What followed next was carnage, one that was both familiar and unfamiliar to Adrian as he stabbed his spear between the shields, killing a man.
He had fought at Sawhead, and then at sea and on ships, but never on the open field. Today he realized what that was truly like. Amidst the hacking, stabbing, shouting, and cursing, Adrian could barely hear his own thoughts.
Not that he had the luxury to think, he could hardly move in the press of the crowd. The enemy knew where he was, and coupled with his earlier taunting, they practically surged in his direction.
An ally tripped and fell onto his back, causing the rest to stumble and the formation to tighten. Adrian cursed at the cramped space, but he had no choice but to twist his head to dodge an enemy spear that slipped through the shield wall. He grabbed the shaft, and as a fellow soldier took care of the attacker, Adrian pulled the spear free.
He flipped it until the tip faced forward, waited for an opening, and hurled it, striking an enemy.
But almost as if in response, or perhaps a stroke of luck for the foe, Adrian spied a blur shooting toward him. He tried to step aside, but it was too late. Pain struck his skull. His helm dented as Adrian bowed his head, cursing. He was dazed for a heartbeat before the sharpest pain subsided. His hand went to his head and found the metal had slightly caved in, the helm was so tight now that it would be difficult to remove later.
"Milord!"
A voice boomed over the chaos. He felt a hand on his shoulder trying to pull him back. Recognizing his knight, Adrian shook his head and straightened once more.
"I'm fine!" he barked, before returning to the fray.
Suddenly, a new surge arrived from the enemy, causing the shield-bearers in front of him to stumble.
Some fell to their backs as the enemy broke through. Mad eyes were fixed on him, some wore sneers, others snarls. Leading them was the man with the broken nose from before, wearing a cruel smile.
Adrian wasn't the least bit intimidated. He snorted, stamped his feet, and stabbed with is spear. As he stabbed, the enemy easily twisted his body, trapping the spear's shaft in his armpit. The man pulled the spear toward him while hurling an axe with his other hand. Adrian reacted quickly, he let go of his spear, dodged the axe, and in one swift motion, unsheathed his sword and lunged.
Without a weapon, the enemy should have been defenseless, but he was clever. Using Adrian's own spear shaft, he swiped at him, forcing Adrian to change his thrust into a swinging parry. He couldn't lose his footing here, it would mean death.
From the corner of his eye, he noticed the enemy continued to surge, pushing away his allies to ensure the area around him stayed open.
"Milord!" he heard his knight call again, desperate to reach him.
A space opened up between Adrian and his opponent, not large, but enough to swing a blade without interference. The enemy tossed the stolen spear aside and quickly drew a sword from his back, swinging it in one continuous motion.
Steel clashed on steel with a heavy clang. Given the long reach of the opponent's sword, Adrian tried to slide his blade against the enemy's to get close, but the man was quicker. He lashed out with a kick to Adrian's thigh, nearly making his leg buckle. Adrian steadied himself and backpedaled.
The enemy was relentless, stabbing forward to down him. Adrian cursed his lack of a shield, he had one on his back, but it was useless if he couldn't get it into his hand.
He used a one-handed grip to swing his sword down, deflecting a thrust while his other hand reached for his shield straps.
His deflection was weak, however, and the man simply adjusted his aim, forcing Adrian to twist his body to dodge.
This halted his intention, and Adrian cursed again. But luck was on his side, he saw his knight plunge a sword into an enemy, snatch that man's axe, and hurl it toward the broken-nosed man.
The man who was alert, hastily dodged, giving Adrian the reprieve he needed to successfully settle the shield on his left arm. Feeling more secure, Adrian resumed the duel. With a shield, he was able to defend against the man's attacks easily as he pushed forward. Surprise and shock dawned on his opponent's face, but Adrian was relentless.
He pushed on until Adrian finally found an opening to close the distance. Just as he thought he had the enemy cornered, something flashed by. Only his helm and a split-second tilt of his head saved his eyes, he felt something sharp slide across the metal forehead of his helm.
Adrian swiped with his sword, his shield catching the enemy's blade, but a dagger suddenly appeared in the man's hand.
