Streaks of white light shot past Gawain and struck the Morlochman warrior full in the face, and the horse veered away. But Gawain continued sprinting towards the Black Rider bearing down on them still. He saw the creature draw its sword, heard Elayeen cry out his given name, and then he hurled himself at the horse's legs, twisting his body so that the longsword slung over his shoulder took the crashing impact.
The horse went down, of course, and Gawain tumbled like a rag doll across the soft Jurian earth. The world was pain and confusion, and the sounds of battle, but strange aquamire drove him to his feet. The Black Rider was stumbling to its feet, advancing still towards Elayeen and Allazar, the wizard chanting and firing streamers of white light into the creature's maskless face. Elayeen stood with her long knife poised, and then she flicked a glance towards her husband…
To her, it must have seemed as though two relentless Black Riders were advancing upon her and Allazar with deadly intent. The one, clad in charmed armour, a broken arrow sticking through its arm, a red-smeared short sword poised, black eyes glazed and fixed on her. The other, taking great limping strides, a red-smeared longsword held poised, black eyes sparkling and fixed on the Black Rider…
Allazar cried out, more streamers of light struck the creature in the eyes, and it staggered. It was enough, and brought the creature in range of Gawain's blade. A mere five paces from Elayeen and Allazare, Gawain swung the longsword in a vicious arc, and decapitated the monster. Its aquamire death-blast rocked Elayeen and the wizard off their feet, and they fell heavily as the shattered armour seemed to explode around them.
Gawain heard a terrible scream from behind him, and he wheeled around. Morlochmen and elves fought with dreadful ferocity, some still on horse, most dismounted. They were too far for Gawain to aid them, though in spite of the pain in his back and shoulders he drew an arrow from his quiver. But the shafts were broken from the impact with the horse's foreleg when he'd flung himself under the Black Rider's mount, and he could do nothing but stand and watch.
Morlochmen fought with tenacity, almost as careless of their own lives as Gawain himself had once been. But when elves counterattacked, the black-clad enemy defended themselves with as much vigour as they had in attacking. They were mortal after all, and valued their existence. They were not driven by aquamire, unlike those yet attacking the northern face of the Teeth, and Gawain smiled grimly.
A gasp from behind him made him wheel, and then he limped forward to help Allazar raise Elayeen to her feet. She stared, wide-eyed, at the battle, and her eyes were locked on one elf warrior. Gawain followed her gaze, and saw Gan-thal being driven back by a Morlochman, back towards a dead horse.
"An arrow!" Gawain gasped, and Allazar picked up Elayeen's quiver and emptied it…all the shafts were broken.
"Allazar, please!" Elayeen pleaded, as Gan-thal, using his long knife to parry the blows raining down on him from the Morlochman's curved sword, stumbled on the dead horse, and fell.
At once, Allazar raised his arms, and began chanting aloud, furiously, the words strange and foreign, blurring into one continuous stream of whitebeard mumbling. Familiar streamers flickered at his fingertips, and as Elayeen clutched Gawain's sword-arm, crackling white threads flew from the wizard's hands, streaked across the battlefield, and danced on the Morlochman's face and eyes as he stood poised, the sword held aloft for the death-blow.
Gan lunged forward, plunging the long knife up through the Morlochman's stomach, driving the warrior back and down onto the ground. Allazar gasped, sweat pouring from his face, and his arms dropped. The battle was over. Silence, and then after a brief stillness, the twittering of a skylark.
"Oh mithroth," Elayeen choked, "Oh miheth…"
Gawain sheathed his blade, and slipped his arm around her waist. Six of the elven warriors lay on Jurian soil, never to rise again. Elve's blood, spilled on foreign soil, against an enemy common to all lands.
"Ah Dwarfspit!" Allazar gasped. "Are there yet more?"
Gawain stared out to the south-east, and saw more riders, a mere handful, approaching at the gallop. "No. No, those are Jurian cavalry."
"Gan! Mibreth!" Elayeen sobbed, as the elf prince strode grimly towards them, blood streaking his face.
"Elayeen…" Gan sighed through wracking breaths, "Egrith mishith…Thalin-Raheen."
"Gan…" she sobbed again.
"It is nothing. You are hurt?"
"Nai…"
"Nai?"
Elayeen glanced down at the blood oozing through the makeshift bandages Allazar had bound around her right thigh. "Isst."
Gan stared at Allazar, and then up at Gawain. "Thal-Gawain, Raheen," he began, and then his eyes widened in shock as he saw the black braid, and he bowed.
"Gan." Gawain said quietly, "Jurians approach."
"It matters not. We cannot flee. We will not leave our brothers and sisters on this field."
43. Aftermath
Gawain watched as the Jurian cavalry patrol slowed to a canter, and then to a walk. Jurian eyes were wide, heads swinging this way and that, taking in the scene of battle and its aftermath. Elves that were living gently attended their dead comrades, tenderly placing the bodies over saddles, making ready to take them home, back into the shade of the distant trees. All around, dead and dying horses, slain Morlochmen and the remains of Black Riders.
The troop came to a halt a respectful distance from the strange and battle-stained foursome, and then the troop commander dismounted, and strode over to them.
"I am Byrne, Captain, of the Royal Jurian Cavalry." The officer announced quietly.
"I am Gawain, son of Davyd, King of Raheen." Gawain answered, his eyes yet black with strange aquamire.
"Honour to the Crown." Byrne gasped, and bowed. "We were told to expect you in Ferdan soon."
"We have been delayed."
"Aye. So I see. Though I never thought to see elves so far from the trees, on Jurian soil."
"This is Gan-thal, royal crown of Elvendere."
"Your highness." Byrne bowed again, and turned a sorrowful eye to the elves, and their dead.
"You must do you duty, Captain." Gan sighed. "We have trespassed, and are your prisoners."
The captain turned back to Gan, and Gawain saw the Jurian's eyes watering. "No, your highness. No Jurian in my command will draw steel against you this day. We will be proud, and honoured, to see you and your fallen safely back to Elvendere, at your convenience. And you, your Majesties, we shall then escort to Ferdan, in accordance with our Crown's orders."
Gawain nodded, and the captain bowed low to them all, and then walked slowly back to his troop, and mounted solemnly. The troop formed a line, spaced wide apart, and at a signal from their officer, drew their swords, held them across their chests, and bowed their heads, and remained thus saluting the fallen and noble warriors while bemused and sorrowful elves continued with their solemn duties.
Gawain eased Elayeen down to ground, and called Gwyn forward. From a pack on his saddle he withdrew a small leather roll, and laid it out on the ground beside her wounded leg.
"The wound is deep, mithroth," he sighed, and began unwinding the bandages. "It must be stitched."
Elayeen nodded, and grimaced as the wound was exposed, blood streaming afresh.
"How came you here, Gan?" Gawain asked, hoping to distract Elayeen's attention from the pain while he bathed the wound in Jurian brandy.
Gan sighed, watching his people, his eyes filled with a mixture of pride and sorrow. "You were seen, breth-hoth, as I think you knew you must be, by our patrols. Word was sent to me, and so I and the thalangard tracked your progress."