Cavalry to the Rescue

Help rushes to Amala's aid, but will it be too late?

9.

Cavalry to the Rescue

 

“Almost there!” The knight yelled back to the worried looking man who rode behind him.   Ahead loomed the massive cliff wall that was the northern end of Orc pass.   Jevon swallowed hard, trying not to let his imagination carry him to the most probable outcome ahead.  

 

Orcs on the warpath; something that few alive today could imagine taking place in Northmarch, and poor Amala was trapped in a valley full of them.   He’d managed to stop the runaway horses and had ridden like mad to the garrison station, yet it had been convincing the commander of the garrison of the validity of his claims that had caused the delay.

It was a delay that may have cost Amala her life.

 

His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden sound of horses riding toward their column.   He looked up in time to see four Orcs riding toward them, one with his sword raised.

 

But before Jevon could shout out a warning, a volley of arrows fell upon the Orcs.   Two of the four fell dead from their horses; the third began screaming out something, while the one in the rear with the drawn sword, stood up in his stirrups and held his free hand palm forward as if about to cast a spell or something.

 

“Look out, he’s a spell-caster!” one of the men from behind Jevon warned and four more arrows sailed forth.   One of the four found the Orc’s right eye and he screamed and fell backwards off the horse, snapping his neck.  The other Orc died with a javelin sticking out of his chest, slumped over in his saddle. 

 

They didn’t slow for them, for obviously they were just Orc pickets, hoping to slow their advance.   The cavalry charged past them, and even over them, sounding a blast from bugles as they charged up the pass.

 

***

 

The arrows flew as soon as Amala moved toward them.  One missed entirely due to her speed; two, aimed at her eyes, bounced off the Orc helmet she still wore, and the fourth got her in the stomach.  However, the Orc coat over her chainmail kept the arrow tip from piercing her skin.

 

The first two archers went down with a single swing of her sword, their bows ineffective for parrying.   A war axe from an Orc next to the archers grazed her helm, but she brought her left sword back quickly and cut the arms of the axe wielder, which caused him to drop it.  

 

They charged in from both flanks right then and she swung wild and fast, not trying to take them down but merely keep them at bay.

Then she heard the trumpet blasts.   Over and over they sounded, reverberating off the walls of the pass.   For a moment the combat froze as the trumpet notes echoed through the air.   Then they could hear them, the sound of a large troop of horsemen, hundreds, maybe even a thousand, charging up the pass from Southgate.

 

The Orcs hesitated, realizing that the strong gate would not long keep out such a massive troop of men.   Seconds later some of the Orcs began to move, turning and running to the south, though many hesitated; not wanting to appear cowardly or perhaps still hungering for the bounty promised by the human Baron.   But Bristane wasn’t willing to stay either, and suddenly bolted away, leaving only a small half ring of Orcs standing around Amala.

 

“I’d run if I were you.” She addressed the hesitant Orcs, “Your master has fled along with his promised money and I promise you I will put up a fight as long as I can, so that by the time you do bring me down, you will find the soldiers among you and swarming through your village.   I’d flee while you still have time.”

 

A handful of them were convinced by her words and joined the others.   But four large Orcs seemed more determined to kill her than ever.   With a roar, one of them swung a flail at her head,  but she now had room to move and she ducked the swipe easily, then, rather than return his attack, she exploded into action against the Orc beside him, who still hesitated, worried about the quickly advancing horses and riders.

 

Her attack sent him down, but it also seemed to motivate the other three Orcs to attack.   One chopped at her with a heavy sword which she blocked with her right sword while another swung a battle axe that she deflected with her left sword.   The flail-using Orc saw his chance and delivered an overhead blow while her two swords parried the other attacks.  

 

She tried to flinch backwards but the spiked flail crashed into the Orc helm, which absorbed the blow, but sent it sailing off her head and stunning her.   The three moved in, but one abruptly fell to his knees with an arrow in his neck.  

 

The cavalry had arrived, and archers just on the other side of the portcullis targeted the Orcs through the spaces between the bars, while four men together turned the winch on the north side of the gate.   With the locking mechanism destroyed by Prince Edwarren, the gate lifted quickly and three of the Orcs cast bravery to the wind and fled.  

