24 Tavorhel.

‘Congratulations on becoming promoted to captain!’

Aletha and Enaien tore a bit of their rations and stuffed them into Elethien’s mouth before she could even stop them. The other Foresters cheered as Elethien gagged and sputtered, shocked at the sudden gesture.

‘Mrrmph—!’

After a while, she managed to swallow the dry bread, her mouth and throat parched and dehydrated. As a gift, they handed her a sword etched with a red gem within, the blade far sharper than any weapon she had handled before.

‘Where did you find this?’ she asked, admiring the details as she ran her fingers across the back of the blade. ‘This sword is… amazing.’

‘Oh, it was just lying on the battlefield earlier,’ Aletha answered. ‘A noble probably dropped it while retreating.’

‘It’s in such good condition too…’

‘But that’s kind of expected right?’ Enaien pointed out. ‘It’s not like they fight often on the battlefield.’

‘Well, I guess it’s always mostly just us…’

The atmosphere suddenly became quite solemn. The day’s battle was mostly the same as before. Green-eyed warriors lay dead wherever the eye could see, their bodies having barely anything valuable to be looted. The occasional brown or yellow-eyed soldier was something of a rarity, their pockets almost always concealing something of value, whether it be a jewel, an heirloom or even just a charm.

The blue-eyed ones, the Trelvenese nobles fighting on their side, were forbidden to be looted. Foresters caught rummaging through those corpses were immediately executed.

In the day’s battle, Elethien’s unit had lost around a fifth of their members, whether through exhaustion or the enemy’s weapons. The former captain had died to a stray arrow, followed through with a multitude of energy blasts that pierced and scorched his innards. He was probably being cremated on a pyre now.

Elethien’s ‘promotion’ wasn’t even an official one. The high command would probably just send a young Trelvenese officer as their commander and new captain.

Still, they could care less. Those that stood behind her had far high chances of survival. Her energy blasts, though reckless at times, were immensely destructive, sometimes even being used to block incoming projectiles. She was their protector, their guardian that ensured their lives continued for another day.

‘Oh, by the way, I heard we’re going to be transferred to a different battlefront soon,’ a Forester said, breaking the awkwardness.

‘Where?’

‘I’m not sure… probably to the north. A lot of us are heading there as well.’

‘You mean the giant mountain “pass” that’s basically a valley?’ Enaien asked in excitement. ‘I heard that depending on where we’re stationed, we might see some pretty views.’

‘Seriously, Enaien? The most dangerous battlefront this year and that’s what you’re thinking?’ Aletha looked over in disapproval.

‘I even heard there’ll be a lot more Trelvenese soldiers being sent there,’ another Forester added.

‘Well that’s a first.’

‘It’s probably going to be the biggest campaign of the year.’

‘Isn’t it nearly winter? It’ll be freezing cold by then.’

‘Apparently the campaign will probably last until spring of next year.’

‘The high command always goes a bit crazy when the temperatures begin to drop.’

‘Shh! You’re endangering us all!’

‘Oh, sorry.’

The Foresters’ chatter filled the night with warmth. As Elethien looked on at her ‘subordinates’, she smiled.

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‘Brr… C-Cold…’

‘I h-heard there was r-rain recently…’

‘J-Just our luck, h-huh?’

It was nearly two months since they left their old camp, the entire group of eighty people shoved into a large cart meant for fifty. It meant better conservation of body warmth, but at the same time, their exposed heads became prime targets for the harsh cold wind that blew in their faces.

‘We’re here,’ the officer sitting next to the cart driver announced. He was the new captain, and being dressed in thick fur from head to toe, he was obviously not particularly concerned about the cold. From his face, he appeared to be no more than twenty five, perhaps the son of some baron or noble who took on a military position to kickstart his career. No one really bothered to know his name. They just called him ‘Captain’, and he seemed to be satisfied with that.

The fabric of the Foresters’ tents were significantly thinner than the officer’s individual tent that rested next to it. The walls flapped to the slightest winds almost like that of a flag. However, they had the solace of extra cloaks and jackets for the time being that protected them from the cold, so no one really complained too much. They simply couldn’t complain too much.

After a decent few days of rest as more Foresters and Trelvenese flooded into the camp, the army was finally ready for battle. There were now more blue and brown eyes than green, the camp being filled with a lively atmosphere of hot soups and food. Occasionally, the more generous Trelvenese soldiers would even toss extra pieces of meat to the Foresters’ pots, though that usually came with some kind of expectation that the Foresters would fight over the extra food. Once their expectations were disappointed, the extra meat stopped coming.

