The Kingdom of Progan, 5 leagues from Shadowpond
Far away from Laura and Conor, the ninth battle between Cadeyrn, the king of Progan, and Prince Aeron of Mirelamas, and their armies were beginning to take place. The two sides stood facing each other from across the wide Field of Shadowcourt. The army of Progan had the advantage, up on a small hill, while the army of Mirelamas was on the low ground. There was a small valley between them and the battle all depended on who would charge first.
Cadeyrn’s army stood out amongst the green field in their white and gray uniforms, which was more suited to blend in with the rest of the kingdom, rather than this rare bit of green in Progan. The king was not easy to miss as he stood at the head of his army; clad in bright, unblemished, silver armor and his short cropped red hair flat on his head. Cadeyrn was relaxed and open, joking with his men, even clapping a few on the shoulder. His men didn’t seem as relaxed, but were ready to support their king
Meanwhile, Aeron’s army stood tall and steady in their uniforms decorated with the royal colors of blue, purple, and green. The Prince was tense, body coiled and ready for action. Aeron wore dull silver armor that was scuffed and dented. Aeron’s black hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail that barely moved when shifting to turn and face the royal army. The men and women stood even taller, as their Prince addressed them.
“Today we fight Cadeyrn on his own soil, but we can beat him here. And anywhere,” Aeron said loudly, blue eyes glinting in the sunlight. “This might not be our last battle against him and his army, but by the Gods we are going to make him wish it was!”
The army cheered and readied themselves for the upcoming battle. The front line got into a defensive position while those at the back readied any long range weapons or spells they might have. For a few seconds, neither side moved, then Cadeyrn began walking forward. His army followed him. Aeron made no move until the opposing army was down in the valley. Aeron dashed forward, the army charging after. They clashed heavily with Cadeyrn’s army. The fighting went out for what felt like days, but was only hours, with neither side backing down. Many fell, with mages on both sides being some of the first targets. The healers were working as fast as possible to get them and others back into the fight as quickly as possible. In the middle of all this chaos, Aeron and Caderyn met to fight what was basically a duel.
“Prince,” Cadeyrn said sarcastically, as he bowed slightly. “A pleasure as always.”
Aeron sneered and shot back, “Wish I could say the same.”
Caderyn tsked and laughed. Then he twirled his sword, Silverlight, around in a circle before lunging at Aeron. Silverlight was said to be blessed by the Gods and many enchantments placed upon by powerful mages.
Aeron blocked with the sword, Witherbrand, which was said to be a cursed blade. It was unenchanted, as no mage wanted to be associated with it. What the blade lacked in enchantments and mystical power, Aeron made up for it with willpower and strength. The Prince was renowned for being a formidable fighter. Aeron knew that Cadeyrn was just as good, but hoped to beat the older man. This was their first true fight, even though their armies had fought eight battles against each other. The two let out a few more swings and blocks, Aeron feinted to the left, hitting Cadeyrn in the side.
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“Good shot, Prince. I won’t let it happen again.”
“We shall see,” Aeron smirked.
Their swords clashed again as they fought in earnest, ignoring the other fighting near and around them. Suddenly, there was a flash of light and the ground rumbled ominously. Everyone paused their fighting, except Aeron and Cadeyrn.
“From Deepvale?” Aeron asked, dodging a swing to the right.
“The Elders must have seen something,” Cadeyrn replied, blocking one of Aeron’s swings. “We must end this.”
“Agreed.” Aeron spun behind Cadeyrn and lunged.
However, Caderyn was quicker. He blocked the attack, pushed Witherbrand aside, and thrust his sword at Aeron. Silverlight hit the Prince’s shoulder, melting through the armor and breaking the skin. Aeron screamed as the sword hit bone.
Caderyn grinned evilly and yanked the sword out, causing more damage and pain. Blood dripped from the tip. Aeron staggered to the ground, barely able to stand. Cadeyrn knelt next to the Prince and whispered, “Now I’ve left my mark on you, little Prince.”
“I will repay the favor,” Aeron gritted out, holding a hand over the wound.
Cadeyrn laughed and stood. “Doubtful. Your wound is from a magical blade. Nothing about the scar will be normal. And I don’t think any mage would be dumb enough to try to enchant your inferior blade. You will never leave a mark like that on me!”
Before Aeron could respond, a voice called out, “We must leave now, my King.”
“I’m coming, Smith,” Cadeyrn sighed. “He just doesn’t know how it feels to taunt someone while they’re down.” He bowed to Aeron. “I’m sure we will meet again.”
Aeron growled as Cadeyrn ran towards his army, calling from them to retreat. Aeron’s own army was moving slowly back to their side. Aeron gripped Witherblade and pushed into a stoop. Aeron’s second in command, Alaba, ran over and helped the Prince stand.
“Shall we chase them?” she asked as they made their way towards a healing tent.
“No,” Aeron grunted. “We must head home. Missives from Deepvale must be on their way now.”
“And your wound?”
“I’ll have Osane look at it on the way home.” Aeron looked across the battlefield, staring off towards Deepvale. “Just you and Osane shall accompany me. Everyone else will stay here to rest, provided Cadeyrn doesn’t send sneak attacks, then they shall follow in two days.”
“And if there are sneak attacks?”
“Pull back behind the Mirelamas border and rest for as long as needed.”
Alaba nodded. “I shall tell Evon, who will tell the other commanders.”
“Good. We must hurry,” Aeron said as they reached the main healing tent. “I feel whatever the Elders saw was very important.”