The sounds of battle had all but faded as the sun began to set upon the small valley. Here they had met. Two armies. The Wolves of the Buccaneer Festian, and the mercenary army under Amroth Anguireal. News had come of the path of destruction being done upon the lands and the people. Amroth had come. A hastily assembled force of mercenaries, his only comrades. They had been paid well and knew that they had more coming once the battle ended. If they lived to collect it.
The two forces had first closed in the early morning. Festian, leading a wild charge up the valley as the sun came up. he had made his plans quickly and the sun had risen behind the hills where Amroth had deployed his forces. As the brigands charged up the valley the sun began to blind them and they were unable to look ahead without wincing from the bright light. Twice as bright it seemed to those, who had been staging the attack most of the night. With no sleep and tired eyes they now charged up the valley to disaster. The first Charge had been beaten back with heavy losses. The second had gone no better.
Festian had ordered his main infantry forces in under a hail of arrows, but they defenders had the high ground. They had prepared their defenses well. The mercenaries responded with a storm of arrows themselves and then a charge of cavalry down the valley that had cleared the enemy. The buccaneer general Festian, had rallied his men at the mouth of the valley and goaded them with taunts and curses. He had whiped them up and rallied them to a renewed effort even as the tired riders had returned up the valley, many less then had rode out. Losses had piled up quickly on both sides, but the mercenaries under Amroth had fared better. Poor soldiers and hungry. They had proved themselves that day.
All had died as the day went on in countless pushes as the forces of both sides dwindled. Finally Festian had realized his army was smashed and he ordered a general retreat. As the remnants of the Wolves pulled back, a loud horn sounded and the surviving mercenaries had poured out from their cover and charged down the valley. It had lasted over a hour. The corpses littered the earth like fallen leaves in high autumn. Blood ran in rivulets that joined to form puddles.
Throughout the silent valley only the moans of the dying were lifted up like tormented cries of lost children. Indeed the valley was almost empty of all but the dying. Two warriors only moved like ghosts through a nightmare dream. Amroth moved carefully, slow to engage his opponent, patient and alert. Scores of raiders had fallen by his hand this day and now Festian and Amroth prepared to end this carnival of death. Festian gave a wild scream and charged cleaving the air with his sword as Amroth cooly moved to the side.
Both men showed the signs of battle. Blood running from small wounds on both of them. Amroth had a nasty cut above his left eye and the blood ran down it constantly.
As Festian closed on Amroth he spoke to the elf saying "You have done well elf, yet none will know of it. I will kill you and form a new band of cutthroats to plunder this land and do as we will. I have watched you and my sword skill is the greater." he slashed another deadly cut as he said this and quick as an adder his sliced through the air with a long dagger from his other hand. The dagger almost catching Amroth in his heart.
At the last second, Amroth had parried the blow and stepped back. "Indeed, your reputation is known far. I heard of your coming, and knew I must meet you here if there was any chance of victory. What do you think of my choice ?" he asked. "A good one." Festian replied, "Well done. It seems ashamed almost to kill you." As he said this he came in quickly and the warriors swords met with a loud clang and sparked against each other. "A lucky arrow or sword during the day, and things might have turned out different for you. If even a few of your lads had lived it might have been different, but alone, you can not beat me." Festian shot out a wicked thrust even as he spoke the last words and caught Amroths sword.
Swiftly he struck with his dagger feeling the bite as he drove it deep into Amroth's side. He smiled but suddenly he felt a wicked blow to his own side and he pushed Amroth away with a mighty heave. The elf flew through the air to land several feet away. Festian reached at his side to feel the handle of a dagger and hot blood running quickly over his hand.
At the sound of Amroth's voice he raised his eyes to see the elf rising to his feet, his hand at a ghastly wound in his side also. "I never thought to beat you, Festian, merely to kill you. I brought a slight advantage you see." As elf spoke his hand went to his waist belt and slowly produced a small crystal phile capped with a plug. Amroth pulled the plug loose with his teeth and drank the contents down. "Magical" said Amroth smiling, "it has the curious ability to heal all physical wounds."
It seemed to Festian that the wounds Amroth bore had stopped bleeding now. he couldn't be sure though as it had suddenly become so hard to see. he felt very tired, yet strangly light. Festian laughed and thought how nice a good rest seemed. He took a deep breath and as he let it out his eyes rolled back. Amroth surveyed the dead, reflecting on how the mercenaries had fought so well. "I shall build an abbey in their honor." he said, as he slowly walked slowly from the valley of the dead. East toward the coming night.
Edited by Amroth - 29 Jun 2011 at 02:16
Tweet
A slight advantage...
Topic Options
