Chapter 3 - Battle of Blackwood
As the sun rose on the third day since Cyril had brought his portents of doom to Blackwood, the tension in the air was palpable.
I paced around the defensive perimeter, inspecting the works that Gunther had managed to construct over the past few days. Sharpened stakes extruded from the barricades nestled together between the houses, seemingly daring attackers to try and overcome them. Enough of the things had been assembled that we were able to block of all ground entrances to the village between the houses. In the houses themselves, the outwards windows had all been boarded up to prevent any attacker from slipping through our lines.
Combined, they formed a solid wall between us and the bandits.
The tired eyes of the night watch nervously scanned the horizon for the last time before being relieved. It was unfortunate to have some of our forces tied up overnight, but a necessary cost to avoid having our throats slit in the dead of night.
The exhausted griffons shuffled back into the village, where they would join up with a few others to act as our reserve force. I felt a pang of sympathy for their bedraggled state, but with an attack expected at any moment we couldn't afford to send them to rest.
As I and the rest of the relief watch took up position behind our defenses, I rested my weight on my billhook and considered my role for the battle. Gunther and I would be the two principle officers in charge on the militia. It was surprising to me that Gunther and the others would place their trust in me so easily, but he shrugged off my concerns.
"The way I see it, you're the one who set this whole thing into motion. Least you could do is be the one to see it through."
Speaking of the eldergriff, Gunther was currently sitting nearby honing his spear. The simple boar spear already seemed to be in flawless condition, but I suspected the action did much to calm his nerves. And not just his nerves either. Judging from the faces around us, seeing the stoic demeanor of Gunther did much to stiffen the spines of the militia.
The village had been able to assemble a sizable force to repulse the oncoming threat. From the population we had been able to mobilize nearly sixty griffons for battle all told. While not everyone would be fighting on the front lines, the numbers did much for my own confidence.
Those not already stationed at the barricades milled around the village proper, making small talk and doing their own gear checks. From the village's arms collection, we had amassed a sizable and eclectic mix of spears and polearms. Besides the traditional straight spear, it was common to see a griffon carrying either a billhook like myself or a war-scythe.
Archers lounged on the rooftops, bows strung and at the ready. While we did not have a large stock of metal arrowheads in the village, we did have a great number of flint and wooden ones. While the wooden small game arrows would be virtually useless even against an unarmored griffon, the flint broadheads could wreak significant damage.
I watched as Felian moved about between clusters of fighters, distributing basic medical supplies. He would be waiting behind our lines, ready to tend the inevitable wounded that would be dragged back to him. A handful of other griffons followed him, acting as both his assistants and guards for the day.
The sudden blare of a horn drew the sharp attention of everyone in the village, and snapped me out of my musings. I quickly ran over to the source of the noise, and found one of the militia gesturing wildly for our attention.
"Look! Something's in the woods over there!" The militiagriff pointed excitedly towards the forest.
Stepping up to the barricade myself, I was indeed able to make out movement of something large just inside the woods. At first I thought it might be another deer or boar, as had been the case several times over the past day. Jittery nerves sounding the alarm at the slightest provocation.
This time was different. Emerging from the brush, a small contingent of griffons appeared. They stood just at the edge of the treeline and stared at us across the crop fields. Even from this distance, I could make out the spears, axes, and shields they all carried.
Here were our bandits. After a brief survey, they disappeared back into the woods, no doubt to report their findings to the rest. Only a matter of hours now before they would arrive in full, and the extent of the challenge ahead of us could be understood.
It was time for the battle to begin.
As midday approached, the rest of our foes finally appeared from the woods and began to leer at Blackwood. I made a rough count of their numbers, and felt a cold sweat break out on my back. There must have been nearly fifty griffons milling about over there! Whether the spike in their numbers was the result of Cyril miscounting when he first spotted them, or if they had picked up some buddies in the past few days didn't matter much at this point.
The die was cast, as it were. All that was left was to see where it landed.
The mass of raiders paused as they surveyed our defenses, Though their scouts had undoubtedly informed them that we had prepared for their arrival, it didn't seem that they had spent the end of their march coming up with a plan. Instead I watched as the best-equipped among them congregated to decide on a course of action.
After a brief but heated debate, some of the smaller groups were shoved out in front to go prod at our lines. It was shaping up as if they were going to send out a wave of skirmishers against us first.
Maybe skirmishers wasn’t the right word though. Fodder was a good fit. None of the individual bands wanted to be the ones to test the waters against us, so the weakest groups were being forced into that role.
