XIX. MARCHES AND MANEUVERS
The flap to Aichlan’s tent swung open as he paced the small room, simultaneously reading over duty rosters and supply requests. The sky turned black at an early hour, swallowing the faint winters dusk in its inky infinity. The moons hung high, pale green and gold; the stars were lost as if veiled by some unseen force. The fires of the camp burned brightly beneath the ancient canopy as the soldiers went about their nightly tasks of eating, gambling and the swapping of fantastic tales. He desperately wanted to be out there sharing a pint with the soldiers. Desk work always was and forever would be his bane.
Aichlan’s mind drifted to who he could assign as a clerk, his second in command was absolutely not suited for such a task, neither was his second choice of Clarissa. He looked up briefly as Ashe entered carrying their meals, he grunted in acknowledgement as he continued to pace. She set the plates down on the table and cleared her throat in an exaggerated attempt to get his attention. Aichlan smiled and made a note on the ledger he had hardly been paying attention to, eager for a break. Ashe’s disproving glare was less than promising. In addition to being cross with him for not making as much time for her as he should, his recent injuries only made her doubly so.
“Yes, yes. I’ll join you in a moment.”
Aichlan picked up a flask that sat atop the chest in front of his bed. Ashe flicked a flaming walnut at the flask, denting it and nearly knocking it from Aichlan’s hands.
“Perhaps I’ll join you now.”
“Well nae with that attitude.” Ashe crossed her arms and turned up her nose. “It should be a privilege to dine with me, nae some task tae be completed.”
Aichlan took his seat and set down the leaking flask. “Ashe, I’m hurt that you’d even think that way.”
“Yer nae so charmin’ as ye would think, ma boyish lookin’ fae.” She smiled and picked through a salad with her fork. “It’s nae just ye comin’ back from a walk with new holes in yer chest and a stray forest elf love; and daen’t ye think fer a moment I’m nae still cross about that one.
Aichlan opened his mouth to protest, but was quickly silenced with a glare.
“We hardly get a moment to ourselves anymore.”
Just as Aichlan was going to respond,the tent flap opened once again. Ashe slammed her fork in disgust.
“Dawn Blimey!” She aimed an accusing finger towards the entryway. “This is what I’m talkin’ about!”
Séverin poked his head in. “I am not interrupting anything am I? Was this not the scheduled meeting time?”
Aichlan caressed Ashe’s arm, and handed her his flask. “No, this is the correct time. Please, enter.” He turned back to Ashe. “I like your new cloak by the way.”
“Shut it, flattery gets ye naewhere with me.” She snarled as she poked at her food.
Séverin disappeared shortly and returned carrying several rolled up maps, followed closely by his sister and Taryn. Maleah leaned her lance against the supports, and took a seat on a makeshift bench set against the wall. Séverin turned to his sister and cleared his throat angrily. She groaned in response and stood at attention. Her coat was black wool, the collar lined with dire wolves’ fur and upon her left breast were medals and ribbons from previous campaigns.
“Captain Miroshnik reporting as requested sir.”
“As you were.” Aichlan smiled upon catching Séverin’s smug expression. “And you?”
“I am afraid I do not hold a rank in this army of yours General, my services are a bit unconventional.”
Aichlan shuddered at the odd glint he caught in Séverin’s eyes. Though he had a general idea of what the man did, there was something slightly ominous about his demeanor. His loyalties were with himself and his family, whether that still included Osric was debatable. For now, he was under Clarissa’s sway, in some regard or another, and it would suffice. Maleah took a seat and crossed her legs as she tapped her foot impatiently. Aichlan held out his hand to Taryn, motioning for her to take a seat as well.
“How are your soldiers acclimating? Well I trust?”
Taryn flipped the chair around backwards before sitting down. “Aye, well enough. They don’t much care fer those two youn’ uns we picked up on the good pirate’s boat. Too noisy, and that Aislyn lass can be a bit of a cunt. O’her ‘n that, all’s well I s’pose.”
“Did a rank structure exist previously?”
“Aye,” Taryn mimed scales going in and out of balance with her hands as she chewed on a reed, “more or less. They don’t much know how to react when someone calls me colonel though, it was always chief back when. Got any whiskey?”
