Chapter 44: Beware the Treeline (Zlatan)

  Sounds rustle as the men of Hartford from the paradise of White Falls move through the forest with their meager supplies and tools. Aside from Zlatan, they are all novices to the ways of war, to the sting of battle and the consequence of conflict. Zlatan himself had several small moments of valor years back when he brought a column of house knights to work with other lords in the area to disperse bandit hideouts in various parts of the lands. Though he did not wish to endanger the men of experience in case this campaign of his would fail, he did not wish the beauty of White Falls marred like the regality of Jule had been previously.

  These men, fifteen in total, move to purpose as they are nearing the end of the tree lines and coming to the clearing where the men can see the dust that only comes from large bodies of men moving at once. The Hartford men are perhaps not late to the conflict as may have been previously feared by the lord. Zlatan smiles but offers no comment as the forest soon has a larger swath of noise arising. "Halt!" Zlatan speaks with force but does not raise his voice for fear of alerting others in the area. "Do you hear that?" he quietly asks as he halts his steed and grabs for his bow.

  "Yeah, I hear it," Rio mentions. He motions for his sons Lago and Fluss to come forward. The three are all strong men of White Falls and, as such, have been builders for generations, working on the shaping of wood. Skilled men with their hands and of good strength, but in battle and hunting, they are untested officially. "Boys, and my lord. Allow us to move in and check what we can see." Zlatan nods his head quickly. His horse puts him high in the saddle, and he knows the trio can move more swiftly in the trees than he can on his mount. The family trio move out quickly. Fluss and Lago have a strong resolve in their nature, but Rio is more cautious, as is often an occurring consequence of aging. The three dash forward quickly through the brush, and then, as they reach a crescendo of the noise coming from ahead, they duck in the brush to ensure minimal chance of detection.

  They moved slowly through the lower ground, seeking to see the source of the noise, which was now obviously a man. However, which man? Friend or foe? This was a need for the men to understand. Rio poked his head out and then asked his son Fluss to look in a certain direction, as the father's sight was not as sharp as it had once been. He saw through the trees a mass of men in their golden armor with a banner flag of one man's spear showing a large bear. "Father, I see a flag with a bear. There is a mass of men moving. They are continuing a march to the south as if they are seeking to wander past what we believe are the battle lines in the plains ahead," Fluss spoke with confidence. Rio signaled to the boys to turn and head back to the lord's side. The men crawled quickly and then ran with all haste as they got clear of any sight line from the incoming mob of men.

  "What is the news?" Zlatan spoke as they returned from their scout. "What did you boys see?"

  "Bruin men, my lord. We think this is a spare detachment to either move on Imholt itself or to pincer the men of Savoy if they are fighting in the plains ahead, as the dust clouds might suggest.

  "We need to stop this," Zlatan spoke, not understanding how many men were in this war party, but he knew that his men could at the very least provide this respite, this ray of hope, and if not beat this shock troop force, they could at least delay their arrival and provide chaos. "Rio, take the hunters and your throwing axes and position yourself along the ridge up ahead where they will pass right before the exit of the trees into the plains. I will take the remaining men with lances and we will form a choke down in that shallow bottom line down a ways. Did they have any bows?"

  "None that I saw. Though we did not look too long," Fluss replied in place of his father. Zlatna nodded with confidence and gave a signal for the nine men of the party with lances or farm equipment turned spear to move with him ahead to an exit point from the woods along the same path that the men in question were heading toward. Zlatan had a goal to position quickly and then create whatever choke they could as those men encroached. The remaining five, which were Rio, his sons, and two hunters from the city, moved in closer over a ledge that would expose the length of the enemy columns and allow for Rio and the men to have maximum chances to rip through their lines once the conflict ensued.

  "How good are your throws, boys?" Rio asked the sons.

  "Not as good as the bows, I would bet," Lago responded. "Plus, we only have a handful of small throwing axes apiece. Let us be careful not to waste our throws before we have to abandon cover and collide on them with our heavy axes."

  "Fair point; I only have two throwers," Fluss mentioned. Rio then handed Fluss the three that he had on him, as Rio knew his vision was not good enough to trust such important throws to his weaker eyes. They were not sure of the number of men around, but they knew it was far more than their small party. However, the men were confident, as they knew these trees, and the enemy did not. The five quickly made their way into positions along the ridge of the path Rio and the boys believed the mob was headed along, with the hunters taking a covered position behind a few large trees to provide maximum cover in case the enemy resorted to hurling javelins or rocks along the paths.

