Chapter 33 - Rescue

Eildred swished around a mouthful of cold water. He spat out what seemed like liquid rust, a lingering taste of iron left on his tongue. Before him, a soldier lay on a carpet of rotting leaves, a hideous gash in his side, chest rising and falling like he'd just finished a hard run. Another soldier knelt next to him, pressing a dirty rag to the wound to staunch the bleeding, likely doing the injured man no favor.

Beside Eildred, sitting on the same dead log as him, were two others, both hunched forward, one with his sword buried two inches in the ground, and the other wrapping cuts on his arm with a bandage. All around, White Coats lounged in the wet mess, either sitting with their backs to a tree or rummaging through allied and enemy corpses for anything that could be used as nourishment or medical equipment. Eildred did a head count with his drooping eyelids, near two full days now since he'd last had a chance to close them for a good hour.

Forty three remained. Forty three soldiers of the original two hundred that had been with him. Perhaps only five or six of them had no injuries. It was like looking into the medical tents of a military encampment built a mere half mile from the sight of a vicious war. Only, there were no physics to nurture the men back to good Health.

Eildred's own breath was growing more ragged by the day. His limbs were weakening and his sight poor. He'd have been long dead if it weren't for his armor, but now, it weighed on his shoulders and chained his feet to the ground, making him consider discarding it. His sides stung with slight movements. Many a blade had found its way through the gaps in his plates. His dauntless black armor was now painted brown and dark red. It wasn't any different from the White Coats. The royal soldiers of the capital looked as if their uniforms had always been brown.

Eildred scratched beneath his chin. His beard had grown unruly in the last half month. Half a month. Have we really been in this death trap for that long? Half a month inside Oakwood Forest, surrounded. The pack horses had been lost long ago. Eildred's own black mare was gone as well. Precious little food and water remained, each soldier holding on to their own meager rations. Those without water snapped branches and licked frost off of them. Some even scooped out brown snow from the ground. Desperation was driving them mad. They had a few days left at most. A few days before their misery came to an end. Not even the Thundersword could save them now.

Where even are we, Eildred wondered, looking up at the blue sky through barren oak branches. They hadn't made any progress to the forest's edges. Sure, using the sun to get a sense for position had provided some hope in the first few days, but constant night raids from their enemies always threw them off course, driving them away from their goal. And the attackers were no longer peasants. These were trained and armed soldiers carrying thick wooden shields, wearing shirts of mail, and moving with a vague semblance of cohesion when attacking. Each and every time, Eildred had taken charge, rampaging in the vanguard and slaying as many as he could, hoping his back would inspire his soldiers to fight on despite their hopeless situation. And fight they had. But limits had been reached, numbers had been culled, and strength of will dwindled.

The Thundersword. He snorted. A string of unforgivable failures all culminating in an incapability to lead some two hundred men safely back home. So much for the strongest knight of the realm. So much for the queen's pillar and a bastion of Xenaria.

If he had but one wish, it would be to see Dahlia's face again.

No.

It would be to hear her laugh as a morning sun caressed her supple cheeks.

No.

It would be to spend an afternoon in the garden with her, drinking tea and staring into her light green eyes while under the shade of a garden house. If he had but three wishes instead of one. Did he even have one?

"He's not breathing," the soldier in front of Eildred said. He pressed two fingers to the laying man's neck. "No pulse." He pulled the soaked rag away to reveal a pool of blood before his knees. The soldier slumped back and threw the rag aside. A yellowed leaf fell from the tree he sat beneath.

Crows cawed, eyeing their precious meals from twisted tree limbs above, waiting for the soldiers to leave. Waiting to feast on the dead or the dying. Eildred's eyelids drooped. He slumped forward, cold and just desiring a rest. A really long rest. He thought to let darkness embrace him. But it didn't happen. He was instead embraced by Dahlia's radiance. There she was, standing two feet away. He called out to her. She didn't answer. He touched her. She turned her head, lips parting, speaking silent words. I need you.

"I need you too," he whispered back, wrapping his arms around her. She held him tight, gripping his hair.

