They ran, cresting the hill and descending on the other side. They ran, even as Lindvar division broke off their pursuit. They ran until the cavalry stopped circling their formation, abandoning their hunt for those who slowed or took a step too far from the safety of the pack. And then, they ran some more.
A short while into their flight, Borm’s teammates found Edwin, still carrying the lifeless body of their friend. Doren, Moss, Hetta, and Deld flanked him like an honor guard, their eyes fixed forward as they concentrated on running even while tears flowed freely down their cheeks. But adventurers weren’t strangers to loss, and none of them would stop to grieve until the danger had passed.
“You can put him down,” Doren told Edwin in a quiet voice as the battered division finally stopped by a copse of trees.
“I’m fine,” Edwin said. “I can keep going.”
“Don’t be silly,” Hetta said, the fighter shaking her head. “You can’t carry him from here to Giant’s Head. He’s an adventurer, and adventurers don’t come home on their shields. If we fall, we rest our heads on the same soil as the prey we hunt.”
“As you wish,” Edwin replied hesitantly, carefully placing the dead Borm on the ground and stepping back as the dead man’s teammates knelt down next to the body. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save him,” he blurted out. “I was right there. If I’d been a little faster…”
Doren shook his head. “Don’t put this on yourself. In this damn war, any of us might die at any moment. Thank you for being there and having his back and thank you for carrying him. This way, we can at least return his belongings to his family and the Guild.”
“Ten minutes!” Bordan shouted a short distance away. “Ten minutes and we move on!”
Edwin turned his back, leaving the four grieving adventurers alone as they carefully removed Borm’s armor. It seemed morbid, but a seasoned adventurer wore a small fortune in gear, a small fortune that his family might need now that he was gone.
I don’t even know what family he had, Edwin realized. Where was he from? Did he have siblings?
He’d had every opportunity to talk to Borm about these things. Now it was too late. Shaking his head, Edwin walked back toward Bordan and Salissa. He himself might be invincible, but he would have to be more mindful of those close to him. It wouldn’t do for any more to die while he stood by and watched helplessly.
It was an hour of quiet marching later, with ninth auxiliary back at its familiar vanguard position, when a sound startled him out of his brooding. He closed his eyes and tilted his head, concentrating on what he was hearing.
“Bordan!” he called to his teammate. “Horse ahead.”
“What?” the former soldier hissed, instantly alert. “Are you sure?”
“Positive,” Edwin answered, face scrunched up into a mask of concentration.
“Spread out! Prepare for battle!” Bordan shouted, “Marksmen, get ready! Edwin, how many?”
“I think…” Edwin continued listening to make sure, then turned around. “I think it’s just one.”
“One?” Bordan asked, confused. “As in, a single horse?”
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“Yes, I’m sure of it. It’s approaching quickly.”
“Alright then,”, Bordan said, readying his spear and taking his place in their impromptu defensive line. “Let’s see who it is.”
Half a minute later, everyone else could hear it too. The hoofbeat was immediately recognizable, especially since they had just been surrounded by hundreds of the beasts. When the horse galloped around the final bend in the road, the beast barely managed to stop instead of crashing into the wall of grim-faced men and women bristling with swords, spears and crossbows.
“Adventurers?” the rider said, surprised. He was a slightly chubby man in dusty traveling clothes, sweating from the sun and the exertion as he eyed them hopefully. “Are you with 5th division?”
“Ninth auxiliary,” Bordan answered, stepping forward. “And who might you be?”
“I’m a messenger from 2nd division,” the man said, speaking quickly. “I have an urgent warning for General Asher!”
Bordan cocked his head, inspecting the man who was sweating even more profusely now that he wasn’t cooled by the wind anymore. “Would that warning have something to do with the Marradi cavalry?”
The blood drained from the messenger’s face, leaving his flushed cheeks looking spotty as he studied the defeated expressions of the adventurers that surrounded him. “I’m too late then?”
“I’m afraid so,” Bordan said, shaking his head. “Come, I’ll take you to the general.”
The man visibly sagged, but despite his distress and clear physical strain, his movements betrayed competency as he slid off his mount and followed behind Bordan.
Conflicting emotions warred inside Edwin. On one hand, he wanted to be angry, cursing the messenger for being late. If he’d arrived just a little earlier, all this death could’ve been avoided. On the other hand, the man had clearly not tarried. If he had indeed come from 2nd division, even with a horse he had to have ridden hard for days. No, just like Borm’s death wasn’t Edwin’s fault, it wasn’t this man’s either. He sighed, then the Harvand formation marched on.
--- ----- ---
The trip back to Giant’s Head took several days, with the division’s morale remaining at rock bottom the entire time. They had taxed their severely limited supplies too much, and now they had to pay for it, stretching one day’s worth of food to last them three. They hadn’t just been beaten, everyone in the army had lost at least one person they knew, so it felt like a funeral march. There were no command meetings either, the battalions left to their own devices as General Asher was quietly marching along within the protective circle of his bodyguards.
“I’m not surprised,” Bordan said when Edwin asked him about it. “He just got several hundred of his men killed for nothing.”
“He couldn’t have known the cavalry would show up,” Edwin argued.
“Maybe not,” Bordan shrugged, “but this was just one of several scenarios where that attack went horribly wrong. That’s the thing with the military: There’s always someone at the top who makes the decision. If he’s right and we win, he gets the glory, but if we lose, the fault is his as well. He made the call to attack, despite several of us cautioning him against it. He is the one person in this division who must always keep a cool head, who cannot under any circumstances get carried away by a string of victories or be depressed by a succession of losses. If he does, people die.”
“So it’s his fault?” Edwin asked. “That easy?”
“It is,” Bordan answered, “that’s the only way an army can work. If the commanders can make excuses after they’ve messed up, they might repeat their mistake and get even more of their men killed. No, the dead are on his conscience, and he will have to live with it.”
“You think he’ll be okay?” Edwin said, looking over his shoulder despite there being too many marching soldiers between him and the general to see him.
“He’ll have to,” Bordan said, shrugging. “Remember, he got promoted to Division General when they created the 5th. The last time he led men was years ago, as a battalion commander. He’s new to this as well.”
Edwin sighed. He wasn’t even angry anymore; the warring emotions having burned each other out over the last few days. Asher had made a mistake and people had died. That’s what happened when people held the lives of others in their hands. Men were fallible, and they made mistakes. If the war continued for long enough, the general would surely make a mistake again, and more of their comrades would die.
They will die anyway, Edwin thought gloomily. If not today, then tomorrow, in ten years, or in twenty. And if it’s not us who die, it’s only because we killed them first. It’s not about winning battles. We need to end this damn war, or one day I’ll be the only one left.