LXXVII. The allied forces of Carédock’s brotherhood and Lord Tyén’s army were almost a forth the size of the Black Knight’s host. The odds were not so much on their side, but Edwald was convinced that following the wont of the Brotherhood, they could weaken the Buram main army and even out their chances of victory. Carédock was confident that his clever butcher-like tactics were perfect for this kind of foe. The soldiers of the Sovarós army, however, did not know much of raiding and quite frankly for the most part they disliked the idea of such an honourless fight. Nevertheless, Edwald and Sir Antuel were jointly in command, and when their lords said so, the soldiers did as they were asked and trained in the ways of the Black Cloths.
Time was of the essence, the Buram were about two days ahead of them, and though they had enough horses to ride for all thousand five hundred men, they had little less than a day and a night, and for them to catch them near Ronnos. Were they to set off even an hour later, the weather might have back-tracked them and the castle would have already fallen once they reached Ronnos.
In spite of the odds, Edwald’s spirit burned with hope, and his reverential confidence inspired all. He and Sir Antuel rode at the head and behind them followed Brother Carédock, Lord Tyén and Asadue. All thousand and five hundreds men of the cavalry marched southwards towards Ronnos. The Horns were blown and like a sea of hooves that drummed the ground beneath them, the allied army followed the road towards the setting sun.
Whatever peril still lay ahead, however, was too uncertain to know. The Sun had set upon the seventh hour, and the sky was pitch black, yet no stars hung from above, for the heavens were filled with dark clouds which black shades loomed over the fields and slopes all covered with snow. The view was both fey and awful, a skyline of two colours was all that could be seen; a field of white under a roof of black. The wind was the worst setback. It did not rain for the night, yet so cold and bone-shivering were those squalls, that they had to veer off the path further south in hopes of finding the stars.
The next morning, they rested for an hour, not a minute more, and riding once more, the skies cleared with the morrow. The Sun’s light bath was red and purple and it spread its hues all across the land, giving Asadue the impression that they were not in a wintry country, but rather a true sand desert, which he fondly remembered from his childhood.
The Fates would soon prove to be on their side, for upon the fourth hour since the sun’s breaking, they heard the hastened gallops of a large horde some miles ahead from them. Edwald knew how to deceive the Black Knight and his army, yet because of Oakenjaw he could not do it himself.
-“I plan to attack them personally with the main army from behind,” Edwald said, “And send Asadue and Lord Tyen to ambush them from the sides, and the main force will not stride in ranks, but in a single line that gallops with the wind from their back. Fooled by that line of attack, the Buram will believe us more numerous than we actually are, and will then attempt to flee rather than strike us back. We must do our best to annoy them before they reach Ronnos. Once they get our attention, and begin turning on us to fight us on open fields, only then, we will retreat, we will draw them in to us. All the while, Lord Tyén and Master Asadue will ambush the Buram from the sides. We need only speed up our haste.”
-“We are are not going anywhere if the weather worsens.” Lord Tyén said. “We must find the high ground, maybe atop of a hill or mount some of us can see how far the Buram are.”
-“For once I agree with Lord Tyén.” Carédock said.
A legion was sent up an eminence a three hundred yards to the west of their camp. As they came back they did not blow a horn nor sound any alarm, but their eyes showed their surprise.
-“Brother Carédock,” one of the scouts said, “We have spotted a black stain in the snow-painted hills of the lands to the west and it moved in a rush. They seem to be about three miles ahead. We believe them to be the Buram, Brother.”
-“You have heard Brother Kennt.” Carédock said turning now unto the other captains. “The Weather appears to have delayed the Buram just as much as us. We can still catch them if we are fast enough.”
Quickly they were back on the move, a Sovarós battalion and the whole of the Black-Cloth's Brotherhood linked together in their goal and in their need, rode with haste towards the south and west, beyond the eminence whereupon Brother Kennt had sighted the Buram Horde. The wind was not any kinder than before, it was like the breath of an ice-dragon who was about to devour them all. The sun, though shining still behind the curtains of grey, thin clouds, was hardly bright enough to keep a fixed aim. They rode on, nevertheless, and persevered against the freezing breeze and the tiresomeness of their ride.
Upon the third hour, late in the afternoon, the allied armies had the Buram Host just within sight. The Buram themselves did not notice who rode behind their backs, but Edwald took this chance to give the sign and so two companies were dispatched from the main battalion; one was headed by Master Asadue, the other by Lord Tyén. The companies split; one went right, the other left. The rest did as it had been planned. The main battalion broke the ranks and spread itself forwards in a front line. Shoulder to shoulder, the army strode ever following the sun.
When the two companies had gotten far enough from the main force, Lord Edwald gave the order to blow the horns. Thrice they were rung, and its mighty boom reached even the ears of the Buram Horde. They noticed the broad line galloping towards them from behind, and they blew their own horns twice to signal the hastening of their ride.
The allied armies, however, were far too close now; the Buram could not outrun them. In streams of six, a handful of riders from the front line paced up and began to raid sections of the Buram Horde, but after a certain number of casualties they would ride back to the line, while other streams of horsemen would repeat their tactics.
The Buram Horde was annoyed, as Edwald expected, but they were not yet willing to change their course and engage in battle with the hunting force, for they were finally near the fortress of Ronnos. The Buram saw the red-bricked towers rising tall against the sky, the castle was nigh. Ronnos stood upon a flattened hill south of a large gap that separated the Graythland from the lands of the Vale of Wiex, its battlements were high, almost hanging from the clouds, and the walls went up and down along the ridge of the mount whereupon it had been built. The gates were open, for the forces stationed there had no forewarning of the Buram approach.
The ‘streams’ of riders from the line were beginning to render fruits as they got closer to the castle. Already a large section of the Host had turned back and galloped against the enemy front. To the allied forces lot, their numbers were not so high that they could not manage against them. Yet the main Horde was still reluctant to halt their run.
-“We need the archers, we need them now!” Edwald shouted to his right.
The mounted archers tensed their bows and as Edwald gave the order, a rain of arrows fell like iron tears over the Buram Host. The Black Knight himself was shot, and the arrow was thrust in his shoulder. After such an air strike, the Black Knight fell victim to Edwald’s designs. He gave the order to halt their march and upon waving his hand, his troops turned on their back and marched against the front line.
The first Buram charge was brutal, blood was spilled like rain all across the snow and the horses fell on the bodies of their riders. Some of them had survived the blow, only to be then killed by their own mount. The Battalion survived, however, and they pushed forwards against them, in streams of horsemen once more. This one counterattack was fiercer than all the previous ones, and the Buram Horde lost about three hundred men in one blow.
The Black Knight stepped forth at the front, and he was surprised to see Edwald riding a horse.
-“You escaped Seranos.” The Black Knight yelled from afar.
-“I did not escape, hooded-one,” Edwald replied, “Instead I was rescued.”
-“By whom?” The Black Knight asked aloud.
-“By one whom you were too sure to declare dead.” Edwald said, “I present you my brother, Sir Carédock, otherwise known as the true Black Knight, and the Rogue Monk.”
