Pendragon and the Clash of Kingdoms, Page 3

  As the thousand and two horses raced through the grass and the trees, passing towns and hamlets, Arthur noticed the kingdom he had not seen the few times he had traveled from Inver Ridge to Demetia, and from Pittentrail to Megolin’s kingdom.

  It was a humble city. Stone watchtowers surrounded it as guards walked the parapets. He could not see beyond that.

  It was one of the sixteen tribes the emissary Emperor Constantine III sent to survey Britannia and its people had cataloged. Arthur paid no more attention to it when he heard Merlin’s voice in his head.

  “Magi Ro Hul approaches,” he said, “but not far ahead of foes.”

  Arthur looked out at the horizon.

  There was nothing.

  Then a lone rider appeared, followed by lines of charging horses numbering five hundred. Banners and pennons were flying in the wind.

  Arthur recognized they were Highlanders, and felt relief that Magi Ro Hul had succeeded, but worry that he was leading an army ready for war.

  Then he saw a second line of cavalry appear.

  They flew the Roman and Hun banner, the sight of which sickened Arthur to his core, to see the colors of his people flying beside those of the vilest known to man.

  Two riders led the charge, both clad in Roman attire.

  He recognized one of them as his own.

  He pulled his reins, and Boadicea neighed as she reared.

  Halting as Merlin and the thousand Demetian riders raced toward him, he watched as the Hun and Highlander armies approached, just a league away.

  Merlin stopped beside Arthur, and the Demetian warriors stopped a few yards behind, their horses neighing.

  “Magi Ro Hul did not betray us,” Arthur said. “Either he has a plan, or that isn’t him.”

  “That is Magi Ro Hul,” Merlin said. “He has a plan. He will attack Bulanid and Uther on the way to Demetia.”

  Arthur paled as he watched the two armies charge.

  “Father,” he muttered.

  “He is in pain,” Merlin responded. “All he needs is his family and affirmation that his sins are in his past, that he is a new person. Once, he was loyal to his greed. Now, he truly is loyal to the throne and to honor.”

  Arthur did not respond.

  The approaching armies were now half a league away.

  “We follow them. Either we initiate the attack against the Huns, or Magi Ro Hul will.”

  Merlin nodded and commanded the men silently.

  At once, they began moving aside and Arthur turned to follow as they watched the approaching forces draw near.

  Clearing the way for the Highlanders and the Huns to pass, they watched as thousands of horses thundered past, followed by infantry who ran.

  The Highlander trebuchets were being pulled by powerful horses. The Hun army was more disorganized, with their men running out of formation, their catapults moving slowly.

  A gap of a thousand yards separated the infantry from the cavalry.

  All stood in silence as the armies roared past.

  Then Arthur broke into a gallop and raced to follow, leading Demetians.

  No one from the other armies could hear them over the sound of their own horses thundering and men shouting.

  Within an hour, the two forces were slowing, and Arthur kept pace.

  Horses neighed and snickered as the Huns stopped along one bank of a stream, and the Highlanders along the other.

  Arthur stopped, signaling the Demetians to halt.

  The Hun cavalry warriors got off their horses to wash their faces with the water of the river while their horses drank.

  They ate, and the Highlanders did the same, but they were not as relaxed as the Huns. They were watching, and Magi Ro Hul was still astride his cart horse.

  “They are going to attack now,” Arthur said to Merlin. “Be ready.”

  They watched from the Hun bank as the Highlanders prepared to spring the trap.

  Arthur led the invisible battalion closer to the site.

  Then a horn blared, and the Highlanders jumped up, drawing their swords. They rushed across the river as archers released a shower of arrows.

  Arthur threw off his cloak and drew his greatsword, shouting.

  He charged, and those who followed him shrugged off their cloaks, revealing a thousand warriors who rushed to attack the Huns, spears at the ready.

  The shower of arrows fell on the Huns as they looked in panic at the Highlander army attacking, and the other cavalry group that had appeared out of nowhere.

