Chapter 17

Forest Skirmish

Coalition Side

The morning sun blazed upon the battlefield. North of the plains, the two cavalries made a beeline into the forest. Every Korelians cavalry movement was quickly mirrored by the Coalition.

With their lords present, each side gave them all in this chase.

Dense vegetations did little to dissuade them from slowing down. The sunny scenery rapidly changed into brown and dark green foliage as both sides rode single file deeper into the woods.

The Korelians slowed down first as the terrain became harder to traverse. Their horses were tired and some were injured.

At that moment, the forefront riders from the Coalition finally caught the Korelians.

One of the Korimor light cavalries lanced a Korelian rider. The victim tumbled down from his horse and was taken hostage.

Another Korelian rider, already injured, was grabbed from behind and captured without much resistance.

Ironically, the practice of taking hostage for ransom slowed the Coalition's progress.

The disciplined Black Knights lagged due to their heavier armor. The ones in front were the Korimor cavalry.

With their fast horses, they nimbly navigated the treacherous forest terrain.

However, their hunger for ransom and loot was making them a double-edged sword. Each enemy captured slowed the entire pursuit.

Eventually, after five men were caught, the Korelians gained considerable distance.

Suddenly, they entered a glade and the Korelians split into two directions. Tens of the mercenary riders blindly gave chase.

“Halt, halt," one of the ranking officers shouted, sensing that it might be a trap.

Despite the order, another group stubbornly chased after their comrades. Many more would follow if Sir Morton hadn’t blocked the path.

Hurriedly, the ranking officers gathered to decide whether to pursue or return. Meanwhile, this sudden stop caused a bottleneck.

Even in such a glade, space was limited. There was barely enough for tens of horses.

Friction ensued as the rest of the cavalry pushed forward. Many jostled into each other.

“Why aren’t we give chase, are men from Three Hills afraid of the woods?” one of the mercenaries angrily stated. They had been denied from their main source of income: ransom and loot.

“You dare to mock us, sellswords?” The Three Hills knights won't take insult lightly.

And just like that words of curses filled the air. There was no love between the Korimor’s Nicopolan mercenary and the Three Hills.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Lord Jorge addressed the situation as he arrived. Flanked by his knights, he had unlatched his visor, revealing his handsome face.

Nobody said a word.

“Morton, why are we stopping-“

Fssshh!!

Jorge was abruptly stopped as bolts accurately rained down on them.

“Crossbowmen, crossbowmen!”

“Ambush,” the riders cried to warn the others.

Horses collided as their masters were trying to evade the attack.

Crossbows' bolts landed on everything, sometimes they burst as they hit plate armor. Every near-miss drove the riders panicking more than before.

Without a place to run, they franticly dismounted and scrambled for cover.

Many who tried to ride back were trapped in a jam. The return path was still filled with the rest of their cavalry. Unable to advance nor withdraw, they were mercilessly targeted.

Each attack and strays wounded more horses to deadly effect. In a fit of beastly rage, wounded warhorses galloped wildly without care for their riders.

Once proud mounts, they became a menace as they stampeded madly. Under their hooves, men who stood in their path were turned into a puddle of blood and gore.

One large breed with a bolt embedded on its neck had trampled a knight. The beast slipped when stepped over the fallen knight's cuirass. The warhorse fell into two other men; squashing them to death.

Despite the carnage, the attack didn't stop.

The dry leaves on the forest floor were reddened. The smell of iron and fouler stench permeated the air.

All who stubbornly cling to their horses eventually met their death. The last one who had persisted was now being dragged behind a maddening horse deeper into the forest.

What remained of him was the dull muffled sound from his plate armor being thrashed around by the running horse.

Amid this madness, Morton stood unfazed. Dismounted and with his back on a large tree, he had been reading a verse that correspond to the barrier of wind that protected Lord Jorge.

Because of their distance, the barrier didn’t extend to Morton who had calmly taken the shots. The bolts rarely found their mark. Few which had hit him were deflected by the armor, leaving only dents and scratches.

The attack finally ebbed as everybody successfully hid.

There was a pause as everybody looked around, trying to make sense of the situation.

“Where're your balls, cowards? You’re wearing plate armor, act like one,” Morton shouted. He had finished his verses.

Few bolts flew into Morton's location, but his scathing rebuke had reached its intended receiver.

The Black Knights were the first to regroup on foot. The other knights clustered behind.

The attack became fiercer again as they detected movements, but the knights marched as if unhindered. They weren’t fearless; they were simply experienced and knew their gear well.

They knew potshots from such a distance rarely penetrate steel plate. Some spots were vulnerable, but they were usually small and hidden.

With some effort, Lord Jorge was escorted into a big fallen tree. The squires and knights kept him safe. Only then, Morton could finally withdraw his barrier.

Morton and his knights were not the only ones with initiatives. Two groups from Korimor had sortie out. They were determined to flank the attacker’s position.

The two mercenary groups failed to return. Their failure temporarily blocked anyone from thinking about launching a counterattack.

“My Lord, your Black Knights will be the rear guard. Let me have fifty with me. The rest shall protect you out," Morton laid out his plan after he reached his lord’s hiding spot.

“Do as you wish, Morton," Jorge replied. His face was sour from this failure to chase Lansius.

Morton was unbothered. With his Lord’s permission, he picked his lieutenant to spearhead the formation. Then he addressed his mercenary allies. “Korimors and Nicopolans, listen to me. Fight your way back or face death, there are no other options!”

Under Morton’s gaze, the remaining men started to make their move. Braving hails of arrows, men waddled over the thick vegetation. Nobody dared to wander in the open path.

Even surrounded by bushes the arrow attacks were still accurate.

