--- Roric

What is happening? Where did they come from?

In search for answers Roric looked at captain Wals, who stood at the front. The Turtle stood among the shieldbearers, the green decoration of his helmet towering above their heads, adding his own shield to the wall and giving instructions for the upcoming battle. Still, nobody was ready to fight. All around him the young boy could clearly hear several republican soldiers saying their prayers to the Makers.

The three men sent ahead by Wals came back a few moments later. According to them two groups of enemies were approaching from the base of the hill, and were more than twice their number. What those warriors were doing so far from the Rien was the concerning part. Maybe they had just been sent to flank the main army, but they looked too few to do so… The only possible reason was that they knew of the ancient road. Roric gazed through the fog, expecting to spot the men of Ekhar at any moment. Frauli turned towards him and smiled, patting his shoulder.

"Don't be afraid, my friend. The captain will lead us out of here all in one piece," he assured, but his tone was unusually fake. "He is an expert when it comes to defend small bottlenecks like this one."

"Are reinforcements coming?" asked the younger mercenary. "We are many miles away from the battlefield. Even if the commander realizes that we need help, nobody will make it in time."

"Don't be that negative, Roric!" laughed Frauli. "This road seems made just for us. The enemies will never be able to attack us all together. We'll defend it without any problem."

"How can you be so sure of it?" whispered Roric. "Aren't you scared?"

The shieldbearer looked forward. A drip of sweat fell from his forehead.

"I'm scared to the bone, kid. To be honest, I can't see a way out. That's a matter I hope the captain figures out in my place."

"Silence," ordered Wals. "Listen, they are close."

A war cry echoed from somewhere ahead. Frauli and his companions tightened their shield wall, shoulder to shoulder. Roric gulped, his grip on the axe so strong to hurt his fingers, and took cover behind his tiny wooden board. A few arrows fell from above, randomly shot between the branches, but none of the defenders was hit. The captain had already told them that the archers couldn't aim accurately from the brush, and had ordered to keep the ranks in one piece whatever happened. So, standing in three rows, the defenders kept waiting.

I'm about to fight. My first battle will be here. Am I ready? I think I'm not... But I have to be. Or else, how will I become stronger? But I'm scared... I'm so scared!

All of a sudden, the enemies emerged from the fog. They were dressed in light armour and carried crude weapons, made to kill efficiently rather than please the eye. Dozens of warriors, roaring like beasts, charged forward and closed the gap in mere seconds. Their fierce crash against the shieldbearers echoed through the trees. They would have certainly destroyed the entire group if Frauli and the others weren’t there to absorb the impact.

The mercenaries held their ground, pushing together, desperately trying to keep their formation. In a few moments, the entire group was engaged. The opponents tried to fan out, using their superior numbers to surround Wals and the frontline, but the flanks were defended by many republican spears. Roric stayed a few meters away from the core of the fight, pushed and trampled from every direction, cowering in fear. His shieldbearer friend had told him to stay positive, but the men of Ekhar were so strong and so many… Against their fury waiting for reinforcements was the only thing to do, or so it seemed.

"Advance! Now!" yelled the captain.

With a titanic effort the defenders stepped forward, splitting a small part of the enemies from the bulk of their forces. The republicans instantly charged through the passage, into a bloody melee. In a symphony of metallic noises, the opponents who had been separated were massacred almost instantly. Roric tried his best to stay out of danger, dodging a few blind thrusts from a spearman above the shield wall.

This is too much for me. I need to stay behind Frauli, or I’m dead!

For a moment, he noticed a severed arm flying in the air but couldn’t guess what faction its owner belonged to.

"Boy! Here!" one of the soldiers called for him, coming out from the skirmish with a severely wounded companion at his side. "Bring him somewhere safe, fast!"

Instinctively, Roric obeyed. He had grown used to those kinds of duties, after all. He grabbed the injured man, a republican who seemed on death’s door, and dragged him to the ditch on the side of the road. It definitely wasn’t a good place to leave him, but until the end of the battle it had to be enough. The boy had just started squeezing a piece of cloth on the worst hemorrhage when a deafening noise forced him to turn towards the others once again. A new group of enemies had come out from the forest, attacking their formation from the left side. Wals yelled something, and the men who were fighting quickly backed up behind the shield wall, using the few spears they still had to push back the opponents.

Damn, this is getting worse.

Roric's hands were shaking, but he somehow found the spirit to go back to the third line of defenders, which was quickly becoming the second one. At least a dozen of their soldiers had been killed, and many were forced to fight despite their wounds. The young mercenary looked for the captain’s green plumage but couldn’t spot it anywhere, so he just focused on Frauli, his last point of reference. Moments later, the shieldbearer who was right next to his friend was pierced side by side by a javelin, and his companions hastily moved even closer to keep the ranks together.

It was just a temporary solution. The men of Ekhar were still so many, and pushed against them with unrelenting force. No matter how tough the mercenaries were, Roric thought, they were bound to fall eventually. Yet the captain was still alive and kicking, shouting his orders.

That silly nickname wasn't just for show after all. He really doesn't surrender, even in a situation like this...

Then, just like in answer to what the young mercenary was thinking, horns sounded from behind his back.

"Lowan!"

"The reinforcements!"

"Our commander is here!"

Roric turned around and the cavalry came into view, charging through the fog. Their morale rising, the defenders pushed forward once again. Completely caught off guard, the enemies on the sides were trampled by the horses and decimated by the brutal Red Lances. For just a second, the boy caught a glimpse of the commander leading their ride, and wondered if one day someone would have looked at him in that same way.