  Zlatan made his way to the edge and could quickly hear the men of Simon of the Bruin army growing in volume as they approached. He had given a request that the five he had asked to hide along the pathway to wait until just before they reached Zlatan to make sure they would become a target and give the best chance for a consolidated combat line without the Bruin men scattering or retreating back along the pathway. Zlatan had his own bow out and ready, and his short sword at his side ready to be drawn when the lines collided. "Kaya, I know my voice does not hallow your ears often, though grant me today prowess and accuracy in my warring." He prays as the men turn along the path before the lord and the mob begins to come into view of the band of nine men positioned with their lackluster war equipment of the mostly farmers and non-military types, ranging in age, standing firm in a weak wall of pointed objects.

  "What is this?" Simon calls as he leads the men forward. "Who are you to try and stand in the way of the Bruin men in their pursuit of blood?" Simon and his party had not tasted battle in a long time, as Henny and Conner had been the ones leading most all battles, with his troops being a mere reserve and supply contingent. This was obvious in the manner and confidence feigned in his speech, as he spoke without an understanding of the dire nature of this battle for the army of Conner Bolden. His men still had delusions of grandeur in their eyes and thoughts of battlefield glory without the sobriety of battlefield despair and pain. Zlatan looked and could tell this man speaking was in fact the leader of this cluster of men, a cluster that far outnumbered his own. He could not tell the experience of the man with this loud mouth, but the difference in equipment and armor was very apparent to the lord. His men were mostly in clothing and basic leather; if they had any armor, it was the kind that was used in the daily working trades to protect key body parts in moments of lapsed clarity, fatigue, and rogue accidents. Nothing special that was fit for combat like all the men with Simon. They all had clean, professionally made lances and short shields, and their armor was proper bronze and iron, that of a true army. The difference in at least the monetary investment upon the men was staunch. Yet, there was a purpose in the eyes of the men alongside Zlatan that gave him a measure of courage that was absent in the men alongside Simon, who shouted brash insults at Zlatan and his band of civilians with no special military experience.

  "Turn back, Bruins. We have no desire for immediate bloodshed, and yet you are seeking to continue your unjust warring in the central plains. To inch closer is to bring death upon you and your men. Return from whence you came!" Zlatan shouted, much to the confusion of the Bruin men, who were fighting with the intent of gaining passage back to their homelands. Though this point was lost on the men, no further discourse between the parties was offered.

  "LET'S FUCK THESE PEASANTS UP! THEY CLEARLY HAVE NO STAKE IN THIS WAR!" Simon screams with brute and bold desires to break the lines and make a name for himself in the fray beyond that of a minor squad leader under a failing general. Simon steps toward the Hartford makeshift line.

  Zlatan secures an arrow from his riding quiver and nocks the arrow tight in quick succession as the men start to follow the charge of their leader, Simon. The ranger knows that if he can land a direct hit on the man in the lead, the battle will quickly turn in favour of the smaller force. He raises the arrow close to his cheek while the men around him flinch and brace what nerves they have in their own ways, with either tighter grips on their poles or shaking of their legs. As a storm approaches, one they are ill-prepared for even as men in such a savage world, Zlatan flies the arrow true. However, Simon slides his head to the left at the last moment; it cuts through his cheek, leaving a small trail of blood that gains his attention as it begins to drip mere seconds after sliding along his skin, tearing sinews in the face.

  "THUNK!" The arrow lodges in the neck of the man behind him as he drops to his knees, letting his lance go as he wallows and gasps with eyes wider than a morning sun ray, seeking salvation from the experience as if even a healer could offer such immediate relief to the man in trouble. The first blow is made.

  "That's it! Hit them, boys," Rio calls to the other four. The two hunters have a normal quiver available to them while Fluss has five small hatchets to throw and Lago has an additional three. The plan is simple: for Rio to stand ready with the boys while they toss their hatchets, and the hunters in a different spot fly on the ready until they run out of arrows and then grab their knives to join the fray as one. The plan starts off in quick success, as with the rear of the party paying full attention to the small line of commoners being led by clearly someone above their station, the axes both land hard, though they both catch the same man who goes down smoothly. While the hunters target two separate people, one in the rear and another near the front, the first shot hits true and drops the man to slow bleeding of dark blood while the other connects but does not take life. He still stands and shifts his focus, calling alert to the other men in the party to scan the surroundings, and the charge upon the front halts. The wounded man drops from peak posture to one battling the surges of pain to the brain

  "Simon, there are men in the woods as well!"

  "WHAT? FORM UP AND KEEP YOUR WITS!" Simon calls as he still holds his face.