The drums sounded on a particularly early morning, waking the entire army up. It was time.

‘Say, there’s probably around a hundred thousand soldiers here by now, right?’

‘I’d say a million.’

‘You’re joking. Do you even know how big that is?’

‘I’m pretty sure the kingdom sent almost everything they got to this pass.’

‘Valley.’

‘Yeah, yeah, let’s not dwell on technical terms.’

The Foresters were in surprisingly high spirits, probably due to the past few days enjoying better food than usual. Despite the early morning cold, they soon gathered at the front of the camp, waiting for the other groups to arrive as a group of cavalry patrolled the exit.

Elethien looked around. They were all Foresters with not a single Trelvenese in sight. Even their captain was nowhere to be seen, possibly still lounging around in his tent. Thousands of Foresters just gathered together, made up from the youngest of recruits to veterans nearing the end of their lifespans.

‘Alright!’ a cavalry officer yelled, silencing any chatter that was going on. ‘Here are your objectives for the battle…’

The man spoke with many words, but there was really only one main objective: take over the first enemy camp and wipe out the vanguard. It was direct and ruthless, the Foresters ordered to only keep marching forward until the objective was reached.

‘... Now march!’ The drums thundered as the gates opened, the Foresters filing out column by column.

‘Same old, same old,’ Aletha said.

‘Let’s stick together,’ Elethien suggested. ‘Just like before.’

‘I heard the overall commander of this campaign is extremely cruel,’ a Forester said. ‘Will we be alright?’

‘It’ll be fine,’ Enaien reassured. ‘We’ll survive this together.’

They followed the column in front of them, organising themselves outside the camp. As soon as the Foresters departed, the Trelvenese followed, their spears held in front of them as if they were already engaging in battle.

After some time, the enemy came into view, the sound of their own drums echoing through the lands. Rows upon rows of infantry dotted the landscape, the numbers seemingly even higher than the Trelvenese as the edges of their battle lines stretched halfway up the slopes of the pass, preventing flanking from a possible cavalry attack.

‘This is going to be brutal, isn’t it?’ Aletha gritted her teeth.

Elethien continued to look forward, focusing only on the enemy lines in front of her.

As soon as the Foresters came within range, the enemy archers and Foresters fired. Dozens of them fell to the first wave, their padded clothing doing little to protect them from the projectiles. Behind them, the Trelvenese continued to march in unison, gently pushing them further towards the enemy.

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They were soon within melee range. Spears clashed against each other, both sides holding a distance so as not to lunge straight into the enemy spear walls.

But that wasn’t the intention of the high command.

‘Stop pushing!’

‘We’re getting pushed too!’

‘What are they doing? Stop!’

The Foresters were squeezed tighter and tighter against each other, the front struggling to maintain their formation as they began tumbling forward straight into the enemy spears. The Trelvenese continued their march, their spears poised forward without hesitation.

The Foresters were being crushed by their own ‘allies’.

‘Everyone, follow me!’ Elethien shouted as she drew her sword. A spear was nearly useless in these close quarters. Effortlessly slicing the enemy speartips, she began to cut her way into the enemy formation.

It was like walking into a thorny bush… except the ‘thorns’ were spears that attacked from all directions. She clumsily swung her sword, taking advantage of the spears’ lack of manoeuvrability to weave through them and cut down the enemy one by one. Aletha, Enaien and the other Foresters began firing energy blasts towards the enemy, carving out a tight corridor as they followed Elethien’s lead. All the while, the incessant rain of arrows and energy blasts torn through the Foresters stuck in the middle, unable to break out of their prison.

They pushed further forward, hacking at the enemy like removing weeds from a path. Even as spears grazed their bodies, cutting through their clothing and allowing the cold air to seep in, they continued onwards, marching cumbersomely towards the enemy camp. The Trelvenese released their own arrows, firing at the enemy troops, but also striking the Foresters that managed to break deep into the formations.

The enemy was finally retreating, the camp gates opened for them to funnel in. The infantry rushed in, urging the sentries to quickly close the gates. As the archers on the flanks began to also retreat, the sound of thundering hooves shook them to their core.

The Trelvenese heavy cavalry smashed straight into the lightly-armed archer formations.

