Chapter III: The Shaman of the Celbriac Horde [2]

The agonizing screams emanating death were featured upon the pitched and heated fray. Arrows and steel blades flung to and fro. The blaring sound of colliding iron upon iron, blades against armor and the carving of flesh and gush of blood stitched the war scenery upon the eye. Soldiers and warriors alike clashed to subjugate one another, not a soul daring to cower nor yield, lest they be easy prey. Thousands of men flanked the opposite side of the stone bridge paving the way towards Flendle. Spearheading the attack, Gaudmult ushered his warriors upon the bridge, aiming to launch the siege ladders and ram to force their entry upon the wide gate and its gigantic wall. Hundreds of tribesmen advanced to scale the wall, and droves of them were put down by plummeting arrows while crossing the bridge. Beside of Gaudmult, a semi-circle formation lying await upon the end of the bridge; a cluster of wooden shields fringed around Eldric and Zerith, elder shaman of the Celbriac tribe, a man two generations' old who was both respected and feared by his people. He wore a bony helm while he held a crooked staff with a skull of a goblin the size of an infant's, made of elm wood about six-feet long. Embedded in the goblin skull were two emeralds, coarsely shaped to be inserted inside the eye sockets, an embodiment of the caster's prowess. Peering through the staff, Eldric found himself bewildered at the pair of green gemstones, as if bewitched by an enticing aura. 

"Do not linger your gaze for too long," Elder Zerith said, swaying the stick away from the warrior. "Do so and your soul will be consumed. Only those who made a pact with them can be unaffected. Those gemstones are cursed by the cave spirits of the Drutwick Cavern. Thus, this staff possesses a great deal of mana."

Eldric gestured in approval, diverting his gaze upon the shield bearers surrounding him who maintained a shield wall upon the slow march; an imperfect tortoise-like formation, covering them from the volleys after volleys by the archers atop the walls. Suddenly, he noticed Gaudmult waving over him to get near. "Eldric, I ask of you, where have you seen the Knight Reaper? She is the strongest warrior among the enemies, is she not?" 

"I reckon she is. If you are planning to face the Knight Reaper, I last saw her at the left wing of the wall. She has an intricate black armor like the other knights in this army, but it was trimmed with golden lines and the cuirass was deliberately made for a lady's bosom. I have less doubt you'll recognize her, but we need to break through the center wall or the gate first before you can duel her."

"I cannot abide to spare any time. We would need to change our plans," Gaudmult mumbled with a hiss. "Elder, I would like to request your assistance. Call upon your power to allow us to cross the moat towards the west from here. I shall leave and face this formidable knight myself to avenge our fallen brethren."

"Do not be foolish, Gaudmult!" Eldric blurted. "The Knight Reaper has slaughtered hundreds of strong warriors just like you. We shall not be hasty, and challenge her with the entirety of our forces. Prithee, do not underestimate her or it will be the last thing you do. And upon your absence, who shall lead the horde if you are to leave?"

"I leave that up to you. You are worthy enough to raise our people."

"But…"

"Let him be, young Eldric." Elder Zerith interposed. "Very well, Gaudmult. Prepare your men but keep them less than a couple hundred. It can only work with few numbers."

Gaudmult barked several commands and bands of warriors huddled at his side, dozen after dozen. While they were organizing, Eldric focused his regard upon the old man. His eyes were shut, body still and breathing soft, conveying a state of rumination. He remained indolent and inert as Eldric kept his brisk awareness from the dangers of the battle, searching for stray arrows that might harm the vulnerable shaman. Minutes after, Elder Zerith arisen from his idleness and addressed Gaudmult, "Hear me, champion of the Celbriac! I will now transport you and your men to where young Eldric has pointed. Gather around in an instant."

"Warriors of my kin, do as the elder says, now!" Gaudmult cried. The warriors flocked together, encompassing the old man and Gaudmult.

"Hark, O' benevolent Guardian of the Four winds, bringer of songs of the wind spirts and master of the restless and tranquil gale. As the frigid breeze of winter and ranging vile tempest of spring engulf the temptations of men, I conjure upon thee. Alter the laws of nature to my own accord; grant me thy strength. I cast upon thee… Wind Magic: Mist Metamorphosis!"

The moment the shaman consummated the incantation of the spell, a ring of green light with queer symbols carved upon the turf suddenly materialized, engulfing the converged throng of warriors, who fumbled with their weapons uneasily, unknowing of what was transpiring. The circle emanated a blinding flash of light that made them blink, emitting a thick fog at the same instant. Upon being shrouded by the soring smog, Gaudmult and his men were gradually incarcerated along with it. In a matter of seconds, they were utterly clothed with the fog, until they fused along with it and vanish into thin air, leaving not a single trace. What was left of the warriors were just an intangible mist, driven away by a gust of wind.