“I’ll get it.” Ashe stood to retrieve the bottle from Aichlan’s trunk.
“’preciate it luv.” Taryn watched Ashe with visible concern, and pointed her reed towards the elf, “Are you a’right though?”
Ashe forced a smile her eyes could not match, but said nothing as she set out an assortment of cups and canteens. Órfhlaith, Eth, Enyo, and Donough entered noisily, carrying on some debate or another. All were inadequately dressed and shivered in spite of themselves.
“Why don’t you put on a shirt? Wouldn’t be so bloody cold.” Taryn removed her gloves and poured herself a hearty cup of whiskey.
Eth slapped his chest emphatically as he puffed himself up, creating a heat vane. “My granpappy didnae wear nae shirt when he dug oot the Silver Hand, nor did his father or his father’s father. I ain’t ‘bout tae spit in the eyes o’ millennia o’ tradition and pride.”
“Aye.” Donough nodded emphatically while discreetly rubbing his arms for warmth.
“Over a shirt?” Aichlan was not certain if his second in command was having a laugh at him or not. “It’s just a piece of clothing Eth.”
“Maybe for your kind General, but not for us Rhodeans.”
Aichlan got the distinct impression that they were all just a bit drunk. Perhaps when the liquid courage that put fire in their bellies ran its course, they would reconsider. For now, Aichlan simply smiled and motioned for them to take their seats at the table.
“You’re quite mad my friend, this isn’t the fire plains or that accursed fen of your own land.” Aichlan poured Eth a glass of whiskey out of habit, pausing as he debated whether to cut his friend off or not, before sliding the glass across the table. “This is northern Duvachellé, and it’s nigh on winter. If you’ll not be wanting to lose your nipples to frostbite, I suggest you find a change in philosophy.”
“Pah!” Maleah scoffed, as she poured herself a hearty shot. “Duvachellian winters mean nothing compared to those of the barren wastes of Thiudoricus, or the Xanavien winters more than half the year. Hell, I bathe naked in that black lake out back all the time without so much as a sniffle.”
“I wish that you wouldn’t sister…” Séverin hissed under his breath.
Alice and Fiora entered the tent before any more words were exchanged. Fiora crossed her arms over her chest and offered the Sorn salute as Alice curtsied a bit awkwardly at the unexpected formality. Alice had taken to wearing the panther skin cloak Clarissa had bought for her in Eefrit, while Fiora supplemented her armor with a plaid scarf and fur leg warmers. Alice shivered despite her cloak however; and quickly set up wind and fire runes in the air, creating a heated breeze that circled the tent. The elves let out a sigh of relief as the warm air encircled them.
“Fiora, I’ve not seen much of you of late.” Aichlan said with a welcoming smile.
Fiora offered him an awkward curtsy, ducking to an empty seat upon remembering that was not the appropriate salutation. “I have been aiding the sisters of the Order, it seems we are short on tailors and have an abundance of clothing to be made and mended.”
Alice took a seat next to Maleah, who scooted to the other side of the bench. Alice sneered and flicked her hair in contempt. While he did not have his fingers as close to the pulse of the camp as he would have liked, Aichlan knew enough about Alice to gather what created the row between them. More likely than not, the Countess Templeton had attempted to be friendly in the only way she knew how to when dealing with non-peers, by treating the Captain as a servant. If he were honest, she treated peers in the same regard.
“And I’ve been forced to associate with the likes of her.” Alice stuck out her tongue at Maleah as she crossed her arms and turned away. “How is your shoulder by the way Aichlan?”
“Fine.” Aichlan grumbled.
Aichlan quickly shifted his attention to the three appointed as battalion commanders, Órfhlaith, Enyo and Donough. He had recalled a council of twenty back in Rhode, it was hard to believe there were only three battalions remaining from such a large nation. The battle at Rhode had nearly a million combatants, for so few to remain is unconscionable. Admittedly, not all of the elves took the field or were even capable of doing so, Aichlan had hoped that more would have followed them across the sea.
“Are you three the only commanders?” Aichlan asked with some alarm, “How big are your units?”