The stranger unleashed a flurry of quick stabs at close range. With the enemy's sword still pressing hard against his shield, Adrian could only twist his body, forcing the stabs to hit his chest plate. His armor protected him from the first few, but one strike found his stomach and penetrated the mail.
Adrian grimaced, seizing the moment to ram his weight against the man. They tumbled to the ground,
Adrian landing on top, but the man used the momentum to drive the blade deeper. A smirk stretched across the stranger's face despite being pinned, as the dagger was near halfway buried on his stomach.
Adrian didn't stop. With a heavy swing of his shield, he bashed the hand holding the longsword, then tried to plunge his own blade into the man's face. The enemy was forced to let go of the dagger to grab Adrian's wrist, halting the sword's descent. With his other now hand free, the man gripped the hilt of the embedded dagger and continued to push. Adrian's shield hand scrambled to stop him.
"Let's see who gives up first..." The broken-nosed man rasped, his voice hoarse now but a smirk in his tone.
Adrian snorted. He freed his shield arm from trying to block the dagger, allowing the enemy to push it even deeper.
A victorious smile lit up the man's face as Adrian felt a sharp, hot, wet pain followed by a spreading numbness. But Adrian didn't stop, he used his shield arm to reinforce his sword arm. With a singular, burst of strength, he stamped downward. The man's single hand wasn't enough to stop him. The blade buried itself in the man's neck, sending blood spluttering across the dirt.
Even as a tide of blood gushed from his neck and mouth, the man kept that smile on his face, as if he had lost the fight, but Adrian had lost his life.
Adrian smiled back, though it was a pity the man couldn't see it through the helm. As the stranger's strength faded and his arms went limp, Adrian gripped the dagger in his stomach and pulled it out in one go.
He trembled, groaning in agony, before he set his gift of mending to work.
Suddenly, it felt as though he had been encased in relaxing, cool air after being trapped in a desert for days. The searing pain in his stomach subsided instantly. The sensation passed as quickly as it had come, leaving him feeling as healthy as he had been before the battle began.
He stood up. The fighting still raged around him, but strangely, a small pocket of open space remained where he stood. He spied a few soldiers pausing, staring at him in disbelief. Adrian looked down at the dead, broken-nosed man and clicked his tongue.
It was a pity the man hadn't known his efforts were entirely futile. He wasn't worried about them seeing him get stabbed, the heat of battle had a way of making people doubt what they see.
His attention snapped back to the battlefield. He raised his sword and let out a roar, "For the Prince and the Kingdom!"
A thunderous chorus of battle cries roared back in response.
--
Adrian lost himself in the carnage, hacking at the enemies before him. He bashed a foe's head with his shield, sending the man crashing to the dirt, and finished him with a precise stab. As he pulled his blade free and braced for the next attacker, he realized a strange quiet had fallen.
A wide space had cleared around him, bodies littered the ground, and his knight not far, added to one to it as a slayed an enemy, the roar of combat had faded to the groaning of the damned.
Panting heavily, Adrian stared ahead. Scarcely any enemies remained on the field. The survivors were in full retreat, while the forces still inside the enemy camp appeared to be folding as well, their ranks thinned by a constant rain of arrows.
Adrian understood, once their side began to dominate the field, the archers had redirected their focus toward the camp.
With victory in sight, he knew a new force will arrive to push to the enemy while another…
The thundering of hooves drew his gaze to the flank and answered his thoughts. He watched as a small wedge of cavalry galloped by, less than two dozen in number, but more than enough to plow through a retreating enemy on foot.
At their head rode Sir Clive, his armor the most striking among the riders.
Though he was dazed and exhausted by the combat, Adrian pushed himself forward. He found himself and his knight leading a fresh force of a hundred men, along with his own men lead by Dexton.
They moved through the unfinished camp, facing little resistant, killing those who resisted and taking prisoner those who threw down their steel or too injured to fight.
Finally, Sir Clive returned. His mounted force was smaller now, with one or two less horses and several riders missing, but they had harried the fleeing enemy, cleave through them. Sir Clive slid off his horse, pulling off his blood-stained helm to reveal a face covered in grime and sweat. He approached Adrian with a weary but triumphant smile.
Against the odds, they had won this one.