The Cavalier - By Jason McWhirter Page 0,214

king and protected by Addalis and the prince’s mother, Queen Sorana, who was a decent blade wielder in her own right.

More orcs were scrambling up the hill toward the king, and as Allindrian looked down through the trees she saw even more black armored beasts scurrying upward.

She swore under her breath, racing the last thirty paces toward the king. Several orcs leaped from behind a few nearby trees and came at her with black steel. But her silver blade danced left and right and she spun by them in a blur, hardly slowing as both orcs fell to the ground, eyes wide with shock, trying to register how such a small form could be so deadly.

It took only moments to reach the guard behind the main fighting force. Her guess was correct. Queen Sorana was standing alert, sword in hand as if expecting at any moment for the wall of knights to break and the orcs to overrun them. Her beautiful full eyes were wide with fright but her stance was determined. Her long blond hair was pulled back, gathered with a leather thong, and then braided down to mid back.

Standing next to her was her son, Riker. He, too, held a blade and his height made him recognizable immediately. He was almost as tall as his father, but his build was slighter, taking after the more petite stature of his mother. Even so, his figure was impressive at such a young age.

Six armed knights formed a perimeter around the two, while Addalis was glancing left and right looking for attacking orcs. The fighting was so chaotic that no one knew when or where the enemy would appear.

“Addalis!” Allindrian yelled as she jumped over a log to land in the midst of them.

Addalis quickly ran to her as did the queen and the prince. “Allindrian! What do we do?” He questioned frantically.

They had all been running and fighting for the better part of the day and the constant struggle was starting to takes its toll. Everyone’s nerves were strung tight and it was clear to Allindrian that they were beginning to lose hope.

“We must retreat! Many more orcs are converging on us now! If we stay, we die!”

“How will we escape? They are upon us!” yelled the queen over the clashing of metal near them.

The fighting was so loud that they didn’t even hear the sound of approaching men. Kromm moved toward them with haste, flanked by General Farwin who had luckily escaped with the king in the middle of the night.

The king was dripping with sweat and covered with the blood of his enemies, yet his blue eyes still shone with the lust of battle. His giant two handed long sword was held low in one hand, dripping dark crimson from its shiny suface. The battle king was seven feet tall and covered with rippling muscle, dense and powerful, the kind of muscle built from constant warfare.

General Farwin held a shield and long sword and he breathed heavily from the relentless fighting. His dark hair was laced with many strands of silver. He was not a young soldier anymore and Allindrian wondered how much longer he could keep up the fighting.

“King Kromm, we must get you away, and now! More orcs are storming the hill and they will reinforce the group you now fight!” Allindrian yelled again.

“How many, Blade Singer?” asked Kromm, his voice deep and masking any emotion he might be feeling.

Allindrian had never seen someone so calm and deadly in battle before, at least no human. The man had been swinging that massive sword all day and he still looked like he could crush an ogre with his bare hands. His focus never faltered. Allindrian was impressed, and that was no easy feat.

“Hundreds, and it will be thousands soon after.”

“Father, what should we do?” Riker asked.

“We have few options and none of them are desirable,” Kromm said.

“My Lord! More are upon us!” screamed a soldier as he ran from the fighting men behind them. He stumbled from exhaustion and General Farwin caught him before he fell. “Hundreds of the vermin are racing up the hill,” the soldier stammered as he righted himself and stood up straight before his king. “And I saw several ogres in the distance!”

“Ogres! In Ulren’s name, my husband, what can we do,” Queen Sorana cried, her eyes flicking to her son and back to her husband. Kromm did not miss the look and he gritted his teeth in anger. He would not let

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