“No larger than any other General,” Enyo traced the rim of her glass with her finger, as if her mind were elsewhere, “why do you ask?”
“I just thought there were more of you is all.” Aichlan replied more than a little crestfallen.
“And there were, but they were left in Vergas.” Órfhlaith said quickly “Our forces aren’t so grand, and as I’ve said before I am no soldier. Just a senator from a dead nation dragged into some fool war.”
“More cowards talk from the miner’s camp.” Donough sneered and knocked back a shot.
Órfhlaith raised her hand in an obscene gesture and she poured herself a cup of the whiskey. Unlike the first encounters he had with Donough and Órfhlaith, he got the impression the two were just having fun with the other, and not really at the others throat. Aichlan watched in dismay as the bottle quickly dried up before he had even gotten a taste of it, as more of his officers entered the tent. Clarissa came wrapped in a dark fur followed by Rassvete and two young nuns. It seemed she had become quickly acclimated to her new post and had already formed an entourage of sorts to carry out her every whim and desire. Admiral Donnelyn and his First Mate entered soon after, reeking of elven cigar smoke, their eyes bloodshot and gait unsteady. They sat down and joined in draining the last of Aichlan’s whiskey.
“Karen dear,” Clarissa asked sweetly in Elysian.
“Yes Your Eminence?” An eager young woman said as she rushed to Clarissa’s side.
“Go and fetch the wine from my quarters, and tell Lucien his presence is requested.”
Aichlan frowned at the request as the young woman dashed off into the night. “Is there really a need for that man to join us? I was hoping for an amicable war council…”
“Oh Aichlan, it is merely a power play. I must show him that I still and always will hold the power, thus I make him attend when he thought to spite me by not. He will be broken.”
Aichlan couldn’t help but feel slightly intimidated by the manner of which she spoke of crushing another man's will so callously; and with such certainty that it would work as she willed it.
“…Carry on then.”
The tent flaps opened once again as the young woman of the forest peered inside, unsure of whether she should enter or flee back into the wood. Ashe shot her a blood chilling glare, and Rowena quickly ducked back out of the tent. Aichlan couldn’t help but to laugh at the exchange, though he was perplexed by the forest elf’s drastic change in demeanor. She had been so fiery with that bow in her hand, yet in all subsequent encounters, she skulked about like a scared kitten. Aichlan motioned for her to join them as Enyo stood and grabbed Rowena by the arm half leading, half dragging her to an empty seat.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
The woman kept her shy, nervous smile as Enyo poured her a glass of whiskey and took a seat next to her. Aichlan could not shake the feeling that it was completely insincere. Though the whole event was odd and unexpected from a woman of Enyo’s character, the look of concern and disapproval upon Donough’s face was even more shocking as it was directed at his loyal right hand woman.
“In case ye have nae met her, this here is Rowena.” Enyo said rather cheerily. “She hails from Alfheim.”
“She assaulted our General if I’m not mistaken.” Alice drew a small fire glyph on the side of a water pitcher to heat it. “Yet finds herself sharing bread with him not a day later instead of swinging from a tree. Curious.”
“Aye, she shot ‘im, but wit’ reason I suppose.” Eth drained the last of Aichlan’s booze from the bottle before even starting on his mug. “Seems the almighty forest kin aren’t spared the wrath o’ Dusk, niflhel in the auld tongues.. The whole region ‘as been laid siege by those fell beasts and’ magicked corpses. Corpses wearing Aichlan’s colors.”
“Yes, but before we get on to that I think it imperative that we further organize our ranks in a legitimate manner. Prior to this we’ve not had a moment's rest to do so, but now we’ve had over a week.” Aichlan looked at each face assembled in his tent, as always Fiora stood out as the embodiment of discipline that he sought to bring to his band of remnants and mercenaries. “I would like to start with you Fiora. I asked you earlier to gather a tally of our soldiers, what were your numbers?”
Fiora fumbled with her coat as she searched for something in the pockets. She finally found several wadded up scraps of paper, her face flushed red with embarrassment at being put under the proverbial spotlight. She sifted through them until she found the one she wanted, stood and cleared her throat as she sought to steady her trembling.
