The heat rose from the packed sands as a curtain that obscured the vision. Making waves of the landscape beyond. In the distance a distorted army flowed down the opposing hillock of shifting desert. The Captain looked out upon the rag-tag band of mercenaries he had been assigned to keep order of. Well armed, yet seemingly lazy and not well suited to the task of a real soldier. It mattered not to Jaonair that these men had all, at one time or another, been tested among the ranks of true armed forces from across the lands of Hyborea. That fact struck Jaonair the hardest, and made him come to think on the men as less than trust worthy.
If a man can not last in the ordered way of a civilized man's army then how was he going to fare on the battlefield?
Beside him to his left was the groups leader, Roetorik. Granted the title of commander by his men, he never left any doubt of who was in charge, and who was the lackey. Jaonair despised this man the most above the other treacherous louts comprising this force. Resigned to the decree of his King he would not abandon his post despite the feeling that he may be forced to pay with his life.
I will take these men against the left flank of the opposing force and snuff out all resistance, Jaonair thought to himself as he glared at his counterpart.
For Roetorik's part, he did not seem to notice or even care about Jaonair, one way or the other.
At long last the shrill sound of the battle pipes, bellowed forth the order to advance. Jaonair went to issue the order only to be drowned out by the deep booming voice of the mercenary commander. "Advance" came Roetorik's call, and at a measured pace his men began the steady walk downhill to meet their fate. Jaonair was helpless but to follow.
It did not take long before another blast of the pipes was followed by the sound of a few thousand twangs from the vantage where he had just stood. The whistling of a few thousand arrows arcing overhead on their way to the enemy ranks. Like a black cloud of death that made a solid blot on the skyline. The arrows reached their zenith then began to turn down. The image waved as it came back to the emanations of the earth's heat. Still it was an incredible sight to behold as the next two volleys followed. As the shafts reached the target area, the opposing force had just breached, men began to fall. All along the enemy flank cries of the fallen slowly began to overcome the chilling noise from the raining of those deathly bolts.
As he marched down slope, a thought came to Jaonair's mind.
I wonder if they also have archers?
A Quick glance to the opposite hillside was all he was allowed as another blast from that now distant horn gave the signal for the charge.
As before, Roetorik gave the order.
Swords drawn..., downward to the hell that awaited..., they ran.
A black cloud of death came at them from above. The whistling was the last sound he heard.
Um..., thanks. Not that I put too much stock into my own self worth as a writer. I do like to write. I just don't see it as all that good. Thanks for the kind words though.
