He surged free of a knot of the enemy that was still fighting and screamed gesturing after me with his sword, "To Roric men! To Victory!"
He surged after me waving his bloody sword in a call to arms, as screaming warriors pulled away from finishing off the rest of the enemy, to charge madly towards the bigger battle ensuing on the plain. Passed over enemy lancers wheeled their mounts toward the south and home as the Valley Lander cavalry surged in a screaming mass of raw emotion after their leaders and the greater battle raging on the plain.
Flin stretched out in a pace eating cantor. Flin's sweat soaked sides heaved for air as we caught up with fleeing enemy cavalrymen one by one. I sent them toppling from their saddles with savage strokes of my sword. Ahead of us I saw the pressed ranks of the enemy and I urged Flin onwards toward them screaming insanely in my desire to destroy them all.
We plowed into them full tilt. The impact almost sent Flin to his knees, but he regained his stride and we carved our way into them once again lost in the bloodlust of the moment.
One by one front running Valley Lander cavalry plowed into the enemy and then thousands hit the panicking enemy line with deadening force.
The heavy cavalry swept through the Zoarinian ranks with the tenacity of a sheep dog through a herd of sheep and the enemy reacted as sheep. The Zoarinian army as a whole visibly wavered, as they saw that their supporting cavalry was gone and that they were being attacked from all sides.
Surrounded and disheartened by a campaign that had promised easy victory, but had only delivered them losses, they broke. The will to fight was gone, only to be replaced with a desperation to live.
The broken soldiers rushed past the onrushing cavalry towards the shore and the ships at anchor beyond. Thousands more of them fell in their headlong rush to the sea, as they were hounded by the Valley Landers and their allies as savagely as a pack of wolves would run down a lame elk.
I drew up in the sand and watched as the survivors of the broken army swam out into the sea with a strength and fervor born out of desperation. The ships had come in close to pick up the survivors and they began to loose off arrows at us. I gave the order to pull back from the beach to avoid further casualties on our side. The battle was won.
Upon hearing excited screams ring out all around me I turned in the saddle to look back once more at the escaping soldiers. The enemy ships dotting the shoreline were shaking and pitching around like they were the chew toys of some massive unseen hound. Had they run aground?