Chapter 4

The battle

The last thing I wanted to do was charge into the midst of the Tiffer army. I wanted to say where I was, but the others around me wouldn’t allow that. I was pushed along by all the overly excited soldiers. Their war cries echoed off the surrounding mountains.

I felt like a fraud in my armour. The shield felt wrong resting on my right arm. The sword on my left was so heavy that it seemed as though it was designed for someone else (probably because it was). I missed the comfort of the bow in my hand. Being a pîdantrës had just been so much better.

The battle was so loud that my thoughts were drowned out. There were people all around me. I hated the feeling of their bodies pressing against mine. People cried out, whether in pain or for excitement; it was impossible to tell. Arrows rained down from above. Wedging themselves in the ground and in bodies.

An Ossory boy fell to the ground next to me. His helmet went flying off and I recognised him. Minra. I knelt to the ground next to his body. His breathing was shallow and painful. An arrow had impaled itself into his chest. He looked up at me. His blood was seeping through his armour. Staining his clothing red.

I leant towards him to hear Minra’s final words , “Rico, make sure I get home.”

“I will. Minra, I promise I will,” a small smile formed on his lips, his stunningly green eyes meet mine. He let out his final breath.

His mouth went slack, and the smile disappeared from his lips. The life slipped from his eyes. He continued to stare at me without seeing. He would never see her again. A small trickle of blood leaked from the side of his mouth, falling to the ground.

I stood up on shaky legs. I looked down at his broken, lifeless body. He had been one of Pill’s close friends. I had liked him. He had always been nice to me. A tear slid down my cheek to join his blood on the ground.

It was the last thing I wanted to do, but I rejoined the battle, leaving Minra in a pool of his own blood.

Only seconds after leaving Minra’s side, a Tiffer soldier made a stab towards my chest. I bashed his blade. He went for another hit. I stepped back. I moved my shield so it covered my chest. He aimed below my shield. I moved my shield to block him, forcing his blade to the ground. He stepped back. I spun his blade around, pushed my wrist out to the left, and caught his blade on my guard.

I thrust.

He was too slow with his shield. My point pierced through his leather armour. My sword imbedded itself in his heart. He fell to the ground in a lifeless heap. I pulled my sword free from his body.

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The adrenaline started to wear off, and the reality of what I had done came crashing down on me.

I stepped back from his body. My blade was covered in his blood. I stumbled further away from the boy. My sword was dragged to the ground. What had I done? I had killed someone.

I took another step back, and I hit something. I turned around, raising my sword. My heart started to beat ten times faster. I was still shaking from my last encounter with a Tiffer.

But this person wasn’t a Tiffer soldier; he was in an Ossorian uniform. I looked up at his face. Calla! It was Calla. He looked just as shocked as me. Once he got over the sock, a smile played across his face.

“Rico!” He fell into my arms. He nearly impaled me on his sword.

I pushed him off. I wasn’t in the mood to get stabbed by either a Tiffer soldier or by Calla. I was overjoyed to see him in one piece, but I wanted him to stay in one piece. If he had continued to cling onto me, we would have gotten skewered.

"Calla, stay near me, but try to refrain from hugging me until the end of the battle.”

"Yes, Fi-Rico.” It was weird to hear my full name on his lips. He only ever used my full name when making fun of me.

There was a movement in the corner of my eye. I turned to see one of our own pegasuses falling from the sky. Its body writhed in pain as it plummeted towards the ground with an arrow in its side. Its rider had been thrown off. I couldn’t see them. I really hope he was caught by someone. The pegasus hit the ground with a bone-shattering thump.

It was swallowed by the crown of soldiers. I hadn’t had a proper chance to see it, but it reminded me of Mimõe. I had loved riding him in the local competitions. I really hoped that Mama hadn’t sold him. I would have joined the party if Calla rode.

The battle seemed to be getting fiercer. The Tiffer army was pushing us further and further back. I looked around at the carnage. There were dead and dying everywhere. I wanted to help each one of them. They were all people, just like me, who had families and maybe even lovers. I hated to let them die.

I watched in horror as an Ossory soldier was disarmed. He stumbled backwards, holding his shield in front of him, in an attempt to protect himself. There was a look of pure terror in the boys’ eyes. He knew his death was near. I could have helped, but I think fear held me where I was.

The Tiffer soldier was about to kill the boy when, in a blur of motion, Calla was there. He had had his sword raised. With an element of surprise and a bit of pure luck, he stabbed his sword into the Tiffer boy’s gut. The Tiffer soldier fell to the ground with a terrible scream. He writhed in pain for a few seconds before life left his body.

The Ossory boy collected his sword from the ground a few metres away and muttered thanks to Calla before running towards another Tiffer soldier. I was impressed by his bravery.

Calla lowered his blood-stained sword. He was breathing heavily. Tears stung his eyes.

“You did a good thing.” He looked unconvinced.

“Do you want to tell that to the dead boy,” He looked me dead in the eye. There was guilt and regret in every centimeter of his body, “I don’t think he would agree.”

Arrows still rained down from above and the battle still deafened my thoughts, but we just stood there looking at one another. Calla was too kind for his own good sometimes. I knew the guilt of death would weigh upon him for the rest of his life, long after the war.

I heard a flap of wings above. Close. Very close. The soldier had his bow drawn. I knew archery, and that arrow was aimed directly at Calla. “Calla, spâtètïe!”

He understood the warning and raised his shield above his head as the arrow came down from the heavens. The arrow shattered onto his shield; wood shards flew in all directions. I had a moment of relief before I saw it.