Chapter 32: Clash of Steel (I)

23th of Firstleaf, third month of 984

Trilus held his breath. His gaze, fixated in the multitude of enemies marching along the Highway, showed him an uncomfortable truth. ‘Only levies at the front? They trust that much in their morale or are they just a shield for their quality troops?’. Crouched together with the ‘breakers’, his infantry of double handed weapons and the ones that would follow the cavalry charge, he sideeyed the heavy cavalry he had brought. Two hundred horsemen cladded in the highest quality armour money could buy, two hundred on the other side of the ambush.

Minutes turned into an hour, an hour into two, and here they came. The rumbling of boots and shoes already overpowering any misstep his anxious men could do, he waited with ragged breath. ‘Five hundred, a thousand, two thousand, four thousand….’ “Now!! Charge!!”

Hir order was carried by both will and magic and his army, with morale as high as Heaven itself, charged forward. He and his fellow foot soldiers found themselves outmanoeuvred by the cavalry.

He watched as they picked up maximum speed and rammed against the confused and panicked peasants. The contest of strength, if it could be called that, had a clear winner. The cavalry opened two holes in the two sides of the army’s column, puncturing through with the aggressiveness of a kilgor in mating season, and pushed inward. The hooves of the war horses crushed and knocked out, the spears and alabards of their riders stabbed and slashed, ensuring the panic bloomed to a full retreat.

The eastern part of the army, the head of the column, found itself alone and behind enemy lines. Farmers and common people, they had no will to fight soldiers armed like knights and, with a clear and open path for retreat, broke files and ran away. Fear had maintained their unity and, once they had found something worse, it broke.

Trilus didn’t have that leisure as he charged along with her men. While the cavalry had managed to flawlessly carry out the plan, half of the retreating troops had enemy men behind them, blocking their escape. It was a short question of time before they turned around and encircled them, so he made haste.

Out of breath, he collided against an old man that had been knocked back by his retreating comrades. That collision made him fall to the ground, where he was stomped to death by Trilus' men as they charged, widening the tunnel created by the cavalry. Trilus gazed backwards, reassuring himself the spearmen were following and creating a wall in the areas they had cleaned already, letting the Fenix Corps position themselves.

His greatsword halved a kid no older than eighteen, armed with a rusty shortsword, and kicked a badly disguised woman in her twenties. The crack of her ribs told him he needed not to care longer, for she would die as they charged. Now a man with a shield turned against him. Two overhead strikes, one to bash the shield away and other to crack both his helmet and skull in. Two turned. One tried to run away and fell to the ground thanks to the confusion around. The other was stabbed as his sword found Trilus’ shoulder plate and bounced off innocently.

Then the screaming began. It started with the sound of light flames and the splash of liquids, soon leaving space to the sound of a forest fire, the trees being the enemy soldiers beneath the striking distance of the ‘flame spewers’, the weapon of choice of the Corps. It could be called a backpack filled with oil and a mixture of shredded wood, papyrus, tar and phosphorus. This complex liquid then flowed by a hose pipe of bronze, filled to the brim with enchantments to both heat up the mixture and speed it up. The end of the hose was a simple hole, carved with a fire spell that torched the ending, lighting up the mixture on fire. The speed that was granted to the concoction did the rest, for the superheated liquid could be called the fires of Agnii, Goddess of Fire and Smoke.

Reaching distances of a hundred metres against wind, it had nourished itself in the agglomeration caused by the charging enemy soldiers and retreating soldiers, creating blobs in which the flames found themselves too full to not show their content in a dazzling display of light and heat. Even if it had only targeted the sides of the column, for now, it had been enough for, in a few minutes, half a thousand men were being consumed by flames, a thousand soon to follow.

Trilus held in the bile that was threatening to make him puke. The screams were a thing he could stand but, the sounds of people being roasted alive? The smell of cooked meat? That was why he hated working with the Fenix Corps. He soon found himself fighting against the centre of the column, fierce resistance born out of the primitive fear against the fires the loyalist army toyed with.