Just like Edwald had foreseen, the Black Knight grew anxious, he seemed as if something he had known, was now shown to be wrong. The Black Knight knew what to do. He would kill the Rogue Monk himself, so that the vision he was so sure of, could be just as he had it had been foretold.
-“Bor-Ashid!” he shouted loud as thunder in the Buram tongue, and his armies charged forth wroth like devils against the front.
Edwald made a horn ring once, and with that, the battalion started to draw back, a retreat that was also part of Edwald’s plan. The Buram Horde kept charging forth and down they went after the fleeing front line even down a slope. As they reached the bottom of the slant, Edwald had his horn blown again, first a single blow and then the second with three blows. The Front-line riders retrieved no more, and began to meet the Buram with their axes and swords. Slowly, the Line divided and most of the allied armies pressed their way through the Buram ranks with their horses. Up the slopes they rode, and the Black Knight’s host chased them. Yet as they climbed up the slant, the companies of Lord Tyén and Master Asadue came down on them from left and right.
The Black Knight could not believe his eyes. His five thousand men were being outsmarted by only one battalion, his annoyance turned to rage as he noticed that the surprise-attacks had caused many casualties among his Buram ranks. The Black Knight blew a horn four times, and its echoing boom raised the spirits of his host. As if rekindled with new strength, the Buram Horde made their way up the slope, even against the rage and steel of the two new companies.
Slowly but surely, most of the Buram made it atop the slope, at the cost of about two-thirds of a battalion. So far, all played out according to Edwald’s plans; their humble forces might have been enough after all to even out the odds to defeat the Buram altogether. There remained a problem, however, the castle of Ronnos still had their gates open and it was not so far off that the Buram could not take them if they were hasty enough.
Just as he thought, the Buram Host managed to fool the two companies and found their way down the hills towards the fortress of Ronnos. Lord Tyén’s cavalry charged against one of the left battalions of the Black Knight, and though he did diminish their number, it also came at the cost of loosing a third of his own men. So he retreated towards the main front and gave the signal to Master Asadue to do the same with his force.
Edwald had to act fast. ‘They had to chase them, they must not reach Ronnos’ He thought to himself, ‘But against so large numbers we cannot do nearly enough to defeat them.’
-“We must follow them, Chase them with your utmost haste!” Edwald gave the order, and the whole of the army delivered. They chased the Buram horde on their horses and many times a stream of riders fell upon them like they had done at the start of the battle.
The Gap of Ronnos and the castle drew ever nigher, and the Buram were at the head, the allied army was at the rear. Should the fortress gates not be closed for when they come, there is little they could do to finish them off. Their horses were fast, but the Buram strode in a wider pace, their march was like the trot of a boar, heavy and rushed.
It was already too late for the garrison stationed at the castle to close the gates when they noticed the Buram black Horde approaching like a dark stain on the snow ever closer towards them. They blew their horns, and inside their walls a bell was tolled. The heavy iron gates of Ronnos were beginning to shut, but because of the enormous weight of each door, they moved very slowly, and they would not be closed until after the Buram had arrived at the threshold. The small garrison was slaughtered and the Buram took hold of the castle. Some of the allied forces found their way inside the castle, and in the bailey they made their final stand. Not for naught they died, at least a half a company they managed to outmatch, but those who got inside Ronnos were never seen again alive.
The gates of Ronnos were closed at last, and its walls were wide enough for all five battalions of the Buram Host to fit inside. Upon a while Edwald’s front-line reached the castle as well, only a moment too late. He saw the corpses of both Sovarós soldiers and Black Cloths hanging from above the walls. Now that the Buram were no longer on the run and had gained the upper ground, in spite of all the allied army’s raidings, the Black Knight looked about from the height of a tower and saw that the armies that had chased them only made the illusion to be numerous.
Feeling tricked and deceived, the Hooded-Knight gave the order to shower arrows over Edwald’s forces. Immediately Brother Carédock called the retreat, and Lord Tyén did the same. Edwald had to be pulled away from the firing ground, for he was shocked to learn that they had been very close to defeat them.
-“If only our numbers had been higher, we could have conquered today.” Edwald told his brother.
And even as he uttered this prayer, it was answered yet again.
From the north-east a loud dragon horn was heard booming like fire and thunder across the vale, and on the skyline a clear march was seen. A third army had come. Spruce were their banners and capes, and silver were their armours and shields. The ride of their horses was swift, swifter even than the mighty steeds of Arthalyon; their silver hooves thrummed like broken glass against the snow and their neighing rang almost like a song. They were a smaller force—about a fourth of the Buram host—, yet each soldier looked thrice as formidable as an Easterling. Furthermore, the third army was not comprised of infantry or simple footmen, instead every knight was a seasoned warrior and there were scratches on their gear to prove their worthiness.
Now that they were closer, Edwald noticed the blazon they waved; they bore the arms of the Order*(1): a silver-crowned black sword on a spruce field. The army in question was made up of Knights of Neldor and some auxiliary cavalry of the King’s private army. At the head of the spruce-silver host rode their captain, a man whom sadly, Edwald had met over a year ago. Sir Estewan the Toothache was their commander, his spotless armour was a testament to his prowess, for he had not yet been defeated in battle. Upon his chest plate—right above the blazon—were carved the runes of Ennard spells and other words were carved too upon his crest. Silver sword and shield he bore as well and the shimmer of his canoply was mirrored on his horse’s barding.
Even from afar, Sir Estewan noticed the Sovarós army standing near the walls of Ronnos, and by the looks of it, he deduced that there had been strife between the garrison in the castle and the Sovarós army outside; then he saw that not all soldiers wore the griffin’s colour, some bore the black of monks.
Upon sighting the arrival of the third army, the captain of the Neldor host and the leadership of the allied forces met to parley in the field. Edwald was there along with his mentor and brother, and Lord Tyén and Sir Antuel as well. The snow of the ground had been evened out by the march of the Buram Horde, and now two armies stood thereupon averse to each other.
Sir Estewan stepped forth first, he jogged elegantly on his horse, his grey cape swirled in twisted, pretty shapes that gave off an odd grace on his crest. Then, he removed his helmet, releasing his long golden-bronze hairs in the wind, beneath a clear brow—wise in age—where the blackness of his chestnut frowns shadowed the deep blue of his eyes. Underneath his red-spangled beard, his thin lips toughened and his teeth fastened.
Edwald rode at the head of the leadership, and Asadue not far behind him. The faint amber beams of a setting sun showered him alone and singled him out from afar. His golden curls waved on his forehead as the wind breathed against his brow, his eyes glinted as two glittering lamps of dark green light, shaded by the stiffness of his honey-brown frowns. His head he proudly showed helmet-less, and he bore still the same gear that his brother had lent him, so his armour was of iron just like Carédock’s, though gold and green were his clothes, for they were the colours of his House yet his cape was white like ice and snow. His shield, however, was neither borrowed nor stolen, but gifted by a man he called enemy, and his sword was made of Nurgiron, forged by the secrets of Dwarven smiths, which the Dwarven King blessed and he bestowed Edwald with all the might and right of the sword. The brand had the power of truth and could tell its owner the secrets of what lies hidden and reveal hidden sooth. Súnthaz was her name in the Dwarven Tongue; still Edwald himself called her instead ‘The Oakenjaw’.