Whatever semblance of organisation the enemy had earlier had devolved into chaos. Troops clamoured at the entrance, some even trampling over their comrades to enter the camp. The doors were forced open by the sheer volume of troops, the sentries unable to even push the gate a little bit with their machinery.

And all the while, the Foresters pushed forward, unable to retreat as their backs were poked by Trelvenese spears.

Elethien waded through the chaos, her sword barely creating space for her as she pushed with an enemy corpse as her shield. She didn’t care that she stepped on the heads and torsos of those already trampled into the mud. She had to carve a way. Behind her, Aletha and Enaien could still be seen with their ash-white hair, but the rest of them had blended into the sea of soldiers. She couldn’t use any energy blast in fear of the force being redirected towards herself. She had only her blade, a corpse and the determination to take just one more step.

After much struggle, the enemy managed to close the gates, the tall wooden palisades blocking any, whether friend or foe, from entering.

And even still the Trelvenese continued their ruthless march, following the rhythm of their distant drums.

A host of enemy light cavalry appeared from the slopes, their crossbows poised for the Trelvenese heavy cavalry. Greatly outnumbering the Trelvenese cavalry, they shot their arrows towards the Trelvenese horses, knocking them down while firing in rapid succession.

The heavy horses tumbled down the slope, taking with them their riders. The armoured corpses crashed into the Trelvenese formations, disrupting the advance as the archers now focused on the light cavalry instead of the fleeing enemy infantry.

And even then, the drums maintained their steady rhythm, the Trelvenese infantry continuing their march.

The Foresters were now forced up against the camp walls, their bodies pushing into the palisades, crushing the unfortunate enemy who were still stuck outside. Elethien could no longer swing her sword, the air being gradually squeezed out of her lungs as her torso was tightly packed and crammed by others from all sides. A few Foresters sunk into the crowd, never to rise again.

The palisade began tilting from the pressure… and in one single violent motion, tipped over, knocking a few enemy soldiers and Foresters alike on the ground.

Freedom.

The Foresters rushed in, slaughtering any enemy that came into sight. Despite the efforts of the enemy cavalry, they soon retreated back further into the pass, unable to rescue their doomed comrades. The battle quickly became a stampede, the Foresters running away from the Trelvenese en masse, crushing all those that couldn’t keep pace.

Freed from the suffocating pressure, Elethien charged in, slashing at the fleeing enemy soldiers. It didn’t matter whether they were green, yellow or brown-eyed. They were blocking her way.

The enemy fled, the drums now silenced as the soldiers ran deeper into their territory. Those that unfortunately couldn’t run fast enough were quickly slaughtered.

She aimed her sword towards the unoccupied drums, the energy gathering at the tip of the blade. It just felt so natural to her, as if the sword was an extension of her arm itself.

And she fired.

A deafening boom sounded across the entire pass as the surface of the drum snapped, a gaping hole torn through its centre. Leaning over, it soon toppled over, crushing those standing underneath. The enemy had mostly left the camp now. The Foresters now occupied the space.

Victory.

In the headcount that followed, Elethien found out the unit had lost over half their number, most of them unable to be retrieved as full, intact corpses.

‘Tomorrow, we take the next camp,’ was what the Trelvenese commanders told them.

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The second day was similar, but without nearly as many Foresters as the first, most of the casualties came from enemy projectiles and small ambushes. They took the camp, a settlement far smaller than the first.

Elethien’s unit now had less than one-third of their original number.

The third day was nearly the same. They pushed, attacked, fell to ambushes, and finally, after a gruelling battle, they took the third camp.

The unit now had around twenty Foresters remaining of the original eighty.

The fourth day was the same. The unit headcount went down to fifteen.

The fifty day was identical to the previous day. The headcount went down to twelve.

The sixth day was a little harsher as they took down two small camps in consecutive fashion. The headcount went down to eight. The captain also died from an enemy ambush. Apparently he had been posted to cavalry duties for whatever reason, taking over the position of another rider briefly before he was killed by the weight of his own horse.

It was now the seventh day. There were barely any Foresters left from the original number. No one really remembered how many they had to begin with. The last camp stood tall before their eyes, apparently the last obstacle before total victory could be achieved.

To call it a camp was an understatement. It was more like a fortress, the sentries standing on the stone walls and watchtowers vigilant of any intruders. Cavalry patrols regularly surveyed the area, checking for any possible scouts. The entire area was practically devoid of vegetation, the grass and shrubbery burned by the enemy to create a radius of completely open space.

