"Sir!" One of Mikel's men burst through the meeting hall doors in a panic. "Sir! Emergency signal from the scouting corps." The war meeting paused.
"What is it, soldier?" asked Mikel. "Calm down, use your words."
"They're here, sir. They're here."
"They're early… Holden," he muttered under his breath. Then, raising his voice, "Scrap the plans, we take the fight to them now!"
Holden and the scouting team crested the last of the Hvitan Hills. He brought his horse down the hill onto the flat ground at full gallop and began making a break for the fort. He could hear the war cry of the Ridatt cavalry as they crested the hill shortly after; they were gaining on him. His heart was pounding in his chest, sweat dripping from his brow. Holden had never been in combat before and hoped he would not have to. But he knew how to ride a horse, and he continued to urge it on as his life depended on it.
The metal grated gate guarding the fort's entrance was raised, and a mass of cavalry poured out.
"Bunch up together, we can't impede them!" shouted the scout commander. The rest of the scouts moved in and surrounded Mikel in a tight formation, and a small gap opened up in the oncoming cavalry line in turn.
The real danger was only beginning. They used the hills to obscure direct lines of fire but they were in the open now.
"Shields! Protect the cartographer!"
The two men on either side of Holden held their shields out to protect his back. He peeked over his shoulder and saw another Ridatt cavalry line at the crest of the hill with bows drawn. They released and Holden looked down, closing his eyes, the anticipation almost as bad as the result.
Horses and men screamed as stone pierced flesh, and he heard a few loud thumps on the shields, wood splintering. Holden opened his eyes and saw that a couple of the men at the back were missing, their horses fallen. They scrambled to their feet but they did not run. Instead, they stood their ground, spears pointing back toward the Ridatt cavalry charge. To his left, one of the horses no longer had a rider but it kept pace with them regardless. The scouts were down to eight men, including Holden.
Then, another black mass of missiles was released. He turned away, not wanting to see the fallen men either. He closed his eyes again, fearing the worst.
The soldiers on either side of him cried out in unison with more thumps on the shields they were holding over his back. They and one more soldier fell out of formation, five men remaining. How much longer to go? His breathing became irregular. Daring to turn his head around once more, he resisted and focused on Mikel's oncoming charge ahead of them. They weren't far away now, just a few hundred meters away.
Three hundred metres, two hundred and fifty metres, two hundred metres, he thought. It steadied his panicked breath a little. One hundred and fifty metres, one hund…
Holden felt a sharp pain in his thigh, the force of it knocking him off balance and the next moment he was tumbling in the grass below.
Mikel watched in horror as Holden fell from his horse from the last volley. The army he led passed the scouting corps, and ahead, he saw his fallen men swallowed up by the Ridatt cavalry charge.
"Shields!" Mikel bellowed. Another volley of arrows appeared from that hilltop, no longer aiming at the scouts but at his own cavalry charge. This volley, however, was much less threatening to a force of over a hundred men. Only a handful of arrows flew true, and a few of his men fell, but they were too sparse to do any real damage. And that would be the last volley before the clash.
Caught unprepared, the forces Mikel mustered paled in comparison to the Ridatt cavalry but this mattered little. His blood boiled. Raising his spear above his head, he unleashed his warcry, and his men followed suit. However, he did not hear them. His mind was filled with the thought of Holden shot off his horse, and a blind rage took over. Soon, nothing but rage and the thrill of battle remained.
The forces clashed. Mikel quickly leaned to the side, the opposing rider, on his right, catching only air with his spear while Mikel's connected with the rider's chest, pushing him off his mount. He drew his blade, letting his spear fall with the Ridatt soldier. Another rider behind the first tried to skewer him as well, but he deflected the thrust with his shield and plunged his blade into the man's neck. The thrust was clumsy and scraped off the side, but it did its job. A third, this time to his left, slashed downward toward his horse, but he swept his blade over his mount and knocked the sword out of the way. Using the last of his momentum, he rammed his shield into the rider's face and knocked him over. And finally, he caught a fourth, to his right and slashed at his leg before he could react.
Mikel and a handful of others emerged on the back end of the Ridatt's forces. He reared his horse and returned to the fray.
By this time, the rest of his forces poured out from the fort's gate, infantry. He did not have the horses to match the Ridatt's cavalry, but he had the men. They were too far from the fort's walls for their archers to support them, so they, too, were among the infantry. The enemy archer line at the crest of the hill did the same in turn, and charged down the hill to support their troops.