  Horses ran across the stream as Huns fell, their blood reddening the water. They weren’t able to draw their weapons before they were cut down by axes and swords.

  Arthur slashed a Hun expendable as he thundered past him. Merlin watched the battle unfold as the Demetian cavalry attacked, mowing down rank upon rank of barbarians.

  Arthur was turning all around, cutting down infantry and warriors who had got on horseback again.

  His blood-stained armor gleamed in the afternoon sun as he caught sight of Bishkar slashing at the Demetian cavalry attacking him.

  Uther was not far away, fighting on foot against Highlander warriors who backed away, knowing they were not supposed to harm him.

  Arthur broke into a gallop and headed straight for Uther.

  His father watched the horse approach, ready to cut down the rider as he neared.

  Arthur sheathed his sword and reached to grab Uther by the shoulder.

  Pulled onto his son’s horse, the rightful emperor did not know how to respond, and passed out from the force of the capture.

  Around Arthur, arrows crisscrossed the sky and air. Shouts sounded as the ring of iron blocked out all other noise.

  Highlander cavalry targeted the Hun infantry while soldiers on foot attacked the catapult crews. Two of the trebuchets broke down, and the Huns were beginning to organize. With shouts, Bishkar was reforming his men.

  Arthur stopped by the bank of the stream. An arrow suddenly raced past his face, and he turned to see a Hun archer preparing to loose another arrow.

  He turned and raced toward him, drawing his sword. Before the archer could react, Arthur slashed the man’s armor, causing him to fall from his horse.

  Within moments, the battle had escalated. The Huns were no longer defending against an ambush. They were fighting back.

  The Highlander warriors fell back from the stream, as Bishkar led a charge against them. Arrows blocked out the sun as they raced toward the Caledonian men.

  Arthur could not see Magi Ro Hul.

  He turned and saw Merlin watching the battle, his cloak crimson, and his face grim.

  Then Arthur watched as the Highlander and Demetian forces were being pushed back.

  A horn sounded, and the Highlander cavalry began retreating, charging for Demetia.

  Merlin read Arthur’s mind and ordered the men to retreat.

  In moments, they were racing back to Demetia, Uther slumped unconscious behind Arthur, tied to Boadicea, as Bishkar pursued them, boiling with rage.

  ***

  The three armies thundered across the plains of Britannia.

  Archers continued to loose their arrows at the Caledonian and Highlander men as the horses charged.

  Arthur galloped at the front line, with Merlin to his side. The beasts pulling the Highlander catapults were still keeping up, and the Hun army was just yards behind. Arrows raced back and forth. Horses and men fell amidst the stampede as the twenty thousand soldiers ran.

  The Huns did not relent.

  For hours, they charged.

  An hour before sunset, Arthur saw the wood-line of the enchanted forest.

  He picked up his horn and blew three times.

  Rumbles echoed through the forest, disturbing the leaves. Verovingian looked up at the sound, and then heard
the horses.

  From behind, horns and trumpets began to blare.

  General Clyde stood before an assembling phalanx of cavalry as infantry and horses amassed across the city.

  Archers ascended the trees and waited for the enemy to appear. Men prepared catapults as lookouts eyed the charging armies. Shouts rang out from the courtyard as the men readied for battle.

  King Megolin hurriedly donned his armor. Chain mail, cuirass, and greaves were thrown on, and he turned to pick up his normar, one of the common helmets modified for royals. The crest of his family embossed on the forehead of his helmet, he put it on and buckled on his longsword, passed down from generations.

  His servants backed away, and he turned to leave.

  With the men of the royal guard marching behind him, one of them carrying the banner of the House of Megolin, a servant brought him his horse, a mighty destrier of the North. Its hooves struck the cobblestone road as it walked toward him. He held the reins and vaulted up.

  His cloak falling over the horse, he placed his feet in the stirrups and turned to gallop toward the courtyard, more cavalry and infantry following him.