The battle, however, wasn't over yet. Their opponents panicked, and went for a last desperate assault against the shield wall. Still showing an unsuspected amount of tenacity, like wounded animals in front of the hunters, the Ekhar warriors began singing. Their voices filled the battlefield, covering every other sound as if they were hundreds. Roric, who had just been relieved by the arrival of Lowan and the others, was suddenly assailed by a surge of fear.

They aren't normal humans. How can they keep fighting after all this? It's like a nightmare...

It was at that moment that the young mercenary realized that the danger hadn't passed at all. The men of Ekhar were on a one way trip for glory, and they would have never surrendered.

It’s going to work, they are really coming through! And I’m right in their way-

Singing with all they had, the enemies wiped out the shieldbearers in a last, desperate blow. Frauli was mercilessly thrown to the side, as they charged the republican soldiers like enraged bulls. The boy somehow was able to jump away, dodging the impact. At least six or seven of his companions died in that instant, while the cavalry maneuvered to attack from every direction. Yet the men of Ekhar ran through, aiming instead for the trees on the other side. One of them pummeled Roric with the shield, knocking him down. Lowan and the Red Lances swept the battlefield, catching the enemy warriors from behind and chasing them inside the forest. At that point, despite the sacrifices, it was clear that the defenders had won.

The shaken boy was following the few men who ran head on through the brush with his eyes, but then his attention was caught by some heavy steps coming from his side. When he turned he saw an Ekhar warrior, one who was clearly focused on him.

Oh, no. This is bad.

Maybe Roric’s small build made him an easy target, or maybe he was just standing in the wrong spot at the wrong possible moment. The enemy got closer, ready to strike with some sort of short saber. His eyes were full of bloodlust.

The only thing the young mercenary was able to do was raise his makeshift shield. The weapon hit hard, shaking Roric’s body and almost sending him flying. Pain erupted from his left arm, cutting his breath. His opponent was much, much stronger than him and wasn’t simply going to kick him aside and run.

He wants to kill me!

The wooden boards creaked and bent, exploding in a cloud of splinters, but the boy managed to keep standing and dodged the next two swings by stepping back, gaining some precious space. He desperately looked around for someone who could help him, but nobody seemed to have noticed he was in trouble. Cold sweat ran down his face when he realized to be on his own.

There was no time to think. Roric tossed away his shield, now useless, gritting his teeth and wielded the axe with both hands. The Ekhar warrior roared and dashed forward once again with a fast sequence of sword moves. The young mercenary parried the first two blows, ducked under the third and was almost ready to counterattack, when a fourth swing slammed against his weapon. Metal against metal, a sharp noise, his fingers losing the grip. The axe’s handle flew away, far outside of his field of vision, while his opponent jumped for the final strike. Nonetheless, Roric still had a card to play.

Time seemed to dilate. The saber moved towards him, slower and slower. To the point that he could clearly see it. While the weapon was in the air, relying on his reflexes alone, the boy grabbed both of his enemy’s arms and kept them raised above his head. The man growled and pushed forward, overpowering him, and the two fell down into the side ditch. Roric kept his hold with all he had, moving the blade away as it came down, stabbing the muddy ground just a palm away from his left shoulder. Before he had a chance to react, however, the Ekhar warrior hit him in the face and his sight got blurred for a couple of seconds. Fighting against the silhouette of the man, the young mercenary put all his effort into limiting his movements.

As he struggled in that wet ditch, Roric's mind went back to that day, in Spjaldir.

I am going to die. I'm going to die because I'm too weak, just like back then.

Images of the massacre muddled his thoughts.

His mother gasping under the wooden beam, surrounded by flames.

A small child running desperately in the rain, towards the safety of the hill.

Meran hitting him. Ugrin yelling at him.

Lowan gazing from his horse, while he knelt to the ground.

It was like he had lived inside a dream until that moment. A fragile kid like him wasn’t going to become a warrior even if he tried. He wasn’t even worth the sacrifice of his parents. What kept him alive wasn’t his strength, just sheer luck. Yet...

If only I had the power... If only I was a little stronger...

Roric remembered of Guhrien's orphanage. Of what he had felt that day.

I have never surrendered since that day.

He just couldn't. It would have meant throwing away everything he believed.

"Live," said his mother's voice, inside his head.

I have to survive!

With his left hand, driven by blind determination, Roric grabbed the right arm of his opponent. He wasn’t going to die, not there. Gathering every drop of strength left in his body, the boy reached for the throat of the enemy and squeezed it, without holding anything back. Maybe, just maybe, he could have bought enough time for someone to come and help him. His muscles ached, as his trembling limbs fought to restrain the man.

Yet, nobody came. The battle seemed to have faded far away.

After long, endless seconds, Roric felt that his stamina had reached its limit. The Ekhar warrior, who had turned purple, broke free from his grasp and yelled something he couldn’t understand. His blade went up, ready to strike, and the boy screamed.

It wasn’t a scream of fear, but of rage and frustration. It came up from the depths of his soul, the soul of a weak child who didn’t want to die.

A flash of light, faster than the eye could see.

Bright sparks ran through Roric’s right arm, erupting from the palm of his hand.

Everything happened in an instant. The energy went inside the body of his opponent, who froze on the spot. Then the man convulsed and collapsed over him, his eyes turned around and his mouth foaming. The Ekhar warrior, so dangerous until just a second before, wasn’t breathing anymore.

What... What happened?

The boy couldn't believe his own eyes.

Am I dreaming?

With his mouth wide open he looked at his own hand, unconcerned by the chaos that still surrounded the ditch.

What did I just... Did I do it?

Searching for an answer Roric tried to stand up, but realized that he wasn’t able to. All of a sudden he was feeling very tired and his head was spinning like he had a fever. His sight became so blurry he was nearly blind.

Fighting to stay awake, the young mercenary crawled from below the corpse and fell unconscious a couple of meters later.