Cedric nodded and marched into the foyer to assemble his men.
David searched Joshua’s distant gaze, who had adopted a stern look on his face.
“Falco,” the high commander addressed his comrade. “I fear we will be overrun. There won’t be an uprising after this.” He searched in the distance at all his soldiers. He thought of their uncertain future and all these years of strife against a tyranny bigger than them. “When the time is right, we bring this whole place down. We collapse the tunnels. That way, it will take them days to reach Fort Gal.” He turned to his friend again. “We live brave, we die free.”
David smiled and gave a nod of acknowledgement. Joshua turned the corner into the hallway to help with moving the crates.
David, who shared Joshua’s disconcertment, remained still for a few minutes. Ten years of effort to build an army after the failed Uprising. Ten years...lost? He pondered on tomorrow’s battle and what could be the final breaths of the rebellion.
Lord Sharr’s army ascended the hills in search of the mines. There were tens of thousands of dokkalfar soldiers ready to strike. They marched in the valley, and their steps drummed as hooves of tens of thousands of enraged bulls. There were horsemen at the head, large units of swordsmen behind, archers and a few warlocks at the waist. The troops at the tail of the infernal battalion beast dragged trebuchets and cannons that ripped off the grass beneath their wheels. Sharr had prepared for a battle of annihilation to destroy the last of the Resistance. They were to leave no survivors, accept no surrender. An application of overwhelming force to an outnumbered opposition. The thunders of war would roar today, and the rebellion was to be obliterated for once and for all.
Rebel sindur and human scouts had lain in the grass atop the valley to observe Sharr’s advancing army. A group of golden eagles flew high into the sky. The symbol of death. They rushed to the gates of Orgna to alert the Resistance troops ready to fight.
Two thousand rebel soldiers of all races and traits stood before the square, swords and spears brandished. Captain Diego Levireo was among these men and women with the brave heroes of Squadron Five. Lynn stood by him. Captain Kairen Aquil’s squadron joined them. And before the troops of swordsmen and warriors, Commander David Falco faced them on his white horse.
David looked over his precious and faithful army of brave souls and saw the light of infinite devotion and courage to die for an immortal cause. He wished to tell each and every one of them of his fondness for them, for their loyalty. That his entire life had been devoted to leading them and training them. That he would gladly die for them in battle.
Next to him, on a black mountain horse, was High Commander Joshua Sand, the man who had trained him and made him the soldier he was now. Both commanders bore the bronzesteel plate armor of Bravoure’s long lost generals, adorned with their golden coat of arms.
David’s wife, Kairen, captain of the eighth squadron, stood by her peers with a sword and shield. He cast a gaze at her with his enamored eyes. He wanted his last moment to be this one. The unending second he looked at her red hair flowing in the wind and admired her beauty. She blew a kiss at him, and he blushed and smiled.
“The time has come for us to fight what could be our final battle,” Joshua Sand began. He took a deep breath and continued. “This war is one we’ve been fighting all our lives. The war our mothers and fathers fought all theirs. Our war is coming to an end. I see in you a band of brave heroes, who rose up against the oppression, who refused to bow before a false king. We fought for freedom, united as brothers and sisters, and we never let our differences divide us. This is what made us strong. This is what made us resilient to an age of tyranny. So brandish your sword and banish the horde!” He raised his fist in the air and the two thousand soldiers cheered with him. “We’ve been preparing for this battle for fifty years. So stand up and fight, brave heroes, don’t let these fifty years be in vain! Maybe this is the end of our era, but generations will rise again. The Resistance will live on. Our memory will persist in the minds of new heroes, and our song will echo in the valleys of Gurdal for eternity! If Sharr kills us tonight, we will be immortalized in the history of Bravoure.”
Joshua then brandished the royal claymore into the sky, above his army of dissidents. The gold-adorned blade lit with the light of the sun. They all joined him one by one with their steel swords and spears, with the fearless light of triumph in their eyes.
“We live brave,” Joshua called.
“We die free!” the rebellion responded in unison.
“Tell the artificers to prepare more explosives!” David ordered his men inside the barracks.
Joshua marched close to him. They heard the crash of a cannonball against the ground above Orgna. They rushed to the gates to oversee the retreat of more civilians and cadets through the mines’ tunnels.
“They’re shaking the whole place to the ground,” Kairen reported to David. “Warlocks were spotted performing a ritual. Ahna says we should brace for a quake soon.”
David acknowledged and helped a wounded swordsman on a stretcher.
The battle outside raged.
They had been able to slow down Sharr’s army by blowing up a piece of the canyon. The triggered rockslide had engulfed a large part of the front troops. But the rest of the battalion beast had soon overcome this slight setback.
Joshua suddenly brandished his sword and headed outside, David had no time to dissuade him. The high commander had tended to his own wounds but was now ready to fight again.