“I, we, have a total of five-thousand three hundred and twenty soldiers of Rhode, with around one-thousand seven hundred in each battalion. They form the Immolation Brigade.”
Aichlan looked to Eth, who wore a wicked grin upon his face; no doubt the name was his idea.
“We have one hundred and thirty-five of Admiral Donnelyn’s marauders, one hundred and fifteen of Captain Miroshnik’s cavalry, and six hundred and eighty-nine peasant and remnant soldiers that served under Colonel Taryn.” Fiora looked up to Aichlan for further direction.
Aichlan nodded and she took a seat, relieved to no longer be the center of attention.
“Taryn, how many archers do you command?”
Taryn shrugged as she toyed with her empty cup, eying the empty bottle with dismay. “Three ‘undred ‘n forty. But they can’t hardly hit shit once it starts movin’.”
“But deployed in enough numbers, they don’t need to be accurate right? Just blanket the sky with arrows.”
Taryn shot Maleah a disgusted look. “First off, that’s bullshit. Second off, even if it were true, that ain’t how I’m going.”
“Well what do you suggest Lieutenant Colonel?” Aichlan interrupted, seeking to avoid any unnecessary squabbling.
“You can stop callin’ me Colonel, it’s weird. One o’ my men called me Colonel Phillips ta’day, nearly ‘ad ‘is ‘ead I did.”
“Your last name is Phillips?”
“Shut up Maleah.” Taryn sighed.
“Fine, Taryn, what do you suggest we do?” Aichlan conceded, not wishing to have this meeting sidetracked as so often happened.
Taryn leaned forward on the back of her chair. “About a two week refreshers course, but I’d like to wait till we get to Marquez. I’ve run inta these dusk creatures on a couple of hunting excursions. Those two kids are actually pretty damned good though, annoyin’ as hell but pretty damn good. I let Madden handle the other axe men and pitchfork wieldin’ farmers, and all previous ranks jus’ carried o’er so I’m set.”
The nun returned with Lucien and a bottle of wine; her habit and hair frosted from the beginnings of a snowfall. Lucien doffed his thick cape, and dropped it in his attendant’s arms, an ever-present sneer upon his face. He bowed grandly, making The Sign of The Dawn, drawing a half circle and line on his chest representing the sun cresting the horizon, quivering under Clarissa’s disinterested gaze. She looked at him from the corner of her eyes; the flickering candlelight reflecting her malicious self-satisfaction at his displeasure. The young nun finished pouring Clarissa a goblet of wine as the bishop began to tremble in his awkward pose.
“Rise my son—” The bishop shot upright, his back cracked audibly as he mopped the sweat from his red face.
“—your journeys just begun.” Clarissa finished with a look of smugness and indifference. “Aichlan, do you care for some wine?”
“Certainly.” Aichlan watched with some amusement as Lucien took his seat, trying to act as if Clarissa’s slight had not occurred while Rassvete poured the wine. “What of the soldiers whose armies were decimated? Under whom do they fall and what are their numbers?”
“Uh…” Taryn chewed on the end of a wooden spoon as she cast her eyes to the ceiling. “that’s about a hundred fifty, and they were all soldiers of Sorn. While none rank higher than a first class sergeant they aren’t too keen on following civilian’s inta war.”
Fiora perked up and meekly raised her hand. “Excuse me, but do you perchance know from where in Sorn they hail from?”
Aichlan looked over to Fiora in surprise; usually the meek modest mouse in such settings, her participation in the conversation on a volunteer basis was quite a welcome shock.
“Unh-uh.” Taryn shrugged. “All o’er I s’pose. Why, you wanna lead ‘em? Be mah bloody guest.”
“Well, I held the rank of second lieutenant in the Sorn army,” Fiora blushed as she played with the hem of her coat under the table, “perhaps they would perform better under the command of an officer of their own nation. Albeit a low ranking one… plus, I don’t really have a command of my own yet so…”
She looked over at Aichlan with almost pleading eyes and a sheepish look upon her face. If he had not known her for the warrior she had proven herself to be, he would have shot her request down without second thought. He would have thought that their experiences would have given her at least a bit more confidence, but she was still fairly meek. In all honesty, Aichlan was not certain how someone like her even became an officer, she certainly did not have any real leadership skills. It could be that she was the relative of someone in the army, or simply because she was literate. Nevertheless, despite her meekness regarding figures of high rank and status, Aichlan could think of no one better for the task.
