It is a time of dread and fear.
One of the darkest chapter in human’s life.
Torrokul Skullslasher, chief of the most
awful ogre clan of Ulbachaka,
launched an invasion on the defenceless
north coast of Nyrmillia.
Hidden by a magic fog, created by his powerful
shamans
huge parts of the imperial navy got lost
and destroyed.
Combined with all ogrish forces under his
command Torrokul penetrated
the harmless defence of Nyrmillian knights
and occupied large parts of
the careless empire with a very swift stroke.
More than thousand innocent victims were
slaughtered until the evil hordes reached
the impregnable walls of metropolitan Kerat.
From here the final battle would secure
victory in the struggle of Nyrmillia.
As all survived human troops were shattered
all over the land, the ogres expected
a quick and easy annihilation of all their
weaken adversaries.
But the cry for revenge winged the unbroken
will of the defenders.
.
Lord Silverheart`s eyes looked sadly to the old map that was spread
out of a shabby table in the command tent of the Imperial Army. His quick
glance around noticed that all present knights had the same depressed feeling
about the hopeless situation. Defeated and besieged by a wild and merciless
enemy who had never known any kind of negotiations.
„How many men do we have lost today?„, asked Lord Silverheart silently
as a young corporal stepped forward to him.
His rotten chain mail amour was stained with blood and mud. Sweat
ran down on his neck as he breathlessly began to stutter his report.
„It was a trap, Milord. We reached the ruins of Galbhon as we were
suddenly ambushed by a great number of these damned bastards. Three of
our horsemen died before they actually knew what was happening to them.
Colonel Moverrick our leader, ordered a close circle, but before his voice
reached all riders, another two men were slaughtered where they stood.„
Mournful he pressed his hands for his eyes. His crying was interrupted
by a gentle embrace of Lord Silverheart.
„Go on, corporal! Tell us what had happened then.„
The young man swallowed and wiped the tears from his face. „The
ogres roared and without any notice to their wounds they killed men and
horses. I will never forget this brutish behaviour. With their huge clubs
they smashed our men in pieces. During the dishonourable battle some of
them even tore the bodies of the dead apart and started to scoff.„
A loud groaning was heard in the tent, as some of the elder knights
lost their powers of comprehension. Aghasted they starred at Lord Silverheart,
who tried to calm down the growing turmoil.
„Are there any other survivors, who can testify that massacre?„,
asked a fair-haired monk.
His pale face was as white as his plain robe. His fingers played
nervously with an ancient amulet made of silver.
„No, your holiness. I am the only one.„ The corporal shameful bowed
his head. „I was in such a fear that I denied my mission and my rank. Without
any further thoughts about my dead companions in arms I started to run.
I retreated like a coward and fled from the battle.„
„You escaped by foot?„ The reverberate voice of Lord Hawkeye sounded
reproachful. Angry about the foolish behaviour of his soldier the incensed
knight grabbed his slim shoulder.
„Tell me lad, what is the first principle of a cavalryman during
a fight?„
„To protect and to save the life of his horse.„
Lord Hawkeye nodded. „Aye. And what did you do?„ The tall dignified
aristocrat clenched his fist. „You left it in the lurch. You deserted.„
Feeling guilty the young corporal starred at the ground. „I know,
Milord. I am not worth to wear the imperial coat of arms. But my horse
was killed during the battle. I could not even took vengeance.„
Lord Silverheart tried to smile. „You did well, corporal. Lord Hawkeye
it is enough.„
Fatherly Lord Silverheart led him out of the tent to a bench near
the blacksmith. As the young man looked up to him Lord Silverheart shook
his hand.
„There is nothing more that you can do. Try to sleep and do not
forget that a vivid soldier is worthier to the emperor than a dead
one.„
The young corporal tried to laugh. „Thanks Milord. I am still proud
to march under the Imperial Banner.„
Lord Silverheart hesitated. Before he turned around he took a last
glimpse to the man. „What is your name, corporal?„, he asked silently.
„Umanor, Milord. Fregor Umanor.„ His dark eyes tried to catch Silverheart`s
gaze. „Umanor„, he whispered.
Thoughtful Silverheart`s fingers scratched his fine beard. „I once
knew an old veteran called Lesrak Umanor. He was one of the first swordsmen
who died during the north coast defence. Was he a relative to you?„ Fregor
nodded sadly.
