Darius Chapter 16

On instinct, Marth closed his eyes. He felt time slow down, the sounds of the battle fading away to a muted rumble. He was sure if he opened his eyes, he would be dead, cast into the void or in some kind of dreadful limbo.

But there was no pain.

No dagger lanced into his stomach; no blade slipped into his ribs. A desperate cry rushed at his attackers from Marth’s right, and he opened his eyes to see an unarmed Heldrus crash through the pack, tackling them into the tangles of a tent like dominoes. Marth bolted into action, a surge of energy coursing through him after he was saved from his premature death. He ripped his sword from the dead-man's body and seized the opportunity Heldrus gave him, giving no mercy to the bandits still scrambling to get to their feet. He yanked Heldrus up from the ground. He was nursing his shoulder – the tackle had taken the wind out of him and done something to his shoulder, but he persevered.

Marth handed him a rusty blade, torn from the grip of a dead bandit.

“Thanks! Where’s your damn weapons?”

Heldrus grabbed the sword, spinning around as he searched for new threats.

“Left them at the armory, was in too much of a rush to get back here. I’ll explain later.”

Marth noticed a young woman pushing the eastern flank, accomplishing exactly what he had set out to do before he found himself at the end of three blades. She had two long daggers which she was dual wielding with ferocious effect. He and Heldrus ran to her support, diving into the pack and finally creating cracks in their formation big enough for the Erinians to exploit. He still saw his men going down left and right, testament to the massive imbalance in numbers, but the result of the fight was once again up in the air.

The bandits were separated into three groups, one facing the crushing blows of Falsith and the small amount of Erinians insane enough to go near his wild swings, the second facing the brunt of the Erinians, a full-frontal battle where swords and spears and bows had been abandoned, the fighters all opting to use daggers in the close-range brawl. The third group focused on Marth, Peskimir and Heldrus, but the whirlwind of blows from the trio left no room for error, and the bandits fell before them like olives off a shaken tree. Soon, the three groups became two, and although the bandits managed to break through Falsith’s group and curl round the western side, it was a clumsy maneuver, and it became clear that the Erinians were to prevail.

By the end of the fight, the two sides had effectively swapped positions. The bandits retreated from the south end of the camp, two more going down from pit traps in the escape. Marth had to yell at his men to not give chase, in case they fell into any of the traps themselves. Some threw caution to the winds and ran after the bandits in hot pursuit, but they gave up after they found themselves sprinting through the darkness, often falling on their faces from some upturned log or exposed root.

The bulk of the Erinians covered the north-side, their final push having squeezed the bandit's formation until it burst, sending them back with their tails between their legs.

At the camp, relief flooded over the remaining Erinians.

Relief and anger.

Some had been near Marth and Heldrus when they’d had their brief spat at the second camp, and they knew from Marth that this was a coordinated attack, set on them by Layla Avongold.

And it wasn’t without losses. Of the forty-six Erinians who fought, only twenty-six had survived, almost half being killed by Layla’s plot. Falsith had somehow survived too, despite his flank being overwhelmed at the last minute. Strangely enough, it was the faulty palisade that saved him – he had been battered back with enough force to topple it, and when he went down with the fence, the bandits streamed past, ignoring the fallen Erinian as they prioritized fleeing. However, he was battered and bruised, and after dragging himself to the warmth of the fire, he didn’t move until dawn was almost upon them.

Marth and Heldrus were tasked with organizing the shambles of their camp. Marth took an hour or so to retrieve the horses which had been tied away a couple hundred meters toward the Great Road. In addition to keeping them there to ensure silence, there was no doubt that amongst the noise and the fire and the fighting, the horses would’ve broken loose and dispersed through the woods, injuring themselves in the dense undergrowth. Some were on edge when Marth arrived, as though they were able to sense that something had gone awry.

Heldrus directed the remainder of their able-bodied men around the camp, clearing debris and putting out spot fires that threatened to set the whole forest alight. They cleared the ruined tents and rebuilt the ones that weren’t charred, battered or torn. Removing and burying the dead was a painful process – without shovels, they moved the spikes from the bottoms of the pit traps and put a fallen soldier in each, digging graves with their hands for the remainder. They looted what they could from the bandits they took out.

Overall, it was hard to tell if it had been a victory after all. They had survived – which was unexpected – but half the platoon was lost just to do so.

Heldrus, Marth and Peskimir reconvened around the campfire whilst Falsith was still sleeping there. Heldrus gave him a nudge with his foot to make sure he wasn’t dead. Heldrus spoke first.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

“Marth, I...uhh...I guess you were right.”

“I guess I was.”

It wasn’t a point worth gloating about. Marth continued.

“But you did save my life with that charge you pulled off, so, I’d say we’re even.”

He looked at Peskimir, who was watching Heldrus. Her hand hovered around a dagger that rested on the log she sat on.

“And I don’t believe we’ve met, but I saw you and those daggers pushing up the east flank – You certainly put me to shame. I’m Marth.”

The young woman nodded at him.

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Peskimir.”

Marth looked at the two of them and asked the question that he had been wondering whilst he tended to the horses.