  Shouts sounded across the city as the city guard evacuated people from the northern sector. Wagons bearing citizens and their belongings raced past, stopping only to let columns of cavalry and infantry march to war.

  Drums beat as the armies of Demetia assembled along the northern sector.

  “How long?” Megolin asked Clyde as he arrived beside the platform.

  “They’ll be here in five minutes,” the general responded, watching the trebuchet crews load the arms with hay and stone, and pour buckets of tar on them.

  Megolin turned to see Igraine watching from one of the buildings, a group of royal guards standing around her, their spears at the ready and two standard-bearers carrying their colors standing on either side.

  Megolin galloped to the front of the line as the horns ceased.

  “An army charges to attack us. But these are not the Highlanders. They may look like them, but they are not. Huns now thunder toward the enchanted forest, promising to lay waste to this land! Reports say eight thousand are approaching. We number five. But we are Demetians, and any race other than the Huns are fit to fight them. We will triumph, my brothers. And should we fall, we shall pass knowing that we defended our homeland!”

  “Yah!” The soldiers shouted, beating their circle shields as they glared through their nasal helmets.

  “Yah!” The cavalry boomed as they raised their spears.

  King Megolin turned.

  Silence descended on the city as they heard the sound of twenty thousand soldiers approaching.

  Birds raced out of the trees as the armies drew near.

  Megolin looked up and saw four fireballs streaking through the sky, trailing smoke.

  “Launch!” An officer bellowed.

  At once, the triggers were pulled and the arms released, catapulting a dozen stones of fire and hay balls of flame.

  Horses reared and screamed as the cavalry and soldiers moved to avoid the incoming flames that crashed into the courtyard, sending burning chunks of hay flying out.

  King Megolin saw the Demetian fireballs crash through canopy of the enchanted forest as he spotted Arthur leading his men toward the courtyard.

  Looking to their right, he saw the Highlander army racing beside them, but could not recognize the commander who led the force.

  Just then, the trebuchet crews launched another round of fireballs, and four more streaked toward the city guard northern barracks.

  One of them hit a catapult as the twelve raced toward the enemy.

  The trebuchet went up in flames, igniting the buckets of tar and the wagons carrying the stones and hay. The wreck of the catapult fell on the ground as the soldiers struggled to avoid it.

  Flames raged across the cobblestone ground as Megolin saw the other end of the enchanted forest alight with fire.

  Arthur emerged from the wood-line, his armor stained with blood, and Uther slumped unconscious behind him.

  Merlin rode out behind him, and the two young men thundered to Megolin’s side as the rest of the horses piled in. Magi Ro Hul raced toward them as the Highlanders charged behind.

  “Your Grace,” Arthur said, stopping by Megolin, “eight thousand soldiers and cavalry. But they are stronger than anticipated. Magi Ro Hul and I attacked them at a stream more than a dozen leagues north. We had to retreat.”

  Megolin looked at the Hun army advancing through the trees with calm.

  Fires were burning behind him as officers shouted at their men to regroup.

  “I need to get my father to safety,” Arthur told the king.

  “Verovingian!” Megolin called.

  “I shall see it done, Arthur,” he said, freeing Uther from the horse and carrying him away.

  Another fireball streaked toward them, crashing into the roof of one of the city guard’s barracks.

  A fire erupted as the Demetian trebuchets returned fire.

  The cavalry was reforming the line as the Huns thundered toward the courtyard.

  “Spears!” General Clyde shouted, and the cavalry aimed their lances at the wood-line.

  “Archers!” The general bellowed.

  They held their arrows, their blades drenched with tar, to the torches before them.

  “Draw!” A captain shouted.

  “Loose!”

  The shower of arrows raced up from the courtyard and the archers further back as the first line of Huns emerged from the trees.

  Arthur drew his sword and raced toward them, slashing as the arrows fell on the ranks of Huns as they raced toward the cavalry.

  “Charge!” Clyde bellowed as he struck a Hun soldier and the cavalry roared forward.