 

But the flail using Orc wanted to get a shot in on the devilish Drow woman while she was stunned, so he quickly raised his flail to bring it down on her head.  

 

He never got that chance, however, for Jevon’s crossbow bolt pierced through his shoddy chainmail into his heart and he fell dead.

 

“Amala!”   The coachman exclaimed as he rushed to her side.   Still stunned from the previous blow, she turned to him with a curious look on her face for an instant before the fog cleared.

“Jevon?” She asked and then dropping her swords she hugged him, bursting into tears.

“It’s okay!” he said over and over as the garrison from Southgate swarmed past them after the Orcs.   A moment later Tadd, holding a small crossbow, ran to join the hug, followed closely by Rick, with an arm bandaged and resting in a sling.

 

“I’m so glad to see you!”  Amala said to them, sobbing uncontrollably as she shook violently from a release of the emotion she’d bottled up during the time of danger.

 

Her three friends just hugged her for a long, long time, letting the garrison do their job as they rejoiced in being reunited.   Finally, once the Drow girl had calmed down some, they escorted her to a horse that a Southgate soldier held in waiting for her and Jevon helped her mount, and then climbed on behind her, while Tadd and the injured Rick mounted another horse.  

 

Minutes later they were heading down the pass toward Southgate.

“What happened to the Prince?” Jevon asked as they rode, “Did the Orcs kill him?”

 

Amala hesitated - he didn’t know all that had happened; how the only son of the much beloved King Haroldris and regal Queen Eioldth betrayed her after she rescued him.   The royal couple had always been extremely kind to her family and to her.   Edwarren’s sister had frequently visited them in Westmark, holding them all as dear to her as her parents did.  

 

Then there was Edwarren, the handsome half-Elven crown prince and Emperor apparent.   He was so very different from his parents; aloof, proud, cold-hearted and selfish.   Yet his parents still loved him.

Jevon asked her again about the prince, suspecting that she may not have heard his first inquiry.

 

At that moment they came upon the scene of the four dead horsemen that the Southgate garrison had fought minutes before.   The soldiers were dragging the bodies over to a pile where they would burn them.   As one guard pulled a corpse behind him, Amala saw a familiar face slip briefly out of its Orc hood highlighted by the torch light of the guards.  

 

It was Edwarren, his neck broken and an arrow sticking out of his eye.   The wounds disfigured him some and the Orc clothing he and his cavaliers had donned before their escape from the Orc village, concealed his identity.  

 

Amala glanced over to the pile of the other Orc bodies and quickly realized that the other three were not Orcs at all but the prince’s cavaliers.   Amazingly, none of the Southgate guards, working quickly in the dark, had noticed.   Now they were hurriedly going to dispose of the corpses with fire.

 

“Orc pickets on horseback,” Jevon explained as he saw that she was staring at the bodies.   “The four of them rode down on us as we were charging up the hill.   They didn’t get far though.   So what happened to Prince Edwarren?”

 

Amala thought for an instant of telling Jevon everything -in fact, of telling everyone the whole story of everything that happened.   But she thought of the frail old King, clinging to life as he waited for his son - his only son, whom he loved- to get to his bedside one last time before he died.  

She thought of beautiful Queen Eioldth, still grieving the loss of her daughter after 20 years, facing the loss of her husband and now the loss of her son.   She remembered the years of kindness and friendship they had given her parents.  

 

How could she break their hearts about their son?   As the Southgate guards put flame to the bodies of the four ‘Orc pickets’, Amala took a nervous deep breath.

 

“Prince Edwarren died while rescuing me.   They captured me and had me bound in the guardhouse.   He came out of no where and burst in, fighting his way over to me and cutting me free.   We fought our way to the doorway, but as we ran toward the gate, he was cut down with arrows.   The Orcs took his body.   He died… a hero.”

 

Jevon sighed, “I guess in the end he wasn’t so bad after all.   He must have been all bluff.   I’m glad his heart was right.   Oh how tragic; who will reign after Haroldris dies?   The poor Queen; at least she can take comfort knowing her son died valiantly.”

“That’s all that matters.”   Amala said flatly the bitter taste of lying still in her mouth.