Trilus cutted and crushed, not bothering to block any strike. His armour deserved his full trust and it delivered. His twentieth foe vanquished by his blade, he found himself face to face with his second it command. “Men!!” He screamed with the little air still inside his lungs, fighting against the need to cough because of the smoke. “Push forward!! The flames are our new stop point!!”

He tried to take a step forward but, as his feet collided against what he thought was ground, the sickening ‘crunch’ only a head could produce met him. He froze, unwilling, no, too frightened to look down nor advance. His face turning pale as the sudden stop had made him able to focus on the carnage his orders had bestowed on the common people. ‘What have I done?’ The wall of fire jokingly danced in his eyes, as if asking him the same question but in a mocking tone. The screams, o God. ‘It is worse than the swamp,....I…., have I done it again?!’ Flashes of his men dying in the dark, only for their corpsers, on which dozens of wolfmen were feeding on, to be illuminated as he gave the order to torch the mountain of bones they had been ordered to take.

‘Breathe, breathe, Gods be damned!’ If it were that easy he would not need sleeping spells to rest every night. A hand making way to his shoulder, he was brought back to reality.

“Do you need to rest, my lord?” Asked Higher Commander Jess.

Shaking his head and trying to reignite the excitement and fear of battle, he said, “Let’s rush to the front.” His feet heavy, his left hand clenching and unclenching, he charged against the wall of fire for, at its side, were men he had to kill. ‘At least the fire corps have managed to make a true wall of fire, we need to crush the remaining soldiers in this part of the highway before trenching up.’

His gaze turned up, not seeing enemy projectiles on the rising curtain of smoke. ‘I thank you, Zun, for protecting me from a world that is unjust.’ Looking back, his legs already on the charge, he prayed, ‘But, I beg of you, Zun. Grant my enemies mercy.’ He screamed a war cry and finally crossed the lines of his men, ‘For I cannot give it to them, as my soldiers’ lives are in danger too.’ His greatsword broke another’s sword in two, ‘We march on the path of war, against your best wishes,’ The chestplate was next, stabbed and pierced, the man behind too scared to realise he had been slain. ‘Meet them and commend them for their bravery,’ A spear tried to find his guts, only to bend and break, not able to pierce. ‘Give them a home, as you did to me,’ Trilus’ greatsword did not have that problem. ‘Let them forget their Nethers, pardon them for their sins, teach them why they failed, show them a better way, a better time,’ His lugs begged for time, his legs and arms for rest, his head for air, still he pressed on, for that was the duty of a leader. ‘I beg of you, Zun. And, If I am allowed to, I ask you, will I meet them there? Will I be able to apologise? Will they forgive me? Did I do enough? I would love to think they would, for the Green Plains do not deserve to know regret or hate nor malice. But, would I deserve the apology?’ He cringed, expression hidden behind his helmet, as he felled yet another man, too young to have to die. His eyes full of fear stabbing his heart, fully knowing that that expression would follow him forever.

‘I ask of you, Zun. Why do you let us do so much harm?’.

……………

“Hold men, hold! Screamed Andras, his shining white longsword a beacon of hope for his men. His sword rose in the air and cut through the shield, enchanted armour and the knight below them all. ‘I knew we would not have luck on our side. They have chosen to focus their best troops on us. They expect us to break and let them attack the marquess’ troops from three sides…’ A grim smirk came to his face, ‘Not the first time I have destroyed my enemy’s lute and made my own melody.’

“Now!!” He and his frontline ducked, a hundred more or less, action followed by several blades of blood and water that flew over their heads and crushed onto the soldiers below, severely damaging their armours and cutting some. Rising up, he continued, “Keep your feet steady, keep up the retreat, as we planned!!”

The spear wall held up, against both his and the enemies’ expectations. Andras did not know where his men were bringing the discipline from, but he wouldn’t ask. Steadily retreating behind, he looked to the sides, seeing High Commander Kraus’ troops faring similarly. Sensing the mages readying their spells, he screamed again, “Duck two!!” The nearby enemies ducked, letting the spears find the weak point in the helmets and felling some. “Duck two!!” He screamed again, this time he and his troops ducked while the knights, enraged, tried to make them taste their own medicine. Still, the magic blades flew anew.

