The Bronze Spear: Chapter Five

Chapter Five

A light fog early in the dawn lay upon The Ford of Replis. The water softly lapped against the small curling waves. An army lay on the eastern side of the bank. Spears were ready in their hands. Their eyes were intently fixed on the west side of the shallow ford. Lord Sirdun, brother of Lord Radun, was kneeling and whispering to a captain. A soft horn broke into the heavy silence. The army cautiously sprang to their feet. Their spears were set forward in a silent motion. Shadows crawled out of the mist. The slippery hands of the shadows splashed faintly in the water. The spears went down with great force; shrieks came out; and battle cries were set forth. The battle was lost in a heavy mist.

Brozonars horse’s hooves trampled the earth as he galloped on. The silent world was spread out before them in the light of day. But soon the cool thin mist would hold him. It wavered through the air, flowing in the quiet wind. Its grasping hands reaching ever further. The sun that shone on the earth, making it glow like the dawn was there no longer to look upon the land below. Clouds had come forth to darken Brozonar long journey. The mist had reached him, but he dared not falter his pace. With longing eyes, he searched ahead for Iceburlock`s cold peaks coming out of the horizon, but found none. Shapes walked in the mist before his eyes. They turned on their heels as soon as the sound of hoove beats reached their ears.

“Who rides?” said one, stepping forward, a knife in his hand, and grief in his eyes.

“I do not give my name freely,” Brozonar said. His horse halted.

“Then come and show thy face,” his voice was raised in a demanding tone. His horse stepped forward, his coat as grey as the mist that wrapped around him. Brozonars face was shone unto the men, and his eyes were cold. The captain’s knife slid into his sheath.
Then he spoke.

“The Lord Sirdun is dead.” Then shrill howls were heard. They were cold as ice. Trampling upon the misty plain, the Ice Wolves came forth. The men sprang over the ford; the spears were held in their hands. Upon the silver tips shadows lay. Majestically, the stallion swerved and crashed upon the flowing ford. The waters sprang up about him and swirled into the mist. The horse’s muscles were arched; his legs did not stand the stillness as the Ice Wolves in the distance advanced. He galloped upon the plain ready to meet them. Brozonar unsheathed his sword, and he laid it upon the necks of the Wolves. Their coldness hid themselves in the fog; they were shadowy figures howling. The spears had flown. They hit their mark. Five Ice Wolves’ huge bodies tumbled to the ground, the thick, red, ice cold blood streaming. The Ice Wolves came thundering upon the host of twenty. Brozonar, who was a little distance from the ford, hued at the icy neck of a wolf that was almost as big as his proud stallion. The flesh was torn and blood flowed, but the bone did not break. Then the wolf lunged upon Brozonar; he was torn from his horse. The stallion was pulled to the ground by the great force of the wolf. The horse sprang away unto the mist where the Ice Wolves were torturing the men upon the ford.

The ford’s once clear water was now filled with blood of the men. They lay strewn upon the fields that lay next to the ford. They were torn and dead. But the shrill and cold call of the wolves was not gone. Brozonar straggled with the leader. The once slightly red fur was now red with the blood that ran through his veins. His left cold eye was bleeding and hanging. The other wolves had charged upon the horse. Brozonar struggled vainly. The Ice Wolf was over him, his body over powering Brozonar. His was strewn with patches of blood. He raised his sword with one last stroke. It was laid upon the head of the wolf. It cracked through the flesh; his teeth griped upon Brozonars neck. Brozonar moved his sword slightly to the side of the wolf, but it froze and did not move further.