Arnia 4

293AC

When two armies charged, the noise of their footsteps alone could drown out all thought, and their battlecries screamed up to the firmament of the heavens.

Such was the noise at the battle of the Grey Crag, the sound of shouting and screaming echoing through the valley as Arnia led the Holy Guard of Norvos into battle. Five thousand of their sacred Long Axes raised to the air with shouts of anger and jubilation.

They were followed by another ten thousand levies behind them. Most equipped with Shields and spears or hatchets, though some bore lumber axes into battle in imitation of their betters. The other thirty thousand kept in reserve to reinforce the line, as even this many men easily filled the center of the barren valley.

While the elephants of the Volantines stayed back, their infantry did move forward, a great number forming a makeshift shield wall and moving into a great line of battle, which began to charge towards them at the same rate, their own shouts and horns and battle cries filling the air as the armies of the free cities clashed in the greatest battle since the end of the Century of blood.

The Clash was cataclysmic, dozens of men were thrown into the air or trampled beneath, as the waves of human flesh and armor slammed into each other with all the force of a raging torrent. Blood splattered against the pale grey ground and the smell of iron and of men soiling themselves filled the air.

He loved it.

The great Axe or Norvos wrought a bloody toll on the front line of Volantis. With every swing, the monster of Valyrian steel sundered shields and shattered the shafts of spears, not to mention the arms and bodies of men. Limbs were thrown into the air and blood poured to the ground amongst the wounds of dead and dying men.

Alongside his flanks, marched the Holy Guard, trained from childhood, they were masters of their craft, easily a match for a dozen of these citizen levies of Volantis. The men they faced were not untrained, but they were militia at best, and he and the Holy Guard drove like a bloody arrowhead through the center of the Volante first wave. Their axes soaking and covered in blood as man after man fell, their tendons split or their bones shattered by the ever falling heads of the long axes of Norvos.

The Volantene line threatened to split in two, and Arnia laughed, for the bloodlust was upon him, rage and fury and glory filled his mind. Cackling, he waited for the Volantene levies to begin to flee before he pulled his half helm off of his head. He felt the thrill of battle begin to depart as he raised his hunting horn to his bloody lips.

His call was echoed by the Noble cavalry behind him, and the army of Norvos began to split. To the left and right, the Holy Guard and the Levies separated, forming trenches through the Chanel pit of the crush, and through them, the noble Cavalry of Norvos came pouring. Two groups of one thousand riders shattered the spirit of the enemy infantry with their cries as they rode into the mass of men, who even now turned to try and flee. What had a moment before been a battle, now becoming a massacre as they drove into the backs of the cowards.

Unfortunately, it was not to last. As the cavalry charged through and pushed on towards the enemy army, the sounds of dying horses and the screams of the anger of their riders began to reach his ears. Arnia cast his eyes across the battlefield, and anger quickly found its way into his heart.

"Pull Back, Pull back you fools!" He raised his ax and waved it towards the cavalry, but they were overcome with battle-fury, chasing their fleeing prey. They had not realized that the Volantines had placed pits of spikes in the cracks and gulleys of the valley, which men could pass through at little risk, but which were now proving deadly to his cavalry.

Too late, the nobles began to see what was happening, too late, they saw their comrades deaths, for the army of Maegor would offer them no respite. The archers of Volantis opened up with a deadly rain against the scattered and demoralized remains of his cavalry, more than a thousand arrows falling on the survivors, and before the first had even landed the archers sent a thousand more.

Arnia could only grit his teeth in frustration as what was left of his cavalry forces limped back into his line. Scattered and broken, they would be of little aid.

Still, he could take solace in the fact that he had put to waste a great number of the Volantene foot. Though there was more yet to come. He scanned the enemy carefully as the next line of Volantis approached. Marching in far greater order, he recognized them as Hoplites. Men of Selhorys who fought in the manner of the ancient Rhoynar. Their great Bronze shield wall stretched easily to easily exceed the length of his own line, though it was much thinner.

They advanced in close order, breaking only to avoid their own traps, still clogged with corpses of his men, and Arnia felt the blood run hot in his veins. To beat a phalanx, he had to make an opening in it, but fortunately for the army of Norvos, that was precisely what he did best.

"VENGEANCE, VENGEANCE" he shouted with fury as he clattered his ax against his shield, and the men of the Holy Guard behind him did the same. Soon, even the levies were born afire, and as he lifted the ax once more, all the men of Norvos charged, a massive arrowhead homing with Arnia the tip, a rictus grin spread across his face, as he knocked three men's spears asunder with the impact of his first blow, driving into the formation with the mass of his horse, and running over their shields with his horse, trampling the first men to the ground.

The third rank, however, we're more resilient, skewering his warhorse beneath him on their long spears.

He saw red, screaming in inarticulate rage as he leaped from the saddle to join the Holy Guard, and set to the slaughter of his opponents on foot, his armor stained with the blood of every enemy he killed. The men of Selhorys falling as easily as any other beneath the onslaught, though the levies were performing poorly against them, unable to break their spear-wall as the Holy Guard had been. He would need to see to that, just as soon as he broke through the back of the phalanx.

Through his bloodlust addled mind, he heard the great horns of Qohor blow in the distance, but his eyes did not leave his foe, as he split another man's shield asunder with his ax. The back of the enemy formation was visible now, the Volantene cowards were splitting apart, breaking and running, their phalanx broke as he raised his bloody weapon into the air once more in anger and to signal the pursuit, charging after the fleeing cowards to cut them down in their escape.

His blood went from hot to cold, however, as he looked up to see the charge of the earth's akin titans which even now spelled his doom. The Trumpet of the elephants deafening even his cries for vengeance.

They were too far forward, away from the Scorpions as the most feared of Volantis' weapons came crashing towards them like an unstoppable rockslide.

'Gods help us.'