The Longest Lament

Chapter VI

Dorn's elbow connected squarely with the bearded soldier, landing a sickening blow to the bridge of his nose. The man reeled back, clutching a ruined face. Dorn stepped forward to deliver a sideways swipe of his sword across the top of the man's skull, sending bits of brain and bone spraying in all directions. 

As the man fell, Dorn's eyes roamed the battlefield for a new opponent, but found only corpses and his own men within view. Good, he thought. He took the moment of respite to brush sweat drenched hair from his eyes, a motion he'd made a dozen times since the day began. Gods, but he was tired. 

There'd been no rest today. The Scrats had attacked half a dozen times already, and twilight was only just falling. They weren't likely to let up now, since the bastards seemed to live for darkness. He made a circuit of the nearly unrecognizable border village, and found it empty save for his own soldiers. And corpses, of course. Plenty of those.

He spared a glance to the dead man at his feet, and his eyes widened as he noted the fading silver rune just above the heart. A minor Rune of Strength, marking the man as a Runic Knight, albeit a weak one. No wonder the man had been tough. A well trained Scrat with a strong enough strength rune could not only lift a horse, but throw it as well. Dorn could recall first hand, as he'd been forced to dodge the horse. Even a minor rune was a thing to be respected, as it could easily give a man baring it the edge in battle.

Dorn knew himself to be a competent swordsmen, but just the same he was glad he hadn't realized what he was up against while the man breathed, or he might well have second guessed himself into an early grave.

Dorn motioned toward a member of his squad, a smaller man with dirtied robes in place of armor. As the man approached, Dorn pointed at the now motionless chest of the corpse in front of him, where the rune was still glowing slightly.

The robed man, Elgard, shrugged. "Can't catch them all," he said with a weak attempt at a smile.

Dorn grunted in response.

It was supposed to be the job of men like Elgard, the Runemasters, to handle any Runic Knights they came up against. Or at least let a man know they were out there. Surprises like that could be very unhealthy on the battlefield.

"Captain Dorn!" came a shout from behind. Dorn spun around and found himself just a few inches from the broken nosed, pockmarked face of the speaker, his second in command, Lieutenant Morose. "Scout just reported in," the man said. "Looks like we've got some more fun headed our way."

 Dorn nodded, swallowing a sigh. "Numbers?" 

 "Looks like a full squad this time, Captain."

 "Damn," Dorn cursed, scratching the hair on his chin. "This day just keeps getting better and better." He looked over at Elgard, who had been standing nearby, listening. "How you feeling bout this bunch, magic man?"

Elgard turned and considered the surrounding forest for a moment, his eyes closed. He scribed a sloppy rune in the air in front of him with a glowing forefinger, and after a few seconds of contemplation, he shook his head. "Don't feel any rune magic out there, Captain."

Dorn's eyes once more wandered to the corpse at his feet. "Thats what you said last time," Dorn muttered, low enough to go unheard.

Runic Knights or no, this news meant trouble. Though he'd started the day with a full squad himself, he was now down to less than half strength. He scanned a hard eye over what he had left, where they lay strewn about the ground catching what rest they could after the strain of battle. Six swordsmen, three archers, and one country bumpkin of a wizard. Not ideal when facing a full twenty fresh soldiers.