They protested of course, but the bandit leader shut them up with the promise of violence. A single powerful swing of that massive spiked club into the dirt was enough to intimidate the others into line.
That griffon was terrifying. Not only were they bigger than any griff I had seen up until now, they were decked out in more kit than anyone else on the field. I couldn't imagine myself being able to swing that war club so easily, but they moved as if it weighed nothing at all. The armor they wore had a dull gleam to it, but it didn't match the distinct mail armor of the other leaders. And it would be hard not to mention that closed face iron helmet.
It made them appear less than a person. They looked towards our barricades as the skirmishers set off, and I couldn’t help the shiver that ran up my spine at watching that cold faceless foe.
The skirmishers advanced slowly at first, splitting into two groups of around a half dozen griffons each. They picked their way forwards slowly, none willing to be first into the line of fire.
As soon as our archers started loosing arrows against them however, they took to the air to close the distance as fast as possible.
As they approached I noticed that they weren't just carrying their weapons.
Bundles of kindling hung in their claws, each one no doubt containing embers to ignite rooftops once dropped from overhead.
‘Shit, that’s not good. Not good at all.'
We had water buckets at the ready in case of a backhanded strategy like this, but in the dry summer sun there was no guarantee that a fire wouldn’t spread.
One of the bandits was struck down by our archers as they rushed towards us, screeching as they fell to the dirt. It wasn’t a fatal fall, and they scurried back to their lines instead of pressing the advance.
Stopping those fire carriers was priority number one. In order to reliably do so, we needed to get griffs in the air to intercept them.
I could already see a dozen griffons taking wing from Gunther's section, and turned to order the same.
“Alright listen up!” I hollered at my forces.
“We’ve got skirmishers flying in with embers to try and burn our homes to ash. But we aren’t going to give them the chance.” Spines stiffened in anticipation.
I pointed towards a dozen of my fifteen griffs. “I need the group of you to be ones to meet them in the air. Grab the javelins and get up there. Try and knock them out of air, but focus on keeping them out of the village, and away from the archers.”
I paused for a moment before tacking on. "And be careful, you have more than twice the numbers up there, but don't get cocky. That's how you get killed."
Glancing back to the village, the reservists were already spreading out to respond to potential fires. "The reserves will take care of anything that catches fire, so just focus on what's going on in the air. Understand!?" Rapid nods were my answer. “They’ll be on us any second now, go!”
With that the aerial fighters took to the air, and I craned my neck up to watch the skirmish unfold.
"Uh... what about the rest of us then, Geralt?"
Right, I forget to tell the others what we would be doing down here. "Our job is twofold. Finishing off any bandit knocked down before they get back up, and to help out any of ours who suffer the same fate."
And on a less magnanimous note, I didn't want to be stuck alone on the ground during a battle.
The bandit probe was nearly upon us, and every griffon on the ground had their eyes upwards to watch the results.
The numbers were already heavily stacked on our side, twelve against five. The bandits tried to weave through the flying infantry to get through the village, but were intercepted by the javelins.
It was hard for one flyer to hit another with a thrown weapon when both were weaving through the air. Even something as big as a griffon was a tough target when you only had a few days training. Of the seven javelins thrown, only two struck their targets.
One of the bandits thumped down into the dirt behind the barricade after being struck in the wing. The four of us on the ground rushed forwards and stabbed her from all sides before she could get up. The padded armor on her meant that they were probably the leader of this group of fodder.
The other had taken a hit straight to the barrel, and made no move after hitting the ground. A quick stab ensured that would stay the same.
All around me, the others were stamping out dropped kindling. The attackers must have elected to drop their payload as soon as they were attacked to fight back effectively.
Looking back up to the skies, I watched our flyers engage the remaining three bandits.
Either because of a lack of training, or the chaotic nature of air combat, two of the bandits were swarmed by most of the militia. The last backed up, unwilling to attempt a rescue action. I watched as the fighters weaved through the air, spears jabbing outwards to try and knock their foes from the sky.
The ones unlucky enough to be the center of attention fell in short order, unable to defend all directions at once. Once on the ground, it was simple enough matter to ensure that they stayed down after the fall.
The last bandit decided to dive down towards the ground, and was followed by two of the militia. At first I was glad that we were gaining on them, but things quickly turned. The brigand spun onto their back and slashed up using their spear.
The spear cut through the wing of one of the pursuers, and threw off their wingbeat. Carried by the momentum of their dive, they went straight down into the dirt.
We all immediately made a panicked rush to check on them, and the other chasing militiagriff flared their wings out to break the pursuit in a panic. The bandit immediately booked it back across the field towards their own camp, weaving through furious arrows all the way.