  Crashing into the Hun line with their lances, they broke through the first ranks.

  Arthur’s sword rang loud against the steel of Bishkar’s and the two men, with common blood, one wearing the armor of the other, dueled amidst the chaos of battle.

  Arthur swung at him, only to miss as Bishkar jumped aside, his horse rearing.

  Turning around, Arthur swung again, hitting Bishkar’s sword.

  Arrows raced past them as the Demetian and Highlander forces struggled to contain the Huns. But the enemy was spilling out into the rest of the northern sector.

  Cutting down guards and infantry as they swarmed the dirt roads of the city, they broke into houses, looking for loot.

  “Your father will not rejoin you,” Bishkar taunted.

  “You don’t know my father,” Arthur said, angrily, and lunged at the Hun general.

  Bishkar jumped aside.

  “It was my arrow, you know?”

  Arthur stopped and stared at him.

  Bishkar smiled.

  “It was I who hit you with the arrow.”

  Arthur did not respond and charged at Bishkar.

  Their swords collided as the two horses neighed.

  Merlin was wielding a greatsword, the hilt carved out of oak. Cutting down Huns on either side of him, his blade merely incapacitated the men. Merlin never killed. He had sworn an oath not to, as all warlocks did. Their roles were to preserve life, not end it.

  Not far from him, General Clyde was battling Hun cavalry as fireballs continued to streak across the sky and showers of arrows raced through the air.

  The sound of battle echoed from throughout the northern sector as the Huns attacked the cavalry and infantry divisions protecting the city.

  Fires erupted behind the courtyard as the expendables looted every building.

  Arthur lunged at Bishkar, pushing him off his horse.

  The Hun general fell to the cobblestone ground, his helmet clattering as it rolled off.

  Arthur had landed on his side, his armor dented. He pushed
himself up as Bishkar got back up.

  He looked every bit the embodiment of the corruption and evil Rome had fallen into.

  Arthur ran towards him, swinging his weapon with anger, hate, and pain.

  The blade of his greatsword struck the Five Dragon crest of his own cuirass.

  Over and over, he slashed at Bishkar, hitting the iron armor until it cracked.

  Bishkar fell back, surprised at Arthur’s string of attacks, but he quickly regained focus and jumped back up, slashing at Arthur. But Arthur parried the attacks.

  Dodging every one, then parrying them, Bishkar soon grew enraged.

  Silence passed between them as they battled, surrounded by soldiers on foot and horseback fighting to the death.

  The trebuchets were no longer hurling fireballs through the air, but the enchanted forest was ablaze.

  From a distance, Merlin harnessed the wind to direct the flames north, containing the fire, but that which was burning burned like Persepolis.

  Bishkar was missing every time, while Arthur was hitting his mark.

  Angry, Bishkar turned and pushed a Hun soldier off his horse while vaulting up himself. Thundering away from Arthur, his armor rent, he cut down Highlander and Demetian soldiers around him.

  Arthur, tired by the duel, stood with his sword beside him, watching the battle. Horses were buckling as they fell to spears while cavalry fell off their horses. Arrows cut down soldiers while they ran, the fires from their blades engulfing them.

  He turned and saw one of the streets leading to the rest of the city war-torn. Overturned wagons and fallen men and horses littered the road. Hun warriors battled the Demetians and Highlanders but were slowly being pushed back.

  Arthur turned as he heard a Hun charging toward him, his ax held high and a voice shrieking from his throat.

  Arthur slashed the man, felling him instantly. Then he turned to parry the blade of a Hun and drove his sword through the man’s iron Highlander armor. The man fell to the ground.

  Looking around, neither Megolin, Merlin, Magi Ro Hul, nor Clyde was anywhere to be seen.

  Bodies littered the ground, many bristling with arrows. Horses struggled for breath as life slowly left them. Men were screaming from their wounds as the wrecks of the trebuchets burned. Pikes and lances whistled through the air, striking the horses of Demetian and Highlander cavalry.