Charge of the Korelian Knights
CRACKKK!!
The sharp crack of a wooden lance shattering battled with the screams of men. The air was punched painfully and abruptly from Lansius' lungs, overwhelming his senses. Dazed, he barely registered that this was nothing like mere exercise.
His right arm and shoulder recoiled from the lance’s impact. Through the slit in his helmet, a deafening chaos was unfolding before him.
The men from South Hill clustered to Lansius’ left and right, cowered as they frantically tried to escape the horror of being trampled.
The destrier’s loud neighing alerted him. Without hesitation, Lansius tightened his lower body to signal the destrier to continue the charge.
Amid all that chaos, Lansius barely keep up with the forward element who was doing the heavy lifting. Sir Callahan and Harold, along with the front-line knights, cleared a path and bore the brunt of the enemy’s resistance, facing spears, swords, and thrown stones.
However, despite their successful charge, the enemy formation was simply too large to be routed this easily.
Behind Lansius, the rest of the Korelian Knights charged into the poorly defended South Hill column. The column's front line had buckled, taking flight from the cavalry’s entry.
As for Lansius, the adrenaline masked the lightness of his right arm. He found himself still clutching the lance, the shaft of which was gone. He dropped it and was about to draw his blade when a spear struck his left arm.
Instinct kicked in. Lansius clenched his left arm into his chest, creating multiple layers of steel, just in time as the same spear slammed again. It was uncomfortable, and panic-inducing, but nothing more.
Sensing danger, the destrier broke into a short gallop, and more screams erupted as the beast barreled forward the disarrayed formation.
Screams were also heard from behind, as Korelian cavalry followed Lansius’ lead. One of them, Sterling, was desperately closing in on his Lord. Despite being in only half-armor, he was fearless. Sterling even managed to strike down the spearman who had attacked Lansius.
The ground was littered with discarded weapons, shields, and bodies. Suddenly, an open field enveloped Lansius’ view.
His horse snorted in delight while Lansius was dazzled by the sudden change of scenery.
... I actually survived that shit?!
The serene grassy plains felt surreal in the aftermath of what he had just witnessed. A smirk formed on his lips as he clenched his fist, slamming it into his breastplate in a primal expression of victory, a release after surviving tremendous physical exertion.
The knights in front began to slow down, making a wide turn. Sir Hugo and Callahan formed up on Lansius, followed by Sterling from behind.
“Are you injured, My Lord?” Sir Harold asked after opening his visor. The man barely broke a sweat.
Lansius’ right hand was still clutching the sword since he was too shaky to sheathe it. Using his left hand, he tapped the side of his helmet and found the small latch. It was hard with the gauntlet on, but he managed to open the visor.
Regaining full peripheral vision and the ability to breathe freely was an immense joy. “I’m good,” he declared after swallowing a breath of fresh air.
Then, situational awareness kicked in. “Are we clear for another pass?”
Sir Harold and Callahan looked at the horizon and both noticed that the Coalition’s entire reserve of two-hundred cavalry was bearing down on them. Lansius noticed it too.
“One pass only, My Lord,” Sir Callahan answered.
“How many did we lose?” Lansius asked the knights while glancing at Sterling. The squire nodded in response.
“A few or none,” Sir Harold responded, after taking a quick look at their forces, which seemed intact.
“Give the signal, we’re going for another,” Lansius ordered.
Callahan grabbed his silver horn-like apparatus and blew it. Unlike Anci’s loud and clear buccina, Callahan’s was richer and deeper.
Buuu- buuuuu!!
As they reformed, the standard bearer returned to Lansius’ side and proudly hoisted the blue and bronze chevron high.
Once again, the Korelians trotted into the enemy. Nobody retained their lance, so they were at a disadvantage. But the enemy had it worse.
The South Hill column was demoralized, many were dead or injured. Worse, a large portion was distraught. Now, they noticed that the cavalry had wheeled around toward their rear. The South Hill command rushed their strongest troops to the rear, trying to reform, but it was utter chaos.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
The levied element refused to cooperate. Only at the last minute did they manage to reform into thicker ranks, seven or possibly eight men deep, trying to counter the cavalry charge without risking their exposed flanks.
The Korelian Knights did nothing. Sir Callahan refused to lose time or momentum. Like an arrow loosened by the bow, they flew straight.
Lansius drew a deep breath and latched back his visor. The sound of his breath echoing inside the helmet was triggering something.
Is this PTSD...?
Tens of hours of full armor combat against Audrey had made him into either a fighter or a patient eligible for disability benefits.
Fuck it!
He cleared his mind and braced for impact. The destrier neighed as she understood by instinct what was going to happen. Following Sir Callahan’s lead, Lansius allowed his warhorse to gallop as he was without lance.
His limited vision slowly turned into a blur. He breathed deeply as the knights in front gallantly dove right into the enemy line. Despite more spears being directed at them, it wasn’t a unified wall of spears.
The South Hill's front line broke for the second time, and mayhem ensued.
“EYAAH,” Lansius yelled, ready to swing his sword, but he entered the fray without any resistance.
The opposing men scattered to the left and right. Some even stood still as if frozen, their teeth chattering while their eyes locked onto the incoming knights. Their wills had been broken.