“Then it is settled,” Aichlan took a sip of wine, wishing it were whiskey, “Major Fluorspar shall lead the Sorn remnants, but make it known that this is an impromptu army. They cannot pick and choose who they follow due to standing and title, if a farmer gives them orders and holds rank in this army then they had damn well better be willing and able to follow it.”
“Understood General...” She paused, as if having more to ask, though chose to bite her tongue instead.
Aichlan sighed, her lack of a backbone was becoming annoying. “Do you have something else for me Fiora?”
“Just… I still don’t have a second in command, and I don’t know who to pick… I’m not all that experienced and I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable…”
“Perhaps this lamb was not the best choice to lead us into a wolves den brother Aichlan.” Lucien chuckled at his mild humor.
“You are just joining us Bishop, so I shall pardon your ignorance, though you’d do well to harness your tongue in the future. Moreover, it is General. As it always has been.” Aichlan glared at Lucien a moment longer, seeking to make his disdain known to the piggish man before he turned his attention back to Fiora. “As for your, request, I could think of only one man who could have served you well, but he has gone M.I.A. as it were.”
“Ugh, you wouldn’t dare pair her with dzat fiend Ransom, would you?” Clarissa shuddered at the mere thought of her erstwhile bodyguard, “Aichlan, I thought better of you.”
Aichlan ignored Clarissa’s obligatory comments regarding the missing, presumed late, sword for hire. Though it was agreed that Ransom would not make the most compatible match with her, his skill and experience would prove invaluable to the young woman. So long as that experience was limited to battlefield tactics. Aichlan had his suspicions however that he need not worry about Fiora being loose with her male subordinates.
“May I volunteer, General?” All eyes turned to the newcomer, Rowena, who had remained silent throughout the entire proceeding.
“Who is that?” Maleah whispered to her brother and received a silent rebuke in response.
“It is not that I am opposed to the idea it is just, those outside the forest don’t particularly care for the way those in the forest view the rest of Silex.” Aichlan forced a wan smile as he rubbed his still sore shoulder. “It has harbored a bit of resentment, particularly with those nations bordering Alfheim. I don’t wish for you to become harmed by the ignorance of one of our own.”
Rowena’s meek, docile façade was briefly shattered when a flash of seething resentment crossed her youthful yet refined countenance. “But did you not say that they should not be able to pick and choose whom they follow? That if an order is given by one whom holds rank above them that they should be willing and able to follow it?”
Aichlan scowled in spite of himself, if there was anything any commander hated more, it was being fed their own words in front of subordinates. “Aye that is what I said… Fiora, do you have any objections?”
“Not at all my Lor- General.” Fiora smiled and offered Rowena a silent nod of thanks. “It would be an honor.”
“Good.” Aichlan leaned back and took up his wine, stirring it gently. “Well then Captain Rowena, you shall be working under Major Fluorspar from henceforth. And since you’ve reminded us of your presence, what news do you bear from the front?”
Aichlan took a sip of wine and motioned for Rowena to stand. The young elf took a drink of tea and stood, fiddling absently with her dress as she thought of what to say. She looked at each waiting eye as she gathered her thoughts, unsure of where exactly to begin, what was relevant and what could be omitted. Aichlan got the distinct impression that she was a shrewd, calculating woman, an impression he did not care for. Yet even so, she was a charming woman, one whose motives he wanted to believe were pure. A benefit of the doubt he certainly did not extend to certain others in his ranks.
“Well, those creatures, they swept in like plague.” Rowena began quietly. “They once inhabited all of Silex as you all may have heard I’m sure, and came back through the portal they were banished through. The world tree, Yggdrasil, in addition to drawing out the poisons that once infected the soils serves as a seal to the realm of Dusk. That seal, gateway, portal, whatever you wish to call it, has been ruptured.”
