The tale of Malakano

Chapter 2

The horsemen were rapidly approaching, charging at full speed towards the defensive formation on the hill. It was clear that they were looking for a fight. Malakano could make out a dark emblem on their steel shoulders and chest: a roaring black dragon in a field of red. It was a symbol Malakano had never seen or heard of before, but then again, he was not well versed in the heraldry of the mighty northern kings.

"Archers! Volley!" The archery commander, Bjorn Henderson, yelled. He was a wild blond northerner, immigrating to Lisht'Onek after being forced to escape his home in the wake of a bloody war. At his command, a dense volley of arrows soared over their heads, disappearing form sight for a second before peppering the encroaching army with arrows. Malakano saw several men fall from their horses, falling to the ground. Whether they were alive did not matter, as they were trampled by their comrades mounts. Sadly, not enough foes fell to the attack.

Seeing how ineffective his volley was, Bjorn roared. "Fire at will! Fire at will!" Soon, the air was thick with arrows, each one attempting to slay one of the horsemen who were now almost on top of the defenders.

"Plunging arrows! Fire plunging arrows!" Bjorn ordered, obviously afraid of friendly fire when the melee started. The archers began shooting almost straight up, so that when the arrows fell they would go over the heads of the army and into the heads of the attackers. More and more of the cavalrymen were falling, screaming to the ground, crushed by the flailing hooves of their own steeds, but still, not enough. Never enough.

Meanwhile, Captain Pyorin, the pikemen's commander, bellowed orders to all the infantry; pikemen and swordsmen like Malakano. "Ready your weapons and hold your ground! For Lisht'Onek!" Every soldier roared in agreement and hefted their weapons; ready for the carnage they knew would come.

The cavalry slammed into the stout wall of pikemen, horses screaming in pain and fear while riders fell off their dying steeds. A second later, the enemy reached the flanks, and Malakano began his part of the battle.

He spotted one foe charging straight towards him, galloping at full speed and eyes locked straight into his. Malakano, who had nowhere to go to dodge the rider, hurled himself forward, sword extended in front of him, under the murderous point of his foes lance and plowed his blade directly into the horse's chest. It never made a sound, only crumpled to the ground as Malakano stabbed into its heart. The soldier riding the now fallen beast flew off, landing in the dirt a few feet away, groaning in pain.

Malakano did not waste a second. He could not waste a second. He took two big steps forward and planed the point of his sword in the knight's skull, the point slipping through the eye slits and into his foes brain, killing him instantly.

Malakano picked out another enemy, this one on foot due to the death of his steed. He was currently combating one of Malakano's fellow swordsmen. Even as he watched, the rider slapped the swordsman's blade aside and thrust his own into the soldiers gut. He crumpled, clutching the pommel that protruded from his stomach vainly, and fell to the ground, the lasgt traces of life gone from him.

Red filled Malakano's vision. He roared in defiance, charging the man who had killed his ally. The enemy turned in just enough time to see Malakano and bring his shield up to block the murderous arc of iron that came down on him. Malakano then brought his sword back and swung it in a horizontal slash, almost smashing its way past the soldier's guard and into his flesh. The cavalryman thrust forward with his sword, attempting to kill Malakano the same way he had killed the other defender of Lisht'Onek, but Malakano batted the attempt aside with his shield and then brought his sword back, the now bloody iron glinting in the harsh morning sun, and sent it straight through his enemy's neck. The soldier swayed on his feet for a second, then fell, dead, to the ground.