Interlude, sometime earlier

Alister Yinara struggled to keep the calmly contemplative look on his face as he watched his army slowly bleeding to death in front of him. He’d miscalculated, he realized that now. He had been at Silverstone keep when the first reports of the incursion arrived. He hadn’t even finished drawing up the orders he intended to send out when more reports began to flood in. Warbands were raiding all along this portion of the border with the Umbraian.

The news had changed his plans, he had seen this tactic before. A large band would secure a central location while smaller warbands raided every farm in the area, taking the recently harvested crops, all the cattle and even his people for food. Wither weeks, not only would all the warbands have met up, far more creatures would also have flooded out of the woods, using the stolen food and wagons for the supply train they would need for a campaign.

Now believing he had understood the threat, he had changed his orders. He sent riders to all the nearby garrisons, ordering that they send all their cavalry and mounted infantry, as well as every single mage and sorcerer they had, to Shadowbane, the fortress closest to the incursion’s rally point. His plan had been to simply hold the enemy in play with his agile force, while magicians coterie, vastly more powerful than one a force his size would normally have, tore the enemy apart. With their supply cash captured and their raiding warbands being ridden down by his cavalry, the invasion would have to be delayed until spring. With the dramatic failure of an invasion, hopefully whatever chieftain had united so many clans would have fallen by before the snow melted.

At first the plan had seemed to go perfectly, his forces had congregated quickly at Shadowbane, and immediately ridden to reported location. His infantry had dismounted, and they had formed a standard battle formation, a large spear phalanx in the center and companies of swordsmen and axemen on the flanks with archers behind the phalanx. He had sent his cavalry to encircle the foe and prevent a retreat, and that’s when he found out how he had miscalculated.

The opening magical bombardment had wiped an entire company of his cavalry, and most of a second had been wiped out before they made it back to the main body. The only reason that many made it back was because his coterie had begun a bombardment of their own, and the enemy’s had needed to change their focus to defense. It had quickly become apparent that their coterie was as oversized as his own, while they were not able to inflict any damage, his people were almost never able to get a spell through either. At the sight of the massive magical duel, a detached part of his had realized what their plan had been. Draw a reaction force large enough to deal with a force their size, and destroy it with magic. The supplies would have been in place, and the rest of the invasion force would probably have been able to meet up with them before a follow-up attack could have been organized.

His men had been fighting bravely since the battle had commenced, but this wasn’t the battle they had expected and prepared for. Ogres, trolls, and goblins had been trying to break the phalanx, a few more Ogres and trolls were trying to turn his flanks, along with orcs and a few less common types of beastmen. He thanked Celios for the few war golems they had stuffed into the supply wagons, but there weren’t enough, and he could see the flanks beginning to waver. The remnants of a company of swordsmen started running, an officer ran into the center of the route, physically turning men around and shouting, as he waved his sword at the enemy. He seemed to be succeeding, until an arrow bloomed from his chest.

Alister turned his back on the battle, he could now see his coterie, guarded by a force of arcane knights and golems. He sighed, while they were slowly winning, the battle would be long over before they could overwhelm their opponents. If his coterie couldn’t turn the tides, he saw only one option that might have a chance of winning the day. He dismounted, ordering his personal guard to do the same, before walking to his final reserve company, a unit of chainmail clad axemen.

“Now listen!” He called in a loud voice “You all know what rides on the outcome of this battle, if we win we stop an invasion, if we lose we, condemn the civilians who are counting on us to defend them to the stew pots. While our coterie is winning and the center and right flank are holding, the left is beginning to crack. But remember! We aren’t some perfumed duke’s peasant conscripts, we are the soldiers of Twin rivers! Now tell me, do you think a single one of the soldiers down there is so craven that they won’t follow where their lord personally leads?”

He certainly thought so, but he hoped enough weren't that it would make the difference. The loud cries of denial warmed his heart.

“Now, ready your axes. Fredric, raise my banner. CHARGE!”

He tried to lead the charge, but three of the arcane knights of his guard ran ahead and formed the spearpoint. He was amplifying his voice and began to yell for his men to rally, to rally to him. By the time they reached the left flank, there were only two companies worth of soldiers and the few remaining golems left desperately trying to defend the Phalanx’s flank. His heart swelled as he saw how many of the fleeing soldiers were heading his call to rally and forming small groups. Then he saw how thin the enemy’s flank was and realized that all the orcs that were broken formation, and were now fighting in small groups against his rallied groups, had given him an opportunity.

“Don’t stop, cut straight through them!”

Even as his guards tried to defend him, he charged forward and slashed the ancient, dwarven made saber, across the throat of an Orc. He quickly raised his left arm to fend off the spray of blood, his movements magically boosted to match the arcane knights. He cut into a second and a third, then a fourth before he was through the line. He stopped, gesturing wildly with his saber for the rest of his men to keep advancing. He winced when he saw a spear driven through Fredric, but Elon dropped his sword and caught the banner before it could hit the ground.

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“Captain Kelvin, detach half your men to attack their rear and hold them back, you lead the other half and follow me!”

Even as he started to run again, he could see half his axemen turn to fight. He was almost back in front by the time he reached the small rise he was aiming for, one completely surrounded by ogres and trolls. As he ran all out, dodging between them, he seized an opportunity and chopped into the groin of a troll. The creature screamed in agony, a scream that only got louder when it realized that enchantments on his blade were preventing it from regenerating. Then he was through, and he saw the coterie that had been meant to smash his forces. An orcish mage stood in the center, at the very top of the rise, clearly directing and guiding the magic. He was surrounded by other mages and shamans, some orcish, some goblins, and some, other things.

