Halwort's Flight

Again, something I wrote too long ago. I came second in The Drouin Short Story Competition with it!!

But also again, I will say that my writing skills are better developed now than they were then. Sooner or later I'll put some recent work up LOL!!



HALWORT'S FLIGHT





Duke Boren, a lean middle-aged man with dark hair, sat his restless grey warhorse, impatiently awaiting battle. He was chagrined when he remembered who they were fighting against and why. Prince Halwort was King Lester’s younger brother whom had had a wealthy, respected place at the court of Falladal, until he had been revealed as the murderer of his father, King Mewen, former ruler of Falladal. After Royal judgement had been passed that Halwort was guilty of killing King Mewen, he'd fled from his probable jailers and hadn’t been seen for months. Now, the Prince and his rebel army were waiting at the opposite end of the valley. King Lester and Falladal's Army were above. Duke Boren, part of the cavalry, was near the front of Falladal's Army.

      Soon, the King's voice broke into his thoughts, ‘My army, my people, my defence,’ he bellowed, 'today, you will be Falladal's saviours in our time of need, today you shall conquer the rebels of this land and today, we shall be victorious!’ and a cheer came up from the soldiers.

      Boren stood in his stirrups, drawing his sword and holding it above his head, cheering his King.

      They all quietened when the King’s shout overwhelmed their cheering, ‘Now let us fight!’ and he turned his steed toward the rebels, held his sword over his head and yelled, ‘Charge!’

      Boren slid his visor down, letting his horse gallop with the rest of the cavalry. The Duke watched as Prince Halwort’s rebels kicked their own mounts to a gallop, yelling and screaming as they charged at their foe. Boren held his sword out of the way as they charged down the slope and into the valley. The armies clashed in the middle of the basin, and all of a sudden it was chaos. Arms, legs and horses were everywhere, and the only way to tell who was who was by the quality of the soldiers' uniforms. Halwort had run out of money after he had bought all these soldiers and mercenaries, leaving them with rags for uniforms. Boren stabbed the first mercenary, pulling his sword out of the body then moved deeper into the fray.

      Tucker trampled and crushed any unfortunate in his way, while the Duke kept them away from his mount, killing any rebels within reach. Boren gasped as he felt a blade slice through his right arm. It was a small gash, but hurt nevertheless and Boren quickly cut the mercenary down. At one point Tucker screamed when an axe cut his flank. Protecting his mount, the Duke quickly killed the warrior and kept going, throwing a quick glance at his horses wound. Relieved when he saw only a shallow cut.

      The battle raged on, and the sun set, leaving a cold night in its wake. The combatants kept fighting, wearying as time wore on. When one of the King’s men finally had a second to stand in his stirrups, he could see who had gained the upper hand. A cheer came up from King Lester's army. Falladal's soldiers slashed at their enemy with renewed vigour, and the battle was shortly over, leaving Falladal with the upper hand. They had spared no one, although they had suffered great losses of their own.

      Searching the bodies that night and the following day the soldiers could find no trace of Prince Halwort – the one that had started this whole business with his foul treachery. Striding over to the King's tent, Boren went straight to his King and reported that the Prince's body had not been found and told his King that the Prince had likely fled when he realised the battle was lost.

      ‘Yes,’ replied the King solemnly, ‘I am inclined to believe that this is what my brother did, as much as I am ashamed to admit it…’

      Bowing, Boren backed out of the tent.

      Walking over to his horse, Boren stopped when he heard the Kings voice, ‘Duke Boren.'

      Returning to the white tent, Boren stopped again in front of his monarch. 'Yes, my King?'

      ‘I want you to lead a search party to hunt for my deceitful brother,’ the man in the flowing, royal robes ordered. ‘Don’t waste my men and get half of them killed, but push them hard. Take thirty men. Any more than that will slow you down.’

      ‘Yes Majesty,’ he replied smartly, clapping his fist to his breastplate, and again backed out of the tent. Mounting Tucker, he rode out into the middle of the soldiers' campsite, and called the men together. ‘Our King has ordered a pursuit of the Prince, made up of thirty men. Who will come?’ Boren asked loudly.

      Hands went up everywhere. Running his eyes over the mob of warriors before him, the Duke selected men he knew to be good horsemen, trackers, warriors or bowmen and sent them off to saddle their mounts, thanking the remainder of the soldiers for volunteering.



***



      An hour later the group was mounted and equipped, standing before Boren and the King.

      ‘First, you are under the command of Duke Boren and I expect you to act on his orders as if they were mine,’ began King Lester, ‘second, when you return, I expect that you will be carrying the dead body of my double-crossing sibling. And last, a sum of ten gold larries will be given to each of you upon your successful return.’

      This brought a low whistle from several of the warriors.

      ‘Good luck, and be off!’ alleged the King.

      Bowing from their saddles, the hunters of the royal blood turned their mounts and galloped away, Boren in the lead.



***



      Slowing, they entered the thicker trees further into the Delm Forest, Boren riding next to, and slightly behind, the tracker he had selected, scanning the ground for any obvious signs of the Prince's passing. Massive brown trunks towered around them, sunlight streaming through gaps in the leaves. Ignoring the beauty of the Delm, Boren continued scanning his surroundings.



      Later that night, the group spotted a small clearing off to their left, barely visible in the near darkness. Veering off the small game trail they had been following, the hunters made for the clearing, and upon arrival were encouraged to find the remains of a small fire and hasty campsite.

      When the tracker examined what they were sure must have been the Prince's campsite, he was pleased to tell his comrades that the fire was less than a day old. Re-lighting the remains of the Prince's campfire, everyone gathered around the source of warmth and light in the darkness and lay back, preparing for sleep.



When the warriors woke at dawn they quickly smothered the fire and mounted their warhorses, eating a cold breakfast in the saddle as they trotted through the trees. Quickly locating the Prince's trail, they followed it at top speed, pleased when they rode through that night's campsite, discovering the fire to be an hour old, at the most. Optimistic about what they had discovered, the soldiers rode on, even faster than before.

      After another ten minutes of following Halwort's tracks, the bowmen nocked arrows to their bows and prepared to shoot on site. Moments later every weapon was out and ready.

      The Duke, at the front of the group, gasped when he saw the rump of Lale, the Prince's horse, only going half the speed of what they were travelling. Signalling behind him for silence and readiness, Boren pushed Tucker even faster around the bend, and there was his prey.

      Halwort turned at the sound of hooves thudding on the soft forest floor, and pushed Lale into a gallop, hoping to get away. The three bowmen accompanying Boren aimed and shot their arrows in the same smooth movement. Watching the arrows fly, Boren saw one go off to the side to skitter across the ground, the second arrow flew past Halwort's face, just grazing his check while the third and last arrow flew true, punching into his neck, and the Prince fell from his saddle, dead.



***



      The Duke, with the Prince's body slung over his saddle, rode up to Falladal's gates, his command following. Falladal was their capital city, where the King, the people, and the remainder of the army eagerly awaited the return of Duke Boren and his company, along with the Prince's body.

      Riding through the huge wooden gates, he heard trumpeters sound the return of the hunters. He rode through the city, arriving at the palace. King Lester strode from the gates as the group dismounted before their monarch bowing deeply, and laid the dead Prince on the ground. Glancing around, Boren noticed a crowd of citizens and soldiers had gathered behind them.

      'Today, these brave and loyal men bring back the body of my traitorous brother,' the King bellowed, 'and today, we will burn his body, as we have burned his belongings,' continued King Lester as a cheer went up from everyone.



      That same day, almost the whole city gathered around a pyre and watched the former Prince's body burn to ashes.









THE END