"I hate you!" Dahlia screamed into his ear. Eildred stumbled back, staring wide eyed at her twisted and enraged face. "I hate you!" she repeated, voice hoarse. "You failed me. Abandoned me, and left this nation to burn. I hate you and every fibre of your being. I wish you'd have never existed. I wish—"

Eildred's eyes snapped open. Nothing had changed. A dead soldier still lay before him. Two more still sat on the log beside him. Every crow was still in the same position, impatient black eyes leering. Only, Eildred's heart pounded. He feared Dahlia's scorn. Feared her wrath. Feared her curses. She wasn't the type to do anything embodying those words. But what if she became like that after his passing? What if she broke and lost her mind, falling prey to the vultures already surrounding her. Vultures he was tasked with shielding her from.

What happened that day? Why did she call me into her room? Eildred looked at his hands. His leather gloves were worn, both index fingers sticking out and the palms peeling off. What had Dahlia been expecting, closing the door behind her and laying on her bed with her dress rolled past her knees? She couldn't possibly have had feelings for him. But he wanted to know. He dared to hope that she might have thought for a moment about him as more than just her guard. I'll ask her. Flames! If I ever get back, I'll bloody gather the courage and ask her what that moment had meant.

That was if he ever got back.

Eildred stood. Grim faces looked up to him. "How many of you have a loved one back at home?" he asked.

Silence.

"How many!" he barked. The soldiers blinked. One raised his hand. Then another. Followed by all of them save for the one sitting before Eildred.

"I'm an orphan. But he had two sons with an inn maid," the soldier said, pointing to the dead man before him. The pale face was refreshingly young.

Eildred squeezed his eyes and hands. "How many of you would like to go back home?" he asked, deep voice booming. Everyone stared at him like a group of oblivious children. "How many of you would like to embrace your wives and see them smile? How many of you would like to kiss your mothers and daughters and sons? I asked how many?"

"Burn it all!" the sitting soldier said. "I don't have anybody waiting for me. All my friends are dead. But if you're asking me to fight, Lord Thundersword," he said, getting to his feet, "then Burn me to Ashes, but I'll fight!"

"As will I," said another.

"Don't count me out neither," said a one eyed man, bandages wrapped around the other eye.

One by one, they all stood, grim still, cheeks sunken, and legs trembling with weakness. But their eyes were no longer hollow. Fire burned in them again. Fires fueled by one last spark of emotion. They were ready to burn out with a final furious blaze. Eildred drew his sword. He let the sound of drawing metal ring in the air for a long moment. He inhaled deep. "To the Ashes with our enemies!" he bellowed. Crows cawed but the cries of the forty-two silenced them and sent them flying away. "We will not stop for rest. We will not stop for the wounded. But we will kill without discrimination! We will slaughter any who stand in our way! We will defy the odds! Every man will fight for himself. We shall greet each other beyond this wall of trees and we will make our bloody way home!"

Another round of howls. No one cared for discretion any longer. No one cared for remaining hidden. One last burst of strength. One last fight. That was all Eildred thought of. All any of his soldiers could muster the courage to face. And a damn long fight that was going to be.

He marched out, uncaring for the direction, peering into the winter woods, snow and leaves crunching beneath his steps. He breathed out through his teeth and breathed in the hot air of his own breath. He shoved aside low hanging branches, snapping them. With each step, his armor grew heavier, now only held up by the sheer force of determination.

He then saw the first set of enemies. Two stood watch with low hanging eyelids burdened by the weight of exhaustion. The rest were lying down asleep wrapped in dirty cloaks. A group of night raiders. Eildred didn't slow. He didn't coordinate an attack or order his men to surround the camp. He marched forward. He directed his wrath towards them. And then he ran, screaming, the forty-two following his lead.

The dozing guards of the enemy camp finally stood up. "Enemy atta—" one managed to say before Eildred cleaved his jaw in twain. The second watcher had a sword halfway drawn but his hand was severed from his wrist. Enemy soldiers stirred awake but the White Coats were already on them, thrusting down and executing each and every one before arms could be held.

Eildred screamed as he plunged his sword into the chest of a lying man, pulled out and then cut off the head of another that had just sat up, his mouth agape in bewilderment as the head fell and rolled a foot away. Blood mixed with the brown and white snow. It splattered against tree trunks and soaked blanketing cloaks.

And then all was still.

Forty-two men stood with weapons red and breaths haggard. Eildred knelt and wiped his weapon with an enemy cloak. "We march!" he ordered, moving along in whatever direction. And the White Coats obeyed.