“David, Sharr’s cannons will destroy this place,” Kairen warned with a grave look in her eyes.
David ran his hands through his hair multiple times. He looked around and saw the wounded soldiers dying in the middle of the foyer.
There were too many of them, but he spotted Cedric in the distance—his stride noticeable from even the farthest of distances—who rushed to the battlefield with the Cursed Bow.
“David!” Kairen snatched his attention. “We need to evacuate the rest of the troops.”
He nodded and sent a few of his men down the tunnels. They reluctantly executed his orders, most of them wanted to stay and fight. As his wife turned toward the entrance gate, he caught her arm.
“Kairen, you’re going too, now.”
She gawked at him. “I have to fight.”
“I’m not asking this as your commander, but as your husband.” He wanted her to save herself. His voice begged her to leave.
Amid the chaos, she embraced him and kissed him gently. She scanned his face with a flame of determination in her eyes. “If you’re staying, so am I,” she declared as she smiled and brandished her sword.
Four tunnels had just been blown to rubble. The artificers had lit up the barrels of explosives, and there were no traces of the slithers beneath the mountains.
The ground shook at the burst of the fifth barrel.
Ahna had to hold on to a wooden beam to keep herself from falling. As the battle raged on, she took a sharp turn to a path uphill. She rushed to the top of the mines, where the warlocks had been spotted by the rebel scouts.
When she almost reached the top, she saw a group of three warlocks in long black robes leaning over the cliff above the quarry. They stood next to each other with their back toward her. Their hands were clasped, and they chanted an incantation in old elven.
“Katl a shaolfta, katl a shaolfta, katl a shaolfta.” Three words repeated over and over again with a deep guttural voice.
Ahna recognized the call for tremor immediately.
There was no time to waste. The ground had already begun to simmer beneath the canyon. Ahna seized her two daggers in each hand and with the flick of her wrists, she launched them straight at the warlocks. But before they could reach, the knives flashed against an invisible wall and were disintegrated entirely. Ahna’s chest heaved.
A protective barrier.
One of the warlocks slowly turned their head back at her, and she only saw the mask of the Defaced glare. S
he had to think of something to stop them before they ripped the canyon apart.
The tremor became stronger.
She could hear the roar of the ground, and the gasps and shouts of panicked soldiers to her left below.
She cast a glance over the valley behind her, in the distance, and saw a platoon of armored soldiers marching around a golden chariot pulled by four nightmare stallions.
Xandor.
They were still a long way from Orgna, but they were advancing deeper and deeper toward the narrow canyon. In front of the golden chariot, a single warhorse hauled a reinforced cage. Ahna could not see what creature was inside, only that it seemed inert.
With the three warlocks still chorusing, her eyes landed on the battlefield. The fierce clash of blades resounded in the gorge. The screams and war cries could be heard from miles away.
As she looked back to the masked warlocks, an idea began to form in her mind. They stood so close to the edge of the cliff. Their call for tremor had just given her an opportunity.
Ahna raised her hands in the air, and to their surprise, she began chanting with them. However, instead of focusing on the canyon, she targeted the top of the cliff. The surge of power that emanated from Ahna’s words caused the tremor to veer to the hill upon which they stood. The warlocks began to lose balance and focus. Their clasps became clutches to stay standing. One of them toppled forward and had to be saved from a fatal fall down the cliff by the other. At that precise point, Ahna stopped the incantation and began her own.
“Katl a frumur,” she murmured these words, the call for lightning.
The flickering light danced from her shoulder to her hand and sprung in a roar toward the fallen warlock. The lightning force hit the Defaced in the chest and pierced through the blazed ribcage. The burned carcass toppled over the cliff and descended down to the battlefield. Some soldiers below raised their heads at the thunder.
The two other warlocks, frightened by the power of the archmage, attempted to cast the same spell against her. But Ahna had rapidly summoned another bolt that struck the second magi in a savage howl. The last one wanted to flee. The earthquake had stopped, and the warlock was now alone and hopeless, with no exit.
Ahna wanted to kill him, to burn him to the ground. Her hand shone with another flicker. Her eyes lit with the fires of the Dwellunder, the old rage she repressed. But her heart spoke louder. Ahna signed with a nod for the warlock to run. The scared soul took off and ran into the trees ahead, never to be seen again.
“Fallback!” Diego yelled. He seized Lynn’s arm and gave her his sternest look. “That’s an order, Lynn. Go!”
She had blood on her armor, pieces of flesh and dirt on her boots. Her shield had been torn in two. The Squadron Five swordswoman nodded at her captain. She headed straight for the Orgna gates as he wiped the blood off his mouth and struck yet another dokkalfar soldier at heart.
But another one stood behind him.
He turned around to swing his sword but was shoved to the ground. The dokkalfar held his sword above him, and Diego closed his eyes to brace for impact.
The whistle of an arrow awoke him.
