Grace, Please Lead Me Home (5/5)

     Nom marched over to his new position.  The Urian cavalry ahead and to the right of him made yet another charge into the Ueklandian flank.  The barbarians were pushed backward, a large portion of their outermost column trampled or speared.  The infantry and cavalry formed a right angle, surrounding their foes and continually battering them.  As the cavalry retreated, Sir Connor swung wider and rode up near Nom.

     “How are you feeling?” he asked.  His spear was severely bloodstained.

     “Not very well, but I’m strong enough to fight,” Nom replied.

     “We could use your help in our left center.  Our bowmen have been overrun.  Get on; I’ll ride you over there.  This area is pretty secure.”

     Nom walked over and mounted Sir Connor’s auburn charger, dry-heaving and digging his heels into its sides as it sped to a canter.  Nom’s broadsword, freshly cleaned, was sitting in his scabbard at his side.  It wouldn’t be of much use however, for it was almost too heavy for him to wield in his left hand while he was still unstable from being hung-over.  The only other weapon Nom had was a dagger on his left hip, but using such a short weapon against the long-hafted axes of the Ueklanders would be folly.

     The battlehorse sped past the entire right side of the battlefield, a quarter mile of scattered melees.  The Urians were winning for sure here, but from what could be hurt on the left side from this distance it did not sound like it was the same there.  Sir Connor stopped his horse just past the center of the field, allowing Nom to dismount.

     “I’m going to help out the left flank.  May Remish bring you strength,” he said, and rode off.  Nom looked around.  The Urian defense here was down to its last three lines in some places, and if it collapsed than the Ueklanders could get behind the other soldiers and wreak utter havoc.  Nom pushed through the last lines, which consisted of heavily trained halberdiers to Nom’s relief, and unsheathed his sword barely in time to parry an oddly equipped Ueklandian swordsman.

       Nom hacked the oppressor down, then another, until he was heavily winded.  Nom took a moment to breathe, looking down for only a fraction of a second.  Unfortunately it was too long.  A Ueklander sprinted toward him and swung at him with an iron mace.  Nom lifted his sword to block the strike, but the force was enough to knock it from his hand.  The brave assailant extended his arm and brought it down on Nom’s unprotected head.  Nom stood for a moment, drew his dagger, and stabbed the man.  The world tinted dark.  Then all went black.