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Chapter 82 - Chess 5

The nymphs swarmed in numbers heretofore unknown to have existed. The foliage obfuscated much, but there had to be hundreds or even thousands of them, all naked, a rainbow of colour across their collective hair. Perhaps one in twenty were marked with vine tattoos down the length of their body, accentuating their curvature and marking certain points of interest.

Though their shark-toothed mouths gaped in a cacophony of horrific shrieks the least human thing about them was the way they moved. Gone were the seductive gestures and the graceful lilting sway of the lakeside, replaced instead by an unnatural slithering motion that was accomplished with the inhuman bending of the knees and hips. It was an unholy amalgamation of the movements of a snake, lizard, and crab, but with the speed of a stallion.

I knew they were not fearsome conventional fighters for other than their talon-like nails they were unarmed - even I had managed to best one in combat during our first encounter - but they approached the rear of an exhausted army in the fading twilight of dusk from within the cover of the Dreadwood Forest. I couldn’t blame the faerie king for extricating his warriors after sensing the nymph attack. The question was whether anyone from Ebonreach would survive the night.

I spent those last minutes in silent reflection. I was sad that I hadn’t had a chance to fully repair things with Alum, nor to see my child born. The future had held so much promise, even with the dangers that lurked behind every shadow. Had I erred by trying to grow Ebonreach’s influence and reconquer its historical lands? Had I gravely overestimated my own abilities and the County’s strengths? I’d banked on Entregwa focusing his attention on Helmfirth and leaving Iyasgorth to its fate, but I should have known that he’d protect the staunchest anti-Crower lands in the Duchy first. And I should have known better than to fight with the Dreadwood Forest at my back. I’d been outmanoeuvred by Entregwa in the hours before the battle, and I was going to pay for it with my life.

Suddenly, I saw him.

Timoth.

He was alive and in the midst of the nymph horde. Not just amidst it, but hand in hand with the same blue-haired tattooed nymph he’d absconded with. Two men-at-arms were by his side, their clothes a bit worse for wear but otherwise appearing in good spirits. Why would they be fighting for the nymphs against their countrymen, let alone alive?

That’s when I realised, only a split second before it became apparent: the nymphs were here to help, not to attack us.

The foremost nymphs ran on either side of my archers, leaving them confused but unscathed. Men at the rear of the shieldwall looked backwards in fear, but Timoth ran to the front of the nymphs and shouted.

‘I am Count Timoth Tfaeller of Ebonreach. Men of the Reach, I command you, make way for the nymphs that they might strike your enemy!’

He repeated this a few times, waving his arms and leading the nymphs through the growing gap in our shieldwall and making his way to the beleaguered and bloody Alum at its front. I was too shocked to react, and though I feared he could be dividing our shieldwall, we had nothing to lose.

Above all else, Timoth’s last words had been to ask me to trust him. So I did.

The nymphs reached the front of the shieldwall which split to form two smaller shieldwalls, one on each side. Entregwa’s forces remained united, though those in the middle peeked over the top of their shields in lasciviousness and fear, and took minute, tentative backwards steps, none wanting to be the first to come to blows with one of the nymphs despite the soldiers’ massive advantage in almost every category. Indeed, most of the nude nymphs couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred pounds, whereas the burly warriors confronting them carried probably that much in weapons, armour, and equipment alone.

The nymphs didn’t wait for the soldiers to spring into action. They leapt forward with great springs from their uncannily bent legs, propelling themselves directly at the rebel soldiers. Shields were raised but the nymphs tore the wood from their iron grips with great slashes of their talons and bites from immensely wide mouths. Defenceless, some of the soldiers struck out with their swords. The nymphs dodged their tired, telegraphed blows, and though some were too slow and were struck down, the rest bit deeply into the necks of the rebel soldiers. Great spurts of blood splashed over beautiful faces and sprayed from the falling bodies into the second line of soldiers, who panicked and tried to retreat in a hurry.

From my regular war councils, I knew that was the death knell of a shield wall. The men at the rear, unable to see what was going on, continued adding their weight to the men at the front, who were pushed into the meatgrinder. The nymphs eviscerated hundreds of soldiers in the space of a minute, eating a great hole into the shield wall. They spread out to either side and my soldiers were rallied by Alum, Tadruk, and Fraedwin. They pushed hard against the disintegrating rebel shield wall which was being devoured from within by the nymphs - and by their own enflamed soldiers on the flanks, for the faeries had returned to drop oil on from above.

The enemy formation broke before the onslaught. There were too many soldiers for a mass rout, but the retreat was uncontrolled. The men, nymphs, and faeries bit hard into the enemy ranks, felling thousands of men from behind. Though I was filled with joy and relief, I forced myself to maintain my focus. Entregwa and Steib had given orders to the intact cavalry and spear formations to reform nearer the archers, providing a stable central location for the fleeing enemy army to retreat to. This would give them the opportunity to reform, starting the battle again virtually from scratch. I had to stop that from happening, but the battle had swung out of my control. My own spear formations had long since joined the shieldwall to prevent its total encirclement, leaving the only part of my army still orderly and within reach of my commands as the cavalry unit on the right flank, which was too small to make any sort of impact on the enemy army.

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As I grappled with the various options, including mounting Wargwa and riding into battle myself, I realised that Timoth had already foreseen this eventuality. Hundreds of nymphs were committed to the battle, but at least a hundred more were slithering around the right flank to get behind the army with an entourage of faerie archers providing covering fire. Immediately, I sent word to the cavalry to support the nymphs. Whatever Timoth’s plan was, it was our best hope.

