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How was the Kingdom of Avantir saved from destruction during the first harsh years of its existence? One of the reasons was the ancient bond between the Guardians of the Sword and the People of the Hills. Barbarian tribes seeking to invade Avantir out of the Wild Lands must either fight their way through the Icarian Hills, or swing wide round to cross the River. In either case, the men of Avantir had adequate warning, and Darkon’s companions were always ready to meet them. Never did the Hill People forget that ancient link with the Guardians.
—Avantir, the Kingdom Out of the Ruins Ammerlyn
The story set the camp abuzz. It was unheard of for a man to kill two trolls, a deed worthy of the Elder Hero Garthell Long-sword, or the more recent Karkal of the Silver Ring. There was not a man among the war-host but wished to prove himself worthy of such a leader.
The leaders spent some time in the making of plans for the battle. Rorick looked at Beran. “The Infantry accept you as their commander?”
“Well enough, I suppose. Some might think it better to have a man of birth and position to lead them, but most will take their orders from me. And we have very few men of birth and position left, have we?”
“So be it. If all goes well, we shall march against Virdan within the week.”
In the morning, Rorick, Conel, and Randell, who commanded the cavalry, along with Beran and the three other commanders of the infantry, sat talking in the Chief’s house. They had just laid out the plan for the battle with daggers and drinking—cups, and Rorick had answered some last minute questions about tactics.
But Rorick knew, beyond question, that the real test would be when the commanders were required to improvise to meet some Hygerian action not allowed for in the plans.
A man came in, wearing a slightly large Hygerian chain—shirt, a Hygerian helmet with the spike a little clumsily removed, and a shield with a rather carefully painted Red Dragon on the face.
“The host is ready, Lords and Captains.”
The infantry, who must be in position first, donned helmets and tightened armour—buckles, then went out. Helana entered, and poured for the three remained a cup each of the Hill—peoples’ ale, the secret of which is not divulged to strangers at any price.
“Fortune favour you, Conel, rightful King of Asbaln. Randell, son of my mother’s brother, Khabarstymbion, may you return in safety. For you, Rorick, what words are left? I will wait for you, as long as I must.”
“So long as the Sword serves me, I shall return to you.”
But then it was time for the Horsemen to leave, and they took up their gear, striding out into the sunlight. The wolf—shaggy, laughing—eyed Horsemen waited outside, standing, sitting, or squatting in the dust, idly tossing knucklebones. As the Commanders stepped out, they were up and adjusting harnesses, donning helmets, and mounting. Conel gave the order to march, and as they rode out, Rorick turned to catch a glimpse of Helana in the door—way of the Chief’s house.
As they neared the place where they planned to fight the Hygerians, Rorick turned to Conel and said,
“Now we go to battle;
For the freedom of our land;
But one prize do I desire;
A fair brown maiden’s hand.”
Conel stared off across the horizon for a moment, then answered,
“I sing a song of evil times, of armies lost and fled,
Of hunted King in Hidden Hills, no crown upon his head;
I sing a song of victory, of triumph in the land,
A King who rides to gain his crown, a friend at either hand.”
Then Randell spoke as well,
“A battle is a chancy thing, be it lost or won;
And fleeting are affairs of men who walk beneath the sun.
Kingdoms rise and kingdoms fall, and one thing still is sure
When empires all are gone to dust, yet will the earth endure.”
The Hygerians marched along the same route as their previous party. About four hundred infantry and a little more than two hundred cavalry came up, and fell into order against the five hundred Asbalnian infantry and the hundred and twenty Horsemen who supported them. The Hygerian cavalry took up positions on either end of the line, preventing the Asbalnians from circling the infantry. These were matched on the Asbalnian side by two small groups of cavalry at each end of the infantry line, while Rorick sat in the rear with another small group of cavalry.
As planned, Conel and Randell led out their cavalry wings to keep the Hygerians occupied. They avoided coming to close quarters, but rather led the Hygerians to chase them. The Hygerians carried javelins, but the Horsemen tried to stay out of range.
Then the Asbalnian infantry opened ranks to let Rorick and his squadron through. They rode up close to the Hygerians, so close that a few javelins landed among them, and loosed arrows, then rode back again. About two horse—lengths from their own lines, they turned to ride back again e This time they went in even closer, launching their arrows into the dark—clad ranks.
This time, just as he launched his arrow, Rorick felt his horse stagger, then looked down to see that the beast had taken a javelin in the chest. Dying, the horse ignored the guiding pressure of Rorick’s knees and ran on toward the enemy. Without warning, he fell forward, casting the Guardian over his head.
Rorick had already let go his bow and had a close enough grip on his shield that he could hold on to it in spite of being flung head over heels. He came to his feet about five close paces from the Hygerian ranks.
In the instant he had to make up his mind, he realized that to flee would mean taking a javelin in the back inside five paces, whereas to attack into their ranks would mean doing some little damage before he died. He stepped forward.
A javelin went glancingly off his shield. An arrow sang away from his helmet. Then he was in range. He took one spear—thrust on his shield, warded another with the Sword, stepped forward between them, and struck. An instant later, he was through the spearmen in front and into the archers and javelin—throwers behind. Hygerian archers and javelin—men wear light armour and carry no shields, so he was able to down two before they could draw swords. Then they surrounded him.
Suddenly, behind him, he heard more shouting and battle—noise, and as he moved with all possible speed to keep the enemy back, Beran burst through the Hygerian line at the head of a wedge of twenty men. Then Beran was beside the Guardian, and the Hygerians were falling back from the ferocity of their attack.
“We have come in time, then, Milord?”
“Just in time, my old friend.”
“Aye. The men fight well, do they not? But we must leave here.” He shouted some orders, and they withdrew foot by foot until they were back outside the Hygerian lines. The main force of Asbalnian infantry were by this time in battle with the Hygerian front line.
By now as well, the Hygerian cavalry had been drawn far enough from the infantry to allow the rest of Rorick’ s squadron, under the capable leadership of his second in command, to sweep around the rear. This, coupled with the steadiness of the infantry, caused the Hygerians to break and ran. Rorick, Conel, and Randell’s second in command held them back from pursuit.
Among the twenty—two Icarians and forty—eight infantry dead was Randell. In the second attack, he had gone down with a Hygerian javelin in the chest.