CH7. Blood, rage and despair.
We crept forwards in the shadows of the forest. Timing was essential. We wanted to attack their archers, their rearguard. If we could break their ranks and rout them, we could turn on the large army of barbarians and trap them between the warbands led by Zeuxis and us.
I was nervous. I lifted my shield and pressed the fingers of my shield arm on Ares' mark. I didn't know if I really felt something or just imagined it, but touching the mark seem to give me strength. I calmed myself, and I saw Eustatios' grin to me, an eager look upon his face. He would have his revenge on the archers, by facing them head-on.
A man yelled as barbarians moved up through the forest. They hadn't spotted us yet, instead facing Zeuxis' men. The barbarians yelled and taunted, and were greeted by the sound of Ares' warriors banging their shields together. The barbarians looked like a disorganized lot to me. Some carried sword and shield, some just swords or spears and I was sure I saw someone with a sickle. The first ones to step forwards were archers, though. They had seen Zeuxis' men would defend their camp rather than attack immediately, and tried to break the wall of spears and shields with arrows. I grinned at their stupidity. The round shield was part of every warrior's armor. All men were trained in using it to present a solid wall of shields. The barbarians took aim and fired at Zeuxis' men. I couldn't see them, but I was pleased to hear the clattering sound of arrows being deflected by shields. If the barbarians thought they would draw us out and weaken our line in such a way, they were surely mistaken.
Zeuxis ordered the men to move forward, advancing on the barbarians in formation. The barbarians on the battlefield shifted their tactics when they realized they were only wasting arrows, and instead decided to go for a direct charge. The main part of their army charged towards the shield wall Zeuxis' men presented. Suddenly, there was a sound in the forest nearby. Two scouts came into view, probably to spot for traps just like the one we currently used. Silent and cautious, I saw the skirmisher-warband move to take aim. One of the scouts died with three arrows in his body before he even spotted us, The other managed to make a yelp, but it was cut off when an arrow hit his face. I thanked the Gods for the skirmisher warband, and we continued to slowly move forward through the dense bush.
I heard metal clash against metal as the barbarians attacked the wall of shields from Zeuxis' men. Now was our time to get to action. Demostrate signaled for us to go forward. We kept in the cover of the trees, and ignored the main body of their army. If we attacked now, we would be flanked by the rearguard of their army. They had held some reserves back, and had their skirmishers and archers. If we did not dealt with them first, they would flank us and we would be trapped ourselves. We had to kill the ones they had hold back, if we wanted to successfully attack their army from behind.
We had come close to their rearguard before we were spotted. The guard who spotted us was killed by one of our archers, but not before he had screamed to alert the others. Demostrate gave the order. Now, it was time for our warband to move. Our warrior warband ran forwards, leaving the skirmishers behind. The thought of battle made me forget about the weight of the shield as I ran towards their rearguard. They had not expected an attack, and we charged them as a small, compact group.
I didn't slow down as I thrust my spear towards a surprised archer. The spear pierced his chest, killing him instantly. I quickly pulled the spear back to attack another man. I made a feint attack with my spear. He fell for the trick and tried to avoid my spear, but I had already changed its direction, planting it in his abdomen instead. I caught an arrow on my shield and then turned around to face an attacker that tried to flank me, but Photios' spear had already killed him before I could lift my spear again.
Demostrate yelled, ordering us to form a line. Our surprise attack had been effective: We had killed several of them before they had had time to reform. Some of their lighter troops had run as soon as we had charged them, and I trusted our skirmishers to deal with them. The other fighters of their rearguard had recovered from the initial shock, however, and were prepared to meet us. We advance at them in tight formation, presenting them our shields and spears. They were too few in numbers to present a real threat to a phalanx from the front, nor where they organized enough to have a better strategy. They fought fierce, but were no match for the greater reach of our spears, our shield protecting us from their attacks. I killed two more of them with my spear. As the last of their rearguard fled, we cheered, and turned around to watch the rest of the battlefield.