Asadue did not take his green eyes off his pupil. His swarthy skin glimmered like gold under the setting sun, and his beard and robes made him look like a sage from distant lands who cared deeply for his student’s fate. Sir Antuel and Lord Tyén looked heroic in their own way, but besides the two afore-riding men, they were not as majestic as them. Brother Carédock appeared the most sinister, he was tall and formidable, his black cloth and iron sheathing singled him out from the rest as the most likely to mistrust, and furthermore, he wore an eerie helmet, shaped like a cone or else a capirote-hood of the clerk. His crest was iron, though it shone like silver, and the dark of his cloak was like a shadow-fiend that walked ominously behind him. There were two holes on the face and a few lines near the neck; all through the gloom beneath his mask, two red eyes were seen prowling.
-“Greetings, my lords and sirs.” Sir Estewan began. “We come on the orders of His Grace, the King, under the counsel of the Most Noble Order of Neldor. Whatever harm you inflict upon me or my men, shall be seen as a crime against your King and treason against the Realm. What is your business here today, why have you laid siege to the castle of Ronnos?
-“It has been wrongfully taken.” Lord Tyén exclaimed from behind.
-“So, why haven’t you notified your lord.” Sir Estewan asked, “He must have been told so he can dispatch a regiment of his own.”
-“He too has wrongfully taken Thindur’s throne.” Lord Tyén replied in a glimpse. “Our kinsman, Carathuel of Beardt, who people call the Black Griffin, sits unrightfully as Lord in Fyore. We have a man amongst our own who has a better claim to Hadril’s throne and he rides with us. Sir Antuel son of the late King Elorio III of House Sovarós, rightful Lord of Fyore and Prince-Elector of Thindur, he is the rightful heir to Nysdorth, the Lordship of Fyore and all the Griffin’s dominion.”
-“Our business is of no concern to you, sir.” Edwald said scornfully. He had not forgotten all what happened in Culgarost over a year ago. The way he treated Master Asadue and the prejudice of his tongue led him to break away from their friendship. “The King should see to the struggles in his realm. There is kin strife in the House of Sovarós, the case about the slaughter of a Prince-Elector of the Realm is still unresolved and a foreign force wanders freely in these lands, wreaking havoc whithsoever they go and destroying thousands of innocent lives. Where was the King as all of this came to pass?”
-“Lord Elbracht, it is highly unwonted to find you so far away from your homeland in the South.” Sir Estewan said smirking, “I suppose you must be on a quest, mayhaps a task given to you by the King as well. It seems you have delivered…” He starred at Brother Carédock as he said this. He inspected with his eyes, the robes he wore, the arms he bore, and even the quaint pointed helmet which did not scare him at all.
-“Brother Carédock, I suppose. It’s hard to say with that helmet on.” Sir Estewan said back. “I have heard they call you the ‘Black Knight’ now and it so happens that our King has sent us here to deal with all the crimes attributed to that name. Are you not the Black Knight we seek?”
-“That is not my name anymore.” Brother Carédock replied with a deep voice. “Aye, that used to be my moniker. Now they call me the Rogue Monk. I think it sounds even better than the former.”
-“We are not here to hail your sobriquets nor praise your exploits.” Sir Estewan said sharply, “We are here for your head. I told your cousin, Sir Martid, that I would at least bring him your other leg.”
-“I bet you’d like that.” Carédock bought into Estewan’s provoking. “But first I will put a spear through your eye, just like you did of old to our late lord father, may the Gods rest his soul.”
-“A yes, I did scratch his face once upon a time long ago.” Estewan said, “It seems you took after your father. I didn’t know scars could be passed down from father to son, or has it been someone else, perhaps akin to you that took out your eye?” Sir Estewan had heard the stories of the Children of Elreck. It was widely known that what began as a playful joke ended up with the elder brother taking the younger’s eye out of its socket.
Neither Carédock nor Edwald gave an answer.
-“Anyhow it seems also that your task is not fully done, my lord Elbracht.” Sir Estewan said.
-“What do you imply, sir?” Edwald replied.
-“As far as I know, the errand the King trusted unto you was to reach your brother; the Black Knight—or the Rogue Monk, or whatever else you wish to call him—and deliver him back to the Fold of Sheep in Culgarost. As things stand, you are yet to fulfill that last part. If this is not the case, then I have the right to assume you have sealed a pact with your brother and forsworn your pledge. Should this be true, then just like Brother Carédock here, and his band of outlaws, you are my enemy too.”
-“I would not be so quick to cast blame and tell friend from foe, just this once.” Ever lordly, lord Tyén said. “We are not here to conquer nor subdue. Yes there is one they call the Black Knight. And yes, Brother Carédock has been given that name in the past. But the enemy is not that man; he is not even of our race. His army is made out of Buram terror and his numbers are great. He has taken this castle without much effort and now, we must draw them out, ere they regained their breath from the march and are ready to plunder every village and town in this land.”
.-“Lord Tyén,” Sir Estewan said turning to him. “You have always been a loyal servant to your land and king and as a faithful of the Sagrary you have gained much fame. Why do you fight besides oath-breakers and heretics?”
-“Because it is the right choice!” Lord Tyén answered breaking his calm. “I trust Lord Elbracht, and if he so wills to ally himself with a band of rogue monks to drive out invaders from this kingdom, then I will trust his mind and heart, for he has proven to be stronger than most in both. Even when fate seemed to play against him, his spirit did not falter. Against all odds he faced the true Black Knight, who hides behind those walls just as we speak, and lived to tell the tale. The Gods gave him favour, for he was freed by the same man he had left his home to find. All these things seemed dark and questionable. No common man should fight for neither fame nor glory against Edwald’s odds, and expect to meet his goal. Still, he thrived against those perils where other men could have not. I say his conviction is solid proof of his worth. He should be an example for all, for he does only with the heart and conscience.
“My kinsman and lord, Sir Antuel, is partly to thank for my loyalty. Just like you upon meeting Lord Elbracht, I had my doubts and reservations as well. For once, his father had declared war against my king and kin, so I should begrudge him for his father’s sins. He broke the sanctity of our holiest shrine in Myrlost, and went whither only few men are allowed. I had all the reason to mistrust him, and adding to his quaintness, he also claimed to have an enchanted sword. He is foreign, queer of manners and tongue, stubborn, and of poor demeanour, all qualities I am not very much fond of. And yet, no one can deny his honour and valour. He put his own life at risk to find and rescue Sir Antuel, last-breathing brother of the late Lord Hadril and his heir. He was not selfish when he brought him back to those he could not trust, and had he not had virtue, Sir Hans, Sword of the Realm, would not have toiled and struggled alongside him. None but I have more right to hate him, still through his deeds, he has gained my regard and praise.”
-“Very noble of you to say, my Lord Tyén.” Sir Estewan said, “But from my point of view, I have no proof that what you say is true. If there is no Buram horde inside that castle, then it must be a lawful Sovarós garrison, which you have laid under siege.”
-“There is a heavily armed, foreign force inside that castle.” Lord Tyén said, “If you have heard of me, you should know that I am a man of my word, and if tell you that there is a Buram army waiting behind those walls, you should know of me good enough that I don’t talk either in riddles or lies. We could use the help of your army to draw out the serpent from its cave.”
