Chapter 215
## THE FORGOTTEN FIELDS (NOVEL) – Chapter 215
### Chapter 215
With that shout, the soldiers began to move with order and precision.
Varkas received the reins of his horse, Turk, from the hands of the assistant who rushed toward him with alacrity, and settled into the saddle immediately.
And as he prepared to charge through the camp to exit the checkpoint, the second son of the Bliston family, who was following him, exclaimed:
“Your Excellency, we will also join the fight!”
Varkas looked at the man’s face while holding the reins of his mount, and then nodded slightly:
“Join the right flank.”
The man advanced without another word toward the outside of the checkpoint.
Varkas continued his advance toward the front, and upon spotting the enemies charging like a herd of buffaloes, he stopped his horse halfway up the hill.
He saw the heavily armored, heavily built warriors pouring endlessly from behind the wide-open city gates.
He calculated their numbers for a moment, then extended his hand toward his escorts, who rushed to assist him.
Immediately, a heavy halberd about 8 kfeet (approximately 240 cm) long was settled into his hand.
He raised it high, giving the signal to attack, whereupon the ballistas distributed along the crest of the hill poured forth their iron projectiles in a single volley.
And with the sharp sound of tearing air, hundreds of massive arrows mercilessly pierced the bodies of the soldiers who were charging like wild boars.
In an instant, hundreds of soldiers fell upon the snow-covered ground.
However, the inhabitants of the North did not retreat a single inch.
As if resolved to die, thousands of combatants leaped over the corpses of their comrades and engaged in combat with the infantry hosts positioned across a wide front on the hill.
Varkas ordered the discharge of projectiles to be suspended immediately; for continuing to fire at this moment could hit his own forces as well.
He drew his sword and gave the signal to charge to the knights on the left flank, who were waiting expectantly.
At the same time, the cavalry infiltrated the flank of the enemy army.
He pressed the center army forward, taking advantage of the state of confusion and dispersion affecting the enemies under the intensity of the rushing waves of horses.
And with the attacks ordered from every direction, it seemed evident that the battle would be resolved within the space of half a day.
Amidst the wind permeated with the scent of blood, Varkas examined the progress of the combat and then dug his spurs into his horse to infiltrate the heart of the enemy ranks.
Despite the collapse of their lines, the inhabitants of the North continued their fierce onslaughts without their determination waning.
Varkas charged toward them without hesitation.
One of the warriors wielding his axe erratically fell trampled under Turk’s hooves, his hematic fluids and remains scattering.
The bodies of the soldiers who witnessed such a tragedy before their eyes paralyzed. Varkas did not waste that instant, swinging his halberd in a wide diagonal trajectory.
With a single blow, the weapon severed the necks and torsos of three warriors at the same time, projecting red spray everywhere.
Varkas advanced, crushing the corpses with his hooves, then pierced a heavily armored soldier of robust build using the elongated and pointed tip of the halberd.
He swung the weapon to hurl the body into the midst of the enemy ranks, so the charging soldiers fell under the weight of their comrade’s corpse, which flew toward them like a projectile.
Before that shocking scene, the warriors began to waver and fall back.
No matter how intense their combative nature was, they were nothing more than militias who had not received professional military training.
So, if their morale was broken, they would dismantle in the blink of an eye.
Varkas raised the blood-stained blade of his halberd high and ordered the general advance of the army.
At that precise moment, the din of heavy hooves resonated from the opposite side of the sloping hill.
Varkas felt a cold chill run down his spine, so he turned around.
He spotted riders covered in black iron armor charging toward his hosts, making the earth tremble in their wake. Their number seemed to reach the thousands.
Varkas pulled the reins of his horse immediately to join the right flank. And at that precise moment, the vanguard of the black iron knights collided with his army.
A colossal din erupted due to the clash of iron against iron, blending with the bitter neighing of horses that rent the sky.
He gripped the hilt of his halberd with both hands and quickly examined the formation of the enemies who were suddenly ambushing them. Their movements were not ordinary; they were certainly soldiers who had received professional training.
Varkas made his decision in a second, charging through the ranks toward the vanguard. He swung the blade of the axe in reverse toward the knight leading the party, penetrating the blood-stained blade into the neck of the mount until it reached the rider’s chest without obstruction.
However, the knight at the vanguard demonstrated a rapid response capability; he threw his body back to evade the mortal injury, then took a spear embedded in the ground and hurled it at him.
Varkas swung his halberd immediately to deflect the projectile, then urged his horse toward the enemy.
The soldier exhibited a movement of incredible agility for someone equipped with heavy armor.
He rolled on the ground, evading the hooves that were about to strike his head, then drew a long sword from his belt and charged with lightning speed.
Varkas raised his halberd to block the onslaught.
The long sword, which was charging with fierce ferocity, collided against the steel halberd, unleashing a colossal impact.
Varkas gritted his teeth under the intensity of the heavy shock that traveled through his wrist and forearm until it reached his shoulder.
This was no ordinary opponent.
He gripped the halberd with both hands and stared sharply at the soldier’s features, hidden behind the visor.
He spotted through the opening of the helmet two red pupils glowing with a fiery glare.
“Could it be Bjorn Blodar Heimdal?”
Varkas leaned the upper part of his body forcefully to repel the adversary away from himself.
The man staggered for a moment, but soon restored his balance and backed away to generate distance.
While he watched his movements cautiously and lowered the tip of his halberd, one of the knights who had infiltrated through the ranks rushed him from the flank.
Varkas spun his halberd immediately to block the onslaught of the charging enemy, then varied the direction of the axe blade to bring it down upon the rider’s shoulder.
And when he intended to recover his weapon quickly to watch the enemy commander, he experienced a numbness running through the tips of his fingers.
He exerted force firmly upon his fingers, which began to suffer a subtle trembling, and hastily adopted a defensive posture.
However, his movement, which was delayed by the space of a heartbeat, finally generated a fatal breach.
The man seized the opportunity, approaching to thrust his sword into his torso.
Great thanks to his instinctive dodging of the upper part of his body to one side, he managed to prevent the weapon from piercing his heart; however, he could not stop the long blade from running through the middle of his wound.
He frowned at the icy sensation of metal piercing his anatomy.
However, his interruption did not last for more than an instant.
He raised his arm and swung the axe blade toward his opponent.
The man who kept the sword embedded in his body, his pupils shining in the ecstasy of triumph, startled and retreated backward.
He felt the hematic fluid emanating from the site where the sword was extracted, but he ignored it, continuing the swing of his halberd with successive blows.
The man evaded his onslaughts and distanced himself quickly. At that precise moment, someone stepped in to obstruct his path.
“Stop, Your Excellency! Your wound…!”
Varkas passed right by his subordinates, who were trying to restrain him, and pursued the enemy.
At that moment, he felt his body collapse and lean forward.
Thanks to supporting the tip of the halberd against the ground, he evaded the humiliation of falling from his horse; however, the enemy commander had already left the area of the confrontation.
He clutched his torso, which was pouring fluid in abundance, and stared determinedly at the man.
He spotted Bjorn Blodar Heimdal, who had quickly retreated to the rear, mount a fresh horse and order the retreat.
Was his surprise attack from the beginning intended solely to generate a breach to retreat the rebels of Amasek?
While contemplating the enemies dispersing rapidly, Varkas tried to restore his balance.
He raised his halberd and prepared to dictate orders, but suddenly, his vision turned white before his eyes.
“Your Excellency!”
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