Chapter 24 - Battle Commences.
High Elder Govannon Staley returned to Mynydd to call his vast army of elves to battle. The elven community were the most elegant of fighters, quick, nimble, and deadly accurate with bow and spear. Curved and finely honed swords that could cut through flesh and bone. They were the finest equestrians in the land of Trymyll, riding their pure-bred Arab horses, as flighty in temperament as are the Elves, but they are fast, fearless, and able to turn on a sixpence. The riders used no reins in battle but guided their mounts by light pressure with their legs. The men all ride stallions and the women fighters, mares. To watch them fight was akin to watching a ballet, graceful, with all the players beautifully poised.
High Elder Penvro Dey arrived back at Gwir, his knights were ready, armour clad with heavy broad swords, mace, and lance. Their weapons smashed and maimed rather than cut and sliced. They were not pretty in battle; they were not meant to be. His knights were proudly mounted on their destriers, large, strong horses, big, stout, and yet quite agile. Bred to carry the weight of the knight, his heavy battle armour, shield, and weapons, plus armour of their own on their heads and around the front, with chain mail cover for the horse’s necks to protect from spears and arrows. All destriers are stallions and they are bred for war.
The men of Gwir despised the Elven community and the way they did battle. Their method was by brute force and strength. The Elven community derided the men of Gwir for their lack of subtlety and the sheer cruelty of their manner of attack. Men of Gwir took no prisoners, they just left dead bodies. The Elven community would accept a surrender, take prisoners, and then rehabilitate their captives. Finally, if possible, become their friends and trading partners.
Like their horses, the Elven community were all pure-bred elves, they did not mix or intermarry with outsiders. Those who did were banished from Mynydd and cut off from family, friends, and any elves they met on the way. Not so the men of Gwir, there were men, dwarfs, half-dwarfs, giants, half-giants, and even a few half-elves among their number. Anyone who was strong and could fight hard and fight dirty was welcome at Gwir.
Neither had ever lost in battle.
Jon had called up over a thousand Red Dragons for the battle of the skies, but when the Blue dragons saw them, they beat a hasty retreat without a drop of dragon blood being shed.
The two armies advanced towards the old quarries but kept back far enough to prevent any premature engagement. In all, they numbered over eight thousand fighting men and women. Meanwhile between the two assemblies stood the six High Elders, with Llewellyn, Flintock, his great uncle Faraji, Gwen, Jonathan, Glynda, Samuel, and Tom in front of them. About one hundred yards away facing them, were the Master, Muenda Mwita Osei, to give his real name; twin brother to Faraji.
The Master spoke, although they were out in the open, his voice echoed and resonated so that all around could hear his proclamation. “Well, quite the family outing,” he said with sarcasm, “Elder of Elders Llewellyn, my dear old friend Gwen, the children, my brother and my great-nephew, how nice, and new friends to destroy, please introduce us, I like to know the names of those whom I make suffer.”
“I am Glynda Guilliams-Erwood, and this is my protector, guardian, and friend, Samuel. Neither we nor any of those with us, have any intention of being destroyed today or any other day by the likes of you,” Glynda said defiantly, holding her sword in front of her.
Miffed by her insolence the Master sent a bolt of energy straight at her, the sword sucked in the spell and absorbed the energy. He sent another, even more powerful, again the sword absorbed it.
“Well little girl, that is an interesting sword you have there, I hope you don’t mind if I have a closer look.”
The sword was powerfully wrenched from her hand, and it flew toward the Master, he caught it with one hand. As soon as he touched it, he was thrown backwards ten or more feet, landing on his back, knocking the wind out of him, and causing some pain. The sword quickly returned to Glynda who caught it triumphantly. It appeared that the sword could be touched by anyone as evil and disdainful as the Master.
The battle commenced. The Master, back on his feet, started unleashing blast after blast of energy at the assembled group, Jon threw up a defensive field around them and the bolts just bounced off. Before they could retaliate, the Master raised up a massive wall of rock and earth between them but seconds later, they blasted it all away; half burying the Master in the process. Now he was angry, incredibly angry. Massive boulders started raining down all around them, but none of them made contact. In the confusion, one of the elders decided they had had enough and apparated back to Blaenoraid in a very cowardly fashion. Glynda, unnoticed by the others, had started walking boldly towards the Master. He was so busy firing energy bolts and hurling boulders that he too did not notice at first, but once she was a few yards away, he saw her coming. She walked unhurried and purposefully, sword in one hand and a massive white ball of raw energy in the other. She threw the ball at the Master’s feet, there was a massive explosion and a crater fifty feet deep and one hundred feet across appeared in the ground where the Master was standing. Glynda stood in the centre of the crater standing in the air and looking all around for the Master. He was nowhere to be seen. She turned and walked back to the others. This was somehow taken as a signal for the larger battle to kick off. The assembled fighters fell upon each other, it was not good to see or go into detail here, but it happened anyway.