-“I will not aid you in your roguery!” Sir Estewan exclaimed.
-“You must believe us, sir.” Asadue said, “The Buram threat is real. My Lord Elbracht and I were chained by him. He intends to plunder the whole kingdom.”
-“It is you, who should be in chains, Master Made-Free-Hazagodian-Swart.” Sir Estewan said scathingly, “Of all men present, you are the least expected to be here. What business on earth could a barbarian—such as yourself—possibly claim to have in these lands?”
-“He is here out of love for me,” Edwald said with a tongue sharp as steel. “Whatever business I may have here is also his. Either way, must needs that you believe what we say. There is a Buram army behind those walls, re-gathering their strength. Once they are ready to march again, all five thousand of them, they will spread pain along the way, killing so many that otherwise could have been spared. If you are right, you can take me and brother to the king, so he may punish us as he would please, but if you are wrong, then there will be a war that you could have stopped, had you only listened to what we’ve warned.”
-“Your omens do not threaten me, Elbracht.” Sir Estwan said, “I will carry the task the King has given me, even if you cannot. Let the blades clang and shield splinter and blood stain of red the domain of winter!”
Sir Estewan standing still in the front made a loud whisle and was quickly followed thereupon by a full blown horn. The spruce-army replied to the signal with battle-roars and without breaking array, they galloped forth towards the allied host. Edwald could not have prepared his armies for such an onslaught. The Knights of Neldor and their retinues rode with the wind and their harsh attack took the allied armies at unawares. The Sovarós men and the Black Cloths had no option but to respond. They galloped to the front and met the Knights of Neldor in a clash of swords.
Amidst the clamour, the leadership gathered on high ground. There they saw the battle from above and so unwarranted was Sir Estewan’s blow that the spruce of their capes mingled with the red and black of Edwald’s force. The Lord of Ceor had a keen mind for strategy, and together with his fellow commanders they designed a counter-strike. Yet even as they agreed upon a plan, a Buram horn was heard, it had been somewhere blown behind the castle’s walls. Its ringing boom echoed against mountain-walls and filled the vale with its menacing song. The horn was followed by a cloud of iron that rained all over them arrows from above, from below neither the Knights of Neldor nor the Sovarós men or the Black Cloths understood that air attack did not came from the opposing side, but was rather the work of a third party.
Edwald took his shield aloft and his fellow commanders did what they could to sheathe themselves up, alas one could not. An arrow pierced through Sir Antuel’s shoulder, another scratched his cheek and—oddly enough—a third flew through his fingers. Lord Tyén rushed to his aid once the rain had stopped, but then Carédock warned.
-“We must break the battle and take our army to safety! he said, “I have seen the Buram use this tactic before. They call it the Storm. If they wish to see a stationed force retreat, they let arrows fly on them in loops, giving the enemy enough time to reconsider fleeing and then they just keep on shooting until their foes have done so. We must sound the alarm to retreat before the second air-strike.”
-“We are in the middle of a fight, we can not just tell them to leave.” Lord Tyén protested.
-“My brothers know how to follow orders, do yours? Carédock told him sharply.
-“We, Graythmen, value honour above all.” Lord Tyén replied. “For us here is no higher honour to serve our homeland and our lords.”
-“Then prove it!” Carédock said, “Tell your serjeants to disengage from the fight and retrieve east and west from the fighting ground.”
-“Yes, it might work.” Edwald said, “Then, we must follow the plan we discussed.”
With no time left to waste, the leadership split, each spreading the order to retreat. The allied army, ever faithful to their masters, forsook the fight and marched away from the battleground. Like ants strolling aimlessly on the sand, Edwald’s forces dispersed and fled the clash. A thousand hooves thrummed the snow, which banging noise seemed like the thud of drums. The Knights of Neldor did not sit idle all the while, however; they chased their foes wherever they rode and their horses were of the fittest stock. They followed the retrieving army with the speed of a bolt, and just as their aim was set north, a shadow flew swiftly past them mistaking it as the mere shade of a cloud, they did not bother to look up, and so what rained over them thereupon, was a shock to all. Sharp iron tears fell from above; it was the second air strike of the tactic known as ‘the Storm’.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Many fell dead instantly, others only struggled to keep their pace, but Edwald’s allied army did not suffer as much, for some of the Black Cloths happened to have looked up before the arrows fell, and warned those about him to take their shields aloft. Some of them did, others did not, yet either by the hand of fate or a lucky chance, Edwald’s side did not lose any lives, whereas, among the chasing army, losses were high. So taking advantage of the Spruce-Silver Army’s mishap, they galloped forward and outpaced even the Neldor Horse.
----------------------------------------
LXXVIII. Edwald’s army ran at the head and a few miles behind followed Neldor’s army. The distance might not have been much, but it saved the former from the third air strike, and arrows fell upon Sir Estewan’s men again. This once, it was only his army that was aimed for. So he reasoned that whatever garrison there was stationed at Ronnos—be it the fabled Black Knight and the Buram horde, or else just the remnants of a rebel force—had either way no loyalty to neither the Order, nor the King of Men. At least that much should have been obvious, since after the second blow, the third strike was a sign of hostility and should be enough to reconsider Edwald’s case.
-“Parley, parley!” Sir Estewan cried from down a slope. He was waving a white banner and was weaponless. He rode no horse, but walked his way up to talk with the Sovarós men and the Black Cloths. Edwald sat on his horse foremost from his own host and even from above, he was almost pleased about the fact that his once befriended, now-turned-enemy, Sir Estewan, was walking up a rather steep slant—almost crawling—bearing a sign of surrender.
As they sighted the enemy captain waving the white banner, Asadue, Sir Antuel, Brother Carédock, and Lord Tyén all approached and stood behind Edwald.
-“Do not be so amused to see me like this, Elbracht.” Sir Estewand said.
-“How could I not be?” Edwald replied. “You were the first to roll the dice. You marched on us, without warning right in the middle of our last parley. Why shouldn’t this one be the same? We have the highground and we haven’t got any casualties. Why shouldn’t I ring the horn and let my own arrows rain down on you and your lot?”
-“There is no need to be so ruthless.” Sir Estewan said, “It takes virtue to be a knight and, even for a soldier like me, it costs courage to admit one’s own faults. I was wrong before to be so harsh and devious on the battlefield. I should have listened more carefully and not break the parley in that way.”
-“What do you want, Toothache?” Edwald asked him, soothing his spite and temper.
-“I was too quick to judge and turned a deaf ear when it suited me the most.” The Toothache admitted. “But as matters stand, there is a hostile force at Ronnos. They might be these so-called Buram Invaders—as you say—or else just a rogue battalion gone into mutiny and disarray. For their transgressions against us, they have declared themselves enemies of the King and of the Realm. Nevertheless, the Gap of Ronnos is the only path that connects the southern kingdoms with the capital, the sea and the northernmost regions. Whoever holds that castle must watch over the safest pass to the south. Should the castle fall into the wrong hands, it could weaken the Realm and lead to yet another war.