***

Patches of soldiers surrounded Oakwood Forest. They'd heard the rumbling of approaching horses. Elizia at first thought her enemies to be scattering. But they were gathering instead to form a resistance. Against her light cavalry, it might have worked, assuming she ordered her horses to recklessly charge. She had no need of doing that.

The Lotus Knights were breaking toward them with Azurus at their helm. Arrows rained down. Not a single rider fell. Such a heavily armored unit could not be slowed by arrows. Nor could a few quickly put together lines of pikes halt their charge.

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Elizia turned to her second. "Faren take half our lances and go west of the forest. Route any that stand watch and do your best to not let them gather."

"As my lady commands," Faren nodded, steering his horse away.

"Watch your back!" Elizia called after him. "The forest stretches for many miles." He waved an arm in response. She turned to the remainder of her soldiers. "The rest on me towards the right." She nudged Valor's side and the horse sprinted off, thundering hooves of twenty-five hundred more mounts following after her. Azurus had left devastated enemy lines in his wake, uncaring to chase them around the forest's perimeter. He led his knights to the treeline and ordered them to dismount, binding the horses to the barren trees before disappearing into the thick of them. He was trusting Elizia to watch the mounts for him.

Elizia split her unit into a further half, riding at the head of an archery squadron sent first to pepper enemies from the side. She marked each enemy she aimed at, not wasting any of her arrows. These men had proper arms and were not at all the peasants she'd expected to face. She didn't hold herself back, knowing she was facing combatants. Whoever was planning this was sparing little in an attempt to kill the captain of the Guard.

The second split of Elizia's unit came up slower to avoid friendly fire, bearing down on any surviving foes with swift lances. She had done her part, eliminating all enemies within sight. She left a few hundred to watch over the black horses of the knights while continuing on along the forest's perimeter, praying that Azurus found Eildred alive.

A sudden screech filled the air, a chilling scream unlike any animal cry. The horses whinnied in confusion, bringing their canter to an abrupt halt. Elizia cringed at the high pitch of the sound, looking about her surrounds for its source. Her soldiers tugged their reins in an effort to control their mounts as the cry got louder.

She blinked, focusing on the noise, hearing something familiar, something nostalgic. The soldiers heard it too.

"Is that our soldiers?" someone mumbled.

"It's the war cry Lady Sar'tara taught us."

"The Vashiri war cry."

Elizia scowled. Mother's war cry? From whom. From where?

"What's that in the sky?" one man asked.

Elizia looked up, brows furrowing further. An oversized bird hovered in the air. "A Crag Eater?" she muttered, wondering what giant rock eating birds that normally dwelled in mountainous regions could possibly want with a forest. Wondering why its cries would be similar to that of her mother's war cries. She squinted, trying to better make out the dark shape floating before the sun, screaming still.

"That's a person," a soldier gasped just as Elizia came to that realization. "Flames and Ashes. It's a flying person."

The figure descended with blinding speed, landing at the unit's side. Elizia knocked an arrow out of instinct, aiming at this creature. But there was no target to aim at. The creature was gone as soon as it'd arrived. A heavy gust of wind tore through Elizia's lines. And then her soldiers screamed. A half dozen men fell, clutching their throats and writhing on the ground.

Another gust of wind. Another few fell. Elizia looked around wildly for this attacker. The creature came to a stop before the horses, standing a mere two dozen feet away from Elizia. It had smooth bronze skin much like her mother and a similar head of black silk. It wore a cropped fur pelt around its breasts and had a leather skirt akin to the ones Elizia had found in her mother's wardrobe. This creature had dark spots under bloodshot eyes, as if under the influence of a powerful narcotic, and her body was riddled with scars and lash marks. Most odd of all were the beautiful mosaic butterfly wings slowly flapping from its back.

Whatever it was, Elizia didn't have time to think about it. It'd killed her men. She drew back her bowstring in a single heartbeat, aiming between this fairy woman's eyebrows. Twang!

Klink!

Elizia's eyes went wide. Impossible. The creature had deflected her arrow with a bloody knife that it held in its hands. It opened its mouth, leaning forward, wings flapping faster. It screamed out the Vashiri war cry again. Elizia stretched out her hand, heart racing. The creature stared her in the eyes. She was the next target. "Volley!" Elizia cried, choking over her own breath in panic.