"T-They are gone?" Eldric stammered, dumbfounded.

"You need not worry, young Eldric," the shaman replied, insouciantly. "I sent them to where they ought to be. However, now is not the time to trifle ourselves with your innocence in the ways of magic. We must pay heed at our march and you shall assist me upon my task. My aim is to traverse this accursed bridge and use my magic upon the gate. Your purpose of being here is to protect me while I do so."

The shaman and the red-haired warrior, along with the moving shield wall, treaded along the path of the bridge amidst the mass disarray. Eldric had withdrawn his sword blade from the scabbard embedded on his back, then hurtled his way towards the vanguard, bypassing the shield bearers to go beyond to join the warriors scaling the wall. "I will surmount the wall to eliminate the archers, elder!" he yelled back, running apace. He boarded one of the two ladders inserted on the wall, sword at hand, escorted by a contingent of three dozen warriors of his honor guard. He encountered less difficulty and struggle upon crawling his way up in the midst of the hurtling arrows raining down from the battlements.

Clambering through the twenty feet tall wall, Eldric ascended to find himself targeted by an archer brandishing a shortsword aimed for his head. Another soldier charged at him at the same time, attempting a thrust with the point of his halberd. With moments to react, Eldric invoked upon his strength and twirled his blade against his assailants as fast as a blink, marking his first blood in battle. With a single strike, he had inflicted a fatal blow that marked their death, adding more corpses littering the ramparts. Another man-at-arms lunged at him to attack, swiping his halberd in a diagonal motion. Eldric parried the axe-blade of the weapon, and slashed back at the soldier, splitting the haft of the weapon in twain. Stomping with his right foot, he rammed his sword deep at the soldier's chest, puncturing through the mail armor and the gambeson beneath, connecting with the flesh that gushed blood when he removed the blade. Rubbing his forehead free from sweat, he momentarily glanced at his kills before looking down to see Elder Zerith nearly passing through the bridge, almost unto the gate accompanied by the shield bearers.

Upon infiltrating a battlement, Eldric and his troops promptly proceeded on exterminating the dense column of archers, wreaking havoc upon their formation, leaving the defenders' forces scattered at the time. The blood of a warrior inside him was boiling astir, granting him strength of a dozen men all on his own. Eldric carried on fending off the men-at-arms lunging forth to the aid of the archers and towards the siege ladders, decimating whomever got closer. The vigor he possessed dominated his opponents, who were helplessly beaten one at a time in a steady pace. Indubitably, the attacking army headed by Eldric soon gained favor upon the tides of battle. Ere long, the men who had successfully scaled the wall after him carved a path to which their other allies needed to safely gain foothold upon the ramparts. Eldric and his honor guard were slowly attaining control of the wall as they slaughtered men after men with their ferocity.

Norsmundi tribesmen permeated the wall under Eldric's lead, until he and his group were confronted by a knight and a detachment of archers who fired at them at mid-range. The attack came from their left flank, which caught them dazed and off guard. The ring leader of the soldierly, the knight himself, simultaneously bombarded the warriors with bolts from the crossbow he carried, loading quarrels one after another in an impossibly swift rate. Before Eldric perceived the attack from the knight captain, a dozen warriors had already fallen by his crossbow bolts, unexpectedly sudden. The knight continued to dwindle the ranks of the tribesmen, amounting to heavy casualties within a mere span of a few minutes. As a ramification, the momentum of the assault they had built was rapidly deteriorating, completely changing the course of battle. It was not too long before they were pushed back and were cornered against the wall.

Eldric was painfully apprehensive of what was to happen if the decimation of his forces continued. The sight of his own men getting annihilated inflamed his wrath, making him sprint towards the knight in a blinded frenzy. Tightening grip upon the hilt of his blade, he lunged at the knight with all his might in a renewed vigor born of rage. Unexpectedly, his opponent caught the sight of him charging, and fired at him in point blank range. Eldric was able to dodge the bolt by the slightest margin, but lose the speed he had mustered upon charging. His arming sword and the knight's serrated dirk were at a tight lock upon contact. Just then, he felt a twinge of pain across his cheek where the quarrel had missed him. Propelled by his wound, Eldric let out a salvo of strikes against his opponent, who parried it with his knife and retaliated with his crossbow.

"Captain Berwyn, I trust you can manage on your own here?" Eldric heard the voice of a young boy directed at his opponent.

"Most certainly, my lord!" the knight said in return, amidst the sword lock between them.