“So, how do you know each other? I didn’t see you at the camp before, Peskimir, so I assume you came back with Heldrus?”

Heldrus went bright red and gave a funny look to Peskimir that Marth didn’t understand. Peskimir answered on his behalf.

“I work for Heldrus, and I happened to be on my way out of Erinstone so I decided to catch a ride – I didn’t realize I’d have to work for my supper though!”

Heldrus gave a nervous chuckle and interjected.

“Sorry, she used to work for me – We’re not working together on anything right now.”

Peskimir returned the funny look as though she was saying “We’ll talk about this later.”

The trio sat by the fire for a while longer, passing around some hard biscuits and stale bread, chewing just for something to do. The fire started to die down in the early hours of the morning. Every now and then, a burnt-out log would give way, throwing thousands of miniscule embers into the air, floating on the light breeze until they settled somewhere as a little dot of ash. When the sun poked its nose over the horizon, the whole camp was nestled under whatever shelter they found – mostly tents, but some returned to the cool soil of their pre-battle hiding spots. The bandits didn’t return, which was a piece of fortune given how exhausted the Erinians were. Marth considered posting sentries throughout the night, but he decided it would be useless. After pitching the soldiers into a grueling battle, he thought it unlikely that they would even be able to keep their eyes open, let alone be alert to new threats. The morale of the bandits couldn’t have been too healthy anyway – the victory and spoils that were assured to them snatched from their grasp.

In the morning, there was a moment of awkwardness when both Marth and Heldrus gave differing orders to the men – both assuming they were in control. Marth ceded his leadership, taking a step back and joining the men as a soldier. He hadn’t been a foot-soldier since he was fourteen. On his fifteenth birthday, his father had given him command of a small squadron that was tasked with defending trade vans going between Barringvale and its outlying villages and towns. Marth had proved his valor on several occasions, defending against raids and becoming a popular figure amongst the merchants. Returning to life as a commanded rather than a commander was a tad humbling. He helped disassemble the tents and put out the fire, lugging packs around the camp and handing out food. He brushed down the horses after noticing how much hair was falling off them as they shed their winter coats.

Before mid-day, Heldrus and Falsith came out of the command tent and summoned the men. Falsith was sporting several bandages, but otherwise looked spritely. Heldrus spoke first.

“Right, well, I think I should start by apologizing for missing the start of the battle. Once I found out that Marth was telling the truth about the bandits, I came back as fast as I could. I won’t let you down again.”

A young soldier called out from the crowd.

“I saw you take down those three bastards that were about to stick Marth, I saw you tearing through those men on the eastern flank. As far as I’m concerned, you had as big of an impact as anyone. You’re still my captain.”

Heldrus nodded at the man and smiled as the others seemed to agree. Falsith stepped forward, raising his uninjured arm.

“If you’re all done with the warm and fuzzies, we’ve got to get out of here. Heldrus and I have decided that heading back to Erinstone is our best bet – but if you lot value your lives, you won’t say anything to anyone about any sort of treason or treachery. As far as the world is concerned, we were ambushed by a large pack of bandits acting on their own. Let Heldrus and I sort out the politics. If all goes well, we’ll be sitting pretty with bonuses and promotions in no time.”

The men seemed uneasy with the prospect of heading back into the lion’s den, but their families were there and unless they wanted to become bandits themselves, there weren’t a great deal of other options.

They picked through the sticky forest, guiding their horses out onto the Great Road once again. Once there, the rag-tag bunch rode without formation back to Erinstone. They had to keep a gradual pace now that the horses were laden down with packs, weapons, and wounded men. Heldrus and Peskimir led. Peskimir had managed to garner a horse that had belonged to one of the fallen Erinians, a tall chestnut with a terrible temper. Amongst dealing with her horse, she spoke to Heldrus.

“So, I used to work for you, huh? I hope you know that I’ll be keeping your deposit.”

Heldrus smirked. It was his mother’s money anyway, and at this point, he felt it would take more than a little charity to make up for her actions.

“It’s all yours. But why are you coming back to Erinstone? I thought you were getting out for good.”

“Yeah, I am. I’ve got a few things to grab and people to say goodbye to that I probably should’ve done before I left yesterday. What about you? Sounds like you’ll be moving out of that mansion of yours if you know what’s best for you.”

Heldrus had been struggling with that notion since he began his journey back to the forest yesterday. He knew he couldn’t go back and live with his mother, but the captain’s quarters didn’t hold much appeal either, despite being a decent upgrade from the soldier’s barracks.

“To be honest, Peskimir, I think Erinstone might’ve seen enough of me, too. I’m going to face my mother again, but I’m not sure if it’s to give her another chance, or to prove to her I won, just out of spite.”

They continued in silence, each caught up in their decisions. The party made it up to the Trader’s District like a funeral procession, tired soldiers on tired horses. Peskimir dropped off at Mouse’s Melee, and Marth went to see Darius. The soldiers broke off at the armory, returning their gear, leaving Heldrus at the gates to the Royal District.

He called for the gate to be opened and rode through.

He continued up to the Avongold residence, and on the lawn out the front, was Layla.

He’d never seen her in such a fury.