Reaching the fallen griffon, I was relieved to hear ragged wheezing coming from them. They were alive.
"Quickly! Get them to Felian! Go!" I shouted. Lifting them as gingerly we could, we rushed back to the village medical station.
Upon reaching Felian's position, we were greeted by the copper smell of blood. Two other griffons were already here, though neither were in as bad a shape as our casualty. To his credit, Felian was quick to recognize the extent of the damage. Broken ribs and probable internal damage was the diagnosis.
Before we could ask about the chances for them to live, Felian was already shooing us away. As we were pushed away to let him work, I caught the faint glow of magical medicine come out. Hopefully Felian could save them, but we had to return to the line before the main attack came.
As we returned to the rest of our group, I could tell that despite our victory, seeing someone they knew for perhaps their whole lives being carried limply away had shaken the villagers. It would take more than that to break us when we knew the costs of failure, but it reminded us of our own mortality.
I myself tried to put the image of the broken griffon to the back of my mind, and focus on the results of the probe.
We had indeed taken out a fifth of the enemy force with only a handful of wounded on our side. At the same time, only the dregs of their number had been sent against us. All the true fighters waited across the field from us, undoubtedly just waiting for the order to advance and wipe us out.
We had tipped our hand a little bit by using the javelins on the first strike, but I felt it was worth it to help minimize losses. Speaking of the javelins, I directed the militia to try and gather up both the javelins and the weapons of the fallen bandits. We would need as full a salvo as could be managed for the main attack.
While that was being done, I looked back towards the bandit army to see what their reaction to the whole affair was.
The few survivors had been absorbed by other bands, while the bandit captains flitted over to coagulate around their leader again. No doubt discussing their next move. We had gained ground in the balance of power certainly, but nothing was guaranteed in a battle, and they were just one reversal of fortune away from wrapping us up.
As they returned to their bands, I knew in my heart they reached the same conclusion I had. There would be no more probes, they would need bring their full weight to bear on us to break us.
The next attack would be the fulcrum of Blackwood's fate.
The bandits apparently weren’t interested in wasting any time today, and immediately began to organize themselves for a general advance on our position. Directly opposing me, the enemy leader stood at the head of his brigands.
As I peered across the fields at him, I felt a sudden shiver went up my spine. It felt like we were staring right at each other. The menace that damn bastard oozed from every pore was overwhelming. Something about the cold callous way that they acted just... screamed danger.
It wasn’t long before they began advance, marching forwards on the ground. The bandit leader had managed to wrangle his disparate forces together into a more consistent formation, and they advanced quickly across the fields.
As soon as our archers started peppering the enemy mass, their archers halted to answer in kind. Broadhead arrows flew back and forth, sending us ducking for cover behind the barricade.
There was a cry of pain from next to me, and I whipped my head around to see that one of the villagers had been struck in the shoulder with an arrow. She fell back from the line to treat the wound, but returned quickly once a bandage was applied. At least we had something to hide behind to minimize the impact.
Arrow fire from the archers dropped a handful of their number, but it was the javelins that left the biggest impact once again. The two dozen projectiles were launched in a haphazard volley from all along our defenses, and just under half of them found their mark in the loose formation. The powerful missiles made their mark with aplomb, wiping ten bandits from the field.
Though the impact slowed the advance as they stumbled over their fallen, I didn't have the time to appreciate the results of my creations. The bellowing of their leaders sent the remaining bandit infantry charging straight into our braced defenses.
The common brigand was not able to make much headway against our positions, but the bandit chiefs proved to be far more capable than their underlings. Armed and armored, they were able to push their way closer in, and with their help the bandits were able to force our line backwards.
In front of me, the bandit leader waded into the fray. They swung their war club like a hammer, batting away spearheads that scraped against scale armor that they were wearing.
“C’mon lads, get in there and kill them already!” The deep voice of the bandit leader boomed out as he pushed forwards towards our barricade. The bandits renewed their pressure on the line, those with shield and axe pushing us back while their spears consolidated gains in distance.
Once they reached the barricade, axes began to chop at the wood between blocking spear thrusts. Once they had deemed it sufficiently weakened, the bandit leader charged forwards to shatter it once and for all with a wild overhead strike.
With the barricade in ruins, they bandits began to push us back ever further. Unless something changed in the next few moments, we would start losing griffs. Once those dominoes began to fall, it wouldn't be long before our whole line collapsed.
The signal for that phase came in the worst way possible for me. The scaled bandit charged forwards and with a swing of their club, shattered the shaft of my billhook. In shock, I retreated backwards a few steps, and the rest of the line followed.