„He was my grandfather. My father was murdered two weeks ago as
an ogrish shaman conjured an elemental servant of the dark side.„
Lord Silverheart looked to the ready made blades that were put on
a weapon rack in front of the blacksmith’s tent. „Yes, I have heard about
it. That diabolical demon destroyed some of our catapults and battering
rams. Seven guards lost their life as they tried to protect these powerful
vehicles.„
Corporal Umanor grabbed a filthy scrap of cloth out of his bag.
Wiping off the dirt on his face he suddenly drew a blunt claymore. „This
is my grandfather’s sword, Sire. It has once been a powerful scarf blade.
But now it is rotten. It did not even kill one of this atrocious creatures.
It only tasted the blood of some loathsome goblins.„ Fregor Umanor looked
up to his feudal lord, but Lord Silverheart´s mind seemed to be far
away.
As his loud voice sounds a few seconds later, the young corporal
stopped wiping his face immediately.
„I think I have a quest for you, corporal Umanor. Have you ever
heard of Sir Keilon of Brookvalley?„
The young soldier denied, but Lord Silverheart´s intention
was as clear as a crystal. „No, Milord. But he sounds like a heroic knight.
Is he one of your warlords?„
Lord Silverheart hardly tried to conceal his smiling. „Not yet,
corporal. He is truly a knight and a very brave and honourable he is. His
code of honour is exemplary to all of us. I am glad to be his trustful
friend.„
„So you want me to meet him?„ Dropping the scrap Umanor raised impetuous.
„Of course you want me to meet him. Otherwise you would not have told me
about him. Is he the one we are looking for? Will he bring peace to our
tortured souls?„
Lord Silverheart did not smile any more. „No, corporal. Although
Sir Keilon gained numerous heroic deeds he still is a mortal human. His
Majesty the emperor himself sent him to me. We expect his arrival tomorrow
afternoon.„ Looking back to his command tent Lord Silverheart discharged
corporal Umanor. „Try to rest corporal! Tomorrow will bring another hard
day for us. I will send one of my servants informing you about the quest.„
Umanor nodded and saluted. „I will not fail, Milord.„ Tired but
proud he turned around and followed the path to the quarters.
Mist undulated the numerous tents of the Imperial Corps. Opaque and
scary like a demon’s breath enclosing a condemned soul.
The hoarsely cry of an old crow broke the quiet of the early morning.
Corporal Umanor´s bright eyes followed the bird as it landed on the
top of an old oak. „You are free, my fellow. You can do what you want.
You can escape and you do not know any kind of misery.„
The young soldier was already dressed. With his polished chain mail
amour, his red coat and his grandfather’s sword on his belt he really looked
like a brave imperial knight. His battered helmet in his hands Umanor stepped
forward to the group of six guards protecting Elder Helferson´s tent.
All of them wore dark blue uniforms over their golden plate mail armours.
Like cleric Helferson himself each of the men was armed with a blessed
mace.
Before corporal Umanor could raise his hand for salutation he was
stopped by the prefect of the clerical lifeguard.
„I am sorry, corporal. I cannot let you through. Elder Helferson
wants to meditate in silence. He is weaken by his healing spells last night.„
Corporal Umanor stood back. „His healing spells? I have not been
informed about any ogrish attacks last night. Please tell me what has happened
Sire."
The prefect’s face darkened. „I am not allowed to tell you anything
about that, corporal. I beg you to leave. Otherwise I have to put you under
arrest.„
Being impressed by the prefect’s answer, Umanor nodded and turned
around. „I understand you, Sir. It is not my intention to make any trouble.
I just wanted to be blessed by Elder Helferson, before I will be on a new
mission.„
The six men did not show any lively interest in Umanor´s words.
Rigid as a stone the clerical prefect starred straight ahead without taking
further notice of the young corporal.
„So I will wait for Lord Silverheart´s servant.„ Disappointed
by the guards behaviour corporal Umanor aimless walked through the huge
imperial camp. He passed the blacksmith’s tent and stopped at the field
kitchen for a quick breakfast. As Morianna, one of the beautiful maids,
offered him a slice of hard bread, he grabbed her hand.
