The Exodus Sagas: Book I - Of Spiders And Falcons Read Free Page B

him. James Andellis kept the charge, noticing a wolf emerge from the ruins, alone, and then followed by another score of ogre. The animal scampered off to the west, staying clear of the deafening noises of charging cavalry. The young man felt fear, real fear, yet kept the advance of the front line.
    Something jolted and without warning James rolled on the ground nearly crushed by his own spasming steed. He could not breath, there was nothing able to force the air into his chest it seemed, and he lay gazing at the pond of shimmering purple blood pooling under his stallion. His horse still twitching and spreading the blood into brighter red in the overgrown grass, the youth reached for his dented and useless helm. Whoosh. The shadow of an axe passed overhead. Then there was a crack of steel on steel as the axehead of the ogre dove into the helmet, embedding it into the ground. James heard more trampling, battle and screams grew louder, the ogre advancing; the thought of moving quickly dominated his mind. The knight rolled to his right with his shield up in time for the second blow, his arms ached with shooting sparks of pain. Rolling again, hearing clearer the sounds of war, breath plunged into his hot lungs making his eyes water, and he came to his feet, broadsword in hand. The ogre towered over him, nearly eleven feet tall, a bloody axe adorned with tufts of red hair and pink flesh raised overhead. James ducked and closed with quick steps. With a side stroke of his blade and another step to the left, he opened the beasts’ abdomen wide. The ogre’s howl was cut short when it bent to cover the wound; his head was released with a downward chop of the knight’s weapon, barely feeling the resistance of bone. James looked at the fallen axe, not wanting his dark hair on the end of it, and kicked it away from his fallen foe. The head rolled to the ground followed by the slumping body, its face grinning in a close-eyed smile that unnerved the knight. A river of foul black blood soaked James’ boots. Suddenly the juvenile warrior came to, unfocused from the grim visage at his feet, he heard the sound of his Lord rallying the men toward him. Arlinne was backed against an old church foundation. His men were falling quick to ogre swords and spears, at least eight James saw, many more at their feet dead.
    The youthful knight marched forward in careful, quick, and planned steps, his shield guarding his advance from left to right. His sword arm was cutting many from beside his protection, never stopping the forward momentum. He knew he could not let himself get hit or slowed by standing off with the ogre, he had to keep moving and reach Arlinne. He cut low on a brute that charged him, taking off the leg below the knee. His shield rang again from a spear tip from another foe and he plunged the blade up into the creature’s throat, still forwarding. Yet again an ogre sword whisked his dark hairline and he went low to the ground cutting twice into the thigh of his adversary. Then once across the back to make sure he was not pursued. The blood that splattered his face tasted of rust and spoiled meat, and the ogre fell to meet death. James lunged forward at the opponent in front of Arlinne, thrusting his sword through the back and out the chest with two quick motions, each doing their work, then kicking the beast over, making room to stand with his Lord.
    The veteran lord looked weary and was favoring his left side in step and shield. James quickly took position to his left, knowing to protect his superior’s weakness. As he did he noticed that the hand of his lord had been run through from a spear that penetrated his shield, leaving the appendage hanging useless and bloody. There was chaos throughout the front line of the army, all in disarray, receiving blow after horrible blow from the ogre. The view from his vantage did not look like anything remotely close to victory. James reached his hand out to his lord and elder, forgetting for a