“You have done your share of offences, you and your brother; one for rejecting to carry out a royal command and the other for having broken his sacred vows. Lord Tyén could be taken to Capital Trial for aligning yourself with these men and the mob of outlaws that fight for them. Yet not of it matters now; your crimes are nothing compared to what this army can cause. So long as this hostile force remains secure inside the castle, until it thirsts for blood and flesh, we must fight together for the sake of the Realm, and all the innocent lives that could still fall victim of their blades.”
-“What do you care about the Realm, isn’t this whole business just a game of the Order anyway?” Edwald replied gripping tightly the hilt of Oakenjaw as if asking the sword to tell him the truth. “Your masters at the White Tower summoned the Buram from distant lands and had them raid the realm, while they watched, waiting for the King himself to come begging to them for their aid. The Black Knight has told me everything.”
-“I still struggle to believe there is a Buram army in that castle.” Sir Estewan said in earnest. “As for your claim, that the Order is somehow involved in this matter, it is nothing short of a misguided assumption. I know nothing about secret plots and civil wars schemed by the Order. You’ve either heard one too many a gossip, of late, or else deviced this defence to justify your crimes.”
Edwald did not feel there was any lie in his words. The sword did not respond; its powers merely slept while letting Sir Estewan’s words go unchecked. Edwald was unsure, so he asked the sword again by talking to Sir Estewan instead.
-“You said, you have come at the King’s behest to deal with the ‘northern threat’, which you understood to be my brother, Carédock, and his brotherhood of outcasts.” He said, “That much is clear. However, there is another motivation behind your deeds, is there not? You knew in advance, an attack would come from the north and that without the Order’s involvement; it could have led to civil war. Do yo deny any partaking in your masters’ designs?”
-“You are most mistaken, my lord.” Sir Estewan replied sharply, “I play no role in any plot. I am a knight, first and foremost. So I would never do anything unknightly such as to indulge in ploys against the Realm and the King. The very fact, that I stand before you and am open to fight alongside you, should be enough proof to attest to my virtue.”
Edwald grew galled and annoyed, for now his sword only showed him that Sir Estewan’s telling was truthful. Perhaps he was merely unaware or else oblivious to all his claims, but either way Oakenjaw assured its wielder that there was no deceit in what his foe had said.
-“You might as well be a blind fool, sir Toothache.” Edwald said, “But at least you’re an honest one. I am certain what I say is the truth. If you wish to fold your eyes and choose not to see the sins of your own Order, that is not my concern. Yet shame on you, for serving those who love not our kind, and spill the blood of guiltless folks for the sake of their ends and goals.
“Whatever our feud, I will join you and your men in this fight. With our armies combined, we might be enough to draw the snake out of its hole. The Buram are a pending threat as of now, but should fates turn again, I can not assure you we will meet again on the battlefield as allies.”
Edwald stretched his hand and Sir Estewan gave him his, shook their armies’ enmities away. Both forces gathered down the slope, and the leadership of the allied army met in council with Sir Estewan.
-“We have no hope of a siege.” Edwald argued, “If we were to take the castle, it will take us months, to breach those walls, and all the while, the Buram will only grow stronger. They already outnumber us; without a clear strategy, they will slaughter us all on the battlefield. So how do we lure them out of their shelter?”
-“We simply can’t.” Lord Tyén said, “They have all they need up there, supplies, weapons, stock, stores. They could hold in for months before they come out those walls.”
-“How do you catch fish, my lord?” Brother Carédock asked Lord Tyén. “With a bait, sire. The only trouble is that we have nothing to goad the Black Knight with. So, unless we find something, we can rest assured, he won’t be leaving those walls any time soon.”
-“There is something he wants,” Edwald said, “But for you to understand it you must all know the story, even if it appalls you or cannot stand to hear it, you must. The Black Knight, who leads the Buram Horde, had a duel about half a week ago. He did not kill me as he should have done, instead, he let me live and told me what for he had come. He is a Knight of Neldor, who was previously stationed at the easternmost borders of the Order’s domain. He changed his ways and mingling among the Buram he became even one of them. The Order, however, when they needed him most to play the part of the villain in the White Towers’s secret power-games, he refused, so they extorted him with the lives of his family, so he could serve them as a pawn in this war, which they themselves have schemed long before it began.
“Now the Black Knight does not attack us only out of fear for his kin, but also out of spite for his masters. He trusted me with the knowledge of all the things I speak of, and he also mentioned that the Order was rather wary of me, that they see me as a threat for things that might yet be, and for that they wish to get rid of me. The Black Knight knew this when he bound me after our duel, and he reasoned that he could ransom me to the Order for the lives of his child and woman. I could threaten him with my own life, so that the thought of me taking my last breath out before he could even make use of me, might be enough for him to open the gates and chase me in a rush.”
-“Is your pride so great, my lord, and the thought of yourself so high, that you must claim the Order thinks you are their undoing? Sir Estewan said. “Your tale is gone too far.”
-“I speak the truth, Sir Estewan.” Edwald replied, “Though you wish not to see it. It matters not anyways. We only need you to contribute with your knights.
“I will ride at the head of the armies, so the Black Knight can see me first. I will offer him parley, and threaten him with my life, but he will just give the alarm and open the gates to take me inside. I will need a strong steed for this task, mayhaps one of the Neldor stock, so that the Black Knight’s more common mount can not outpace me while I flee. If the Black Knight comes out himself, he will follow me and his army will go behind him. That’s how we get the snake to crawl out of its hole. I shall be the bait, and you the fishmen. Once they’ve chased me into open fields I will lead them west, where Sir Estewan’s army shall be waiting on the high ground. We shall not be enough to defeat them; still we may make a front in the Gap of Ronnos and pushed them down the slopes back to the northeast whence they came. Lord Tyén’s and Brother Carédock’s men can raid them amidst their flight.”
-“How will that help us?” Lord Tyén protested, “We need to finish them off, not delay their onslaught.”
-“Yes, we will not be their demise,” Edwald argued, “But at least, we can spare thousands from the blade.”
-“We can save them today,” Lord Tyén said grimly, “But we will not be able to do the same, tomorrow.”
-“Yes again, my lord Tyén.” Edwald said, “We can only help them today. That’s still better than naught. We are all sons of Adein, we are the heirs of his name, virtue-bound, freedom-seeking, and there is a fire within our hearts that burns hotter than the sun. If we cannot protect our own or die in the attempt thereof, what shall our forefathers think of us, who have failed to honour their legacy? The bards will not tell our names in songs and the fire that so warm glows in our souls would go off without a taste of sweat and toil. We might not even thrive today, and fall all dead by arrows before we reach their gates. Nevertheless, will you not rather give your best and if die you must, do it so with a blade in your hand and a content heart?”
The leaders all stood up, drawing out their swords and raising their blades above their heads to hail him, in utter quiet; they bowed their eyes to Edwald’s words. In response Edwald lifted his arm up and front and saluted them all with his hand aloft*(2). All had had some feud with Edwald in the past, yet this once, they looked at him and beheld, not the young Lord Elbracht they had previously known, but a warrior with powers beyond this world. This was their first glace of the man into whom Elbracht would become. Lord Elbracht in that moment was transformed; the Edoran was all they saw, a second self within Elbracht that had the semblance of a hero of old. Like a general victorious of war, or a king standing tall before his folk, Edwald did not look himself, but rather like someone who had outgrown his own name, a higher mind and heart dressed in a coat of his flesh and bone.