„Wait a minute, please. What is it about a fresh piece of bread
for an old fellow like me?„ Looking in Morianna´s bright blue eyes
Fregor Umanor smiled in a mischievous way.
„The other soldiers do not complain. It is quite difficult to get
you satisfied, corporal.„ Morianna´s hearty laugh made him grin.
„Why do you always complain about everything? Do you think I am happy to
work hard every day? Well, the number of soldiers descends every day, but
we poor maids are busied until midnight. Sometimes I think we women are
tougher than you, without wearing swords."
Umanor nodded and let off her fine wrist. Morianna´s
long brown curls and her seductive body in mind he offered her a silver
coin.
„This is for you, Mori. I like your way. I hope I will see you when
I am back." Discouraged by Morianna´s twinkling eyes and her twisted
lips Umanor looked at the ground.
„What did you say, Fregor? You leave? I think your unit of cavalry
men has been destroyed." The young soldier sighed and with a wave of his
hand he made her sit down.
„Listen Morianna, Lord Silverheart has planed and secret mission
for me and a famous knight. I do not know when it will start and even what
we are going to do. But I think it is a second chance for me to show my
abilities. Yes, I am proud to be chosen by Lord Silverheart himself and
I hope not to fail again."
Morianna´s pretty cheeks went red. „My prayers are with you,
Fregor. I hope you will survive this mission and come back to me. You know
that I still feel sympathy for you."
Umanor stroked her hand. „Thanks, Morianna. I will take you out
of here, when this terrible war is over. We have suffered too much pain."
Morianna leaned forward. Kissing Fregor´s cheeks she said
goodbye. „May Golum bless you, Umanor. I will wait for your return." With
tears in her eyes Morianna turned away and left him alone.
„Corporal Umanor?" The young squire with his out standing forehead
scraped his nose unsure.
„That is me. What do you want?" Astonished by the well dressed man
Umanor laid his canteen down. Sitting on his bench in front of the quarters
he surely expected one of Lord Silverheart´s servants. But the well
wished aristocrat really sent his loyal squire for informing an inexperienced
corporal.
„I have been sent by my master, Lord Silverheart to pick you up.
He awaits you in the command tent. Follow me, if you are ready." The unarmed
young lad stepped back.
„I am ready. We can go." Umanor grabbed for his sword and his helmet.
Being impressed by the well kept imperial uniform he followed the squire
expectantly.
As they reached Lord Silverheart´s command tent a few minutes
later Umanor hesitated nervously.
„You may enter, corporal." Pointing his finger on the entrance the
squire waited for Umanor´s decision.
„I see no guards. Where are Lord Silverheart´s men at arms?"
The squire shook his head. „You better ask Lord Silverheart himself,
corporal. Enter please, I have got work to do."
Feeling strange Umanor stepped into the big tent. Like the day before
Lord Silverheart stands behind his massive table.
„Greetings, corporal Umanor. I am pleased to see you fully armed.
Take a seat and wait for Sir Keilon´s return."
Before Umanor could salute Lord Silverheart looked back on his scripts
that were spread out on his desk. „Do you wish a cup of tea?" Umanor agreed.
„With pleasure, Milord. It is cold outside."
Without raising his head Silverheart signalled one of his servants
to offer Umanor a cup of hot black tea. Wondering about the three servants
who stand behind Lord Silverheart´s back Umanor took the beverage
gratefully. Without burning his lips he carefully tasted the aromatic drink.
„I have never drank a delicious tea like this. It makes me feel
strong. Are there any magic ingredients in it?"
Lord Silverheart looked up to him. „That is correct, corporal. Elder
Helferson brewed it that morning. He said it would be more helpful than
any healing potion he knows."
The young corporal looked around. Except him, Lord Silverheart and
his servants the immense command tent was empty. „I have tried to visit
Elder
Helferson, but the guards did not let me pass. The clerical prefect mentioned
something about healing spells. Was there an ogrish attack last night?"
Lord Silverheart remained silent.
Before Umanor had emptied his cup of tea a strange noise caught
his intention. Turning his face to the entrance he suddenly discerned a
feeling of oppression. Breathless he starred at the tall impressive warrior
entering the tent with great steps.