  "THUNK!" Another arrow collides from the ranger, this time into the gut of the lead soldier, Simon. He is injured now and drops his posture to one knee, but before Zlatan can ready another arrow, three men form a shield wall around their leader.

  "Damn! It was too shallow. I should have gone for the head again," Zlatan bemoaned as he sought a new target, a man near the middle distracted by the calls of men in the woods aiding the conflict. The acting lord of Hartford was well-versed in bow skills and mounted bow skills, yet his preferred expertise, like many of the nobility of the land, was the sword, as many nobles trained from youth in swordplay. Zlatan did not let this light screw-up in his shooting detour his efforts as he held his position and dropped the man in the middle.

  "SHUNNK!" An axe slammed straight into the shield of a man, breaking the shield and cutting the man's arm deep as it sunk straight into the protective device. Fluss was frustrated with his poor throw as, while he could tell the man was hurt, he only had three throws left and sought to make them count. The hunters used their bow skills to their advantage, taking shots at the ready in hopes of increasing the odds with each bolt propelled through the air.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  "Simon, that shot went deep; we can't pull it out now without a healer around or you'll bleed out too quickly." Simon punched the man who said this to him.

  "Cain, you bitch! Fine then, just break it so at least I can try and still maneuver. I am not dying in these trees." Simon had a rage in his spirit, but the pain from the arrow was taking hold. Cain reached for the arrow and made sure to still leave enough to allow removal later on. Simon wailed as the arrow stuck in his chest was jostled and had pressure applied to it. Finally, Cain snapped it clean as the wounded bit down hard on his own arm that he put his mouth on to allow him to bite down hard into the leather bracer rather than just scream in pain.

  "Got it!" Cain said as he stood up tall with the broken shaft.

  "THUNNK!" Eyes rolled to the back of the head as the man stood heavy for a moment and reached his hands up to the back of his head, which saw a spurt of blood spray thin and strong with his pulsing heart. Cain lingered on his feet for a moment longer as he felt the axe buried in his skull. A clean shot from Lago, who was now out of hatchets. Cain took a final step as his brain finally understood what had happened, and death took him in advance of his body colliding with the ground. As he fell backwards, the pain-stricken leader Simon hobbled himself to his feet, with his men still shielding his side at the front. He saw an arrow pierce another man's neck at the rear posting. The chaos was enough to paralyse the support troops in his ranks. Though he knew they needed to get away from the trees and find way into the plains where their numbers could be put to use.

  "BREAK THEIR LINE AHEAD! WE NEED TO GET OUT OF THESE TREES!" the man cried as he jostled forward with one arm on a spear and the other over his arrow-punctured chest. The adrenaline had not fully removed the sting yet, and so he still winced as he moved forward. The shield line walked in guarded steps closer and closer as Zlatan fired one more shot, landing clean and further equalling the odds before he saw the distance was closed and slung his bow across his shoulder and pulled his sword from the scabbard.

  "HOLD!" he called as the men of Bruin moved closer and closer, just about to crash the line. "HOLD!" He called once more as the final hatchet of Fluss connected in the back of a soldier moving toward the front.

  "Good toss, son!" Rio called as both of his sons now no longer had hatchets at the ready. The main brunt of the men were now moving further up, with the hunters getting bolder in their position to seek a more advantageous shot upon the Bruin men.

  "SLUNNNP!" A man from the rank of the Bruin men flung a javelin at one of the hunters, impaling him in the chest and pinning the man to a tree. The hunter gasped as the final painful breaths of life took over, with his lungs filling with blood and air no longer making it to his brain; he tried to use his bow one final time. Yet, both arms went limp as death overcame him. The other hunter immediately took cover behind a tree rather than standing brazen as if no one would attack back.

  "Damn, they got him good!" the hunter called.

  "Toyo, don't stop firing, just keep safe and cover us; we're going in," Rio called back to the hunter who was taking deep breaths in the safe cover of the big old tree he was behind. Panic was starting to set into the heart of the hunter, Toyo, as he stayed in the safety of the large overgrown tree that blocked his body from being a target by the men on the main paths below. Rio noticed his continued sobriety to the situation and the fear that swelled slightly in his heart. He knew it would be of no use to try and shake the man back to prowess, as one of greater bravery hung impaled upon a nearby tree. The elder axe-man grabbed his large weapon, ready for work upon the bodies of the Bruin men, and held it above his head, rallying his sons of size and strength, Lago and Fluss, to his aid. The two grown sons had their large axes at the ready as they collectively, as a family, descended upon the Bruin backline. Screaming wildly like a wolverine running at a pack of wolves, as if to make sure that all perceived the threat from the unarmored axe fighters as greater than they were.

