TotW 134 - Sound the Horn - POLL
Sound the Horn
Two votes per person
Submission 1:
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:I shivered, the morning air cut through my very soul. The cold steel of my sword handle burned my palm as I grasped it. My shield, dented and cracked, lay heavy upon my arm. I leaned down slightly and whispered in the ear of my mount, calm words of reassurance for the fight that was to come. He snorted, as if in disbelief, we were outnumbered, our mere thousand standing against this mighty host an assembly of men. We stood no chance. None. Yet orders are orders and who am I, a common soldier, to stand up against them.
"Steady..." I whispered to my horse once more, no, not horse, friend, for he was my friend, the very best of them. He had carried me through wars, thick and thin he had stayed with me, we had become brothers in arms protecting each other on the field, and now I was taking him to certain death, and the feeling in the pit of my stomach filled me with dread. Could I willingly sacrifice him? Should I?
The answer resounded round my head, screaming at me, "NO" it shouted forcefully, threatening to break my will and sap my courage. Threatening to turn me in defiance and make me charge back to my home, my farm. To my wife and children. So that I and my brother could be safe...
The horn rang out, it's deep note carrying along the ranks, finding me, boring into my tumultuous mind. Too late, I resigned myself, the inevitable would occur, I would charge, I would risk the life of my mount for the glory of my masters. Our mounts took a step forward, beasts stamped at the ground, preparing to spring forward into action. I patted my mounts neck reassuringly, as he began to move. I looked left and right, a line of faceless riders as far as the eye could see. Yet I felt alone, not even the comfort of a ride, could take away this cold dread that filled me.
We charged that morning, through that valley, towards the enemy line. I screamed my defiance against the enemy, as did my comrades. Steam poured of the backs of our horses as they galloped. The sight must have been stunning, a thousand riders, clad in shining armour, pennants snapping in the wind. Adrenaline filled me, exhilaration of the charge, we would make it, my horse and I. We would face the enemy with their pikes and barely concealed grinds, and we would win. One hundred paces to go and we would survive...
Fifty paces...dread filled me
Forty paces...our enemies grinned in anticipation
Thirty Paces...no, I cannot go further
Twenty paces...I must turn back
Ten paces...it is too late...
Submission 2:
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Sound the Horn
Ride! Ride! Ride for our doom, our foes dismay, ride today,
Men of War, your weapons to hand, ride you mighty host,
Into the maw we thunder, shield at back, sword in hand,
With mighty roar, the valley walls echo our cries away.
On! On! On we gallop, through the trees, down the mountains,
Our horses powerful ‘neath us, the wind in their manes,
With lance and axe, sword and bow, our burdens they bear,
Eyes wide open, ears pricked up, with us to war they go again.
Flea! Flea! Flea you men of the soil, for war takes no heed,
Farmer, Soldier, Knight, or Child, the battle is hungry for bodies,
Blood will flow, and guts will spill, the Gods of War and battle laugh,
The Gods will slake their thirst, ‘tis our blood and yours they need.
Woe! Woe! Woe to our enemies, for death and despair we bring,
With mighty crash and fearsome noise, into their midst we charge,
An assembly of soldiers, fear in their eyes, no match for our onslaught,
Shield broken, spear and sword thrown down, of glorious death we sing.
Death! Death! Death in our wake, Hells gates are open, Hood awaits,
Our enemies struck down, brave riders of our host are all the same,
More souls his fires to feed, a thrust, a smash, another one dies,
My sword arm wearies, but another goes to his destiny, death his fate.
Awake! Awake! Awake my brothers, the battle is fought, the victory won,
With man and beast butchered, bodies strewn far and wide,
The Glory is red and bloody, the toll paid is high, friend and brother,
Lying in their mounds, all pale and dead, but tomorrow still rises the sun.
Submission 3:
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:Through the night the sound is soft. There are always a few horses stirring. There are always riders securing the camp. The sound doesn't stop, it is the heartbeat of the gathered host.
The horn echos through the valley; the first assembly call.
Warhorses begin to pace. The great beasts paw the earth as they stand for tack and armor. Men hear the sounds of the camp, but not the rising drum of hooves. Like their own hearts quickening to wakefulness, it is a constant background, present always beneath their awareness.
Again the horn; the second call.
Riders climb into their saddles. Units gather. The sound of a hundred hundred hooves rumbles in the still morning air. Miles away the enemy knows they are coming. In the camp the riders joke as soldiers will, or utter quiet prayers. They do not raise their voices. It is louder, but it is no more for them to speak over it than it is for them to speak over the beating in their own breasts.
The final call.
Units form into columns. Flankers extend to their posts. Bands of outriders gallop ahead. Like a mighty beast the host begins to move. The sound rises to a roar that shakes the hills. Still it is not heard by the cavalry. It is their heartbeat, their background.
The cavalry doesn't notice the sound as long as it continues. Like their own heartbeat, they will not be around to notice if it ever stops.
Submission 4:
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Giorgi was out hunting when he heard the sound of the horn; a sound that made his heart plummet. That sound was unmistakable. The horde was coming.
Instinctively, Giorgi threw himself to the ground, hoping to go unnoticed by the nearby riders. The horn's call was loud enough for the young Armenian hunter to determine that the horde was very close by. Slowly, but surely, he crawled up to the edge of a ridge, and peeked over to gaze upon a most horrific sight.
There they were, hundreds of them, milling about atop their mighty steeds. Timurids, they were, out here to do what they did best: rape and pillage everything in sight. Such a destructive force could not be contained. Yet for decades, Giorgi and his people had withstood the wrath of these savages and their equine beasts of burden. Somehow, the people of Armenia had held out against wave after wave of these ruthless men. Years ago, it seemed as if the Timurids had finally learned their lesson and left them in peace. With them gone, hope emerged that peace would one day return to the lands of Armenia. The sound of their horn though shattered any of that hope though.
As Giorgi gazed upon the vast assembly of warriors before him, he could not help but tremble. It slowly dawned on him that these Timurids would stop at nothing to see their bidding done. There was nothing he, or any Armenian could do against such a foe, whose sole purpose seemed to the the outright annihilation of anything and everything Armenian.
Yet, as the Timurid horde began to move out, the gallop of their horses kicking up a thick dust storm in the process, Giorgi too found himself on the move through the idyllic woodland he so dearly called home. No matter how stacked the odds were against his people, he could not leave them to the mercy of these Timurid raiders. He had to warn his people, and give them some time to prepare for the wrath that was to come.
Not many contestants this time, but happy voting nonetheless
Good luck all 
Originally Posted by Schrödinger