Just now, a knight was hit in the backplate, the bolt didn't bite and was deflected into the man behind. The unlucky man had his visor down. The bolt ripped his upper lip and everything behind it.

Similar fates threatened everyone as they slowly made their escape.

Blinded by anger, the mercenaries staged another attack after they noticed silhouettes of crossbowmen. However, they were brutally repelled. Afterward, the mercenaries had lost their appetite and shirked away from danger.

Meanwhile, the nobles used their squires as body shields. Many squires who were only in ringmail fell from direct or stray shots as their tight groups provided an ideal target for the crossbowmen.

Only the Black Knights’ efforts led the survivor through the thickest of attacks.

They eventually reached larger openings in the woods.

They had passed this spot before on their chase but took no notice of it. But now, the place had been barricaded.

Dozens of wooden frames were seen. Each was built with wooden stakes fastened together in the middle, forming an X pattern.

They were not as good as palisade walls but could be moved easily and still provided protection against cavalry and men.

The crossbowmen who had haunted them now revealed themselves. Hundred poured from the forest, reinforcing the footmen behind the barricade. Blue and Bronze Chevron banner marked their allegiance.

Worse, men in polearms and swords were also seen in the woods.

Without knowing their numbers, dismounted, and also exhausted, the once-mighty Coalition knights hesitated. Their situation was appalling.

Many hid, waiting for someone to do something. Even the Black Knight’s lieutenant was having second thoughts.

The Korimor’s mercenaries with their direct superior already dead or lost were having none of this and split up to find another escape route.

Everybody looked up to Lord Jorge who in turn wished to recall Morton for counsel.

“My Lord, the enemy crossbowmen were to our right and their men-at-arms to our front. That only leaves us with the route to our left," one of the staff explained to Jorge when Morton arrived.

“I know a route existed, I used to hunt there. But we can’t possibly proceed in armor. The path was narrow and treacherous," Jorge commented bitterly.

Escaping without the horse and armor was not an option. They would be hard-pressed to escape Lansius’ cavalry when they reach the plains.

Besides, it would get them ridiculed for the rest of their lives. Jorge was shivering, not from fear, but rage. He couldn’t believe that he was tricked this badly.

Two-hundred knights and three-hundred cavalry were reduced into a lesser mob in less than an hour. His reputation was finished.

“Morton, let’s storm the blockade," Jorge's jovially conveyed his wish.

Morton knew, despite the attitude, that the young lord truly wished to die at this point. Morton wanted to distract Jorge, but nothing came to mind.

Morton looked at his men to ascertain their strength when a warning echoed inside the forest. Suddenly blasts of green fog hit several spots.

"Argghhhh!!" Droves of men went out of their hiding places in complete agony.

“Alchemist! They employed an alchemist,” Someone shouted.

Morton chanted his barrier. A blast of wind centered upon Lord Jorge. Morton tried to deal with the green fog but he couldn’t protect them all.

As the fog seeped into armor and helmet, it instantaneously caused tremendous pain. The screaming and wailing were deafening as they felt that their skins were burning.

“It’s just a fog. It's a trick, it couldn't harm you," someone warned them.

But the panicked men won’t listen. Soon, everyone outside of Morton's barrier was engulfed.

If the pain in the skin was terrifying then breathing the green miasma was altogether a far devilish experience. The nostrils, throat, and lungs felt like being filled with molten metal.

Everybody who was in the area of effect either collapsed from choking, or shriveling and writhing uncontrollably.

The Black Knights knew they were being flushed out from their hiding position. In desperation, despite the insane pain, the best of Jorge’s knights charged through the green mist.

Many were greeted by bolts that rained down on them.

Many stumbled and a few fell outright, but few pairs reached the Korelian. They readily swung their swords against the wall of pikes.

Fearlessly, they hurled their armored body against the Korelians' footmen.

The Korelians' formation stood but the Black Knights went berserk. They chopped left and right without caring for themselves.

Three knights at the very front were eventually taken out, but few more filled the gap they had created.

Another two and then ten knights reached the line. Despite injuries and death, they broke and pushed back the Korelian who swiftly withdraw behind their barricades.

A pair of knights stormed the barricades before suddenly bursting in flame.

“The alchemist," someone howled.

This time Morton took notice. The green fog had dissipated and his Lord was safe. Now it was his time to lead. “With me, with me," Morton's deep voice called for his men.

They gathered and charged a fresh wave upon the Korelian barricade. Bolts rained down on them, but this time they were deflected away by an unseen barrier.

It only last for a few seconds, as Morton withdrew it to amplify his strength. With a wide swing, Morton parried multitudes of brandished pike and jumped over the barricade. All knights were trained for this since their squire days.

Without losing a beat, Morton swung his sword vertically into a man’s shoulder. He cut it so deep that the man knelt in a fountain of blood. Just like that, he breached the barricade.

The knights in his left and right jumped over and fought savagely. Korelians fell under their slash and thrust of polearms.

Morton readily blocked a sword with his gauntlet and pauldron. When an opportunity came, with two hands he swung his broadsword again against two men.

The large sword flashed. A man ended up losing his arm and another was thrown aback with severed ringmail.

Four other men thrust their pikes in unison against Morton, but he cut and parried with stamina that was beyond belief.

Out of the blue, an object was thrown at Morton. He instinctively swatted it using the sword’s flat edge.

The object burst into flame a few meters away.

Searing hot fumes could be felt through the visor. The roaring fire halted the fighting.

The alchemist stared at Morton in disbelief.

The Mage-Knight was as terrifying as ancient dwarven golems.

Despite renewed crossbows attacks, other Coalition knights also threatened the Korelian line in other sections.

With their captain on the lead and the effect of the green miasma wore off without a trace, the Coalition knights got their second wind.

The Korelians line was fast turning into shamble.

***