Sir Keilon´s squeaking knight’s armour looked scratched and
battered. The former magnificent plate mail was covered with clotted blood,
dried sludge and sings of rust. Only his deep blue cloak concealed further
wears and tears. Even his long riding boots seemed to be outworn and holey.
Lost in thoughts the impressive knight passed corporal Umanor without
taking any notice of him. A smell of death drifted to the soldier’s nose,
as Sir Keilon started to speak.
„Two of the men are dead. There was nothing more that Elder Helferson
and the medico could do. This strong ogre shaman must be destroyed, otherwise
we will lose more and more of our brave men."
Scrutinising Sire Keilon corporal Umanor stood up silently. As the
elder knight noticed the young officer he suspiciously stepped back.
„Who are you? Are you Lord Babec´s courier? Did he arrive
finally?"
Looking straight in Sir Keilon´s green eyes Umanor denied
intimidated. „No, Milord. I am corporal Umanor. Once cavalryman under colonel
Moverrick´s command, leader of the fourth imperial cavalry regiment."
The arrogant look of Sire Keilon silenced him immediately. „Once?"
Before Fregor Umanor could answer Lord Silverheart stepped between
them. „He is right. The fourth cavalry regiment had been wiped out by an
ogrish raiding party. He is the only one who had survived that massacre."
„Wiped out? All riders?", Sir Keilon asked doubting. „What a terrible
lost."
„That is not all", Lord Silverheart handed him a little piece of
paper. „This is a message brought by one of Sire Babec´s carrier
pigeons."
Turning to the flickering oil lamp on Lord Silverheart´s table
the old knight tried to read the tiny note. „That cannot be", he shouted
mournfully. „Before we decided to separate us, Lord Babec was protected
by a large group of experienced swordsmen. I can not believe that
he is captured. The ogres never take any prisoners."
„Maybe there is more about it than we know." Lord Silverheart dismissed
the three servants and walked back to his table. „The message reached me
by sunrise. I have thought about it a lot. Our first step was to kill the
ogrish shaman. Now we should plan Sire Babec´s rescue, if he is still
alive."
„I think we can do both easily." Trying to catch Sir Keilon´s
attention corporal Umanor stepped forward. Starting his explanation in
a self-assured way he bravely looked in the expectant eyes of the elder
knight.
„There must be a secret base in the woods outside. From there the
ogres are making their plans probably. This hidden place is well chosen.
It must be between our camp and the ogrish army in the north. Reinforcement
can get there in a quick and harmless way, before our scouts can report
about their arrival. So, it must be a small base."
Sir Keilon did not show any reaction to Umanor´s theory. Indifferent
towards the corporal he put the little note back on Lord Silverheart´s
table and took place on a dirty armchair.
Then the battle-tried aristocrat nodded admittedly. „What makes
you think that an ogrish raiding party is organised like that? I think
you overestimate them. Ogres are only led by their hunger and their hate.
They do not know any kind of strategy."
„What is about their invasion of Nyrmillia?", corporal Umanor replied.
„Chief Torrokul and his shamans did not leave anything to chance. I think
we underestimated them."
Lord Silverheart nodded, too. „You are right, corporal. I am of
the same opinion that there must be a hidden base in the woods outside.
The forest is strictly avoided by our patrols. It is to dangerous for a
small group to enter this dark and unsafe place."
Sir Keilon looked up to his old friend Siegbert Silverheart. „As
a loyal servant in her majesty’s service I am forced to get into that frowning
wood. Maybe I can find Sire Babec and this vicious shaman there."
„I go with you, Sir Keilon. There is something I have to make good."
The imperial knight shook his head. „That is not a good idea, young
corporal. I appreciate your brave behaviour, but you are no fighter. You
have no experience in things like that."
The proud knight stood up. „I will do it alone, Siegbert. Send your
squire to my tent. He shall prepare my food and my weapon. I am going to
my horse."
„Wait, Sir Keilon", Lord Silverheart grabbed his shoulder. „I will
send my squire, but listen to me at first. Corporal Umanor goes with you,
as well as two of my best soldiers."
Before Sir Keilon could answer Lord Silverheart called for corporal
Umanor.