The creature was engulfed in shadow as a rain of arrows descended upon it. Its wings near disappeared, their flapping speed unfathomable to the eye, a blaze of many colors spreading out where they should have been. Winds stronger than the greatest of storms pushed against the cavalry unit. The arrows all harmlessly fell to the ground.

Elizia covered her eyes as Valor neighed and shifted to keep his balance amidst the turbulent gale and flying dust. Her soldiers were shielding their own eyes. They were all sitting ducks against this thing. It finally stopped screaming and flapping its wings. The maelstrom ended. Elizia lowered her arm to see the creature bending its legs, baring its teeth like a feral beast with knife in a backhand grip. And then it disappeared.

Something collided with Elizia's chest just below the neck. Her breath was stolen from her. She saw her life flash before her eyes, waiting, wondering what a knife in the throat felt like. She was on her back, she realized, eyes squeezed shut, and legs hanging over the side of her horse still. A heavy weight was pinning her against Valor's rear and pressing down on her windpipe, stifling airflow. Pain shot up her spine as her back was pressed to the edge of her saddle. She gasped for air and opened her eyes to stare at a knife an inch from her pupil. A red drop hung from its very point, on the verge of falling. The creature had its hand at the base of Elizia's neck, putting its near full weight down and flapping its wings to just barely stay levitated.

For whatever reason, the creature hadn't yet killed Elizia. Whatever that reason was, she prayed it lasted a few more seconds. She heard the sounds of drawing iron as the soldiers nearest her cried out her name. A few more seconds! But all it would take was a tenth of a second for the flying woman to put the knife through her socket.

The creature opened its mouth. Elizia clenched her teeth, preparing her eardrums for the Vashiri war cry. Instead, it spoke. "Ta…ra…?" it croaked.

"What?" Elizia managed to squeal through her stifled breath. She saw the flashing brilliance of sunlight touching iron. Two swords arced in a descent toward the woman. It pulled away before its wings and arms could be hewn. Elizia coughed, pushing herself up slowly, her spinal pain spreading out along her lower back. The creature hovered two feet from the ground, wings flapping slow. Elizia thought she saw a glimmer of tears within those bloodshot eyes.

It ascended higher into the air until it was just a black shadow again. And then it flew off into the distance, somewhere to the north.

"What in unholy Ashes…" the soldiers muttered behind her.

Tara? Elizia thought. It looked like the fairies found in children's books. But appearance was the only thing in likeness that it had. The soldiers had been powerless against it. A creature capable of tearing apart entire armies. Was it working for the enemy or was it an isolated incident? Whatever it was, Elizia was related to it. It recognized her mother's face and had pulled away. Its garb was also like those of her mother.

But Sar'tara was in a coma still. That meant no one had the answers to what that creature was. If it was fighting for the enemy, then Elizia could only imagine the terror it would rain down on an army that didn't have something to stop it. She shook her head and slapped her cheeks to straighten her senses. Captain Eildred's rescue was still the priority here. "How many losses do we have?" she called back.

"Nine," someone responded.

"Gather their bodies and place a flag so they can be buried later. We still have to clear the forest's perimeter."

***

Azurus ducked beneath an axe aimed at his head, unsure if his helm would deflect the heavy blade. The axe edge sank into a tree, stuck, and Azurus used the opportunity to sever the arms holding it. The attacker went down wailing. "Where's Sir Aegis?" Azurus demanded.

"I don't know," the weeping man squealed, staring at the fountain pouring out of both arms.

Azurus thrust down and rent the blade out near as fast, broken chainmail links flying up. Someone else came at him from his blind spot. He parried an overhead blow with his sword and ripped the axe out from where it was embedded in the tree with his free arm, embedding it into a skull instead. The attacker's eyes rolled back and he collapsed on his side.

"Captain Azurus," Orne said, voice muffled by the helm he wore. He was breathing hard. "None of them know the location of Captain Aegis."

"No. But he cannot be dead. If they're still surrounding the forest, they haven't yet achieved their goal." But there was no way of knowing in which direction Eildred was. The forest stretched for leagues in all directions. He could very well be sending the knights to move in one direction while Eildred moved in another. It was a risk Azurus had to take. "Make as much of a ruckus as possible, Sir Orne. Call out the captain's name. I don't care how many enemies we attract. Queen's Guard do not feel fear in the face of duty."

"It will be done," Orne bowed.