  Those at the front of the Bruin lines, especially Simon, cried "FORWARD!" while with the blows from Rio and the sons butchering the men at the rear, the command and call from others to alert their gaze to the rear also became a sound. As confusion became the general sensation of the platoon, chaos emerged; with the shouts of vigor from Rio below, even Toyo regained his steel composure and concentrated his breathing again to resume firing his bolts.

  This was the event that Zlatan needed as he shoved his sword through the chest of a man below his horse. The farmers around him are struggling but not yielding even as the blows to their bodies mount in tally. The Bruin platoon cannot find space to properly operate, and now, pincered, several of the men drop rank and flee in all directions, thinning their lines. Others, due to being squished in, injure their own comrades in arms as they cannot find the space to maneuver their spears and swords. "AHHHHH!" the screams from those stabbed by their own allies fill the air. The lord of Hartford, Zlatan, knows he still needs to break the battle soon, as he sees several of his own front line succumb to their wounds under the clashed pressure. While the initial ploy gave him an edge, the greater numbers and better armor of the bruin troop would see his people to ruin if this lingered too long.

  Simon smiles as there is a gap now in the weak front. He is still bleeding and does not wish to engage as a combatant in his current condition, but knows that he has to escape as an arrow zips past his face into the back of a man near him. The arrow injures deep with piercing power but does not immediately rob him of life.

  Simon is in a panic as he calls out, "FLEE! FLEE TO WHATEVER END YOU CAN MUSTER!" The lines snap, as if that one statement had broken the final straw that broke things wide open, as the tightly compacted horde that was roughly sixty strong a few minutes ago now stood weak, splintered, and dying in the woods, and now scattering. Every man for himself became, in that moment, the truth. The men with Zlatan did as they could, with no further enemies seeking to challenge the lord on his horse. Some tried breaking through the wounded farmers still standing on the front, while Rio and his sons were grabbing men by the legs and tackling them to continue their activities of smashing the Bruin emblems from the world.

  "TSHHHINk!" A lone soldier holding his mettle shoves his spear into the side of Lago.

  "AHHHHH!" The fighter groans as he drops to his side. The father, seeing his eldest drop to his knees, responds with a rage in his eyes that is only seen in the heart of a starving beast. He throws his heavy axe at the man responsible as others around run, falter, or die from the relentless attacks of the small unit of Stags. The axe slams into the arm of the man strongly and connects so well that, with the pain and the weight of the large axe, the arm drops to his side to never be raised again. The man drops to his knee as he realizes the pain he is enduring. Though, his moment of clarity to his demise is not allowed to persist as the rage of the father finds him swiftly. Rio pummels the man with his aged fists, crashing in quick succession on the jaw and orbital bones of this poor devil. He is unable to defend himself as the one arm that is still operational is nursing the bleeding and lame counterpart stuck at his side, useless. Rio pays no mind as he erases this man's image from the records of history; he is a faceless man in a matter of seconds, 30 to be exact. The father punches harder and harder as the remaining men of the Bruin scatter and run. The few that remain of Zlatan's troop now are either firing arrows, that being the lord and Toyo, or cleaning up the dying and injured to their doom in the forest groves. All the while, Rio continues to punish this man's poor skull.

  "Father! Father! Rio!" Lago calls as he rises to his feet, holding his side. "I think I'll be alright, just help me get a fire built so I can seal this wound up." The father turns to see his eldest son, the man responsible for his first grandchildren, rise again to his feet. Zlatan, off a bit, claims one more soul with the aim of his bow as Rio embraces his boy Lago and they quickly build a fire, moving several dead about.

  Simon used the confusion to stab a sad farmer to death before he and a few others, unable to cause further trouble in combat without resupplying, flee into the field with the intent not to envelop the Savoy party, but to merely run to the side of Conner and hope for safety in their lines, despite a battle of their own going on. A flawed logic indeed.

  "Saddle up quick, men!" Zlatan calls out with haste as the last of the men in the area offering contest fall from this world. The men around the stag call for a respite as they try to take stock. Most of the men at the front with the lord had fallen or become too injured to continue fighting. Zlatan saw this and quickly changed his position from a rabid charge to a pause to regroup. He saw several of the men injured and asked them to rest and return to White Falls with their lives. They smiled as they felt their efforts were validated by their liege, yet the pain from the wounds mounted. They were not so far gone to fall from this world, yet their injuries needed tending, and to use them further would only insure their demise. Zlatan, being a passive and peace-minded lord, understood the value of life from a more calm enterprise and did not wish people to perish from pride to stay in combat. Thus, four men bandaged themselves up and took what they needed for their journey home and returned back the path they came.