„This is your quest, Umanor. If you will not return, be sure that
your deeds are not in vain. Try to do your best and maybe you will become
a hero. Release Sire Babec and kill that diabolic creature that is responsible
for our sorrows. May Golum go with you, corporal Umanor."
The warm sunlight shone down on Morianna´s curly head. Trembling
she waved Fregor good bye. Tears ran down her fine cheeks, as she sadly
turned around starting to cry.
Watching her Umanor tried to rein in his horse, but Sir Keilon pushed
him forward.
„Every man, who has to take part in a battle knows that. You are
not the first, Umanor."
Behind Sir Keilon and corporal Umanor two old veterans rode their
fearless war-horses. Captain Guy of Elson, a skilful sharpshooter, was
armed with a heavy crossbow. He worn the typical red imperial uniform and
a flat helmet on his shaved head. Next to him rode major Morne Wolfenheart.
He was mute, but an excellent fighter. He used a short hand axe in conflict
and a terrible scarf in his face testified his intransigent way of fighting.
Leading the small group Sir Keilon offered corporal Umanor a little
talisman made of silver. „May this blessed amulet protect you from evil.
It has been made for me, as I was a squire in Sire Loreander´s service
about thirty years ago."
Starring at the little jester’s bauble in his hand Umanor tried
to laugh.
„It is an unusual kind of talisman, is it not? A jester’s bauble?"
The old knight did not say anything. As they crossed a small brook
some minutes later, he looked back to him. „Sire Loreander´s uncle
was the emperor’s jester for a long time. He was very clever. He knew a
lot of tricks. Watching his performances was magnificent. He even made
King Brondel-Glim laugh, as he visited Kerat after the great war against
the orcish hordes."
„The king of dwarf’s was amused by a jester?"
Sir Keilon smiled. „Not only a jester, corporal. I would call him
a little wizard. A wizard, who drove your sorrows away."
„I have to thank you for it, Sir Keilon. It is a great honour for
me to be your companion in arm." Umanor put the little talisman into his
pocket.
„Honour keeps a man alive. It reveals your character and your
behaviour. So, do not be led by your feelings only. Think of what you are
doing. If you do well, honour can be a powerful alley."
Considering Sir Keilon´s words corporal Umanor closed up to
him. „This is a fine definition, Sir. I will not forget it."
The imperial knight kept smiling. „I will pray to Golum, hoping
that you will survive that clash. Maybe he has something special planned
for you."
The little group reached the forest late in the afternoon. Terrifying
and gruesome the tall stunted grown trees reached up to the sky. Unshakeable
like giant guards they seemed to protect the dark wood.
Silence and a breeze of coldness came over the four men, as Sir
Keilon got off his horse.
„Be quit now! Send the horses to a safe place and be prepared
for any conflict.
Umanor did as the elder knight said. Then, a few minutes later,
he followed major Wolfenheart into the deep forest. Sneaking through the
bushes Sir Keilon and Captain Elson made their way silently. Searching
for tracks the two men slowly moved forwards.
„It is simple to follow an ogre´s track. Look here. Broken
twigs and large foot marks. Even a blind can find their lair."
Captain Elson draw his crossbow. „Must be two or three. They passed
here for about one hour. They went in north direction."
The skilful knight was followed by Sir Keilon, who calmly seized
for his broadsword.
„You better take your weapon, corporal. Can you smell that rancid
stench?"
Umanor nodded. „Aye, Sir. I can remember that stink." Recalling
his dead companions he carefully draw his claymore.
Major Wolfenheart was the first, who discovered the mutilated corpse
of Sir Gennek. Talking in sign language he informed Sir Keilon about his
terrible find. As the brave knight knelt down at Sir Gennek´s side,
he unrestrained starts to cry.
„Your soul is in Golum´s sphere, my fellow. You were a good
and loyal knight."
„He was one of Sire Babec´s party." Captain Elson mournfully
bowed his head. „I hope we will find him alive. As you see, ogres do not
take any prisoners."
Covering Sir Gennek´s body with some leafs and branches the
little group walked on.
„This forest is very scary. I can hear no birds, nor insects buzzing.
The entire wood seems to be deserted."
Sir Keilon nodded. „Aye, corporal. You are right. But I think we
are not alone in here. The ogres will find us soon, if we are not careful
enough."