“But that makes no sense;” All eyes turned to Aichlan as confused murmurs broke out around the table, “the only pathway to The Dusk lay on Therion, that being the Black Gate, how is it that they come from the north as well?”
All eyes shot back to Rowena following Aichlan’s logical argument. “The woman, Cecily, she was in the forest when she banished the beasts back to their realm. Yggdrasil is a bridge across realms, connecting dusk, dawn and the mortal plane between. Those that came through the Black Gate are loyal to the man who opened it. Those that infiltrated my home…” Rowena shook her head, “those are loyal to none but themselves.”
“That would explain why that Morlock knew naething o’ the war.” Donough said.
“So what does this all mean? If they do not follow Osric then they shouldn’t be a concern, right? Or is it now a two-fronted battle we fight?” Aichlan folded his hands before his face, intently awaiting Rowena’s response or anyone else’s input.
Rowena brushed her hair from her face with a delicate hand. “The stories say that The Black Gate was a prison for Abigor’s army, which is why the serve Osric, because he does their masters' will.”
“So then the others are just mindless beasts?” Aichlan asked.
Rowena shook her head. “No, there are those of The Dusk that are more cruel and calculating than even men--”
“Bah! What nerve you have girl!” Lucien stood with eyes afire. “This is nonsense! We need only reach Marquez, all shall come into order when we reach the palace and speak with the King’s advisors and tacticians. No doubt Laelianus has already sent troops out to scout the kingdom!”
“I am afraid I must agree, Aichlan,” Clarissa held her cup up to be refilled, “dzis speculation gets us nowhere, we wind-up talking in circles. It is well dzat we ‘ave our armies structure worked out, but dzere are more important things to address, such as ‘ow shall we be presenting ourselves to zee King, no? We bear no flag, and wear no colors. We could not pass even as a band of mercenaries. As a man of the courtly life yourself, I know you realize zee importance of such dzings.”
“Well-spoken Lady Cardinal.” Lucien obliged as he took his seat.
Though the frivolity of the so called courtly life irritated and disgusted Aichlan to no end, he knew well the sensibility in Clarissa’s words. While the rest of the continent may have fallen, Marquez had not yet seen the armies of Osric, or their utter disregard for millennia old customs and practices. For the soldiers of Duvachellé, nothing had changed; form would forever lead function in their battlefields.
They would need uniforms and banners with heraldry when they approached the city gates, Aichlan and his officers would need steeds and attendants, their manner of dress flamboyant and ornate in order to gain any semblance of respect from the soldiers who would meet them. If that meeting failed, they could have journeyed for naught.
“…Agreed.” Aichlan said reluctantly.
“What?” Rowena erupted, her cheeks flushed with indignation. “You can’t be serious! There’s far more at stake than--!”
Aichlan held up his hand for silence. “Aye, I realize this Rowena, but it has been the way things have been done since time in-memorial. We have deviated from the norm, not them.”
Aichlan turned his attention back to Clarissa, who seemed rather excited for some reason. “I take it you’ve addressed some issues on your own Cardinal?”
“I ‘ave. Though it is common for ‘igh ranking officers to wear what they please into battle, it does not follow for the common soldier, so I ‘ad uniforms made. At least for zee human soldiers, Eth remained adamant about zee whole not wearing a shirt issue as did zee others…”
“Eth,” Aichlan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ya have ta wear a shirt.”
“Nae bloody way, I jus’ ain’t gonna let it happen.”
“Don’t be an ass Eth.” Clarissa scolded.
“Okay,” Aichlan said, holding out his hands for peace, “if you won’t wear shirts, Dawn knows why not, do you at least have something a bit more formal to wear?”
“…Aye.” Eth admitted begrudgingly.
“Good, get with Clarissa and get started on productions. We’re about a week or so from the capitol; we remain here till preparations are complete. That being said, do not think that this is the time to dally on frivolous enterprises. Fiora, you and yours have tonight’s watch. Dismissed.”
Aichlan set about clearing off the table, while the other officers remained to converse amongst themselves and drink. Aichlan looked up at the still seated members of his army with dismay and slammed his cup down on the table.
“That means get the hell out!” He barked.
Like startled deer, they froze before slinking out like chastised children.