Well, most of the line. One poor griff had their weapon hooked in the retreat. They were yanked forwards, and quickly butchered by the advancing bandits.
The sight of that caused us to back up even further, past the flanking houses into a more open area. Here both sides began to spread out, us out of confusion and fear, and the bandits as they recklessly chased. At least in the more open space, our numerical advantage could show itself more as gaps opened up to attack bandits from the side.
Unfortunately for me, the bandit leader was intent on following up into me after he broke my billhook. But I was fortunate enough to have another weapon with me.
Taking as steady a breath as I could manage, I dropped the broken piece of wood. Sliding my sword from the scabbard, I braced for the oncoming threat.
The bandit commander charged in to end the duel as quickly as possible. They swung their war club at me in an overhead strike. Powerful, but slow, and only targeting a small area.
I jumped to the side to avoid the oncoming death, and tried not to think about the sudden gust of air as his strike passed me by.
Before they could recover, I slashed at his legs. He let out a small grunt of pain, the only indication besides the trickle of blood that I had done anything to him.
As I hopped backwards to make some space, it was made clear that the reach of our two weapons were not too dissimilar. I had the advantage in mobility here though, with the scale armor restricting their movement. At the same time, I had to get in closer to be able to strike downwards at their limbs. They were the only part of their body I could reliably damage with everything important sealed away.
I risked a quick glance around to see how the rest of the fights were going. The forced retreat turned to be what we needed to stabilize. While I had been forced back consistently, the others had held their own or even defeat their foes with the help of their comrades.
Not all of them though, I could recognize the shape of one of the villagers lying motionless in the dirt, the victorious bandit joining one of the other skirmishes going on.
The archers on our side opened up their bombardment again, having fallen back to stay away from the main battle. This added further pressure on the bandits, though with how close the fighting was the amount of arrows incoming was slowed drastically to avoid friendly fire.
Returning my gaze to the matter at hand, the bandit captain started making more conservative strikes with his weapon. The spikes on the head meant that he could rely on shorter side stabs as much as blunt trauma to kill me. These moves left me little potential to respond, and I switched over to the defensive.
Retreating ever backwards, I focused on the rhythm of their strikes. A single hit from that weapon would spell my end. Back and back, and back again. The constant pressure ate at my mind, and I searched for a way to flip the situation around.
Eventually, I saw my opportunity. As the bandit's strike passed by me, I moved forwards to close the distance. My intention was to jam my sword as deep as I could into the opening for their wing in the armor.
I made a mistake. On my strike, they raised their wing and caught my blade in their own flesh. I was shocked that they would let themselves be hacked into like that, and didn't notice their return strike.
Their armored head bashed into mine. Stumbling backwards, it was all I could do to raise my sword to stop their club from killing me right then and there.
'Oh, no no no!'
Sensing imminent victory, they moved to finish me off. The next strike knocked my sword from my claws. This was followed by a wide sweeping strike. Against an unarmed opponent, they had no reason to restrain their moves. Instead they fought with reckless abandon, fueled by bloodlust.
I dived to the side to avoid it. Down in the dirt, I looked up at my death. My mind went blank in terror as they sauntered over to me.
The sudden appearance of a spear saved me from my fate. Rapid jabs forced them backwards, as withdrew to consolidate their posture.
It seemed that I wouldn’t be fighting alone anymore. As I quickly crawled away from danger, I looked to see who my savior was.
It was Gunther! At the same time, cries of "for Blackwood!" announced to the other fighters that reinforcements had arrived.
Nearly a dozen more griffs joined the fray against the bandits. Gunther must have already beaten off the attackers at his section, and led the reserves to mine.
His timing could not have been better. The bandit ignored my wriggling flight, and directed all his attention to the new threat.
While the others moved to push back the common bandits, I retrieved my sword from the dirt and joined back up with Gunther.
Gunther had caught the bandit by surprise, but he was placed in a disadvantage as soon as focus shifted to him. He was quicker, both on his feet and with his spear than the bandit chief, but was hampered by a need to act cautiously. Without a backup weapon, he could not risk having his spear broken, else he would be crushed by the follow up strike much like he had saved me from.
I panted as I felt my muscles burn from the exertion of the day's fighting. Fighting was exhausting work.
It was then that I realized how we could beat this monster. If I was tired, then they must be getting damn near exhausted. They had not only had to run across a field to get here, but that huge weapon and their armor must be weighing them down a ton. Shaking my head, I tried to compare their current movements to the ones at the start of the fight.
Sure enough, their swings were slower, and they were less willing to make major changes in their stance.