Captain Elson tapped Umanor on his shoulder. „Although you are young,
corporal you do not show any fear. I am very impressed, but do not overestimate
yourself."
Umanor just nodded. „There was a mission I failed, captain. I think
you have been told about it."
The old veteran tried to smile. „Yes, I heard about it. I do not
reproach you with that. You just tried to keep alive. Your conscience is
clear."
Wondering about his understanding Umanor tapped his shoulder. „Thank
you, captain. But I still feel guilty. I have lost friends and good companions.
I hope to become a fearless and loyal knight like you or Sir Keilon."
Listening their conversation Major Wolfenheart starts greening.
„He is of the same opinion, corporal. You will be a knight. Loyal and brave.
But we have to concentrate on the moment. This adventure is not over yet."
„Adventure?", Umanor asked Elson. „I think this is the greatest
quest in my life. I pray that we will all survive that mission and that
we will rescue Sire Babec."
„We will, corporal." Sir Keilon looked back at him. „You better
be silent now. I feel great danger. I suppose, we will meet an ogrish patrol
soon. Be prepared and if there is a conflict, fight for your life."
Umanor stopped talking. Looking to captain Elson he knew that he
was well protected. „Three knights and an inexperienced soldier", he thought.
„What a pitiful escape attempt."
Hoping to see Morianna again, Umanor kissed the little talisman.
As suddenly Sir Keilon ordered them to find cover, he knew that the elder
knight was right again.
They were six. Evil, brutish and greedy. Staggering through the
brushwood the fat and stinky creatures moved forwards. Mumbling in their
animal like language the big ogres did not take any notice of the four
men kneeling down behind some fern.
Umanor swallowed, as he saw their huge clubs. Each of the weapon
was equipped with metal or sharp splitters of stone. Typical for ogres
the six man-eaters worn no armours but clothes made of leather. Their leader,
a disgusting giant with long greasy hairs, belched as he passed Sir Keilon´s
hiding-place.
„Now", the imperial knight shouted. Piercing his broadsword into
the ogre´s fat paunch the surprised creature fell backwards. Swinging
the bloody blade Sir Keilon stormed forward attacking the ogre next to
him. Before one of the creatures could react, the sizzling bolt of captain
Elson´s crossbow hits an ogre´s forehead. Groaning he fell
over at Umanor´s feet. Killing the next ogre major Wolfenheart threw
his hatchet. Umanor watched it flying. As the axe stroke the creature down,
Wolfenheart nodded satisfied.
Three of the ogres were killed, before the others start to attack.
„Hhhumaan", shouted one of them.
„For colonel Moverrick", Umanor replied. Fearless he plunged
his claymore in the ogre´s leg and pulled it off. The screaming creature
tumbled forward him, but Umanor´s swift stroke slashed its unprotected
body. As the howling giant broke down Umanor clouted him the coup de grâce.
„Not bad, corporal", captain Elson remarked and dragged his crossbow
for another shot.
„Do not let him escape", Sir Keilon shouted nervously. Smashing
the head of his adversary he killed his second ogre. The last creature
fearfully tried to run, but captain Elson was quicker. A click of his crossbow
stopped him from escaping.
„Is anybody wounded?", Sir Keilon asked. The three men denied. „Well
done, corporal. I saw your fight. You are a good swordsman. But you have
to use your mind, if you will survive the next task."
Umanor felt unsure. „What do you mean by that, Sir?"
„He means that we have to plan our next step", captain Elson replied.
„We have to rescue Sire Babec. I do not believe that we can do this without
any risk. We will meet more of these creatures, especially their shaman."
Umanor understood. „How many ogres will we meet? One hundred or
more?"
Shrugging his shoulders captain Elson looked to Sir Keilon. „Enough
to be in trouble. I do not expect an entire legion, but at least fifty
maybe less. This forest is not big enough to hide an ogrish army. So, there
will be only the shaman and his lifeguard, I think."
Major Wolfenheart tore his axe out of the ogre´s body.
„Let us go", he signalled with his head. Following Sir Keilon the
small group walked on.
The four men reached the ogrish base only few minutes later. Hidden
in a hollow more than ten tents were put up only makeshift. Decorated with
furs and skins of leather the ogrish tents looked poor and shabby. A large
campfire crackled in the middle of the camp.