Upon the hour the allied forces—now counting the Neldor army among them—were on the move once more. They split somewhere along the road near the Gap of Ronnos, and while most of the host kept west their course, Edwald headed a small company south of the gap, made out of Black Cloths and some knights of Neldor and Sovarós men.
They cantered in haste across the vale; slanted fields waved up and down to the right and left and there were mountains behind and ahead, like the walls of a fortress that defended the vale. On the east, Edwald could see the battlefield, where arrows had rained, shadowed by the red stronghold of Ronnos. Its walls and towers partly down-torn, the battlements topped with spires, the keep was large and tall, and due to both the heavy rain of autumn and the summer’s dazzling sun, the donjon’s walls had sweated the red of its stones long ago, getting paler with the pass of each dawn and dusk. There were two huge windows on the fortress and the skirt of the hills filtering its cloaks inside the castle from above made it seem like a broken skull filled with ash and dust.
Edwald and his company rode untroubled up the slope to the gates, and he told the sentries above the gate-house to fetch him the Black Knight. There he was already, watching over his new fort from the heights of the battlements, so high above.
-“You escaped from Seranos, my lord.” The Black Knight said once more, “I should have bound you and your slave with three chains. But then I saw the one they called the Rogue Monk, earlier as you chased us, and I understood he must have raided our camp with whatever forces he had left.” There was a hint of doubt in his voice as if he was not sure.
-“Whatever is the matter, sir?” Edwald asked with a smirk, “Did you not say he had died back in the Pass? Mayhaps the fates are not so certain after all and what both we claimed we might have known, could have been rather a misreading of the magic smokes*(3). Does it not scare you; the chance that your foresight might be wrong and what you thought to be true could have been just a dream, after all? That would mean, you know not of what is to become of me. The glorious, baleful purpose, you believe I might be destined to, is like words written on sand, which the wind can sweep away or the waves might erase their trace. Thus, I could die today, and you would be left with no ransom for your barter.”
-“You will not die today, I’ll make sure of that.” The Black Knight answered.
-“If the fates are not so certain after all, there is nothing you can do to prevent a storm or keep the wind from blowing north.” Edwald said, “None is sure whether they’ll wake up the next morn. It is all just a gamble of chance, a game wherein man daily takes its part. In this game I have already made my bet, and now I’ll decide what to play next. I am the master of my own fate, and if I will my death, I shall do it myself!”
Edwald drew out a knife and threatened his own neck with its point beneath his scarf.
-“Have you lost your wits, boy?” The Black Knight said unconvinced, “We both know you would not do such a fool thing.”
Edwald stripped himself off his scarf and cut himself on the upper side of the neck. The Black Knight first thought he had beguiled him, but then he saw a stream of blood coming out his neck running through his chest-plate, dropping off his horse and staining of red the white snow. The hooded-knight was abashed by the act, and he told him to stop in both the common speech and the Buram tongue.
-“Shall I go in deeper, or cut the other side too?” Edwald threatened him. “There is nothing you can do, if you menace me with arrows I’ll be killed either way, you’ll have to come out yourself and take the knife away from me.”
The Black Knight did not have a second to doubt his motives, for Edwald had already swung the knife all the way to the other side of his neck as he stopped to talk. He rushed down the battlement and mounted his horse in haste, he took a sword with him and had the sentries open the gates.
Edwald smirked again as the gate was raised and he saw the Black Knight once again, hooded face to unmasked face. All was playing out just as he had planned, so he turned his horse and he and his company galloped away to lower grounds, towards the trap the Leadership had designed.
Like black tainted blood leaking out of a broken skull, the Buram army left their site in Ronnos and followed their captain down the slopes into white grounds fresh off a battle that had taken place there, just hours ago. Some of them even picked up some whole arrows which they themselves had shot, minding little for the dead with whose blood their shafts had been soaked. They chased Edwald and his company across the battlefield and towards the Gap, beyond which a hundred miles to the south, lay the city of Fyore.
By this time, the Black Knight must have known that they had been tricked since they left Ronnos’ walls, for why else, would they now lead them to the very place which was their goal? They did not halt their run, however; they kept the course and rode further up the slope. A warm wind, oddly enough, they sensed from ahead, a breeze of spring in winter days, a breath of hope that through the Gap the Gods had blown.
With the wakening of the moon and the slumbering of the sun, the allied armies reached the uppermost level of the Gap. From up there both the north and south they could see. To the south, they saw the Graythland; a vast land of grey and white, all shaded in the gloom of the night, yet like grain strewed on the snow fields, there were many hamlets and towns all along the road in those parts, so the light of countless abodes, which they saw abroad, seemed like stars mirrored upon the crests and plains of frosty meads and shires and still verdant hillocks. And glittering furthermost thence, Edwald saw on the skyline, like a dot of white atop the slopes, the Head of the Colossus of Fyore, about a hundred miles away to the south and west.
Edwald was bewitched by the sight, for he had seen, journeyed through, learned and taught, struggled and striven of late in those very lands, and to have a view of all his latest exploits from afar was a spell so strong, it had him entranced for a while. And still, there was no time for views or spells; the Buram raced behind them, no longer a distant threat, but a pending peril at sight.
Edwald lifted his reddened knife above his head, giving the signal to the Knights of Neldor to stand ready in their place. Soon enough, Edwald and his company were on the ride once more. They went down the slopes beyond the Gap towards the fields of the Graythland. Yet even as the Buram horde reached the top, they lost track of the target. Instead, they found the ranks of the Neldor armed with shields and swords, wearing silver and spruce, all mounted on their fabled horses. There was wrath in all their eyes, for they had lost some of their comrades at arms as they sent their arrows to flight, now they longed to avenge them, so they galloped forth towards their foes. As a storm’s squall, the Neldor knights blasted the Buram horde like dust swept by the wind, down the slants whence they came. Harsh was the Knight of Neldor’s first blow, but they were surprised to know that only a handful of them had fled back to Ronnos; most of them stood their ground even as they were pushed back the slopes.
Their steel was almost as hard as their roar; for they struck back an evenly brutal response. The might of Neldor was renowned all across the continent, and there were songs written of their thew and vigour by each bard and minstrel in the Realm. Nevertheless, though their fame was no myth, the Buram Horde was fivefold larger than the former, so in spite of the Knights of Neldor being more than able fight; they too were forced aback, granting the Black knight the advantage of height. The Neldor however were pushed towards the southern slant.
Edwald saw that his plan was not flawless, and went and led his company to Sir Estewan’s aid. Two hundred men do not seem much, however, under Edwald’s command, they were almost twice as strong. They rode up from the west and fought on the edge between the fields and the vale. The moon was brightest as the Buram stepped back, for though they had the bigger numbers, the Knights of Neldor and two hundred of the Black Cloth were just good enough to push them back.