The shield wall of Zeuxis' man had not hold against the brute force of their army. As their shield wall had broken, every man had to fight for himself.
I touched Ares' mark on my arm as I prepared for battle again. I was shocked to found the mark burning hot. Something was wrong. Suddenly, everything seemed to become blurry, as if time itself was slowing down. I looked at the attackers. Some of them had realized they were in fear of being attacked from both sides and had turned around to face us.
I was aware Demostrate was shouting orders to get us in line again to attack them, but his voice was drowned, as if my general was very far away. I ignored him. I ripped off the straps that bound my shield to my arm and dropped it. I placed my free hand on Ares' mark, and laughed. My mark sent me a wave of strength, blood rage and hate. I filled myself with the sensation as I looked at our enemies. I drank in the energy emanation from the mark until I was drunk with it. My blood boiled hot. It seemed nothing mattered but me and the enemies in front of me.
I know someone shouted something, but all sounds seemed to be muffled. I took a step forward. My spear flew from my hand, over the battlefield, and pierced the armor and chest of one of the attackers. I suddenly wanted to yell. I screamed from the top of my longs and ran towards the place where the fighting was most intense. As I screamed an incoherent battle cry, and drew both my sword and my knife.
All became a blur before my eyes as I charged in. When I looked back at it later, I could not recall everything. Only certain moments and images had been clear. I had thrown myself into the battle as a man possessed. I hacked and slashed away, oblivious to anything but my enemies. My sword slashed open armor and battered aside shields as I fought. One scene was very clear to me, despite my blood rage. A giant of a man caught my attention, a battle axe in his hand. I killed the man that stood between me and the big man, and he turned around to face me. He swung his axe at me, and I jumped aside, narrowly avoiding it. He lunged at me, but this time I parried his axe with my sword. Instead of trying to win on strength, I twisted my blade, trapping both our weapons between us, and stabbed him several times with my knife before it slipped through a weak spot in his armor and between his ribs. I didn't bother to retrieve my knife from his chest, but instead picked up his battle axe.
I laughed out loud as I felt the weight of the axe in my hand. It took a moment to catch my breath before I threw myself in the thick of battle once again. An axe in my shield hand, my sword in the other, I attacked. The axe made me invincible. No one stood before me and lived. I used my sword to block attacks as I swung the axe effortlessly to kill. Shields splintered and helmets split as the heavy axe crashed down. I fought until I found myself surrounded by servants of Ares, and then changed my direction to find more enemies. I charged towards a place where men were still fighting. When I looked around me later, I could find no more enemies. I turned away from the battlefield. I swung the axe down into the body of an already dying enemy who lay heavily wounded on the ground, and left the axe there as I walked away from the battle.
I knew not what I was doing, only that I needed to get away from the battlefield. All thoughts were gone, and did not register what was going on around me. I felt dizzy as I walked towards the camp, and suddenly my stomach grumbled, and I fell to my knees and puked. I dragged myself to my feet again, and found the tent of my warband. I quite literally fell down on my bed and passed out.
I was awoken again by Demostrate. The veteran looked older than I had ever seen him, a strange look on his face. He was talking to me but I didn't understand him. I was sure my head was going to explode, and I groaned in response to his words. Eustatios came up to me, gently hoisted me into a sitting position and offered me a waterskin. I gulped down a lot of water greedily, before rolling over to puke again. Eustatios laid me down on my back again. I didn't fall asleep, but I couldn't focus on what happened around me either. Instead, I watched a great battle that was fought by shadows on the canvas of the tent. I realized the war drums of the canvas battle were one with the throbbing pain in my head, and finally fell into a restless sleep.
I woke when it was still night. My headache had lessened, but I still felt dreadful. About half of my Brothers were sleeping in the tent with me. I saw that Eustatios was still awake. He sat upright next to me, and I wondered what he was doing. I quietly asked him where the rest of the Brothers were. He said nothing but shook his head, pain in his eyes. Suddenly, all emotions seem to drain from me, only to be replaced by a nameless pain.