"Caradoc!"
"Milord." "You will continued skirting the mountains and come at the village from the south. I don't expect you'll come up against much resistance, but you might run into several ogres on the run."
Caradoc grinned at the thought. "Yes, milord." "Take Knight Kern with you," said Soth. "Be careful through the mountains, but move quickly."
Caradoc nodded.
Kern followed, nodding to Soth as he passed.
That left Soth and six other knights, including Sword knights Darin
Valcic and Zander Vingus, for what would basically be a full-frontal attack.
Soth took a deep breath. After all these years as a knight and the countless battles and adventures he'd been a part of, he still felt the same excitement beginning to build within him. It was a nervous sort of tension, an almost euphoric sensation that would continue to build until it all but disappeared upon the onset of battle. Then, his knightly instincts and years of training would take control and he would fight like a man possessed, not stopping until the last of his foes had been vanquished.
But that would all come later. For now, he savored the sweet feeling of anticipation, struggling with himself to keep it in check lest it overtake him too early. He still had a responsibility to his men to lead them safely into battle, for if one of them should die during the fight, a little piece of him would die along with that knight.
He drew his sword, held it at the ready and gave his mount a gentle squeeze with his legs. The horse began moving forward.
The rest of the knights followed.
Soon after they set out, the path curved to the right as it followed the bend of the river feeding into the pond.
There was a small farmhouse on the right of the road. Soth sent two knights to inspect it, but it proved to be empty of either villagers or ogres.
They continued on, Soth in front and three knights to either side of him in a loose V shape. As the path straightened out, they were able to see
Center Square. Apparently, Paladine was smiling favorably on their expedition because they'd arrived just as the ogres were packing up their booty and preparing for the trip back to Throtyl. As the knights watched, several of them were casually inspecting their loads unaware of their impending demise.
Soth gauged the distance between his men and the ogres. He was close enough that any thoughts in the ogres' minds about running for cover would be out of the question.
The knights would easily be upon them before they reached safety.
No, Soth's attack plan had left them only one option, stand and fight.
Soth raised his sword high above him and kicked at his mount. The horse surged forward and in seconds the air was full of the sounds of charging hoofs.
The first ogre to see Soth stared at the knight for a moment as if he were looking at death itself. He moved left, then right, then finally picked up his nearby club and took up an improvised battle stance, ready to fight.
Soth continued to charge, leaning right and swinging his sword, the length of which outdistanced the ogre's club by half. The leading edge of the blade cut through the ogre's midsection, spattering Soth and his horse with blood. The ogre stood upright a moment, then doubled over before dropping heavily to the ground.
Quickly, the rest of the ogres became aware of the oncoming knights.
Some decided to flee, heading north or south in search of cover. The last knights on either side broke off from the main assault to take care of these, cutting them down as they ran. After that, the knights swung around to rejoin the main group, leaving any further runners for the knights positioned to the north and south of the village.
Soth's charge had brought him through Center Square. He stopped his horse and dismounted, preferring to fight the rest of the battle on foot. The other knights had also dismounted and were now involved in close fighting, each knight battling one or more of the ogres who had remained to fight.
Soth approached the fray, eager to even the odds.
"It's not fair," said Farold.
The Knight of the Sword had led his party through the fields unnoticed and now looked across the main road at the two buildings serving as a makeshift prison for the villagers.
"What's not fair?" asked Kris Krejigaard, a Knight of the Crown who had just returned from inspecting the mercantile and trade center, both of which proved to have been cleared out by the ogres.
"The stupid brutes have posted a single guard outside the prison and that one's asleep on the job."
"Perhaps their victory celebrations went long into the night?" offered
Krejigaard.
"Indeed, they must have."
"But you can't kill him as he sleeps." "No, of course not," said Farold.
It was forbidden by the Measure to kill an opponent whilst unawares.
"But I doubt he'll put up much of a fight after I wake him."
"No," said Krejigaard. "in his condition, I suppose not."
Farold rose up, walked boldly across the street and kicked at the feet of the sleeping ogre.
"Huh? What?" the beast sputtered.
"Surrender, or die at my blade," said Farold.
The ogre threw a handful of dirt into Farold's face, reached for his nearby spike-end club and leaped up from the ground.
Farold was blinded for a moment, cursing as he wiped his eyes. Luckily he was able to recover from the dirty tactic in time to meet the ogre's challenge.
While Farold and the ogre fought, Krejigaard went to the two buildings on the west side of the road and released the imprisoned villagers. Then he escorted them to the mercantile where the two other knights in
Farold's command waited with the small amounts of food, water and other supplies they had carried in their packs.
When Krejigaard rejoined Farold, the Sword knight was standing over his fallen enemy looking none the worse for the battle.
"That didn't take long," said Krejigaard.
"I suspect his abilities were muddled by sleep," said Farold, his voice edged with a hint of regret. "That or by last night's ale."
"Perhaps he would have been wise to remember the squire's first rule."
"So it would seem," said Farold, his eyes already scanning the village before him.
Off in the distance, sounds of a much larger battle could be heard.
Without another word between them, the two knights headed south.
Soth searched the square for an opponent. He found one in the largest of the ogres who was looking behind a grain cart for an unsuspecting knight.
"I'm over here, you ugly brute," said Soth, putting a boot to the ogre's backside and pushing him headfirst into the dirt.
The ogre tumbled and grunted, then looked up at Soth.
"Didn't know Knights of Solamnia fought like common tavern wenches."
Soth was amused by the remark and grateful his opponent had a sense of humor. "Only when fighting old maids."
The ogre stood up, and for the first time Soth realized the beast was a full head taller than himself.
They began trading blows and for a while it was all Soth could do to keep up with the ogre. He'd been able to cut his foe here and there, but the opportunity for a death blow had so far eluded him.
The ogre blocked an overhanded swing of Soth's sword, then countered with a punch to Soth's ribs. His armor softened much of the blow, but it still hurt him.
And that's when the ogre made his one fatal mistake.
He became a little overconfident.
"You're not a bad fighter for a human. There must be some ogre blood in you, probably on your mother's side."
The remark enraged Soth, blinding him with fury. The Soth family was a noble one, certainly free of the vile taint of something as disgusting as ogre blood.
With a roar, Soth was upon the beast, his broadsword moving surely and swiftly, making it seem as if there were two or more swords fighting on his behalf.