Loopbreaker

The veteran line collided against the enemy’s defenses that had formed faster than Francis had thought possible.

It was almost as if they had materialized out of thin air, appearing in the battle rows right after they had detected the attack.

“There are a lot of them!” Francis shouted. “How did they form up so quickly?”

“Did you expect them not to show up?” Stenson yelled back. “They’re trained!”

The sound of horses moving along the ground created a cacophony of noise all around. Francis could feel the sound in his chest, like thousands of drums all beating at once.

Movement to the left caught Francis’ attention, and he saw the first flag appear as the two armies drew near.

The mages stopped moving, their guards coming to stand before them, shields upward as the ones tasked with raining down destruction set up for the first spell.

No horns blew, and no warning was given. The men at the front had to trust those behind them to do their job.

Giant balls of ice began to form in the air above the casters and then shot forward, racing as the siege weapons had launched them. As they flew, each ball broke into five more and then another five, before each grew into the boulder size they had first been created.

Two more salvos fired off like this, and from the back of his horse, Francis could see the enemy's shields forming in midair, shattering the impacting balls of ice and raining down frozen chunks.

Most of them still managed to get through those defenses.

Letting out the breath he had been holding, Francis watched as the destruction began to appear in the rows of cat and wolf-kin warriors. He wasn’t sure how much of the enemy had suffered under that spell, but from what he had seen, it did what Stenson said it would.

Men shouted, and battle sounds rang out as metal on metal clashed over the cries of death and pain.

“We’re pushing forward!” Stenson cried out. “The lines are thinned!”

Francis’ horse kept pace with the generals as the battle started in earnest; instead of focusing on the carnage before him, however, Francis let his eyes study the robed casters to his left.

They jogged forward, getting a little more distance before stopping again, the shields raised once more around them.

Fire began to twist and turn around their bodies like a coiling snake of flames.

One moment, five snakes were in the line, and then they soared into the air, racing into the sky until they were above the enemy.

The magical creatures exploded in a shower of flames. Chunks of burning stone began to rain down, and a hint of sulfur filled the air.

“By Egbus, it's working!” the general exclaimed.

Tearing his gaze from the spells and the mages, Francis smiled, turning to see that Stenson, too, was watching the same display.

Seeing what a real smile on the general’s face was gave Francis a little more hope for how things would turn out.

They continued to gain yards as the army pushed forward, and the damage of the spells continued to do their job.

A cloud of darkness formed overhead and drifted downward upon the veteran troops.

“Sound a horn! Spread the lines out!” Stenson shouted.

A loud peal came for three seconds, pausing for two, and then came again. It repeated the sequence five times.

“What is it?” Francis asked after the first sequence had ended.

“A disease attack,” the general shouted. “It will slow the men down, weaken them, and cause boils and sores to appear. The real problem is how it spreads. Even those who miss the initial cloud can catch the disease. Somehow it transfers on touch, yet those damn animals never seem to suffer from it!”

A spell that only impacts one side of the army… convenient.

Making a mental note, Francis watched as best he could, unable to stand in the saddle for a better look since the leather strap kept him firmly planted on his ass.

The roar that had once been almost deafening as his countrymen pressed the advantage faded, replaced by many more cries than before.

A horse galloped back from the front to where they were.

“Sir!” called out an older man in plate armor. “The first line is almost gone. We are going to be down to just two in another minute!”

“Order the thorn spell! We need it sooner than we thought, even if we can’t reach as far!”

Without hesitating, the rider turned and raced to where the mages were jogging to catch up.

“This is a battle, boy. Never forget that,” Stenson said. “Everything changes in a moment, and we must adapt, even if it means losing some of the strength we hoped for.”

Stolen story; please report.

Francis bobbed his head, studying the casters, who heard the news for the next spell to be cast. A few of them glanced in their direction.

It looks like their robes are sticking to them with sweat… Just how hard is it to cast spells?

Having no idea of the requirements and what it took to channel the simplest thing, he could only speculate on how draining each spell was.

Four casters moved to the front, running ahead. He saw that two of them were women, their long hair tied behind their heads, bouncing as they jogged with their guards.

“ARROWS!” Someone cried out from his right.

The sky turned dark, and a wave of black death came at the army.

Shields raised upward, and cries came as the descending rain of death fell upon them.

Horses cried out, falling to the ground, and men were tossed from the beasts. Both man and steed lay still, having been slain by the ranged attack.

A barrier formed above Francis and the general, sending the arrows that had been near them off to the side and away from them, breaking the black wooden shafts upon impact.

“I have my own mage,” Stenson said when he noticed the wide expression on Francis. “Not every mage can cast offensive spells like those--some are better suited for defense.”

“But you didn’t put those on the list!”

Frowning, the older man nodded.

“I did not… I should have realized it wasn’t common knowledge for you, but there are men and women scattered through our ranks who can summon small shields like that to help protect us. Now get ready. We are about to see if this works or not.”

The mages who had run forward were motionless, kneeling, arms buried in the ground, a green light radiating from their bent-over bodies.