About twelve hungry ogres were sitting around the warm flames eating
their abominable meal. Animal carcasses and even two broken up human bodies
laid on the ground. Grunting and belching the awful creatures celebrated
their victory. Near to them piled up on a heap, the imperial defeat was
testified by broken weapons, helmets and armours. Two more ogres were standing
by the loud group, guarding a maltreated prisoner. Both of them were armed
with huge axes and their muscular bodies were protected by rusty chain
mails.
„The shaman´s lifeguard", Sir Keilon whispered in Umanor´s
ear. „Look, there he is." Pointing at the fattest ogre of the group Sire
Keilon discovered him finally.
„Dear Golum, what a terrible creature, he is." Umanor watched the
shaman, as the spiritual leader rose up. The ogrish shaman was the biggest
ogre Umanor had ever seen before. His bald head was covered by a crown
made of feathers. Runes and magic symbols were painted on his naked body
and his face. He worn a short loincloth and bracelets of bones around his
wrists. A golden necklace dangled on his fat paunch, as he trudged to the
unconscious man.
Sir Keilon starred at the prisoner. He recognised the battered plate
armour made of brass. He saw the two-handed sword at his feet and he saw
Lord Babec´s torn banner in the mud.
„He is the next. We will have to hurry up. Captain Elson this is
your chance. Try to kill the shaman. Corporal Umanor and major Wolfenheart
you both will distract the guards. I am going to rescue Sire Babec."
Without any further notice to the men Sire Keilon tried to descend
the hollow. „Quick, captain! Do not let him cast a spell."
Umanor looked at him. Captain Elson shot the bolt. But it did not
reach its target. One of the guards grabbed on his neck. Then he broke
down.
„Damn all." Captain Elson dragged his crossbow again, but major
Wolfenheart was quicker. His thrown battle hatchet hits the shaman’s breast.
Surprised by the unexpected attack the second guard reacted to slowly.
Sir Keilon´s sword cut off his head from his shoulders.
„Die you evil bastard. May your soul burn in hell." The following
stroke crushed the shamans skull. „Come on, Sire Babec. It is me, Keilon."
As he pushed his companion desperately Sir Keilon starts to cry.
„Oh no. Not you."
Looking back to his men he saw captain Elson killing another roaring
ogre. Major Wolfenheart got on his side. Dragging his dagger he tried to
cover the lifeless body of Sire Babec.
„Get him out of here", Sir Keilon shouted. Pulling Lord Babec´s
shoulders the mute veteran tugged him out of the hollow.
„Is he dead?", Umanor asked anxiously.
„Not yet. I do not believe that there is much hope.„
Captain Elson and major Wolfenheart carried the heavily injured
knight through the undergrowth. Defending their flight Sir Keilon fended
off any ogrish attack. Five ogres were slaughtered by his broadsword. With
an ear-splitting howling the remaining creatures escape in the deep of
the wood.
It was late in the evening as Morianna visited Fregor Umanor. The
young corporal sat on a bench in front of the blacksmith’s tent. Polishing
his claymore he sadly looked up to her.
„He is dead, Mori. Elder Helferson could not bring him back to life.
Lord Silverheart ordered to embalm him, so that he can be interred in the
Hall of the Heroes."
Morianna took his hand. „I am so happy that you returned. I prayed
for Golum to protect you."
Umanor nodded. „Yes, Mori. I am happy, too. Lord Silverheart and
Sir Keilon are going to plan an attack. They try to break the siege around
Kerat. I have to leave you again, Mori." Morianna looked into his eyes.
„I do not let you go. Not again. You have been escaped one time. Do it
again and come with me."
Umanor tried to deny, but Morianna´s warmth kiss made him
consider. „Your war is over, corporal. Come and let us go to a safe place."
„I cannot go. I am not a coward anymore. Sir Keilon wants me as
his companion. I am loyal to him and to the emperor."
The beautiful maid turned back. „You have to decide, Fregor. Me
or them. You will be another dead soldier on the field. I pray that you
will do the right thing."
Corporal Umanor watched her. Without looking back Morianna left
him alone. Undecided he stood up. Walking to her tent he tries to find
a solution for their problem. As he came closer to her tent, Umanor already
knew the answer.
|