‘Conquer this, and victory will be won,’ was what the commanders said. They said that for the past six days in different variations as well.

They marched again. Elethien was practically dragging her legs forward, her sisters holding their dirty, blunted spears as they followed closely behind. The Trelvenese soldiers robotically pushed on, seemingly undisturbed by the fact that even many of their own had died in the past few days of battle.

Even after so many heavy defeats, the enemy showed no signs of weakening. In fact, it seemed as if they were strengthened with the archers that dotted the walls and cavalry that positioned themselves atop flatter areas on the slopes. Unlike before, there were no infantry that stood in front of the walls. The gates just stood there exposed, welcoming all that dared to approach it.

As soon as the Foresters marched within range, the archers fired their bows, hitting their few targets practically without error. It was practically its own barrier, preventing any from entering unprotected.

The Foresters stopped, waiting for the inevitable as the Trelvenese army, accompanied by various siege engines, marched steadily towards them.

‘So this is it, huh,’ Aletha sighed in defeat. ‘We don’t even have shields.’

‘Elethien, what should we do?’ Enaien asked, her hands trembling with fear.

‘I’ll… do something about it.’ But there was nothing she could think of. The Trelvenese were marching closer, their spears coldly approaching the trapped Foresters. Corpses of fallen Foresters lay scattered inside the archers’ range, but they were all already peppered with arrows. They couldn’t advance.

The Trelvenese might be able to take the fortress with their siege engines, but that meant nothing for the Foresters. All they had were their weapons and iron helmets to protect them.

The soldiers approached closer. All of them were armed with shields, slowing them down, but they still remained steady in their advance. There was no way out. It was either the Trelvenese spear or the enemy arrow.

Was this the disposability of them as cheap fighters?

The remaining Foresters gathered together, waiting for their eventual demise. Some fired at the archers with their energy blasts, but could do little against the solid stone walls.

The spears poked against their bodies… and stopped.

The Trelvenese archers, dispersed among the spearmen, fired their bows against the enemy. They weren’t any regular bows. The heavy longbows, used only by the elite archers of the army, possessed a longer range than any other bow in existence of the kingdom, and just slightly further than the bows the enemy archers used.

They weren’t used in the previous days, the archers’ strength conserved for a single day of battle.

The enemy cowered behind their walls, protecting themselves against the onslaught of the longbows. The space was now free.

As soon as the infantry resumed their march, the Foresters charged, firing their energy blasts against the vulnerable gate. It didn’t matter that there were archers hidden behind loopholes; they were too few in number to cause much of a threat.

The battering ram attacked the thick wooden gate. Even as boiling water and arrows rained down from the machicolations, mercilessly killing Trelvenese soldiers and Foresters alike, there was little to stop them.

It was only a matter of time before the gates finally burst open.

The soldiers swarmed in. Swept up by the tide, Elethien and the other Foresters attacked, their anger exploding in a single moment, avenging the deaths of their companions with each enemy killed. Blasts fired in all directions, the Foresters no longer caring much about their own safety as they fired their energy practically point-blank towards the enemy. Taking the weapons of fallen enemy soldiers, Aletha and Enaien soon caught up with Elethien, the three of them hacking and slashing their way to the top of a tower.

They soon reached the top, throwing the unfortunate archers down the tower. With a swift motion Elethien cut off the pole of the enemy flag, tossing it away as it soon became trampled under Trelvenese boots.

The air was immensely cold, the breeze stabbing their faces like needles. But victory was won. It didn’t matter that they had various cuts and bruises along with an intense sensation of numbness and exhaustion. The three of them survived.

There was no laughter or celebration that came with the victory, no extra rations to congratulate the survivors that made it through. They heard the sounds of parties and ceremonies, but they couldn’t take part. The Foresters departed as soon as the battle was over, those injured returning to their villages for a brief respite before they were sent to yet another battlefront to begin their next campaign.

In the final headcount, Elethien’s unit was down to three Foresters: Elethien, Aletha, Enaien. They were all that remained of a unit that originally numbered eighty Foresters and one Trelvenese.

It was said later that the overall commander of the campaign managed to minimise Trelvenese casualties to less than one percent of the total number.

As for the Foresters… Only twenty survived relatively unscathed of the original estimated eight to ten thousand, with a few hundred more permanently injured and sent back to their villages.