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Crown of the Grand Horn

A Tale of Toros Warriors

By Patrick MarreroPublished 3 years ago 7 min read
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Crown of the Grand Horn
Photo by Christian Wiediger on Unsplash

Ortiana was a land of chaos and blood, broken in ages past when kings held petty wars for personal pride. None can tell when the fall happened, which army ran amuck where, only that the old castles were in ruins and lands shattered to separate villages. Now it was ruled by the sword, the horse lords of the north and barbarian hordes of the south would not let the bloodshed end. Any village had to spend its days worrying about an attack, rest and peace were far off dreams.

On this day, just before the dawn, a man looked to change all that. Atop a cliff face, looking down upon a raiding band of horse lords, sat a lone figure. It the silence of the early twilight he was unmoving, eyes never leaving the camp below. He only reached forward to pet the neck of his mount, a bull of great size with both a saddle and metal plates over its head. Suddenly he put an arm up, motioning someone. From the darkness came another man, this time on a smaller bull.

“Sir Riticaus, the warriors are ready. We are saddling the last of the great horns now.” The man said. Riticaus didn’t look at him, instead he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Can you feel it in the air?” he asked. The man didn’t respond. “How many times have we run from them, how many times have we died? They come and come, trampling us under hoof. Lawlessness and chaos abound. But today that will change.”

“We will unify this land sir, repair what has been broken.”

“Perval, we will do more than unify. We will cleanse it.” Riticaus declared. “You and I, they chased us down like a hunt. Then, by providence, a bull charges in and scares off all their horses. It was a sign, a sign to tame these noble animals and chase out the vile riders.”

“Of course sir. Since the old kings fell they have run rampant. I will have the swords sharpened and oiled now. It will be done in the hour.” Perval declared. Riticaus nodded back.

“With the sun to our backs.” The leader stated.

***

Less than an hour had passed, and atop the cliff in a slope going down stood a line of armored bulls. Years of breeding making them able to stand together instead of fighting for dominance. Atop the noble beasts were men in chainmail, spears and curved sword ready to loose upon their foes. Riticaus was at the center, holding a grown with horns protruding outward. With some ceremony he lifted it high and placed it upon his head, the warriors to his sides lifting simple helmets.

“I made a promise to you all, a promise of a better world. The barbarians to the north and south have harmed us, and I promised you vengeance. The lands are chaotic, and I promised order. You all come from different places, with a story all your own. You have trusted me this far, and though I did not ask for it you declared that I would be king if we are victorious.” He took hold of his sword as he spoke the words, eyes every stuck on the still sleeping enemy. “I give my word, we will take this day, and the next. We are the Toros Warriors, and our charge is unstoppable! Charge!”

And with that the entire formation stormed forward. The horse lords below woke quickly, the sound so familiar to their own. They were not coordinated, for they were a large band and few would dare attack them. They all looked up the slope, but the sun blinded them. Those that could see paled, the line of horns charging filled them with dread. The ran about to gather weapons, jump upon their steeds without saddles, anything to defend themselves. But it did little, the horses were frightened of what they saw. They all but ripped their posts from the ground, fleeing the charge. The battle was not much better.

The bulls trampled over anyone in their path, goring many horse lords in their way. Horses themselves, those that did stay or could not get away in time, were pierced. Any defense was cast aside, for the plates upon the bulls heads stopped any spear attack and the riders would slay the horse lords near them. It was a sweeping affair, the enemy could do little save scramble for a chance of living. Riticaus was in the thick of the fighting, slashing left and right, limb from body. He did not stop, not until he saw one horse leaving with its rider. The horse was overlarge, loaded with saddle bags that shined. The raid leader, farthest from the attack, had managed to mount his horse and run. Riticaus would not allow this, turning his bull and put his hand to the creature’s head. A silent agreement, and understanding, and the beast charged with force. Any in its path were swept away, there was only a single focus on the retreating raider. Riticaus reached to his said, a small spear tied to the bull, and he threw with all his might. I saw as it impacted the rider’s arm, taking him from his horse and to the ground. Once the man hit the dirt Riticaus leapt from his own mount and pointed toward the horse. The bull left him, chasing it down while leaving the two warriors alone. The horse lord rose and pulled a sword from his side, a small one-handed thing covered in rust.

“You planned to buy a new sword? Since when did merchants return?” Riticaus asked. The horse lord didn’t answer, instead charging. Riticaus slashed to the side, his curved sword taking the blade on the guard and deflecting it with ease. The raider struck again, and again in succession, but it didn’t do much. Riticaus was able to block and dodge every strike. “On a horse you are lethal, but you don’t know how to fight on the ground.” He said, growing bored. With a final swing Riticaus slapped the short sword away and grabbed the raider’s collar. With no ceremony he stabbed his sword forward, pulling it free and walking away without a word. He was done now, and needed to return. Without the leader a horse lord raiding party was easy to defeat, he had little doubt his warriors had won.

With a loud whistle he called to his grand horn, a title given to the largest bulls, and the beast returned. Tangeled in its horns were packs full of loot but little blood. Ridicaus pulled them free and attached them to the saddle, plunder was a part of the plan, even simple plunder like this. He raced back toward the battle, he was ready to see it put to rest.

Upon his return he had found the battleground quiet. The bulls were grazing, not a horse in sight, and more dead bodies than he knew what to do with. His own warriors did not seem to have lost a member; the attack was a shocking success in that regard. Parvel approached him soon after arrival.

“None have escaped sir, we have a few prisoners but we don’t believe them to be of the horse lords properly. They are most likely captives.” He explained, surveying the land. “I did not think it would be so easy.”

“They are used to targets running away, not actually fighting them. They are well trained to fight from the top of a horse, but on the ground they are unskilled.” Riticaus stated. He then spoke with a booming voice, capturing everyone’s attention. “Today was a single day, the first of many. We charged into them like the bulls we ride, we cut them down to the last. None live now, and soon we will scour the world of them. Rise your weapons my brothers, call to any gods who will hear us. We will bring our world to order, we will slaughter all the barbarians, and we will take this land eternal!”

They all cheered; weapons waved in the air. Riticaus smiled at them all, for he was proud. Today they showed they had to skill, tomorrow they would show they have the determination. These were his warriors, the Toros Warriors, and he was their Grand Horn.

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