His feet almost got stuck on a nearby root as he maintained formation with the spearmen, his daughter managing to catch him before he fell. Gazing backwards, he saw the trench they had dug. ‘Should we retreat already? More rotations of this petty trick could backfire.’ He looked at his line, already thinned to one or two men per position, and eyed the trench line, filled with hidden reinforcements. At his front, the bloodlust of the Duchess' men at arms was starting to get into their formation, making them more restless and threatening to swarm their now weak formation.

“Retreat!!” He decided, not willing to risk more of his men. The wave of his sword reinforced their discipline and courage, letting the order be heard clearly. The reinforcements passing the order to the rest of the northern flank force, Andras was one of the last to retreat. The slower ones were the ones that would try and lessen the prosecution, and soon found themselves in melee combat, as the knights rushed forward. ‘Not good, too fast!!’ He had underestimated their speed and willingness to engage, and they were threatening to overpower the slower ones. And, even if they didn’t, Andras and the others found themselves pinned.

He ducked, blocked a blade, and tried to stab an opening, action stopped by another shield. He could take one easily, he could maybe win against two, but three? He sidestepped another slash from the knight at the left, trying to make him into an obstacle to the other two, and a spear from yet another knight found his flank.

…….

Eve looked at the chaos of the failed retreat as if it was not weren’t business. ‘Huh, the other meatbag’s forces are doing better. Could it be that they are more?’ It shrugged, its eyes focused on Andras. Watching him get stabbed, his armour barely stopping the enchanted spear’s head before it could dive deep into his chest. The other knight smirked and rushed in, only for the apparent weakness to turn out a lie, his sword to be deflected and his neck to get stabbed.

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Andras rotated, grabbing the spear and carrying the new opponent as he foolishly held onto his weapon, colliding with the original second opponent. A pang of doubt assaulted Eve as she looked. Its orders had been to wait for them to cross the trench and to ambush them from the ground but if things didn’t go to plan it was the commander’s, its job, to adequate to the circumstances. Could it justify her lacklustre performance without Noct being disappointed?

‘O, that should have hurt.’ Mussed Eve, trying to find the source of her discomfort as Andras got stabbed again, this time by the original third opponent. A new wound, he did his best to try to retreat to the trench line. ‘Five have died, huh. That could endanger….what? Why am I worrying? The humans losing their battles doesn’t concern me. We will always manage to escape, so, why am I thinking about….’ Its brow furrowed as Andras got stabbed again. This time, the fourth Knight convulsed and a sword sprouted from his chest. Samil had managed to arrive just in time to save him, but she had been followed by her opponents. Now a four against two, well, one and a bit, for Andras was far too injured to be of much use. ‘Still, I enjoy seeing him kneel beneath my feet.’

The look on Samil's face was grim as she did her best to play defensively. Still, her shield was not up to par to the weaponry of the knights, and soon fell apart. ‘....Noct would be sad if those two meatbags died. Still, they do deserve to….’ She looked ahead and cursed. Time was up, most of the enemy was in the ideal ambush spot and it could not delay its participation without raising suspicions. An unconscious sigh of relief exhaling from her lips, she jumped to the ground, casting the ‘mental message’ spell.

……….

“Leave me and run, that’s….that’s an order soldier!” Screamed Andras between coughs.

Samil only grunted, as she collided against a tree. Reacting just in time, she raised her sword to deflect the knight’s, an action that broke hers. Andras fought against himself and tried to rise from the ground. When he was about to jump between her daughter and the knight’s strike, something fell onto the ground, making him crash against the ground, as if the thing had weighed a ton.