“Did I get him?” Glynda asked.
“I’m afraid not,” Faraji answered. “he is still here somewhere, I can sense him, but he has been weakened either by the blast or by earlier touching Dragon Slayer. He has apparated away from the immediate danger, but he will be back if I know my brother.”
He had no sooner spoken when the Master appeared, he was some way off, over a mile. Before him they could see the earth was moving, it became like the sea and a tsunami of earth, rocks, trees, and boulders was heading their way. All the wizards threw up the most powerful field they could to repel the oncoming tide, but still, it came, thousands, no millions of tonnes of rock and rubble just kept on coming like a huge wave, ready to envelop them all.
“Apparate us!” Llewellyn shouted to Flintock, and just before it hit them, they all disappeared and instantly reappeared right where the Master was standing, surrounding him on all sides. He sent out a circle of force which caught them all unawares and threw them on their backs, all of course except Samuel and Glynda, who both stood firm and defiant, untouched by his spell. Then, sword in hand, she lunged at him and hit him with the flat of her sword, he squealed in pain, but she did not withdraw it to go for a cut, she just held it there. He collapsed to the floor whimpering, she continued to hold him down with the sword as Dragon Slayer drained all the power and magic from the Master and into itself. Within less than half a minute it was over, and there on the floor lay an old man, all his years had caught up with him, he looked as he should look; a mirror image of Faraji.
“What have you done? Where is my power? I have no magic left,” he sobbed, “help me brother, Gwen, my old friend, help me, restore to me some power, just a little magic, please,” he pleaded.
But they all just looked at him, and then looked across at Glynda.
“I think we have found a new Guardian Wizard,” Gwen said, “well done Glynda, I do believe you have won the day.”
“No, not yet” she replied, “there is still much work to be done, come, Tom, into the battle, there are hundreds of wounded who need our attention.”
She had no sooner said the words when she and Tom disappeared and reappeared amid the battlefield, now both with staffs in hand, they stood back to back radiating out healing, sending out waves of healing blue light across the battlefield, mending bones, sealing wounds, and stemming the flow of blood. Once they had set the initial healing in place, they then started going from person to person seeing what needed to be done to the worst of the injured. To their surprise, Flintock joined them.
“Any need moving to the hospital wing, let me know and I’ll send them there straight away.”
As they went around, they would shout across to Flintock. As soon as they did, that wounded soul would disappear and reappear in the hospital wing of the castle Blaenoraid, much to the surprise of the hospital wizards. They had not been at it long before a half-giant, who had only been stunned stood up and roared, he was right next to Glynda and made a grab for her. She just put up her hand and the ten-foot man flipped back about ten yards and into the dirt, Flintock immediately took over and apparated him back to Gwir.
“I hope that’s where he came from, otherwise they’ll get an awful shock when he arrives,” Flintock said smiling.
Any wounded fighters of the elven community, and any dissident elves who lay wounded he sent to Mynydd, the elven community were expert healers and knew how to deal with their own. The heavy armoured brigade he sent to Blaenoraid as he knew that the best they would receive at Gwir was some clumsy first aid. The men of Gwir had funny attitudes, if you break your arm, don’t try to mend it, just hack it off with a sharp axe. Flintock decided they would be better off at Blaenoraid.
The fighting was all but over, the Elven community had taken over a thousand prisoners, the men of Gwir, of course, had none but, decided to stop fighting anyway and were now just strangely chatting to the dwarfs, goblins and the few remaining dissident elves which remained on the battlefield. In all, there were over three thousand dead, mainly on the Master’s side, but also several hundred Elves and men of Gwir. Tom and Glynda were upset by the loss of life, the men of Gwir didn’t give a fig and the soldiers of the elven community were more interested in who had survived and celebrated that rather than be sad about who had died. The battle was won and won decisively. So why dwell on the grim side when you can celebrate those who were spared. These were strange and alien attitudes to the two teenagers. Tom didn’t understand this mindset at all, neither did Glynda.
“If I had wanted to kill, I could have sliced the Master from top to bottom with Dragon Slayer, but that is not my way, and hopefully, never will be.”
“Nor mine,” Tom replied, as they both continued with their task.
Within the hour, all the walking wounded were retreating to their cities, remarkably, no horses were killed, though some of the Arab horses had injuries, they were only cuts and would be soon healed.
The captured, mainly dissident elves were being escorted back to Mynydd for deradicalisation and re-education. Jon, his dad, Faraji, and Samuel, who no longer saw himself as Glynda’s protector had all apparated back to Blaenoraid with the now captive and powerless Muenda Mwita Osei. Only Gwen remained, just to keep an eye on Tom and Glynda in case of trouble. There wasn’t any.