The cavalry commander looked confused, but nevertheless rallied his horsemen in pursuit of the nymphs. The fast-moving cohort of three races rapidly outpaced the disorderly enemy retreat and found themselves faced by the enemy spearmen and cavalry. At this point, however, the nymphs reverted to their more human, feminine appearance, stretching their legs and licking their lips seductively. I couldn’t hear it from my position on the far side of the battlefield, but I knew that those men in proximity could hear sweet harp music.

As if on cue, the enemy’s left flank of spearmen and cavalry dropped their weapons and abandoned the fight, approaching the nymphs as if in a daze. In fact, they were entranced.

The faeries and my cavalry were smart enough to wait behind the nymphs while they did their thing, luring the enemy soldiers into the second rank of nymphs with the promise of an orgy of pleasure. As soon as they were out of sight of the men still approaching, the nymphs at the back devoured, rending their heads from their bodies with great tears and bites.

Entregwa was awake to the danger, however, and ordered his archers to change target from the approaching Ebonreach infantry to the nymphs. Completely unarmoured and unshielded, they would be easy prey to the pretender’s arrows. Thankfully, however, the faerie king and cavalry officer took the initiative to charge the enemy archers. Without the protective screening of the spearmen presently being devoured by the nymphs, the cavalry shredded the lightly armoured bowmen and the faeries pelted those in the rear with a barrage arrows, relishing in being able to fire upon foes not equipped with shields.

Even better, both my cavalry and the faeries were nearing Entregwa himself, who was, along with Steib, trying to mount a horse in a frenzied panic. This was to no avail as the faeries harried their retreat and they were run down by my cavalry, who were significantly superior in horsemanship to the pretender and the fat ex-baron. Their flight took them beyond thecrest of a hill, preventing me from seeing the final outcome, but I and both armies were satisfied that Entregwa’s capture or death was inevitable.

The rebel soldiers surrendered, and a great cheer went up among the men of the Reach. The faeries descended to the ground in discordant morbid silence. Timoth alone did not join in the celebrations, instead running between the nymphs to prevent them from taking any further victims from the defeated army.

I couldn’t believe it. We had won! Despite all the odds, we had won, and it was all because I’d trusted Timoth. We’d suffered losses no doubt, and presently the identification and treatment of injuries began in earnest, but no further enemy strength lay between Ebonreach and its historical claims. Iyasgorth had a small contingent that would have been difficult to face at the same time as Entregwa’s main army, but on its own would crumble before my combined forces. Not only that, but there was every chance they would surrender or even join my side voluntarily. As I understood it, they had more opposition to the House Crower than support for Entregwa, and Gentleman Tefgae would work to smooth over any deeper concerns.

I was getting ahead of myself. A great victory was won right as night fell and there was much celebrating to be had. I ordered servants to summon my commanders and the best bloodberry wine that could be found, and presently these began to arrive. Taking a great gulp straight out of the bottle in a most unladylike fashion, I was finally able to relax.

‘Saemara, it’s fantastic to see you,’ Timoth said.

Without so much as a word, I ran up to him and held him close against my chest. We embraced for several minutes before parting, at which point I spoke.

‘Why couldn’t you tell me you were rallying the nymphs to our cause?’

‘I’m so sorry, Saemara. The nymphs are… delicate. I couldn’t just tell them what I wanted. You have to play their game, let them manipulate you, and then you can slowly tell them what you need them to understand. Even then, it’s extremely dangerous. Only two other men survived being constantly toyed with.’

‘I see. You’ll have to tell me all about it later. But tonight-’

‘Tonight we celebrate!’ Timoth interrupted me, taking the bottle of wine from me and downing the rest of it in a few short gulps.

The next to arrive was Fraedwin, but his face was not buoyed with elation.

‘I’m sorry, Countess,’ he said, addressing me properly despite the fact that he must have been burning with desire to welcome Timoth back. My stomach knotted as I predicted his next words. ‘Alum was struck during the pursuit. He is badly wounded and may not survive.’

‘Where is he?’ I mumbled through heavy lips. The wind was knocked out of my sails. Why hadn’t I tried to sort things out with him before the battle? Would my enduring memory of him be of an argument in the Erick Tfaeller Chambers? Would I have to raise our child on my own? Would I be able to?

‘The healers attend to him over there,’ he said, pointing where the oil had been kept and distributed to the faeries. That made sense, as most of the civilians with the army had been stationed there to assist with the oil distribution.

Immediately, I took to my feet and stumbled over to the healer’s location. Some men-at-arms were erecting tents to shelter the wounded and I was directed to one of these. At its entrance, however, I was stopped by Mistress Pulfae.

‘You don’t want to go in there,’ she said to me.

‘Why not? I-is he… dead?’ I asked.

She shook her head. ‘He may yet live, it is uncertain. But entering that tent will create the sort of wounds that water cannot heal.’

Confused by her words, and driven by an urgency to be at my husband’s side as he lay dying, I pushed her aside and entered the tent nevertheless, and immediately wished I hadn’t.

Alum lay on a sheet over the cold dirt floor, a reddened bandage strapped several times around his chest to bind a great wound just below his ribs. He was pale and bloody, but conscious. Nor was he alone, for between us in the tent knelt Terera, against whose lips his own were pressed in passion.