The thing moved its arms with lighting reflexes and grabbed the heads of two of the knights. As Eve raised them in the air, the last one stabbed it in the guts, not that it did anything worthwhile, as Eve crashed their heads as if they were rotten tomatoes and turned her attention to the last knight. Screaming, he tried to back away, but the hands of Eve were quicked. Grabbing him by the arms, he simply tore them apart, tossing them aside as one would toss trash.

Turning to them, it made a tsk noise and started, “Is it that hard to stick to the plan?” The fading screams of the armless knight accompanying the growing chaos of the knight’s lines

“Wh….” Tried to ask Samil before needing to breath, exhausted. Not a few seconds later, she paled, for a cacophony of screams started.

“Go to the trench, meat bags, do not make me repeat myself.” Ordered Eve, turning to look at the new battlefield. Its sisters had dug out of their selfcrafted tombs and had surprised their enemy. Ripping them to pieces with both the element of surprise and their enchanted sickles. While heavy resistance was quickly mounting, their trained status shining, they had already done severe damage. ‘Two hundred can kill a thousand so quickly?’ It meditated before enlarging her nails to claws. ‘If I cannot kill those two I will discharge my hate onto these ones.’ It snarled.

…………….

High Commander Lantraz was perplexed. Their lines were currently engaged in what could be described as a staring contest, for both had chosen the spear wall but the pirates weren’t moving forward. ‘Is this all?’ Both lines had heavy shielding by enchanted tower shields, so neither arrow nor bolt volleys were doing damage to either army. Johan, the cavalry leader of the southern flank, rode toward Lantraz.

Hailing, it asked, “High Commander, what now? Charging sounds like madness to me. Even more when it doesn’t seem like they want to bring out their own cavalry.” It started to look a bit uneasy but continued, “Even more, they could crush us if they charged.”

“For what our lord has informed me, they are mercenaries.” Lantraz tried to reassure it. “They won't attack until they know they can win, that's why we have doubled our numbers thanks to the illusions of Kal.” Lantrax looked to the par lines and added, “Even if rudimentary.”

“Even so, shouldn’t they be doing something, anything?”

“And that’s where it enters again ‘until they know they will win’.” Said Kal, phasing out of its invisibility. “They are mercenaries. If I understood correctly, they would prefer to get a feeling out of the whole battle rather than their own. And,“ Kal eyed the clouds of smoke coming from the centre, “It looks like they are doubting.”

Lantraz scratched its helmet, trying to forget Kal had heard it call its illusions rudimentary, and continued. “Still, you are right Johan. It is indeed unorthodox for them to do nothing at all.”

“They are planning to turn tail and run.” Said Kal in a dry tone.

“What? With the great advantage they have?!”

Shrugging, Kal added, “Matters not. If I am allowed to paraphrase, ‘You should never pay a mercenary an upfront cost that could outweigh the benefits of staying all the way. You should entice their greed, not give them a reason to feel like they have gained enough.’” Its eyes revealing amusement, it ended with, “They didn’t, it would appear.”

Lantraz, understanding the logic behind but not capable of digesting the betrayal, shakily nodded.

“So, what should I….?” Asked Johan, the rumbling of steel boots drawing him out.

“Here they come, siblings!” Screamed Lantraz, untying its mace, yellow fire surrounding its head. “Ready the spears!”

Shaking its head, Kal muttered, “Fools.”, before dissipating again.

Lantraz prepared himself and was the first one to feel the lacklustre charge of the pirates. No matter how much they tried to fight, the pirates focussed on only defence, even letting them gain terrain.

Tired but not wanting to not take an advantage it ordered, “Play to their tune.”

…………..

“Father, you need to rest!” Almost shouted Samil, losing her temper when her father tried to leave the care of the healers in the backline.

“They are but flesh wounds.” Said Andras, trying to calm down his daughter. To be honest, the healers had done an excellent job. The exhaustion remained, but they would only reopen if he acted like a fool. Reentering the battle would indeed be foolish.

“I do not care. You are sitting this battle out. Give me your sword!” Seeing his father refusing, she chose to grab it herself before a barrier made her unable to close his hand around the handle. “May the Nether take you, piece of scrap!” A kick to the sword after she flared against her father.

