章節 4: A Decisive Battle
Iron Islands,
Orkmont,
The battle for Orkmont, for rulership over the Iron Islands, was fully underway now. Men died left and right, the sky was blotted out by burning steel and corpses littered the island's beach. The ironborn forces moved with overwhelming momentum, killing men left and right.
Lord Paxter Redwyne standing at the deck of his ship, observed the ensuing battle with slight uneasiness welling up in his heart. Perhaps they had been a little too confident when landing, unmounted knights were going to be at a great disadvantage against people who were used to fighting battles on their own two feet.
But then again, after the overwhelming victory and complete decimation of the Iron Fleet at their own hands, the Redwyne fleet possessed great confidence. It had been folly but it was understandable.
Steel clashed with steel. Pained groans and cheering roars filled the battlefield. The ironborn followed their one leader with great vigour, how could they not?
After such words and such actions, what man could ever hope to stop himself from charging blindly? They were sailors who were taught to fight from the day they could hold a weapon and now they followed the one man leading this charge.
Knights fell and so did ironborn but, it became blatantly obvious that landing on wet sand was a move that was tactically unfit and idiotic.
All across the battlefield, scenes of gore and brutality like an ironborn beheading a knight or cutting off another's limb before getting impaled through the back with spears became common sights.
And then, something that would prove decisive in determining the victor of this battle happened within the span of a few seconds.
Lord Edric Blacktyde had grabbed onto one one of the numerous ladders that hung from the moored Redwyne ships.
"Stop him at once! Shoot him down immediately!" One of the Redwyne Commanders hurriedly shouted commands, realising that things would get far worse if the ironborn got ahold of ships.
The ironborn were undefeated in the sea.
There was no command to draw or loose, soldiers fired arrows at the Blacktyde one after the other.... Only none of those arrows seemed to hit their mark.
The ones that rained down from above were blocked with a shield he himself held, same with the ones that came from behind. The ones from below were blocked by the men following below him on the ladders, at the cost of their own lives even.
The ironborn would not let him die.
And then, within moments, the ironborn Lord jumped aboard a ship, looking around sharply as soldiers and knights hurried around him. Building up a wall of shields in hopes that he may be felled before they lost their lives.
Paxter Redwyne ran to the side of his own ship, his eyes wide in shock as the ironborn once more cheered, raising their weapons to the sky for all to bear witness.
"This....This can't be.. Why is a Lord at the head of an army?!" Paxter shouted out in defiance, yes it raised their morale but if he died the ironborn would break and fall.
Edric Blacktyde was a fool in the eyes of the Lord of the Arbour.
"RAHH!!"" Edric ran at the shield wall with both hands on his axe, clearly not afraid of anything that might come his way. With a mighty heave, he crashed into the wall once more, sending several behind it tumbling across the wooden deck.
Spinning the axe around, he smashed it down on the head of a knight with finer armour than most he could see, splitting the man's skull...no, the whole body fell in two halves and yet, in a display of both might and skill. The Blacktyde spun it before it hit the deck and swung upwards, turning the head of a nearby soldier into naught but a red mush of blood and flesh.
He was as fast as he was mighty, crashing into the shield of one to his right while swinging his weapon in an arc, cutting down many a men with a single strike.
By now, some of the other ironborn had begun climbing other warships. The knights and soldiers of the Arbour did their best to defend the mighty beasts of wood they prided themselves on but soon found themselves outmanned and outskilled.
The people they thought benign savages fought with vigour and motivation that left them shocked and astounded.
Thus the battle proceeded greatly in the favour of the seafaring people.
After all, what is dead may never die.
They had been abandoned and had not much to lose anymore, apart from the lord that fought at the very front of battle. Facing it's brunt with green eyes burning in fury.
Arrows struck the Lord Blacktyde in his chest yet did nothing to impede his storm-like onslaught, wounds from swords and spears slowly accumulated.
He was a man after all.
Yet,
Even through that,
In the eyes of both friend and foe,
The ironborn lord killed and killed with a vicious grin on his face.
And then and there, even the Southern Lords admitted.
He was.... mighty.
Soon the ironborn had begun to jump over ships, felling Lords, soldiers and knights alike. A moderate crew would stay behind with each ship rid of it's former crew while the others took to the ones ahead, using ropes and planks to board them and kill their crews.
Volleys of burning arrows were fired one after the other, knights slammed their shields on the deck forming mobile fortresses of iron and steel all as they roared and cheered.
"Glory to the King!"
"GLORY!!"
They would not run! They would not turn their backs! They were the great Redwyne Fleet! One of the greatest fleets in the Seven Kingdoms,
"We've beaten them before! We'll do it again!
The order and discipline they had was something the rather primitive ironborn were not privy too.
But, in this one instance, it proved to be a quality to be admired.
What were shield walls when men jumped over and above them?
What were spears and pikes when they were broken and snapped?
What were knights who fought formally?
What were arrows if the men they were shot at charged regardless?
Edric himself seemed to be moving in a straight line for the restless Lord Paxter himself. Throwing aside men, pushing them to the roaring and raging sea of blood below if need be, cutting down those that proved problematic.
Where he passed, mutilated corpses and traumatised survivors remained.
And then, in a battle that lasted less than two hours, thousands of men lay dead, dying or too injured to continue.
A fleet of more than a hundred warships had lost to men that stood on a beach. Credit was clearly due to the one who had led them to such a victory.
Aboard the central flagship, Lord Edric of House Blacktyde stood and stared solemnly at Lord Paxter of House Redwyne. The ironborn lord stood on his feet, a battle-axe in his hands and the Lord of the Arbor rode a horse, a Lance in his hand and a sword at his waist.
Strange as it was, such was custom for some southern Lords.
"I thank you for bringing me ships."
"Stay your tongue, Lord Blacktyde."
At this Edric chuckled, then laughed, stroking his rather short beard with an amused expression,
"You've lost."
".." Paxter's expression turned rageful for a moment but Edric's gaze too turned serious, "Look around you, throw down your weapon. Save your people at least."
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