Azurus ordered the knights to continue moving now that this small camp of enemies had been destroyed. The shadows on the forest floor had shifted to his right. At least a quarter of the afternoon had passed since he'd led the Guard into the forest. They likely hadn't even covered two whole miles worth of distance.

The plain clothes beneath Azurus' armor began soaking in his sweat as he continued to jog forward, legs and shoulders feeling like lead. His heart matched the beat of his every step, boots thumping down and crushing dried leaves. "Sir Aegis!" he roared in sync with the knights behind him.

An arrow struck his breast plate and bounced off. Azurus snapped his visor down, pointing with his sword in the direction from where it'd come. "Enemies," he bellowed. More arrows whistled through the air, some missing him and striking the plates of his allies behind. Regular bows did not have the strength to pierce the thick black armor of the Lotus Knights. The archers rose from the thickets they hid behind and fled to their main camp. Another melee ensued as the knights broke into the clearing, and it ended almost as fast as the first one.

"How many casualties?" Azurus asked, wiping his bloody sword before sheathing it again.

"None!" barked his men after a short delay.

"Injuries?"

"None!"

Azurus grunted, carrying on. These enemies had two pack horses with them —one black and one white with a grey mane. Taking them through the woods would take too long. He carried on, frowned, then turned back to take a closer look at the black mare. He lifted his visor, eyes widening. Dark leather bridle with silver links, an ornate saddle, jaded white lotus paintings on the stirrups, and a black helmet tied to the pack. It was Eildred's horse. Azurus untied her from the tree and led her to the knights. "Someone escort her out of the forest. Sir Aegis will need her when we find him."

Three knights stepped out of line and pressed a fist to their chest to salute before taking the horse away.

Azurus trekked deeper into the woods. "Sir Aegis!" he tried again. Only crows answered back.

***

Sir Aegis!

Eildred spat, pulling his sword out from the chest of a dead man. Haze blurred his vision and wouldn't leave no matter how hard he blew or waved with his hand. Every tree seemed a tall standing enemy. He could no longer distinguish between them and his assailers until the enemy was but a few feet before him.

Sir Aegis!

Delirious wishes is what that was. He kept hearing his name somewhere far in the distance, often followed by the cawing of crows. Eildred rubbed the bruise on his jaw with a thumb. The distant voice sounded eerily like Azurus. Sure he'd raised the boy, but did he love the boy that much to be hearing him call out like that? He would much rather have been hearing Dahlia crying out his name in his dreams.

Sir Aegis!

It sounded like multiple people now, but somehow more distant. Eildred turned in the direction of the sound. "We're going this way," he told his men without turning around to check on them, pointing in the direction with a heavy arm and stumbling forward like a drunk. How many soldiers did he have left? He hardly heard any footsteps following him anymore. Was it twenty? Or ten? He couldn't turn back to check. He just didn't have the strength.

A dark figure grew larger as he stepped forward. Was it a tree he was approaching or an enemy? Its branches were strangely vertical.

"Aaaargh!" the tree screamed.

Eildred barely stepped to the side of the vertical swing, an axe edge glancing of his pauldron. He swung his sword, arm moving so very slow. The Lumbersword would have been a more fitting name for him in that moment. His attack was easily sidestepped.

Someone else screamed beside Eildred. Spraying red entered his blurry vision. He blinked, trying to clear it, seeing an ally's sword driven through the gut of the lone enemy.

Sir Aegis!

The cry was much closer now. The soldier beside Eildred left his sword buried in the body and stumbled towards the call. Eildred too followed, briefly catching sight of about two dozen more White Coats following behind him.

Sir Aegis!

"I'm here, Burn it," he growled, voice coarse like two grinding stones rubbed against one another. And then he saw them. A moving wall of black like a solid shadow, like a tide in a stormy night, dauntless and indomitable. Lotus Knights. His Lotus Knights. At the head of their group, a familiar pair of sky blue eyes surrounded by a black helmet.

Eildred couldn't help but smile as he stumbled towards them. All his vigor drained away. Relief overpowered the last vestiges of his strength. "Bless you boy," he murmured. "I haven't been so glad to see anyo…" he drifted off, the words slipping out of his slacked mouth. The world grew dark and Eildred's heavy armor pulled him down. But his pupil was right there standing in front of him. Eildred allowed himself to sleep at last as the boy caught him before he fell.