Moving around to the side, I readied myself to end this. I doubted that I would be lucky enough to escape death again today, so I had to choose my time well.
Eventually, the bandit leader got sloppy, and overextended. They struck out with a strong forwards thrust against Gunther, and in doing so I caught a glimpse of the white feathers of their neck between the armor.
Sensing that the moment had come, I charged straight into the fight. Caught out of position, they had no chance to respond to my attack. They were far to sluggish this late in the battle.
Rushing in, I swung my sword at their neck in a huge overhead strike. Metal clanged on metal as I missed my goal, and smacked them on the back of the helmet.
The force of my blow carried the day however, as my longsword slid down the back of their outstretched helmet and into the neck.
Blade bit into flesh, and with a rapid sawing motion of my sword, it was over.
Upon seeing their leader's head hit the dirt, the remaining bandits broke and ran. Our winded forces made no immediate moves to pursue. Instead, we all took a moment to compose ourselves as they fled.
The fighting in the village had not come without cost, but we had slain their leaders and forced a retreat. While there was some fighting still to go, for all intents and purposes, we had won.
The surviving bandits had regrouped with their archers just outside of bow range, unsure of their next move. We were just preparing to sally out and finish this when a war horn blared out.
The bandit party immediately broke apart to flee in all directions, and it soon became apparent why. Emerging from the woods the bandits had originally come from, another group of griffons came charging out.
Rather than the motley collection of bandits or our own haphazard levy, these griffs were professionals. They wore chainmail over most of their bodies, with iron cuirasses and helmets, and they carried professional weapons suited to war.
They smashed into the routing bandits, and quickly tore them apart. I watched wide-eyed as the leading soldier swung a blade with a faint blue glow. That blade met the short sword of a bandit archer and cleaved through the metal like butter, taking the life of the bandit in the same stroke.
So magical weapons were a thing in this world. Cool. That blade defied any law of material properties that I could think of, so magic was the only explanation.
Though they tried to flee, the exhausted bandits were unable to escape from the soldiers, and were cut down like wheat in our fields. The whole affair was over in less than five minutes.
My militia and I watched slack-jawed at the professionalism and martial prowess on display in front of us. But before long, the attention of the soldiers turned towards our battered village and those defending it. The lead griffon with the fancy sword and two escorts approached us on foot, coming to a halt a few dozen paces before us.
“Well well well, I can honestly say that I’m surprised to see this place still standing!” The cheery voice of a male griffon broke through the tension in the air, before he removed his helmet to reveal pristine white feathers. This casual action caused his guards to stiffen at their lord’s insistence to expose himself on what was a few moments ago an active battlefield. “I was worried that we would only find a smoldering husk when we arrived, and at best I had hoped to fall upon the knaves while they looted! You, my good griffs, have proven me wrong. I had underestimated the valiant bravery of the people who call this village home!”
The villagers around me puffed out their chests with pride at the praise. “And I hope that tonight, you will allow me and my knights to celebrate this grand victory with you! We have wine that needs to be drunk, and it is always better shared with a comrade! So would you be willing to allow us into the village?”
"That's Lord Silas! He must have been chasing the bandits. No wonder they all grouped up," one of the villagers next to me whispered in awe.
I guess that settled it then, we could hardly refuse our sworn lord from entering part of their own domain. Especially after they just wiped out the surviving bandits with such ease.
I stepped up to the wreck of the barricade and cupped my claws to my beak to answer. “Of course Lord! We welcome you and your noble knights to the village of Blackwood!”
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Very nice!
good to see this again, curious to see more of this Silas character
With one line, Lord Silas has either showed his level of controversy or his poor taste in jokes.
Wonder which one.
Pacing is really refleshing..With something note worthy happening in an each chapter. Enjoying the fiction so far. Keep at it
despite them already having won, it's probably good silas showed up when he did.
I wonder if he'll offer geralt a place in his army? It's not often an untrained man can effectively defend against a better equipped group
11505562
I use British English for most conventions, so practise is used as the verb form, and practice becomes only used for the noun.
Felian owns a apothecary practice, where he will pratise medicine.
I have absorbed some American spelling, but old habits remain.
this is really refreshing to read and it does not feel rushed at all just keep at the pace you going lad.
so it's that guy's fault...
Be careful. I don't trust this guy.😑
This story is gonna be interesting I always love a good world building story and this one is refreshing to see
I see... He must've been planning to use the village as sacrificial position to try and lure the bandits in. Then, they'd box them in the village and end them that way. From a military standpoint, I have to admit that that's a sound strategy. Still a mega dick move, though.