The Last Satyr: The Company is Formed Part 1

The cavalry of the Rim Riders gathered outside of the cavernous opening of the Deep Hai. King Grendel awaited his scout’s reports, which now arrived.

“The drow have pulled back with the dawn, for the light hurts their eyes, but there are many inside,” his captain Hanult reported.

“Then we shall kill the many,” said the king.

“We most certainly shall,” agreed Hanult. “They do not appear to be expecting an attack.”

“It means their bats have failed them and they shall pay the price,” Grendel replied, fitting on his helmet.

Someone else was approaching—a man on horseback leading six black horses, one a pony. It was Captain Arathorn.

“I see you have returned,” stated the king. “Are Graybeard and his company in position?”

“They should be soon. They had entered a deep mine when I left them.”

“Did the bats find you?”

“No, my King,” replied Arathorn. “They did not.”

“More good news,” said Grendel. “This may be a good day after all. Assemble the men! I will address them before we charge.”

Deep underground, the four boys and the old keeper continued to work their way down into the mine. Every so often, they stopped and listened.

They were listening for drow guards ahead, talking to one another.

After a long while, Ronthiel heard their voices, and they stopped.

“We dare go no further for now,” whispered Graybeard, “for if Ronthiel can hear them, they can hear us.”

They sat and waited.

“How shall we know when they’re gone?” asked Joe in a quiet voice.

“We won’t hear them anymore,” said Graybeard.

“But what if they don’t leave?”

“They will. Now be quiet and listen.”

“Riders of the Rim!” King Grendel addressed his some two thousand riders. “Today we strike a blow at the heart of an old enemy, an enemy that means us harm. We have caught them unawares. Their foul bats have failed to warn them! We stand at the top of their stairs. Oh! We shall not go down too deep after them, but we shall cut off the head of that which sticks out at the top! They think themselves safe within that cavern. We shall prove them wrong! Remember that one man on a horse is worth three drow on the ground. Kill all that you can and as fast as you can. Make them sound their alarms! Let the drow know fear! But do not venture in too far. Let as many of us ride back out as who rode in. When you cannot trust your eyes, turnabout! And trust your horse. When he will go no further, then so shall you go no further! This is a day for the drow to die and for men to triumph! Attack!” he cried, “Attack!”

“Attack!” the men shouted in unison. “Death to the drow!”

And then he led the way forward, and two thousand men on horses followed.

Half a league, half a league, half a league onward, and towards the Cavern of Death rode the two thousand.

"Forward, Riders of the Rim! Charge!"

They rode up the stone escarpment that led to the massive entrance, a single, solid wave of charging horses.

They knew not what lay ahead, dismay for certain. Yet theirs not to reason what or why. Theirs to do or die. Into the Cavern of Death rode the two thousand.

Inside the cave, the drow, and orc servants raised their heads at an unfamiliar sound. They had not heard it before. At first, they thought it was an approaching storm. Some set aside their food trays to stand up and shade their eyes to look towards the entrance.

The clatter of hooves on the rock entrance echoed like an approaching storm, heralding the charge of the Rim Riders. Suddenly, like a wave crashing upon a shore, the horsemen swept over the escarpment and into the Cavern of Death, their swords and spears glinting in the dim light. Onward they came, drow to their left. Orcs to their right. The enemy was caught unprepared. Few even had their weapons and, of these, none were drawn. They turned, instinctively, to flee. Yet caught in the chaos of the onslaught, their efforts were in vain. They were mercilessly cut down by the oncoming tempest behind, their bodies falling like so much rain, and their cries lost amidst the thunderous hooves and clamor of the charging horde.

The clatter of hooves and the ringing of a storm of swords against swords filled the air. Onward they came, brave and bold. Into the jaws of Death, into the mouth of hell, rode the two thousand.

Duty called and, as one rider together, the men delivered it. Swords flashed and turned in the air. They cut the enemy down here, cut them down there. Onward! Onward rode the two thousand.

Through the enemy lines they broke. Drow and orc alike reeled from the sabre stroke as their blood flew by the buckets.

Wild panic seized the enemy. They ran headlong back towards the dark depths whence they came. The retreating drow and orcs were caught in a whirlwind of chaos, their panicked flight resembling leaves scattered by a gusty wind. Yet they could not outrun horses. For every step they took to the rear, one of them died, skewered from behind. The horsemen, a relentless force, pursued them with deadly determination, cutting them down like a scythe through a field of grain. Though the horsemen were outnumbered, there was no chance for the enemy to become organized. As a mob, they fled, and as a mob, they died with their backs turned to the blades of men.