Eldric lurched back from the knight's reach, then peered at the source of the voice addressing his combatant. A figure of an adolescent clasping a longsword, arrayed in a stygian noble clothing– dark azure jerkin and a white garment underneath it, inky cloak and fancy black trousers– returned the stare at him. It was the very same nobleman whom he deemed as commander, much younger than he was, that he saw giving orders to the knight captain earlier when he first rallied his warriors towards the wall. An icy gaze pierced through Eldric when their eyes met, enough to cause him to shudder and perspire cold sweat. The young lord's gray eyes lingered about him for not too long, and yet he felt an inkling of perpetual dread loitering within himself. The impression he procured of him was something akin to fright and uneasiness, and yet in spite of that he sense a serene gentleness from the man.

Several minutes had passed, beneath the wall where Eldric was crossing swords with the knight in a perfervid duel, Elder Zerith had ease drawing near upon the gate without the resistance of the archers atop the wall. The men working upon the battering ram retreated to the sight of the elder raising his staff and a warning. As the warriors of the Celbriac tribe worked up their courage surmounting the wall, the shaman had taken his chance to perpetrate the ravaging of the gate, succeeding to cast his spell whilst Eldric fought gallantly, situated upon the wall. "…to scorch the realm of the living aflame. Be kindled, be burned, be smoldered and be reduced to ashes. I cast upon thee… Flame Magic: Fire Lance!"

Seven flaring orbs radiating an immense intensity of luminosity materialized abruptly in thin air. Then, it took the form of blazing rods that revolved around the old caster, like tamed beasts roaming around its master. The spear-like flames were tossed towards the gigantic wooden gate, causing a deafening uproar of massive explosion. The gate hurled inward, torn from its metallic hinges, producing a screeching noise. The blast from the fire spell caused splinters of woods to shatter from the sturdy gate to broke down to the ground. The once staunch gate anchored upon the wall was reduced to a rubble swamped with flames. Even the ram that was close in the gate's proximity did not escape damage and was rendered useless after the blast, reduced in ashen wood pieces.

Eldric and the other warriors heard and realized the cause of the sudden eruption, an indication that the gate was finally breached. Morale among the Norsmundi tribesmen escalated, and vigorous battle cries clamored throughout the field. The warriors did not squandered around to idly celebrate their feat, and swarmed the entrance way no longer blocked by the gate.

"If it were me, I would have gladly seen through this duel with zest and relish," Eldric spouted at the knight with utter confidence. "But 'tis unfortunate that it must be halted for I have a duty to lead my warriors towards our impending victory. A true shame that the town has fallen too soon despite the formidable enemies defending it."

Eldric sank through the siege ladder planted upon the wall, expecting no response from the knight as he left. Two of his tribesmen brethren charged at the knight so he can make his retreat. Despite his mockery, Eldric saw not a single hint of dismay from the man, neither did he expect the look of defeat upon his face. Upon his descent, he noticed his warriors fighting a row of spearmen with shields that served as blockade upon the dismantled gate. The shaman was stagnant in his position, guarded by a dozen warriors, recuperating after exhausting himself with the spell. Glancing about the melee combat transpiring before him, he was convinced that victory was within arm's reach.

"Sound the horn and summon the horsemen!" Eldric yelled. "Clear a path!"

A tribal warrior acceded the command in haste. The signal of the horn blared throughout the field of battle, momentarily pausing the struggle between the soldiers and warriors. On the opposite side of the bridge, the horde was immediately organized into two columns, paving a straight path towards the bridge. Dust cloud formed in the distance, horse hooves resonating as the mounted warriors advanced. At the sight of seven hundred horsemen charging on all fours towards them, the undisciplined peasants thwarting the assault of the tribesmen at the entryway disintegrated, making a scattered retreat upon the fear of being trampled by the horses.

"Hold the line, you damn cowards!" bawled a soldier named Jericho to the fleeing militia. "Sir Barone entrusted us to ho–"

Jericho Heismeth, sergeant-at-arms at Lord Roswalt's army and commanding officer of the relief force sent to defend Flendle, was struck by a javelin upon his forehead whilst rebuking the withdrawing men. The withdrawn troops left a hollow rift upon the defenders' ranks, an opening exploited by the Norsmundi horsemen to break through and transpierced passed their defensive line. The few dozen soldiers that maintained formation had helplessly succumbed to the cavalry charge, struck and impaled by their adversaries. The Celbriac horde swarmed the gate after the hundreds of riders infiltrated the entrance of the town, mercilessly killing the remaining foot soldiers standing in their way.

The town is finally conquered, Eldric thought as he mounted his horse to join the ongoing carnage.

And so, the sight of the great multitude of tribesmen flocking the gate marked the catalyst of the event that would later be written in history as the Siege of Flendle, otherwise known as the 'Flendle Massacre,' started when the great wooden gate that guarded the town was utterly destroyed by an old mage by the name of Zerith, shaman of the Celbriac tribe.