7 - The Battle of Tajorg
The young boy stood at the entrance to his father's tent, warming his hands by the fire outside and watching as tribesmen of the North returned to the camp in small groups. They were in good cheer, chanting praises to Wodh and singing songs of victory. Occasionally, a wounded man would be brought in, either carried or supported by comrades. The boy noticed that there were warriors present from all the Northern tribes; from the Centuri, from the Joths, men from the Carfah Hills and from villages by the great northern sea. And men in the distinctive kilts and armour of nearby Vosgir, where the boy himself had been raised - son of Alfard, King of the North.
The King's trusted lieutenant, Ostin, noticed the boy watching and walked over, accompanied by a group of ragged and bloodstained Vosgir warriors.
"Taneric, see here! This is the standard of the Legion of the City, now in your hands. Take it! Your father has won a great victory. The men of the City fought well, but many now lie slain and the rest are in full flight. In four days, the tribes of the North will be within their walls, for there can be few left there now to defend them."
Taneric supported the standard in both his arms, for it was heavy and he was too small to hold it upright. At the top was a magnificent sculpted golden eagle and below it a square yellow banner with an eye at the heart of the sun.
"It is the eye of their Goddess," said Ostin.
"It is beautiful," said Taneric.
"Well yes young Taneric," Ostin laughed. "Much about this deity is beautiful, from the watchful eye on the banner, to the magnificent Temple in the City, and especially Her priestesses; bringers of delight and, so they say, the personification of the Goddess among women. But many a northern boy has learned that with beauty and pleasure comes pain and despair."
"Our men will take the priestesses one by one on the altar of their false Goddess!" shouted a warrior, to much cheering.
Ostin held up his hand to silence them.
"You know that is not the way of the King," he said. "There has been enough bloodshed on the field of battle. The Queen will be forced to accept terms favourable to the North; tribespeople taken from us will be returned and never again shall the City prey on our youth. Valgar, Janeron, take Prince Taneric back to Vosgir. The rest of us shall follow the King to the City, for there may still be a fight to be had at the walls."
Taneric and the two warriors set off for the Vosgir trail which they reached within the hour. The two men took turns carrying the young prince on their shoulders when he struggled to keep up. As they approached the trail, they slowed and it became clear to the boy that the route, in the heavily forested Valley of Tajorg, was the very site of the recent battle.
"Look Prince Taneric," said Janeron. "The legion of the City was marching on Vosgir, but one at a time on the narrow trail through the woodlands. Their column was almost a league long. They could not have known that the tribes of the North are now united under your father the King - six thousand strong. We had destroyed their army's hind quarters before the head even knew that battle had commenced."
Indeed, the way through the forest was strewn with the bodies of the fallen, almost all warriors of the City, and so many struck down by arrows and spears.
"See, my Prince? The men of the City were well armed, but they intended to fight in tight formations on an open field of battle. They were unable to defend themselves alone or in small groups, and we took them from both sides of the path, with arrows and spears and even throwing rocks that we had prepared in advance."
In some places, as the small group moved along the trail, they came upon men of the North digging graves for fallen comrades. Taneric asked Valgar what would become of the bodies of the City's men.
Valgar shrugged, "After any great battle come vultures and wild animals, to profit from the death caused by others. And what is left after that will rot."
Janeron, sensing distress in the boy, called out, "Valgar, the boy has only seen six summers. Is there no other way to Vosgir?"
"Perhaps. But none that will get us there before nightfall."
They continued, in many places stepping over bodies, turning their faces from the horror where they could. And after another hour of walking they came to the head of the column, where lay the bodies of captains and generals of the City, in fine armour but all with heads removed.
"They will be on spikes at the gates of the City soon." said Janeron.