All around them, arrows littered the soil; a few of the guards who had been there to protect them had paid the ultimate price, joining the many warriors lost.

Three quick horn blasts echoed across the field, and Stenson nodded.

“It’s time! Sound the charge!” Stenson shouted.

One long ten-second blast of the horn came, and those mages who had not run up with the others began to sprint forward.

Each line of the cavalry picked up speed, and without any commands, Francis’ horse started to match Stenson’s pace.

Unable to see what the mages were doing because Francis and Stenson quickly outpaced them, Francis turned his attention to the battle ahead.

Men from their side were dead, trampled underfoot, right next to the lifeless bodies of the beastkin they had engaged.

The line of veteran troops shifted slightly, forming gaps for the cavalry as the men boxed off the left and right sides.

A wedge formed quickly as the horses moved into position with a precision that seemed impossible to believe even as he watched it.

“Full speed!” the general yelled.

Three short, quick blasts followed by a fourth long one sounded, and as if on cue, each horse moved with intent, hooves hammering into the dirt below and sending up clods of soil.

A wave of sound was everywhere, replacing the one of men and beasts fighting. Now, it was a tide of death, coming to wash out everything before it.

The initial clash in his vision showed that none of the beastkin even slowed down as they were trampled, the rush of horses and men plowing through the weakened and battered line.

Up ahead were the giant beasts with siege weapons, looking as though they were still preparing to fire.

Seeing something so large it would give many trees size envy, Francis squinted, trying to make out what kind of creature was on the back of those giant grey-skinned beasts.

From a distance, it was hard to make out the kind of animals swarming around the massive beast. It had siege engines on its back; large stones were being hurled in its direction.

“FOCUS AND HOLD ON!” the general yelled at Francis.

Stenson’s shout wasn’t meant to chide him; Francis had a feeling it was the only way the general was certain his instructions would be heard.

The horses covered the ground with ease, somehow managing to keep their footing on the slickened soil, which had turned wet from the amount of blood that had been spilled so far.

Francis could see a gap between the enemy lines. The once endless rows of wolves and catkins now seemed very finite in the area they were charging.

Still, Francis couldn’t shake the feeling that something felt off, and the hundred-yard gap between the last of their enemies and the next group seemed… wrong.

Arrows from their army drew blood, impaling the beasts that were cut off from the middle of the battlefield, killing hundreds of beasts who hacked at the thorns that had sprung up.

Shouts came, and a horn blew up ahead, announcing that the tip had broken through the last row.

“We are doing it!” the general shouted.

Stenson grinned again, his eyes scanning the area before them. He rose in his saddle, one hand on the reins, his body bouncing with a controlled and experienced movement as he peered ahead.

Twenty yards or so into the space between the last line of beastkin and the main army, the cavalry saw what was coming--Francis felt a pit growing in his stomach.

Grey and dark, black-skinned animals burst forth from the wall of troops near the siege ones.

They ran on four legs, had armor, and were at least eight or nine feet tall.

From here, it was easy to make out a horn on the tip of the broad head of the beast, easily three feet long if Francis had to guess.

“Those are the rhino-kin?!” Francis called out.

The grin was replaced by a frown, and the general nodded once.

There had been two tips in this charge. The outer one had broken through, most of them having lost the lances they held. Behind the first row was the second line, lances held upward the entire time of the charge. Now they lowered them, trained soldiers creating room for each other to ride past or fall behind.

Francis’ stomach tightened as three rows of rhino-kin charged the cavalry. The number seemed impossible to believe, but they flowed with as much precision as Stenson’s men. Two walls of death raced toward each other.

A thousand? Maybe more?

Each one was wider than a horse, and when the first of the rhino-kin met the charge of the tip, the lances they had used to push this deep snapped against their newest foe.

In seconds, the line of charging beasts tore through the cavalry, throwing horses and men into the air.

Yet with that view before them, none slowed down, knowing there was no turning back. The cavalry had pushed past the line of veteran warriors. The task of dealing with this new threat fell to those men and women, as the horses that made it through continued their charge.

“Prepare to engage!” the general shouted.

Stenson’s shout seemed louder than usual, and a roar from the men nearby carried a hint of hope. More shouts rang out, and a few sounded like cheers.

What the heck are they cheering for? We’re losing this trade!

Scanning everywhere, Francis tried to find where in this horrible turn of events something was worth cheering about.

Then he saw it.

Knight Kels was moving through the rhino-kin enemy, still on his horse, cutting down each beast that got close to him.

Some sections of the cavalry appeared to have a warrior in them, better than the other knights, each one killing rhino-kins that came near them.

Just how strong is Kels?!

Stenson held up his sword, its blade turning from silver to red. He waved it in the air with a shout, and more men joined in.

As the stallion surged ahead, Francis held on to the leather rein as tightly as he could, his mare not letting the war horse she followed get away.

Four of the rhino-kin came at him, covered in gashes, black blood running across their skin, red eyes locked upon them right now.

Fumbling with the sword on his hip, he tried to prepare for what was coming, knowing this would be far different from his first fight on this battlefield.