To the east the earlings sprinted on their dark mounts, the snake wished to get back inside its hole. To Ronnos they rode and though their aim was clear, their path thither was not. From behind the shadows of rocks south and north came two companies each about three hundred strong, they were all riding on horse and their captains were Lord Tyén and Brother Carédock. They came at them with utmost speed pushing the Buram main host back again up the slope. The Neldor army was behind, and from both sides—east and west—the Buram force twice was smashed. A battle ensued thereafter. The colours were spruce, black, red, and spruce, but most were dark grey, for the Buram’s numbers, were still greater in size, all these colours were like the braids of a tapestry carefully woven, but the patterns were shifted shortly. Edwald’s plan had after been well devised, yet the sheer size of the Buram host was a beast far too great to overcome on their own.
The Black Knight led the main forces towards the centre and they raged on the Neldor front. The Knights of the Order did well enough to keep their losses low, yet their enemy pressured on and they ended up retreating back again to the Gap’s top. Lord Tyen and Brother Carédock’s companies followed them further from behind and all the while they kept attacking the eastern front, though with little result against the eastern folk. The Buram sword cut through and through—or side to side, given the curved shape of the blade—and slowly but steadily they reached the top. Once above the edge, the invading army regained its strength and pressured further on the Neldor knights to the west.
Edwald was among the ranks of the oppressed and even amidst a sea of distress, the right thoughts came then to him. He ordered the Neldor to retreat further west; their horses were still faster than theirs, so they could leave the battle and flee instead. The Neldor army obeyed his words and turned their horses to the fields of the west. Just by the lower skirt of the sloped terrain on this side of the Gap, the Neldor Knights halted. The steeds of noble stock had just proved their worth and now their riders awaited Edwald’s orders, and not Sir Estewan, for such was the air of command the Edoran gave off, that all knights and their retinues turned to him for captaincy.
The Buram Horde did not take long to come too down the slope and into the fields of the Graythland. Edwald, however, did not command an assault; he let them follow the road to the spot where they had made their stop.
-“What are we waiting for?” One asked him. “We’ve still got men on the other side.”
-“We are waiting for them.” Edwald answered and just as he said those words he saw the two companies they had left behind in the vale had also reached the top, yet they did not chase the Buram host, for they did not see the Neldor Army anywhere near. Edwald had foreseen this, for he did not wish to be shown just yet, he needed enough time for Lord Tyén’s and his brother’s forces to take the high ground. Now it was time for another blow.
Edwald took again the front and rallied the Neldor forces and his own forth and up towards the Black Knight’s host. He kept Oakenjaw near at hand, for his horse was ahead of the charge, and the foremost rider galloping in the Buram front, was none other than the Black Knight himself. He and Edwald looked at one another from afar, and there was no fear in either’s eyes, for their coming was a test of might. Edwald had already fallen to him once, he could not bear with the fact that he had been bested in the fight, so rode towards him, this time, seeking a second round of their duel to restore his honour and pride.
Every commander of any Sovarós armies is obliged to keep a journal of his quests and campaigns. Luckily for us, Lord Tyén offers an account of the battle as he saw it from above the Gap of Ronnos, and he was keen to embellish it in his own words as he wrote in his journal. “…When both armies met in battle once more, the Four Fathers and the whole of their heavenly court watched with thrilling eyes from above, and Father Oenid must then have blown by then the Breath of the World, for the clouds that mantled the skies, all of a sudden, sundered apart, unveiling the hopeful light of stars.”
According to Lord Tyén, he had never seen a feyer view before. “…the night had been dark until then, but now like lamps pending from the roof, the star and moon bathed the vast, white land with pale blue hues, thus the sight became clearer for those who looked. Two seas on top of each other, one resting the other hanging: The one above was black and purple, with pearly sparkles all across, and the shade and shape of clouds made them look like floating islands sailing over the fields. The one bellow was even more unearthly, for the many hamlets and towns, whose houses lit up past dusk, seemed like mirrored stars upon the troughs and crests of frozen waves below. The armies west and down the slope, struggled against one another, but the Neldor were gaining pace and after the echoed clang of a thousand blades, our fellow armies managed to drive back the Buram host, forcing them again to ride up the slope.
“Just as they approached the edge of the Gap, moving steadily back up the Gap, Lord Elbracht saw the Edge draw near and both our companies on top of it. Thus, he made his serjeants blow their horns, twice they boomed across the slope and by the mountain-walls they stopped, and then they made a pause, which was followed by three further blows of the horns. Back in the Camp, as we deliberated on our plan, we developed too a few signs of our own, which the Buram Horde could not have known. This particular signal was aimed at us and it meant that we should canter down the Gap and charge towards the Buram Host from behind.
“Thrice we made our own horns ring in response and the echo of their song came with the trumpets of a stormless thunder, which missing bolt made the ground and mountains left and right quake and rumble. The mountains shook their heads and waves of snow came rolling down their skirts bathing the fields below. And so our companies rallied on and, galloping with haste and the weight of the earth pulling us down the slope, we outpaced the speed of the icefall—which upon setting down, it widened the slope up the Gap, like a bridge of land and snow through which thrice the numbers of the enemy force could pass—and drawing out our swords we met with the Buram Horde in a brawl.”
From Edwald’s point of view, however, the counter-strike was less poetic. The Knights of Neldor were a mighty force, the strength and skill of each soldier was about thrice that of their Buram foe, yet they still outnumbered them and and they fought with vigour so wild even the ablest could barely outsmart. Though the challenge was hard, their effort was not without its gains. They managed to draw the Buram Host so far back; they had little time to notice neither the icefall nor the allied cavalry coming behind their back. Lord Tyén veered his company softly to the right and Brother Carédock’s to the left and upon circling the Black Host north and south, they charged at them from behind and both sides.
The Buram Horde was surrounded, enemies ahead, enemies at their back, enemies even from left and right. There were deaths in each army, yet the Buram were said to have lost a third of their men, whereas the allied forces conveyed that their losses were about half those of their foes. These sources might have been over-stressed, for often the victor does like to embellish his conquest. Nevertheless, the allied armies did make their ends meet, since the Buram lines were shrunk to a smaller size, with which the Black Knight might not succeed against Edwald’s well-thought-out strategies.
On the ground nigh the front, while the song of steel swung to and fro was heard all up and down the slope, and the moon made its way to the west, Edwald and the Black Knight met once again in a fight. The hooded-knight was still far fiercer than his foe in the clash, for he did no longer wielded a blade in his hands, but a mace of great might, after which every bang, the earth crumbled all about. He rode a steed of grey dark as the seas before dawn, armoured with mail of ironstone, and other ores of evenly black hues. Edwald rode a bone-white horse clad in silver; of Neldor stock it was, and where the Black Knight’s was fierce and wild, his was fivefold swifter, fivefold sturdier. His weapons were always the same, the ancient shield and Dwarven blade, and he swung his sword back and forth every time he sprinted past his foe. His aim was seldom straight though, for the Black Knight moved like a snake, deflecting his blows every time they met.
Edwald was in trouble. Oakenjaw was this once, not as powerful as it had been before, it whispered to him no more, since the Black Knight was wild in style, but never deceitful, he fought like an untamed animal that went by insintinc rather than thought. Although he had been trained in the ways and manners of the Knights of Neldor, he truly did convert to the Buram wonts; his style was just as feral as the Easterlings’ ways. He came and went with strength and haste, smashing to and fro, right and left along the way.
