounts ferociously. These were
battle-hardened horses, but even these beasts never beheld the like of Hrafnu.
He stood wild-eyed in the center of the field howling and bellowing for the
riders to come.

The giant stretched to his full height,
considerably higher than that of the masons and carpenters who stood in the ravine
earlier. He hefted the ax once more with a single hand, and the other retrieved
the broadsword. The Zodrian riders converged upon him. His shoulders were above
the horses’ craning heads, and with a sweep of his great ax, three riders to
his right were cleanly taken from their seats and thrown to the ground. His
left hand deftly drew a plane with the broadsword an inch above the horses.
Three more riders were cut from their mounts.

Quickly, the giant spun to his left and hemmed in
the riders who passed him against the ravine’s walls. In the confusion, the
riders on the opposite wall and retreated. They had made their run and were
returning as ordered. These riders didn’t turn to see the colonel and a dozen
of their mates trapped by the huge reach of Hrafnu.

Horses slammed into one another as the colonel
tried in vain to form the small group into a line. Hrafnu marched directly
amongst the fighting force, hacking and slashing. Riders dropped from their
horses dead or wounded. The crazed stallions kicked and jumped, throwing men
from their mounts and trampling them.

The remaining cavalry across the field sat frozen
in horror. Their orders were clear. They were to make a run at the Keltarans,
inflict as much damage as possible, then return to the rear of the line. Once
the bottleneck in the ravine cleared of Zodrian cavalry, the next two lines
were to be sent forward at the colonel’s command.

However, the next line of cavalrymen was unsure who
was in command. They were not aware that the colonel and his men were unable to
break off their attack. They waited in vain for their commander’s return.

Hrafnu saved the colonel for last. The Zodrian
officer was thrown from his horse, and as Hrafnu approached, the colonel lunged
with saber extended. The giant flicked it aside with his broadsword as the
battle-ax swept through the colonel, cleaving him in two. Hrafnu spun and
hurled insults across the ravine as riderless horses raced past the remainder
of the stunned Zodrian cavalry.

The giant’s sons ran across the causeway to aid
their father. Hrafnu waved them off.

‘Return to the gate. There are not enough masons to
finish the work. You must provide the muscle they need.’

His sons complied. Pulleys and winches hefted stone
and mortar into place. Minutes passed as the giant glared across the ravine’s
opening. Minutes turned to hours. The Zodrians bickered over command. Several
unit leaders saw the situation as untenable. Even if they gained the gate, they
could never reach Keltar. Others cared nothing for the gate. Here stood the
enemy of their people. What glory would come to the man that delivered a fatal
blow to Hrafnu? The horror they witnessed in the loss of their colonel was
passing with every minute. Their confidence built as they reminded one another
that it was only one man.