The battle raged on, Mikel slashing at any soldier who dared approach him. He had carved out a crimson hole in the enemy forces, the corpses of men and horse alike piling up around him. Only he and a few of his cavalrymen survived the encounter, but they only had to hold on until his infantry arrived.
Three more Ridatt cavalry charged toward him on opposite sides, two to his left and one to his right. He turned his horse toward the duo and did the same. They neared him at the same time, swords raised on either side. Mikel threw his blade and caught shoulder of rider to his right. Surprised, he screamed in pain and dropped his blade as his horse carried him past. Mikel urged his horse at the last moment, leaning forward below the other rider's slash and bucked him in the face with his shield, knocking him off balance, joining the killing field below. Rearing his horse around once more, he faced the remaining rider but he was no longer charging.
His infantry had reached the battlefield, or what was left of it. The remaining Ridatt were in retreat, a costly victory. Even so, his men raised their weapons and cried out in triumph.
The warriors of Rafathod were honourable and valued strength, courage and fairness but the rules of war meant little to Mikel in this moment, still blind with rage. He could not hear the cries of his own men and scarcely noticed that they had reached his surviving cavalry to support them. He spotted a few surviving Ridatt who had lost their mounts and were retreating on foot. Charging after one, he leaned over and pulled a spear from a nearby corpse and punctured the man in his side. He would not hear those screams either and there would be no survivors today.
He found another man limping away from the battlefield and threw his spear into the back of his leg, dropping the man. He approached him, dismounting next to him. Crying out in agony, he continued to crawl away. Mikel pulled his spear from the soldier's leg, blood poured out as the man spasmed and screamed his last scream, voice hoarse. He plunged the spear into his back, putting him out of his misery. He turned and surveyed the red-stained fields once more and spotted the Ridatt he had bucked with his shield, limping toward his horse. He threw the spear again but it did not fly true, landing a few metres away from the limping man. Though the horse got spooked by it and began to run away on its own. He began charging toward soldier with nothing but his hands. He tackled the him to the floor and began scouring the nearby corpses for a blade, axe or spear.
There was shouting coming from in front of him but he ignored it. He found a knife attached to a dead soldier's belt, it could have been one of his own men. Drawing it, he returned to the fallen Ridatt and raised the small blade.
"General!"
He heard, the word this time. Though it did not come from one of his own men.
"General Mikel!"
He tried to plunge the blade down into the screaming mans throat but his arm would not move.
"General!"
That voice again, is that Holden?
"Sir, that's enough."
This time it was Erik's voice.
He looked up and saw Erik panting, holding onto him by his arm. He struggled against it.
"Mikel!"
Mikel looked up and saw Holden being supported by one of his men, his right thigh bandaged with a piece of cloth.
Finally noticing the Ridatt soldier cowering in fear, he dropped his knife. He gazed upon his would be victim and saw only a boy. He looked like had he had barely seen nineteen winters. Only now, he registered the stench of the battle; iron, guts, piss and shit. His skin, his armour caked with blood.
He turned his gaze to the injured cartographer again, the boy beneath him, his face, mirrored on Holden's. A look of sheer terror.
But Holden's fear turned to disgust, eyes squinting, brow furrowed. And before turning away from the horrors, Mikel, the blood-soaked battlefield, the corpses of man and beast; his disgust turned to sorrow.
Evelyn leaned in close to her horse, it's warmth helping her stave off the frigid air. Just ahead, she could see light. The featureless darkness began to fade and she could make out the forms of the gargantuan trees, many of which were bent, cracked and leaning over.
She stopped her horse. The destruction in the wake of the monster was clearer here. Aside from the environment around her, the mangled bodies of two men and their horses were in the trail. One of the horses laid on its side and it's rider bore a large three clawed gash on the side of their torso, from their shoulder down to the horse's belly. It had severed the soldier's arm and left their leg attached only by the bone. His face was twisted, mouth open, no doubt screaming before he met is end. The other rider, a handful of strides ahead, was trampled along with his mount. A bloody mound of armour, wool, bones and flesh.
Evelyn almost wretched at the sight, swallowing back her last meal. C'mon Evelyn, don't lose heart now. She pressed on.