Edwald was smote once on his back and once on his shoulder, but he was not dismounted yet, though the pain was too great. His wounds and scars had opened again and his blood tainted his armour, his cloaths, his horse’s mail-coat and the white snow bellow. “Mayhaps this is the end.” Edwald thought, yet he could not help but recall his time among the Dwarves in what felt like a half a year ago. He had drunk then from the Mworhúrna, the King’s Horn, and the bitter ale his lips had slurped had him visions shown fey and old, dark and bright both in might, awe and fear, and some of those mirages, each more wondrous than the last, had been after a fashion come to pass. This meant that the last omen he saw, could have been nigh. The last vision was of a Black Knight and his horde of walking corpses attacking him from down the slope of a large Gap, all covered in snow, and Edwald had been there fighting against him with a host of ghosts summoned from their grave to a last brawl.
It might have not been the Pass of Hel, which Edwald had seen in the vision; the terrain of the Gap was albeit similar. He did not have an army of wraiths fighting in his name, but the Knights of Neldor did wear the colours of wights, white and silver, and just like the Realm, the Order of Neldor had long ago had their struggle with the Buram as well, so it could be said that the Easterlings were the corses and the Knights were the ghosts. This led Edwald to believe that perhaps the visions of the Dwarves worked just like the Ennard’s smokes, and this could well too have meant, that in the last fight, the fates would favour him. The Black Knight himself did say unto him as he held him captive. “If you had seen the full vision, then you should know what would come next.” The Black Knight had said then with a half-suppressed fret—as Edwald remembered. This could have been the reason why he held him captive, in the first place; for he knew that from his hand would come the blow of his death.
Should this be true, then the Fates were on Edwald’s side from the start and beyond the power of truth, the power of fate was higher. So braved by this newfound hopeful strength, Edwald had no use for the magic of the dwarven blade, only for its steel and its edge. He fought then with his own prowess and might and forth and back he rode swiftly lashing the Black Knight on each side. The Hooded-knight turned blacker still of wroth, and without a second thought he charged towards him in a straight line, just like Edwald had foreseen. With an aim now right, Edwald charged likewise against him, and swirling this once like a snake he came at his foe from the left. The point of his blade went straight for his head and the steel was thrust into the Black Knight’s hood.
Edwald hoped to hear the break of his skull, yet his blade had only managed to pull off his cloth. The Black Knight was hooded no more, his face was unveiled and it was dreadful and terrible. His face was ashen grey and cracked like a stone, his hairs were trimmed and pale, shadows deep were beneath his brows, and the devil was in his eyes; they glowed with red, dark like blood, and he looked at Edwald with a glance of death. Edwald saw the muscles of his face; every time they twisted, another crack was made. It seemed gruesome and painful; it must have been some sort of wicked spell or an illness he’d caught in the far-off east.
-“Does it please you, my lord, my face?” The Black Knight said. “Am I not most handsome? They call it the ‘Stone-head’. 'Tis a curse cast by the masters of the Order. Each time a knight breaks his vows, he holds the curse until the masters decide to remove it. Very pretty, isn’t it? It adds to my point, the White Tower does not act out of love and mercy, as they would have you told, and yet you fight for them now. What an awful twist for your songs!”
-“I need not explain myself to you, demon.” Edwald cursed with the mouth. “Leave this land and its peoples at ease. They need not pay for the Order’s sins.”
-“We all must pay; we’ve been silent too long.” The Black Knight replied.
The Black Knight charged towards him with re-born strength and vigour, and though his smite did not fall Edwald off his horse, he gained more ground after each blow, and a roar he let out, coarse and furious. The Buram Host saw and heard the will of their captain unbroken as he clashed against his foe, and they rallied behind him like bees to the calling of their queen. Inspired by the Black Knights's wild wrath and the convictions in his eyes, whose face was now unmasked, they fought the Knights head on and marched towards the main force, pushing the Neldor front even further behind.
Edwald’s forces did their best to avail them, but in battles, numbers are of their essence. The Buram were many thousands, whereas they not half as many. The Black Knight’s host broke through the middle front and leaving dozens of former comrades at arms dead on the snow, he pushed and pushed back the Neldor front. The Buram conquest was nigh, yet their odds were soon to turn.
Even though the Black Knight’s host was near the bottom of the slope, they were still just high enough that they could see the lands and fields before them. The many-lanterns sea was already known to them, but there were lights that moved thoroughly through the night. These lamps were subtle torches marching from the south-west, and though he could see no bearer, the Black Knight noticed there were thousands upon thousand of flames flittering in the haze.
The moon was pending near the edge of the west when the first lucid beams of the dawn showered the fields through the Gap. The snow had turned of brighter white and the stars of both the upper and lower sea began to disappear. Gold was seen upon the snow, and hanging over the clouds above, and mirrored also on the frozen peaks of the hills, but then in came the red and the first hues of blue as well. As the colours set on the snow, the sight was clear once more. The Black Knight saw, the green of spruces’ leaves and the crystal-blue streams and rivers to the distant. On the skyline he noticed the head of a statue, small like a dot and yet seen from afar. He then took his eyes down, and though he saw the torches no more, there was red all across the white board.
Red was the colour of the Sovarós and the red he saw belonged to their cloaks. There was an army at the feet of the slope. The armies of Fyoew all had come. There were numbers were large, thrice larger than his Buram horde and they marched with shield and sword, arrow and bow, hammer and ax, and many more weapons of greater might. There was infantry, there was cavalry, there were knights and their retinues, there were simple footmen and fighters, all well trained and seasoned in war. Fifteen thousand strong were those armies, and they were led by numerous marshals and lords, flying banners of various hues and the blazons of many houses both noble and old.
Edwald did not notice that a fourth army had come, one much larger than all of their own. He saw only the Black Knight and his horde behind him charging towards him and his men, and all of a sudden they stopped and begin to retreat back up the slope. Had they grown fearful of the Neldor force or had they been frightened by another threat behind them? As he wandered this, he heard the ringing of a horn, which sound he remembered to have heard before. The horn and its song were of the Sovarós, and thus he understood that the armies of Fyore had come to their rescue.
Shortly, the Knights of Neldor, the Cadian Regiment*(4), and the Black Cloths, all joined their efforts against the Buram Horde, and they pushed together all five thousand of them up the slope through the gap and even beyond the fields of Ronnos. They could neither hide back in the castle nor fight them back there, so instead they turned to the north, and fled the battle they just had lost.
The allied armies had won, but not all was clear for Edwald and his fellowship; he even feared for Sir Antuel’s sake—and he thanked the Gods he had told him not to partake in the battle—, for the Sovarós armies that had come to their rescue were headed by no other than the Black Griffin himself. The Lord Carathuel of Fyore was the commander of the Griffin’s armies, and when he met face to face with Edwald once more, he could not help but twist his brow and look at him in wrath. The Fates had not warned Edwald of what was about to come, the man who had tried to have him killed, and bore the blood of his own kindred was now standing besides him as an ally in arms. And the strife that would come, could have broken the kingdom apart.