Morgan Rice - Night of the Bold

He tumbled with them to the ground, then rolled over and slashed the legs of two horses charging him, sending their men to the ground as he rolled and stabbed each in the chest.

Kavos’s men were equally ferocious, leaping from their horses, fighting with the fervor and intensity the men of Kos were known for. Bramthos used his shield as a weapon, smashing several soldiers in a whirlwind as he galloped through their ranks, knocking them from their horses. He then drew his sword and swung with both hands, dropping a half dozen soldiers with blows so mighty they sliced their armor in two. Kavos’s other commander, Swupol, swung expertly with his flail, smashing a half dozen soldiers before them and creating a wide perimeter in the chaos.

All around him his men fought with a fury unlike any they’d ever known, their lives at stake, felling Pandesians in a blur of motion. As they swept through the unsuspecting Pandesian force, before long they had carved a path and nearly evened the odds, dropping the first two hundred Pandesians while losing very few of their own men.

Kavos, in the thick of it, fought even harder, leading the way, elbowing and head-butting and beating one soldier after another, dropping them, yanking them from their horses, stabbing them with swords and daggers, swinging maces and hatchets he swiped off the ground. He would do whatever he had to, to reach those mountains and keep his people alive.

And yet, as their initial charge petered out, Kavos soon learned that these Pandesian soldiers were made of tougher stuff. The rear lines fought fiercely, unlike their vanguard, while Kavos’s men were beginning to tire.

At a stalemate, Kavos, fighting with both hands, shoulders tiring, knew there wasn’t much time. Behind him, on the horizon, horns sounded and there came a distinct rumble; he knew the bulk of the Pandesian army was closing in. He could not fight them both off. He had to do something quickly.

Kavos knew the time had come to call in the reserves. Looked up at the mountains, he spotted a glistening of light, and he took heart, knowing his men, up high, were awaiting his return – and awaiting his command. The men of Kos had a rule they lived and died by: when their men set out for battle, an equal number of men had to always remain behind to protect the mountains of Kos. It was a sacred duty that they had pledged, and it was what it meant to be a man of Kos. The reflecting light was a sign that his other soldiers were up there, high above, watching, ready, willing, and able to help them.

Kavos knew the time had come.

He grabbed a horn and blew it in three short bursts, a signal only his people would understand.

“RETREAT!” Kavos shrieked to his men.

His men looked baffled, yet they listened, obedient soldiers that they were. They all turned and ran. As they did, the Pandesians, emboldened, let out a cheer. Kavos could feel them bearing down behind them, the enemy surely thinking that they had them.

Yet they did not know the men of Kos. The men of Kos never retreated – for any reason.

As they ran, behind them there arose a distant rumble, high up. It grew and grew. Kavos smiled, knowing what it was – yet the Pandesians were too focused on pursuing their enemy to stop and consider the men of Kos could have another plan. What they did not consider was that they could be attacked from above.

Kavos turned as the crash came, and he looked up to see massive boulders rolling down the steep cliffs of Kos, huge, rolling with a fury that only a few mountain ranges could allow. The men of Pandesia finally stopped and looked up. Panic spread in their faces – too late.

The avalanche of boulders landed with a sound Kavos would never forget – crashing down, shaking the earth, as if the entire world were fracturing. Within moments, they crushed hundreds of Pandesians and rolled over hundreds more. Their cries filled the air, as they were all flattened or wounded, with no room to escape.

Kavos stopped running, and his men turned and let out a cheer. With those men dead, they now had an open path to the mountains. And not a moment too late: closing in on them was the Pandesian army, hardly a few hundred yards away.

“TO THE MOUNTAINS!” Kavos cried.

They cheered, and all took off together. They galloped faster and faster, skirting the boulders, fleeing from the Pandesian army until they reached base of the cliffs. When they reached the point where it was too steep for the horses they dismounted and ran on foot.

Then they climbed the mountain. It soon became a steep hike, and then became a crawl. Without hesitating they all removed the ice picks from their boots, and soon the clinking of their chipping ice filled the air as they all climbed the steep mountain face, scaling the cliffs like goats.

Kavos heard a great commotion and glanced down to see the Pandesians closing in, reaching the base of the cliffs. They were hardly fifty yards away.

Yet fifty yards made all the difference. In these mountains, a fifty-yard climb made the difference between the men of Kos and all the others, between men who could climb on ice and men who could not. He watched as the Pandesians pathetically tried to climb, then slid back down, falling again and again down the steep face of the cliffs. They were only fifty yards away – yet it might as well have been a mile.

Out of reach, knowing they were untouchable now, the men of Kos let out a great cheer. They climbed with their ice picks higher and higher, back into their homeland, into the protective mountains of Kos, just out of reach of the army – and preparing to make the greatest stand of their lives.

Duncan charged south, leading his men through the narrow pass of the Devil’s Gulch, the wind in his hair, his heart racing as he knew this might be the final battle of his life. He let out a battle cry, inspiring his men behind him, all of them cheering with him as they tore through the narrow opening, cliffs on one side, the crashing sea on the other. Behind them came the thunderous rumble of a hundred thousand Pandesians pursuing, getting closer by the moment. It was like death charging for them. Duncan glanced back and saw they were now hardly a few hundred yards behind. They had taken the bait. As close as they were, one wrong move would mean his death.

As reckless as this maneuver was, Duncan had no choice. He had to lure the Pandesian army through the Gulch, to get them to ride to the southern side of the cliffs so that his men could seal and defend the Gulch. If he was lucky, he could circle back and slip through the tunnels and reunite with his men, join them in making a stand in the Gulch itself. If not, he would die here, on this side of the Gulch. Either way, the Pandesians would be lured from Escalon.

The Devil’s Gulch, the most famed place of Escalon, the proving ground of the greatest warriors who walked this land, would have to be put to the test. There was no other way he and his few hundred men could make a stand against a hundred thousand soldiers.

Horns sounded every few steps, Duncan pleased to hear his men following orders, helping to lure the Pandesians through. The Pandesians did not even pause – yet Duncan did not expect them to; there were few commanders, he knew, who were disciplined enough to call off a hot pursuit to what seemed a certain victory. In his experience, armies with greater numbers always fell prey to the trap of bloodlust.

As Duncan rode, he thought of the remainder of his army left behind on the far side of the Gulch, hundreds of great warriors hiding deep in the cliffs, waiting for the Pandesians to pass. They would seal the Pandesian army out of Escalon once and for all, trapping them on the other side of the impassable wall of mountains. Of course, in the process, they would seal Duncan out, as well. Duncan was willing to make that sacrifice, to take a chance and see if the hidden passages tunneling beneath the mountainside would lead him back to the other side and allow him to reunite with his men. His chance of survival was slim – and untested. Yet it was the chance he had to take. After all, it was the only way to save his homeland.