Brave Men Die: Part 2 by Dan Adams Page B

hundred men roared through the Fatelli Pass, a rumbling that shook the mountains. The Fists had parted to allow them through, the crash of the hooves thundering down the pass. They easily overran the last few Kyzantines that took a stand and fled on foot. Blades hit the backs of heads, blood sprayed as the bodies fell. The riders never paused.
    The Kyzantines on horseback kept the pace and the distance between their pursuers. The fifty outraced the five hundred hurtling through the pass. The riders weaved in and out of the shadows until finally the pass widened into the valley. The high speed chase raced out of the pass and into the sun-covered valley.
    Emerging into Cerebus Valley, the wave of heat hit Cronos in the face. He grinned and bore it, determined to chase them down. Noise erupted all around him and alarm bells went off in his head. He kept up the pace and frantically looked behind him over both shoulders. On the left a unit of cavalry had charged into his flank halfway back along the column. On the right an infantry unit was running to attack the other side.
    Making his decision, he turned his mount around to the right and led his unengaged knights into the flank of the lightly-armoured infantry. The front half of the Fangs turned in a wide arc, the horses ripping up the grass as their hooves found purchase. As the knights turned they spread out in a long line, the baron at the centre. Lances lowered at the enemy, they charged across the grassy plain and hit as one, impaling the unguarded flank. Soldiers were thrown off their feet as the lances punctured flesh and muscle trampled those pinned underneath.
    ‘Fight your way to the back of the column!’ Cronos yelled. ‘Don’t let them trap us in a pincer!’
    The dying screams of his men echoed in his ears. Geysers of blood erupted into the sky as blades were driven into his knights, the arms of the enemy driving steel into his men. Cronos’ contingent swept across the front of the Kyzantine infantry, protecting his own flank as Byrn charged by with his squad in tow.
    ‘With me!’ Byrn screamed above the din of battle.
    Two dozen of the Fangs followed him as the old master of arms swung around and went barrelling back into the enemy.
    Kryst yelled at the stragglers to reform ranks as he began marching with those already assembled. Blood dripped down the side of his face as he screamed, ‘Left, right, left. Keep in line you bastards!’ Spit flew from his mouth as he stirred the fighting spirit into his troops.
    Pollux marched in the middle of the unit, his sword in hand. He looked around for Octans but the giant of a warrior was nowhere to be seen. There was no point looking over his shoulder, Octans would only be at the front of the unit. That was the focus. Moving forward. There was no turning back, not when there was so much at stake.
    Within moments the sounds of battle drifted to them, the clash of metal and the screams of the wounded, battle cries and horses.
    Kryst ordered the full charge and the Fists and the Sentinels raced down the pass. Lines were forgotten as the faster men took off, legs pumping as they hurtled to the valley. Pollux raced forward, passing the slower men as sweat dripped from his face, down the back of his neck and spine. He was one of the first to see the corpses of Murukan knights and their mounts stricken on the valley floor. He could see others performing a fighting retreat, and some fighting frantically for their lives pinned between the two forces.
    ‘Attack the flank!’ Pollux screamed as he picked up the pace, sweat dripping further down his back. He ran out of the pass into the brilliant sunlight and toward the left, leaping onto the back of a slain horse and springing off it. Holding his sword high he flew through the air and sliced through the body of a passing Kyzantine knight. The man screamed as Pollux’s weapon tore through him and others turned to face the new threat.
    The Fists and Sentinels crashed into the