1005: The Counterattack – Part 4 1005: The Counterattack – Part 4 “To the east!” Yorick echoed, bringing his n into position, though those n moved noticeably slower than the rest.
Their ti in such a suffocating position had affected them worse than the rest.
They weren’t eager to dive straight back in.
Especially not now that they’d lost nearly half their horses, and a good number of those full-ti cavalryn were now forced to fight on foot.
They went anyway.
There was even nervousness that could be felt in the force of the reserve n that Karstly had held back with him – those n that weren’t of Blackthorn origin, but were of a mixed group, with different Captains, each holding different allegiances.
Those particular n were in a position that was stranger than the rest.
They hadn’t been involved in the thick of combat.
They’d hardly been able to get blooded.
And, for much of the battle, they’d been forced to wait, as the tension built.
The thoughts of fear had been allowed to fester in their minds, as their muscles grew cold, and their heartbeats grew even more rapid.
It was by the example of the resilient Blackthorn n under Lasha, and the veteran n under the Patrick flag, that those who were more apprehensive were made to follow.
Seeing those considerably more exhausted than they were be so eager for further bloodshed was an inspiring sight, just as it was pressuring.
Soon enough, a two-thousand-strong army had built itself behind Karstly, and reoriented itself in the sa direction as the enemy.
Speed was being built as they gave in to the charge.
Just as they’d been ordered to, Lombard and Oliver took their forces to the centre, attempting to catch up to Karstly and his n who’d already flown on ahead.
They did so cautiously, knowing not to tire their n.
Oliver had to be even more mindful, given how close to exhaustion his n already were.
By the ti the General hit the wall of shield wielders, there was still at least a hundred tres between him and any other reinforcents, yet he dove in anyway, without the slightest sign of hesitation.
It was as if he was hurrying to catch sothing.
Even with only fifty n, he blasted the shield wall apart.
It was a mighty display of strength.
Even Oliver’s mouth fell open.
He’d guessed it in the initial charge they’d made nearly half an hour ago, but now that Karstly was all but alone, it was all the more evident.
That was most certainly the strength of a Fourth Boundary man.
They hurried across the field for a taste of the sa action that Karstly was already delivering.
By the ti they’d arrived, Karstly and his forces were already two ranks deep, and he was pushing into the third.
‘A re fifty n, and he did all this…?’ Oliver found himself thinking.
Even with the power of Claudia to assist him, he’d been unable to breach into the third rank of shield wielders.
Granted, he and his n had been pressed to exhaustion by then, and they’d not been afforded the montum of a proper charge, but those weren’t the sort of excuses that Oliver could make for himself.
For a man proud of his strength, he had to see and he had to admit, there were still n out there that stood above even he.
It made him grind his teeth, and it made his heart flutter.
Three years – was that how long it had been since he’d felt the flutterings of this sort of want?
He’d made progress, that was undeniable, but the progress hadn’t had the flavour of desperateness that it once had.
It was a nostalgic feeling.
Karstly managed to push through the third rank of shield wielders even without their reinforcent.
He made the gap.
By the ti Lombard and Patrick arrived, it was the leftovers that they were forced to take their frustration on.
Oliver blew apart all in his path, and his n did the sa.
It almost felt easier to cut them down than it had before, as if their armour was thinner, or their shields were lighter.
“FORRRRWARDDD!
WE TAKE A GREAT MAN’S LIFE TODAY!” Karstly sang.
It was elegant, but there was a tinge of madness there.
His voice was of a pitch that seed just a beat away from being a laugh.
He was enjoying the mont, and he was falling into it, savouring it in its entirety.
In response to Karstly’s charge, the Verna movents near General Khan began to intensify.
Even that man, as steady as he had been, and as calm in his responses, had to recognize the threat of two thousand n charging his way.
Especially when Karstly was taking down the walls so quickly, his sword hacking away at n, more like an axe in its style at tis.
“Boxes?
You’ve another in store for ?” Karstly said.
Oliver was close enough by now that he could hear it.
They’d blasted past the first wall of shield wielders, and now another wall, three ranks deep, awaited them.
Oliver had the sa question on his mind.
What were they to do, even two thousand strong as they were, if General Khan trapped them in another one of his boxes?
From Karstly’s words, he gleaned that the General had already spied one, and indeed, it was a re few monts later that Oliver saw the n to their left and to their right beginning to retreat, with the spearn getting replaced by walls upon walls of shield wielders, confining their space to what they’d already grasped.
“FORWAAARDDDDD!” Karstly said again, laughing.
He eyed the box, and then he dismissed it.
He plunged forward again, lowering the head of his horse, and allowing himself a crashing charge.
Once more the shield wielders were scattered – this ti even more strongly than before, with the reinforcents that he had at his back.
Now Oliver could hear it.
“URRAHHH!
URAHHHH!” The shouts of n, feeling the excitent of battle.
It was a sprint, undoubtedly that was what it was.
It was the height of a soldier’s experience.
It was a wolf on a hunt, feeling the wind through its air.
To trample n in their thousands with such ease and at such speed – there could be no feeling comparable to that.
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