  "Lago, son of Rio, I see you are wounded as well. Will you depart us?" Zlatan called as he dropped from his horse to gather up a few arrows and check a few pockets for any valuables off the dead and the dying.

  "No, my lord. I am here to stay. I pay the wage of the sword so that others will not have to in their lives, my son and daughter included," Lago speaks as his father, full of pride in his eyes, wraps the wound after he had already seared the flesh in a small, quickly made fire by the men. Rio nodded at his son with a pride that cannot be described. He knew his son was a man, but this moment confirmed it.

  "Rio, you have much to be proud of."

  "I do, my lord, I do." The grandfather spoke as he arose, and the men of the axe grabbed and retrieved their throwing hatchets. Among the men who stood with Zlatan at the front, one managed to escape without injury. His weapon, an old rusty sickle that his family had no more use for, was not absent of the blood of the Bruin, though. This young man immediately dropped the sickle in this post-fight selah and found a suitable lance from the bunch that the Bruin men left behind. He then saw fit to relieve the dead of certain bits of armor. Nothing fancy like a breastplate or the like, no helmets either, but he grabbed a set of brown spaulders and a leather faulds set to protect his waist.

  "Awfully selective of your scavenging there, young man," the lord ranger called to the young man. Zlatan was only teasing as he walked his horse along by the reins, seeking to find any arrows that were fit for further service. The young man felt ashamed but still wore his new spoils proudly and even pulled a pair of bracers for himself, something even Rio and his sons grabbed for themselves to wear in further combat.

  "I don't have much in the way of proper armor. Not like your lordship in your metal cuirass and such. I want to fight and serve you and White Falls well. Is it wrong for me to better equip myself?" the young man asked in earnest, as like all those in the party of the Stag, battle was a new concept to them.

  "What is your name? Pardon, I never gathered it before this conflict."

  "Nori, my lord. Nori, a son of a wheat farmer south of the city." The young man bowed as if he were in the halls back home addressing a lord about a grievance. Zlatan smiled and walked over to Nori and put his hands on his shoulders. The lord pushed back to raise the young man from his position of deference. Zlatan looked Nori in the eyes and saw a drive and a will to live and serve others. Zlatan smiled and extended his hand to Nori. The young man was confused, but soon after looking at the hand and then back at Lord Hartford several times, quickly the man understood the point of this extension and grabbed the lord's hand as though they were equals. Zlatan smiled as the young man had a firm grip to match his eyes of devotion, of purpose.

  "Pleasure to meet you, Nori." Zlatan continued smiling as he spoke. Nori felt a pride well in his chest at the conversation. "Nori, grab whatever you need from those who do not need it anymore; we need you alive and well in this war." Nori nodded with a watery tear in his eye as their hands separated. Zlatan then turned to examine the others. "That goes for the rest of you guys. We still have much fighting to do, as the Stag of Hartford has a debt to pay!" Cheers rang out as the few panicking and bleeding Bruins were now fully in the fields running to whatever others of the golden bear that they could, hoping for safety. Zlatan grabbed a few more arrows from bodies and then returned to his mount. He patted his horse as he sat high in the saddle, surveying and thinking about the next play.

  "Toyo, get the other guy's quiver and arrows; you'll need them," Rio called as he could tell the hunter was still a little shaken from the first brush with mortality he had as a soldier. Hunting and killing animals is different than people. At least for the hunter, it was. Toyo nodded and moved to the body of his fallen compatriot, a hunter he had known only in passing from the trading of meat and furs around the White Falls area. The man was lifeless and pinned to the tree. Toyo slipped the quiver off the man's body without disturbing him as he said a small prayer to Kaya.

  "Please, do not let me end up like him," he said.

  Zlatan could soon see that all were prepared and as recovered as they could be while the combat of allies continued so close by. His number had dwindled, but there he Zlatan stood, a seasoned and properly trained ranger, the woodsmen turned axe fighters three: Rio, Lago, and Fluss. Toyo, the skittish hunter with a deadly bow shot, and then the villager turned soldier, Nori. Zlatan was thankful that he was able to send others home, but thankful he still had these men at his side. He looked to the field and saw the large dust clouds that only come from combat. He looked to Rio, who, being the most seasoned man in the party, had somehow become the de facto second in command. Rio nodded in silent agreement that the cause ahead needed them.

  "Stags! We move to aid the Doves!"