But then, men surged from the left side as they formation contracted. Their faces were drained of blood as their panicked column squeezed them into harm’s way.
Lansius swung his sword to deter the nearest group of men. He was preoccupied with them when a poleaxe landed on his greaves. It was no more than a glancing blow, but it startled him. Before he could react, a short, frightful shriek caught his attention.
His horse had mercilessly trampled a man who stood in her way. However, Lansius barely had time to react as another man was abruptly shoved into him.
The unfortunate man came so close that Lansius ended up whacking the man’s helmet with his pommel as the space was too tight for a blade swing. The person collapsed where he stood, narrowly dodging the horse’s deadly hooves.
There was no time to breathe as a bigger threat loomed ahead. A group of well-armed men had made their way to the rear of their formation, attempting to reach the Korelian knights. Seizing their opportunity, they brandished their polearms against the cavalry, who, now without their lances, had limited means to counter.
Sir Harold and Callahan swiftly maneuvered to confront the new threat, fighting off the brandished polearms and carving a broader path for their Lord.
Behind them, Lansius, on his way out, parried their attacks with his sword and jostled the rest away with his gauntlets.
Three times the sharp edges landed on his armor. Each time, the steel’s smooth contour deflected the thrust that grazed without biting. Lansius kept squeezing his knee on his horse, signaling her to keep going while planted his feet in the stirrup to avoid falling.
Now, he noticed that the destrier ran wilder than usual, as if were injured. Being only partially armored, a wound was always possibility. However, the beast remained aggressive and didn’t seem to falter.
Just a little bit more…
As Lansius parried the last polearm brandished against him, the rest of his knights followed behind and tore through the South Hill column.
The green grassy field was within their sight.
“GAAHH!” Lansius gasped. Something had struck his back. The hard blow rattled his gut and made his head feel light. He coughed, narrowly avoiding vomiting, all the while searching for his assailant.
He craned his neck and spotted a man with a bardiche, a big axe-like blade mounted on a pole.
The bardiche wielder charged, ready for another blow but was impeded by his own frightened comrades. With a face full of scorn, he taunted Lansius. However, his helmet flew off and fresh blood spurted from the side of his head.
Sterling had swooped in from behind, delivering a fatal blow after the standard bearer had driven off two men to clear a path.
Meanwhile, Lansius had reached the open field and savored the change of scenery. Even the destrier’s breathing had calmed.
Sir Harold and Callahan formed up around him as they slowed their trot. Fresh blood coated their armors and mounts. Suddenly, Lansius felt unwell.
“My Lord, are you hurt?” Callahan asked his visor already up.
Frantically, Lansius opened his visor. He took a deep breath, as if he were drowning.
This spurred the two knights into action. Sir Harold quickly moved to Lansius’ side and tried to find the problem. “My Lord, try to take a deep breath.”
“I-it’s hard,” Lansius gasped. “My back!”
“There’s a dent. You’ve been hit, My Lord,” shouted Sterling from behind.
“Get the backplate off,” Harold urged Callahan, as he took the destrier’s rein to steady the pace.
“Do it, do it,” Lansius gave the order.
Sterling could only watch as Callahan managed to undo the latches and remove the backplate after several tries. Instantly, Lansius felt better as he breathe freely again.
Unintentionally, the absence of the backplate provided a remarkably refreshing coolness, in spite of the drenched arming doublet underneath the armor.
“The dent looked shallow, but it bent the waist part inward,” Callahan reported as they rode further.
Only then, Lansius realized he had lost his sword. Likely, when the bardiche man had hit him.
Soon, they reached a safe distance and slowed their pace. Lansius noticed several streaks and marks on Callahan’s armor, including a bolt head embedded near his shoulder that had failed to penetrate. Red smears also coated Callahan’s legs and saddle.
Seeing Lansius' gaze on the stains, Callahan quickly reassured, “It’s not my blood, My Lord.”
“Sir Harold, how about you?” Lansius inquired.
“Lost an axe and my left arm is a bit numb, but I still have my sword. I can do another pass, My Lord.”
Sir Harold’s bravado sent Lansius into a chuckle. “How many did we lose?”
“Five, maybe fewer,” Callahan replied flatly.
Lansius couldn’t suppress a smile at that result, especially when Sterling looked unharmed.
Unbelievable… This is better than my wildest prediction.
“My Lord, the Black Knights,” the standard bearer called out from the rear.
At his warning, they turned to see riders clad in black armor galloping toward them. The South Hill column had split in two, providing the Black Knights with a clear path to approach.
Although Lansius’ charge had inflicted significant damage, it clearly wasn’t enough to rout the South Hill column. With the arrival of Lord Jorge and his Black Knights, the column quickly recovered.
As Sir Callahan had predicted, this minor charge had only a small impact on the overall battle.
“Sir Harold, want to have a go at them?” Lansius jested.
“For you, My Lord, I’ll do it,” the tall knight replied with a wide smirk.
Lansius chuckled and gently signaled his destrier to pick up the pace.
Just then, Sterling called out, “My Lord, smoke!” He pointed to the east, towards where Sir Justin’s column was fighting.
Lansius glanced in that direction, then turned to Callahan. “Aim for the forest. Get us out of here!”
***