“Sound the alarm!” ordered the drow woman officer in command as she watched the retreating mob coming towards her. “Drop the nets! And bring forth the wall crawlers!”

Orcs and drow jumped to obey her orders. Chaos must be returned to order. A huge bell was rung, its ring deafening to all. It drowned out even the screams of panic as the drow army continued in its mad retreat. The tolling of the iron bell resonated through the cavern, a mournful dirge that reverberated like thunder through the earth. Its eerie melody served as both a call to arms and a funeral dirge, marking the demise of the drow’s advantage and the rise of the human onslaught.

“Listen,” said Ronthiel. “What is that sound?”

Dong! Dong! Dong!

It had the most unearthly metal sound to it. It rang right through the earth like distant, rolling thunder.

Dong! Dong! Dong!

“It is a bell,” said Graybeard with a gentle smile. “It spreads the alarm.”

There was a commotion of drow voices ahead in the distance.

Dong! Dong! Dong!

“Listen!” said Graybeard. “You can learn about drow from this. They are difficult to organize for they do not trust one another. Because of that, they shall now argue on what to do.”

The drow voices grew louder, apparently in disagreement.

“Some will want to go forward and some will want to go back,” predicted Graybeard.

Quietly, they moved forward close enough to watch, the bell covering any noise they made.

The drow guards were moving up head but splitting up into two groups. Those that moved to the left were moving uphill. Those that moved to the right were going downhill.

“Ours is the path to the right,” said Graybeard, starting forward.

The boys followed him.

“Dong! Dong! Dong!”

The iron bell reverberated over their heads as the horsemen continued to run down the enemy, who were not only plentiful but made easy targets of themselves by trying to run away. The bell made a terrifying noise that went on and on.

“That bell makes a terrible racket,” complained Hanult, catching up with his king what was busily hacking away at his foes. “Shall I have the archers bring down the bell ringers?”

“No! Let it ring!” cried the king. “It spreads the alarm to those below! It is not meant for these here whose sensitive elf ears cannot stand it. We shall use it twice over. For it brings up more from below and away from our friends while making those here easier to kill!”

But the way ahead was now being blocked. A great net of rope was hastily being raised ahead to prevent the horses from going any further. It was raised so quickly that thousands of orcs and drow were caught on the wrong side of it as well.

“Keep killing the enemy and hack your way through that rope!” ordered the king.

Only now another net fell—this one from the ceiling of the cavern. It dropped on them like a spider’s web, covering horse and rider and drow and orc alike and stopping all.

“Back!” ordered the king, chopping at it. “Everyone! Back! Fight your way back!”

The horses turned about, but the going was slowed now due to the net over them. Horse and hero fell. Some tried to hack their way through the fallen net, while others continued to hack away at the many drow and orcs left under it.

Then a shower of darts fell upon them, killing orc, drow, horses, and men alike. They came from above.

“Wall riders!” King Grendel shouted. “Everyone! Get out! Archers! Kill those wall riders!”

Above them, huge, creeping lizards crawled forward on the cavern ceiling, wearing saddles and bearing drow riders. Their riders used not bows but poisoned darts launched by a complex crossbow. A shower of human arrows was sent upwards and a few of the lizards and their riders fell.

But their forward progress had ended. Their inevitable retreat had begun.

“Back!” cried the king. “Back! Everyone back to daylight and the Rim!”

Back, back they rode, but not the two thousand.

The drow and orcs did not pursue as to give chase meant facing the light of day shining through the entrance and which they could not bear. So the wall riders went little further, content to drive the invaders out. It took a while for the men to clear themselves of the net dropped down on them, but they eventually made their way out of the cavern of Deep Hai.

And, the entire time, the bell tolled.

The vast majority of the king’s men escaped. They had lost perhaps two hundred men as we count today or “twenty tens” as they counted then. In turn, they had easily killed six to ten thousand of the enemy or “six to ten anthills” as they counted then.

As the raid was a success, the king and his men turned back to their own land. As they rode east, the king noticed a black, rider-less horse keeping up with him.

“I recognize that horse,” said the king. “Whose is it?”

“It belonged to Captain Arathorn of the border guard,” answered Hanult, riding alongside. “He fell in the cavern to a dart and did not come back with the rest of us.”

“Pity,” said the king. “He was a brave man. Let's hope the six he escorted do better.”