The light in the distance grew brighter and brighter until she could make out the gargantuan trees in all directions. The light was a blazing fire, like the sun, illuminating her surroundings. The nearby trees forms were revealed. She had never seen the tops of the trees with such clarity before, they were always obscured by the dense canopy of the Galken Wood. Every branch jutting from the thick trunks was like a tree of its own. They must have been over a hundred metres tall. Some were taller and wider still, their heights obscured by the canopy of the trees around them. She wondered how ancient this forest could be and what kind of beast could even splinter these old trees.
She approached the fire and the trees around her gave way a little. Traveling through the wood in the last month, Evelyn noticed very few smaller flora grew here. What shrubbery existed was resilient and rare, living off far less sunlight than their taller relatives, so it was a shame to see this smaller bush alight. Part of which was already blackened and no longer burning as it slowly spread to the untouched parts of the bush. The surrounding area was more open, fewer trees dominated the space and the canopy gave way to the clouds above.
There was another dead soldier by the burnt bush, his horse nowhere to be seen. He was in better shape than the last two victims but he still wore a large gash in his chest and the grass beneath him was crusty with dried blood.
Evelyn dismounted and took a closer look. It was Henrik, one of the original twelve men sent to bait the beast. Another victim in Mikel's conquest. Her horse whinnied behind her, startled from the fire. She patted its head and stroked its face. "Easy, easy." she said calmingly.
Men's voices echoed in the distance. She couldn't make out whose was whose so she mounted her horse again and followed the sound. As she distanced herself from the fire, torchlight ahead became visible. The voices became clearer, Erik's commands stood out among them.
She saw the man barking orders as she approached. Another gruesome scene. There were atleast a dozen more mangled corpses and half a dozen more injured, their wounds being attended to. Evelyn could hear there cries of pain. Some had lost an arm or a leg and others wailing in pain from large gashes across their bodies.
"Lass?" shouted Erik, "What are you doin' here?"
Ignoring his question, Evelyn stared in awe and in horror at the body of the beast behind Erik. It was slain. She circled around it with her horse.
"Hello? Evelyn?"
Not acknowledging him, she examined the dead monster. It was in no better state than its victims. Dark red blood had poured out of its many punctures, staining is grey fur. It was facing away from the direction of the trap it fell into, one of its two right arms reaching toward something deeper into the forest. Another one severed at where its wrist would be. There were pieces of the wooden stakes still in some of its wounds.
"Where is Mikel?" asked Evelyn, noticing that he was not present.
Erik looked down and sighed.
"Probably ending this monster problem for good." He pointed his arm in the direction the monster was running before it fell. "We think it was running toward its den."
One of the other men approached Erik and Evelyn, it was Tomas. He regarded her.
"Sir, we can't wait for Mikel to return. They won't make it here, they stand a better chance of fighting another day with the medics."
Erik looked down and sighed again.
"You're right."
"Have you encountered any wolves here?" interjected Evelyn, realisation coming to her. She reflected over the last month. The large wolves hunted in packs frequently and when they attacked humans, they went after smaller groups that had splintered off from the larger expedition, much like the night before. But on the ride to here from the chasm, she had not encountered any at all.
"Well?" she asked again after not getting a response.
"Uhh, no we haven't, now that you mention it." replied Tomas. "We've been too focused on…" He gestured toward the scene around them.
"Don't be alarmed." said Evelyn, noticing the slight fear on Erik's face. "I don't think you will see any for miles. This is the beast's territory."
Evelyn turned her horse toward the direction the beast was running.
"Where are you going?" protested Erik. "It's still dangerous out here."
"Do as you were, take these men back to safety. I'll inform the general. I fear for their lives or…"
I fear we have invaded its territory and what it's protecting. She didn't voice this thought. And again, she rode into the darkness following more tracks, away from the light.
Evelyn felt tense which made the ride over even more nerve-racking even though barely a few minutes had passed before she the trial finished. She found herself staring down a large incline into a cliff wall as tall as the chasm's wall where they laid the trap. Looking left and right, she saw that the wall continued onward further than her torchlight illuminated. She realised this was also a chasm. One side of it was flattened out until it was no longer a sheer cliff edge but smooth slant and in the other side, a gaping maw, black as night. The cave's entrance was at least five metres high and across.
A noise to the right broke the silence and Evelyn let out a small shriek. Startled, she pointed her torch to her right and saw a handful of horses tied to stake, Mikel's. Him and his men must have left them here before entering the cave. Evelyn lead her horse to the others and tied hers too.