He didn’t hesitate, he dropped his hook knife and yanked a star iron throwing knife from the sheath strapped to his arm. He threw it into the throat of a mage, even as his saber took the head from a goblin shaman. He saw members of his guard breaking through after his, though it seemed Kelvin’s axemen had stopped and were trying to keep the ogre’s and trolls busy. He drove his saber through the heart of another shaman and beheaded a mage before he froze, looking ahead of him.

An orcish shaman was grinning evilly at him, and with a gesture, a wolven wraith finished manifesting and ran towards him. He threw his magic at the beast, and while much of it washed over the insubstantial creature, he kept pulling at his reserves until the last wisp of it burned away. He ran for the shaman, knowing that if another wraith manifested, he wouldn’t have the power to destroy it. He felt despair as another one began to take shape and he realized he wouldn’t make it in time. Then a serrated whip lashed out and was drawn back, across the eyes of the shaman. As the shaman clutched at his ruined eyes, the semi-formed wraith dissolved back into nothing and Alister finished his charge, opening the shaman’s throat with his saber.

He turned and saw Casimir dueling a mage, his whip lashing out at the mage, who was using his staff to fend off Casimir’s saber. Alister darted forward and drove his saber through the back of the mage's neck. Casimir gave a grateful nod before turning and charging a goblin shaman. As he moved towards his next target, Alister took a moment to thank Celios that he had hired the knight, a refugee from one of the empires bloody conquests.

He felt the tempo of the battle change. In the first few moments after they had cut their way through to the coterie, the magic users had been utterly shocked, allowing his guards to deal a devastating blow. Then there had been a disorganized resistance and it had been every mage for themselves for a while. Now it had changed again, and it seemed the few who remained alive had recognized that they were going to die no matter what, and were focusing all their power on a single target, him. His armor had been heavily enchanted by some of the best wizards in the kingdom, and he wore a myriad of items which had defective charms, but with this much magic focused on him, he knew it wouldn’t be enough.

He charged another shaman, then spun to the side as three mages working in concert hurled a bolt of something at him. He wasn’t quite fast enough, and for a moment he felt the agony of having his left blown off, then he had a complete pain block up and felt nothing. He finished his spin just as he reached the shaman, the momentum of his turn allowing him to cut the shaman’s stomach open. In that same moment, the shaman released his spell and his body became a pillar of fire. Alister almost threw up from the smell of his flesh burning, then half is vision vanished, as the flames ate into his left eye.

He charged, determined to take at least one more with him. The next one didn’t try to run, instead it practically threw itself onto his sword, continuing until its body was stopped by the hilt. With the two of them almost pressed body to body, the orc swung down a dagger and drove it into the shoulder joint of his right arm. And then, as the orc slipped off his sword, there was peace around him. As he looked from side to side, he saw that the only people left standing on the top of the rise were his few surviving guards.

“Grace” he called out. Then he saw her, or rather, half of her.

The faint hope that had filled him when he realized the battle was over faded. Grace had been a water mage who he had found just as her powers were beginning to bloom. From that time, she had been trained both as a healer and as an arcane knight. Seeing her body, he slumped. He tried to sit down, but his legs gave out, and he found himself on his back.

“My Lord” a desperate voice cried out.

Looking up, he saw Cedric, the second in command of his guard.

“No,” he thought grimly, seeing another body. “He’s the captain of the guard now.”

Cedric was looking down at him, and tears we flowing down his cheeks.

“I failed you my lord, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Alister could feel a curse from the dagger lodged in his shoulder eating into him, but he managed to take a breath and speak.

“You didn’t fail. You see that?” he asked gesturing vaguely back towards the rest of the battle. “Our coterie’s turning the tide. We won.”

“But my lord your.” The word choked off in the man’s throat.

“Yes, I’m dying, but the rest of my soldiers will live, as will the farmers we’ve saved from the cook pots.”

He looked up at Cedric and realized the man needed a task. He extended his sword towards him.

“Take this.” He paused as Cedric gingerly took the blade.

“And the ring, take them to Chloe. The coronet, the ring and the saber are hers now. I charge you to with ensuring she receives them, and with protecting her as faithfully as you have me for all these years.”

If anything, the number of tears flowing down Cedric’s cheeks increased.

“I swear it my lord. By all the gods I swear she will get them and I will protect her.”

Alister closed his eyes and slumped fully back. He felt the elfin made ring being pulled from his finger and he sighed with relief. He had ensured the Yinara family treasures would be passed on.

“Chloe,” The thoughts drifted comfortingly through his head. “I’ve prepared you as best I could. I know you hated the lessons, but if I had known what I taught you, so many fewer people would have died, and the guilt for the deaths that occurred in your lessons is mine. You won’t be soft like I was when I took up the coronet, if there’s one thing I regret it’s how soft I was back then. That land grab was far from count Equwale’s first blatant bid for more power. If I had been more decisive back then, Ireania never would have died. That’s one thing I’m fairly certain I’ve saved you from, you will never have to look down at your wife’s dead body and know that if you had been stronger, been more decisive, she would have still been alive.”

An odd feeling came over him, and suddenly he saw a woman standing in front of him. As he looked up he recognized her, even though her statues didn’t do her justice. They couldn’t capture the gentle feeling she gave off, or the bottomless kindness in her eyes. She extended a hand he took it. As he took her hand his face took on a look of pure joy as he saw another woman, a woman he hadn’t seen outside his dreams for over sixteen years.