The whistling of an arrow brought the minotaur warriors in Klaf’s party back to the situation at hand. They froze as the arrow slammed into the soft ground not a foot in front of Olik. Three elves on horseback rode forward from their center positions. As they did so, elf commanders all over the field ordered their units to halt. Seconds later, the elven army had come to a standstill. The three elf officers moved forward, one holding a spear with a white scarf attached.
The four minotaurs stood and waited. The diminutive horses of the elves seemed to dance across the field as they approached. At a distance of a hundred feet, the group stopped.
The lead elf stood up in the saddle and yelled in Common. “Minotaur warriors! What is this? Some sort of a trick? Or are you truly wanting to parley?”
Klaf began to laugh, then checked himself. He yelled back. “This is a parley. We want to talk.”
The elves moved forward cautiously. All kept their hands away from weapons, as did the minotaurs. The minotaurs knew that they were in range of some skilled archer somewhere, or more likely a unit of them. The elves knew that if the flag of truce was violated, then they would have to face in hand-to-hand battle these four well-armed and experienced minotaur warriors, one of whom stood nearly nine feet tall!
Two of the elves remained mounted when they came within hearing distance. The third dismounted.
“I am Harinburthallas, son of Harinbutthal. I command the Northern Wing of the Imperial Army.”
“I am Klaf, son of Klak, son of Krak. I am the commander of the Third Minotaur Army. I come to discuss the terms for your surrender.”
The elf looked astonished. “My surrender? Are you blind? I outnumber you at least two to one. My archers are far superior to that rabble of humans that you have on your left flank, and you do not even have your skirmishers deployed. Most assuredly you are going to offer your surrender to me!”
Klaf stared at the elf in feigned amazement. He looked over at Olik, who shook his horned head no, indicating they needed more time. Klaf took a step toward the elf.
“Do not dare to insult the honor of my army, or of any minotaur warrior. We are servants of Sargas! I will not surrender to you! You do not have enough honor among you all to lace up the strap of my boot, much less accept my surrender, even if I had the intention to do so.”
He glanced over again at Olik. The huge standard-bearer was looking over his shoulder. A second later, his gaze returned to his commander, and he nodded yes.
Klaf concluded. “I see that a parley with you elves is to no avail. I wish you honor on this day of battle.” He turned, and so did the other minotaurs in the party. They marched back to the army lines.
As they headed back, Olik rode over to Klaf. “So, do you think they took you seriously about surrender?”
Klaf shook his head. “I have heard of this General Harinburthallas. He is one of their best. He knew that we were delaying. He could have refused to talk, however even elves have some smattering of honor. But that is why they rode horses, to speed things up. Notice that already the elf general is back with his army.”
Klaf broke into a trot, followed by the three other minotaurs. A minute later they cleared their own skirmish line and continued to the space between the skirmishers and the main infantry line. The skirmish infantry were armed and armored lightly. Their job was to slow the main advance of the elves, and to force them to form into battle lines early. As they formed, the main infantry would charge through and hit the elves as they were still changing formations.
Klaf stopped to look over his troops. The minotaur warriors all fell silent as they saw their commander eyeing them. Klaf reached over and took the spear with the white cloth from Olik. He turned it over, and thrust it into the mud as deeply as he could. The white cloth was almost completely obscured.
A huge cheer went up across the army, spreading from the center, where every warrior could see their commander, out to the wings. Even the human longbowmen cheered. Klaf took his battle-axe from the harness strapped to his back, and held it aloft. As he did so, Olik raised the standard high above his head. Again, the cheer went up.
The small group passed through the front lines and positioned themselves on a knoll between the front corps and the rear reserve corps. The rest of the army staff, four officers and a phalanx of twenty of the best bodyguards, joined the commander.
Klaf looked up to find his skirmishers racing forward to engage the enemy’s front line of infantry. The middle of the first elven wing split down the center in an obviously rehearsed move. From their rear, elven light cavalry charged forward to engage the minotaur skirmish infantry.
The fight was on.
* * * * *
Theros could hear the battle raging. From his vantage point in the rear, though, he could see nothing. Barracks and supply tents stood between him and the field of battle.
He knew only that somehow, someone had gained them some time. He and Hran worked at a feverish rate collecting all of the tools, benches, anvils and spare parts that went into the smithy. The stone forge remained where it was, its coals still red-hot.
All around them other parts of the rear were also packing up, getting ready to move-either forward or back. The commissary unit across the road had eight human slaves loading meat and other edibles into covered wagons.
Hran stopped Theros as he picked up the last of the arrowheads that he had been working on earlier. Hran handed Theros a shovel.
“You’ve seen a minotaur army only in victory. You’ve never seen what happens in a defeat. I do not like the omens of Sargas for this battle today, so here is what I will have you do.
“Dig a small pit here near the forge. If the going gets rough, I want you to hide in it. You have no armor or weapons, and you’ll die if there’s fighting around and you’re in the way. I’ll ensure that the forge is stocked up and ready to get back to work in case we win. Now start digging.”
Theros hated the thought of hiding in a pit, but he had to face facts. He had no way to defend himself. He began to dig.
Hran kept leaving his work stoking the fire, raising himself up to stare in the direction of the battle.
“What is it, Hran? What’s troubling you?” Theros asked.
“Get back to work! Now dig!” Hran searched around the ground for tools or other pieces of armor or weapons that should be stowed.
Behind them, the sound of thunder began to build.
Behind them?
Chapter 8
Klaf pounded his armored fists together. “Yes! Yes! That’s it! Keep up the pressure.”
From the command group’s vantage, they could see clearly only the front lines. The left and right were obscured by the troops of the center regiments. The skirmish infantry, out in front of the main lines, had driven the elven archers from the front of the elven battle line. Most of the skirmishers had fallen when the front line of the enemy army stopped advancing and fired a devastating volley of arrows. Then, the minotaurs had hit them. The elven archers were no match for minotaur warriors in hand-to-hand combat.
Klaf could see the two armies moving closer and closer. Both sides were taking casualties now from archery. Klaf’s mercenaries on his left flank were pouring their own long-range archery into the elven lines. The two battle lines closed to within two hundred yards.
Klaf turned to the bugler. “This is it, lad! Sound the charge!”
The bugle call rang out clearly across the battlefield. Within moments, it was drowned out by the minotaurs’ war cry. The sound was like banshees howling. Forward they went, battle-axes and swords swinging, hungering for elven flesh to tear and rend.