Kellanved's Reach

Down the distant treeline, Gregar noted columns of crossbowers running double-time in support. One such large unit wore black tabards, which surprised him mightily; no one had dared wear black since the hated Talian hegemony.

Seeing a possible opening, the Rath heavy cavalry – including King Styvell of Rath and his personal troop of sworn bodyguards – went thundering for the opposing lines.

At that commitment of forces, the Abyss itself seemed to open up across the entire valley as every unit now surged into sudden movement. Gregar lost track of who was going where and he gave up any hope of knowing who was winning or losing. Orders came down the Yellows lines to double up and that at least made good sense to him. He levered his spear outwards to signal that he was expecting a charge any time through the flying mud and churning ground mists.

Complete disorder only increased as broken bands of cavalry now came charging back and forth, all but destroying any idea of set lines – it was now a milling melee of massed cavalry circling and shouldering one another. And to Gregar’s gathering horror the main bulk of the press was now heaving their way.

Yellows infantry peered about in a panic for instructions as the wall of horseflesh came lurching towards them. ‘Lower spears!’ Gregar bellowed, but the command was lost under the cacophony of clashing weapons and screaming wounded horses.

The melee was so disordered that knights actually unintentionally backed over the Yellows line, presenting their mounts rump-first to the flinching infantry who frankly did not know what to do, as the chaos included lords and knights from both sides all milling together and bashing away at each other.

Gregar was not so discriminating as he jabbed at any horse that came close. The Yellows lines were effectively cut in two as the melee rolled over them, and Gregar wanted to throw down his spear in impotent frustration. Once the main scrum passed, he called in the surviving Yellows troopers to form a small defensive circle. From here, colours still raised high, he watched in growing confusion as through the chaos he perceived Gris cavalry pursuing Nitan forces across the field – though they were supposed to be allies.

This left the rest of the opposing allies in utter and complete disarray. Even to Gregar’s inexperienced eye the immense gap it opened among the enemy forces was glaring. The largest remaining cohesive body of knights and nobles, the main Vorian contingent including King Gareth, now commanded the centre of the field. But instead of pressing the advantage and scattering the disordered Grisian allies once and for all, to Gregar’s complete disbelief horns sounded a recall and the entire mounted force curved round and charged in the opposite direction, abandoning the field.

He watched them go with his mouth hanging open, completely stunned.

Next to him, even Haraj grasped the significance of this betrayal. ‘We are so fucked,’ he announced.

‘We have to retreat,’ Gregar answered. Frantically peering round, he spotted a copse of woods to the south and pointed in that direction. ‘South!’ he half bellowed and half screamed. Urging, shouting, clapping shoulders, he managed to get the defensive circle of remaining Yellows lights lurching that way.

Their path took them over a trampled portion of their original position and here he had to step over the broken remains of Sergeant Leah, among so many others. He gently pressed closed her wide staring eyes, and crossed her hands over her bloodied breast. As to the fate of Master-sergeant Teigan and the rest of the far distant Yellows lines, he had no idea.

As they went they gathered up stragglers from other broken elements, a few unhorsed knights, stray skirmishers and such, and gradually, from these sources from distant disparate portions of the field, a picture slowly emerged of just what in Hood’s name had actually happened.

It seemed that out of nowhere Nita had suddenly turned on other Grisian allies positioned next to them, opening up a section of the lines that Bloor surged through. Yet it seemed that Gris was not entirely surprised, as they immediately abandoned that flank and surged round to take Bloorian allies on the opposing side. From then on it was complete and utter chaos.

Gris heavy cavalry sought out the Crimson Guard across the field, trampling every force in their way, friend or foe. Nita kept after the Duke of Athrans, pursuing his personal mounted troop entirely off the field, while for some inexplicable reason Rath elements lost all direction and order and became field ineffective.

And after all this, when Vor, as the last remaining even slightly cohesive force, was poised to win the day, at the decisive moment King Gareth sounded the recall and the Vorian cavalry and supporting infantry suddenly, and unaccountably, abandoned the field.