She started down the incline on foot, torch in hand. Nearing the bottom, the incline approached forty five degrees. Hobbling down, she slipped but caught herself with her free hand. She reached the bottom of the chasm, her torch close enough to illuminate some of the interior of the cave. But it did little, its penetrating darkness seemed endless. The cave tunnel was at a slight incline going deeper into the earth. She pressed on.
The tunnel was straight for the most part, at least for a few minutes of walking until the tunnel opened up. Both the ceiling was higher and the ground lower. Evelyn climbed down as the tunnel's edge ended abruptly. Looking back, she had climbed down a small ledge that was waist height. Ahead, the large tunnel split in two. She made a mental note of how long she had been walking. Two hundred and eighty four steps from the cave's entrance to this ledge, that's about two hundred and twenty metres. Both left and right were equally dark, the torchlight did not illuminate far enough to discern a way to go. So she picked left and stuck with it.
This larger cavern was not straight, the path winded back and forth, up and down. There were many smaller tunnels that split from the main path but none lasted more than thirty steps. After the fifth off shoot, she struggled to keep her mental map of the cave consistent but she knew that she was still descending deeper overall even if the cave moved up and down. It was getting warmer the deeper she descended and after a few minutes of walking, she noticed there were patches of moss on the walls that became larger and more frequent the deeper she went.
She counted six hundred and nine steps from the first split in the path before she finally heard something echoing through the tunnel. She recognised Mikel's voice amongst other murmurs. A few moments later, she saw a flickering light ahead.
"Evelyn?" said Mikel, surprised to see her. Limping, supported by one of his soldiers, he was with three other men. One of which was carrying another on his back. They were a grim sight. Covered in blood and mud from head to toe, their beards sticky and red. Behind them, the cave opened up even more into what seemed like a large room. She could not tell how large as the torchlight did not reach any walls or ceilings. The only thing breaking the silence was dripping water.
"Lass? What are you doing here?" he asked again. She ignored the question.
"What did you find down here, General?" she countered.
Silence.
"General, we are in the monster's territory. We have not seen a single wolf since crossing the chasm." continued Evelyn, "Similarly, we never encountered the beast past that chasm. I think it's prote-"
"Evelyn." Mikel interrupted, firmly. "It's over. I'm glad you're here, can you lead us back to the surface? I know you've memorised-"
She did not let him finish either. She walked past the men, torch still in hand.
"Evelyn, wait." Mikel grasped her shoulder as she tried to go past. Evelyn glared at him and shook him off. He was in no shape to stop her.
Mikel and his men left a blood trail into the large opening behind them. Evelyn followed it. The room behind them must have been atleast fifty metres across and was high enough that she could not see any ceiling. There was moss everywhere, some stained by the blood. She tracked the trail to the opposite end where she could hear the dripping water.
There they lay. Three bodies. One slightly larger than a man ten metres away from the other two smaller figures, no larger than children that had seen no more than ten winters. Realising that the beast was its mother, the larger one looked a lot like her. A hairless head, long snout, six legs and a bulking body. The smaller ones were less alike, with heads proportionally larger compared to their bodies and covered in fur like the rest of it. But like their mother, they were blood stained and punctured, motionless. The larger one laid on its side, a large gash across its torso.
Evelyn turned away from the horrific scene. MIkel and his men were standing at the entrance to the room with their torches in hand. She strode up to them.
"Was this necessary, General?" she asked.
He did not respond.
Numerous thoughts buzzed through Evelyn's mind. That feeling she had when Mikel asked her to be a witness, fear of the kind of man capable of such horrors, was at the forefront.
"All this when we could have gone around it?" she continued, her voice rising and shaking. "What was it for? Glory?"
The men around her stared at her in disbelief. They had been dead silent from the beginning, too afraid to speak up. Mikel himself was wide-eyed at first and then down trodden, looking down at the floor.
"How many lives, Mikel?" she pleaded. "How many of your men died to slay this beast?"
The men winced at the question, it hung in the air like a rotten stench.
She gestured behind her toward the cubs' corpses.
"And this?!"
She was shouting now, her voice no longer shaking.
"Why?"
A long pause.
They stood there for what felt like an eternity, none of them meeting eyes with the cartographer.
"Come, General." said Evelyn, breaking the silence. "I'll lead you back to camp."