Not wanting to confront her head on, he tried to defuse the situation. “Calm down, Samil. Fine, I get it. I will stay here.”

“I want your word.”

That made him flinch, think that upped the ire in her eyes. “Samil…”

“Your. Word.”

“For starters you are the….”

“Do not deflect the matter, father.” Her steel gaze was harder than her broken sword, for it resisted her father’s judging stare.

“So be it. You have my word. I swear upon Elenia. Happy now?” He dejectedly said.

“Yes.” She proceeded to grab his spare longsword and tie its sheathe onto her side.

“Wait…Wait!!” Before his ire could flare up her daughter was already returning to the frontlines. Not having the heart to follow her, as he had planned to break his word, he got up. Nodding to the healer, who did not dare to reject it, he mumbled, “Return alive, Sam.”

He walked with difficulty towards his sword and bent to pick it up. The carvings flared up again once his hand grabbed the handle, ‘Light of Hope, huh.’. The white light made him feel lighter, as if it was accepting their new duty.

His gaze turned to the sky, devoid of magical artillery. ‘I promised myself I would not forsake you again. I am acting on that vow so, Elenia be merciful, do not be dead.’

………………

“So, how is it going? Your great plan of going straight ahead into an enemy ambush? Well, if the plan was to lengthen our provisions, you are doing a fabulous job.” The mean intended jab made Larra finally snap.

“You agreed to its necessity, Ilkom! Do not dare to shrink away and poke into my failures!” Screamed Larra, her fist hitting her chair’s armrests.

“Yeah yeah. Still, I didn’t expect you would go along with it. And, at this rate, we may be able to win.”

“Win? Win?!? How many deaths do we have on our side?! Five thousand? Ten?!”

“If you add the levies that ran away about thirteen.” Said Ilkom with a smirk. The republican plan was working flawlessly it appeared.

“To how many of theirs?!”

“Six, six hundred. Most of those on the northern flank.” Shakily said a nearby High Commander, kneeling in the ground. His queen proceeded to throw at him a glass full of wine, smashing itself against its helmet and drenching him.

“Are you baboons who bought their knighthoods with bananas?!? How can you lose so drastically against a force of two and a half thousand! You are attacking with six thousand men at arms!!”

“They-They have dug themselves in, Your Highness. Cursed magic and dishonourable traps and plots drastically difficult our advance. Still, they kept retreating all the way!!” Interceded another High Commander, trying to get the fire off the other.

“Because that is their plan!!” Grabbing her head to try to soothe her headache, she asked, “How are your pirates faring, Ilkom?”

“Badly. They have doubled their numbers with our fallen and they keep reinforcing themselves. To have joined hands with necromancers.” Ilkom shaked his head, his poker face revealing nothing but disgust. “We cannot advance.”

“Just my luck.” Muttered Larra. Turning to look at the banner of her Household, she asked herself for the, she didn’t know the count anymore, ‘I only brought chaos and pain to the north, didn’t I?’ Hitting her armrests again to ground herself, she turned and asked her personal mage.

“When will we have support?”

He turned to look at Ilkom and said, terrified, “We won’t, your Highness?” His tone more a question than an answer.

Larra slowly turned towards Ilkom, who was quietly toying with his dagger as if it didn’t go with him.

“They lost.” Drily said Ilkom.

“Who lost.” That made Ilkom flinch. He started to eye the possible escape routes, for that tone was a murderer’s. If his reason was not one of weight he would get beheaded, right there and then.

“Both the initial ambush party and the reinforcements, Queen Larra.” His regretful tone a mere excuse to try to please her. “I thought if we doubled up the number he would face defeat. He still hasn’t, so I sent the rest.”

Larra fell back on her chair. “So be it.” Her empty gaze turning to the High Commanders, who paled, and said, “Come back here with better news or I will come to tear your heads out.”

Pushing themselves to get out of there quickly, they soon found themselves alone.

Larra tiredly got up, screamed and tore her banner to pieces.

………………….