The silversteel soldier collapsed to the ground convulsing, panting and retching as he struggled to stay alive. Diego looked back—there was Cedric with his infamous bow and his kohl-mask! The marksman stood proud, his hand on the bow’s riser, unmoved by the excruciating pain he felt as he had shot the killing arrow.
“Cedric!” Diego exclaimed with relief. “You saved my ass!”
The shrike helped him up, and they sprinted toward the gates.
They were among the last rebels on the battlefield. The rest had either fallen or begun total evacuation. As three more enemy soldiers ran in the distance toward them, Cedric held his bow firmly. The soldiers came at a fighting stance facing him, and the shrike had to think fast. Before they could strike, a sudden taunting whistle by Captain Diego Levireo made them turn their heads. Cedric immediately took advantage of the distraction. He dashed away and rolled to the right. He rose to his feet behind a perfect row of three dokkalfar soldiers. He clenched his Cursed Bow and raised it in the air again. He bit his lower lip to focus his pain, and he squinted slightly when he stretched the bowstring.
He exhaled and let go.
The arrow found its way through the first soldier’s neck, then through the second’s, to pierce through the back of the third one. The last soldier fell to the ground and bleated like a tortured animal. Diego had slipped through the ajar door, and Cedric made his way to him. He let in a few rebels before stepping into the barracks himself.
When they were inside, there were wounded men and women sprawled out on Resistance grounds. Bleeding and yelling cadets leaned against the walls. Bodies of dead Resistance soldiers that had sought refuge inside the barracks before their final breaths. The ones who could still move carried those who could still breathe into the chapel. In the secluded room, the ground where the ring of stones had stood had been dug open. Underneath the soil was a large trapdoor to access another tunnel through the mountain.
As the shrike captain was about to enter the chapel, he turned back, and his eyes met Ahna’s in the foyer. She was about to head back outside with a squadron of more soldiers. Cedric shouted her name and ran to her.
“We’re evacuating the rest of the troops, don’t go back out there!” he called.
“We’ll stay and hold them off while you escape. Make sure you make it to Fort Gal.”
He stayed with his mouth agape, lost for words, while she turned around to join the other soldiers. Before she could slip away, he gripped onto her arm. She veered to him quickly, and their eyes met.
But he remained stoic and silent.
She looked expectantly at the hand clenched around her arm. “Cedric...”
“Ahna,” he interrupted. He kept on holding her firmly but could not speak more words. So, he sighed and let her go. “Be safe.”
She nodded and hurried to the battlefield. Cedric looked at her haste away. He then headed into the chapel with a pinch in his heart.
David and Kairen rushed with a dozen of rebel soldiers to the hallway, where the wall that protected another tunnel entrance had been opened. The high commander rushed behind them. When all the soldiers had slid through the tunnel’s entrance, David led his wife inside and turned to Joshua. Yet the proud man stood still and signaled for David to move on.
“Joshua, we need to move,” David stated urgently.
The high commander shook his head. “You go ahead without me, Falco,” he solemnly declared. “I’ll stay here and hold them off.”
David’s heart stopped. He seized his commander’s arm to pull him with him. But Joshua refused to be moved. “Go, David!” he ordered.
Commander Falco’s eyes darkened. He wanted to approve his superior’s decision, but he also knew what staying here to fight meant for his fate.
So he regained his calm instead and let go of Joshua’s arm. He smiled at his commander and gave one acknowledging nod. The proud man straightened up and honored David with an earnest military salute, his final words were spoken with dignity and a fist raised to his heart. “Falco, I pledged my life to the cause, and I promised to fight to the end. So if I die, I die free!”
The thunder of trebuchets positioned in the canyon shook the Resistance base. The stone walls were collapsing, and the entrance gates were about to be ripped open. The golden chariot stood behind the sea of cannons all pointed at the quarry’s cliff, and the last fighters of the Resistance were battling at the square.
Joshua cut through dokkalfar soldiers with the royal claymore. By his side, Luk Ma and squadron soldiers fought bravely. Amidst the rebels stood Jules and Ahna, back to back, each with a brandished sword in their hand. They were outnumbered but fought fearlessly.
A sudden enemy champion charged at them. He was much taller than the others and carried two heavy axes. His eyes burned with rage. He butchered through the swordsmen that faced him. Behind him, a troo
p of at least a dozen soldiers rushed toward the last rebel heroes.
Ahna swiftly turned around and slashed her hand through the air. A strong gust of wind emerged and thrust back the charging soldiers. They were thrown backwards and crashed on the rest of the horde, but the champion remained standing. Ahna dashed toward him with a stronger gust of wind. He had to keep his balance but was pushed back by the force of the draft.
While he struggled to keep on moving, Joshua jumped from the side and swung the claymore at the champion’s stomach. The blade cut through the exposed space between his plate cuirass and greaves. The enemy was forced to collapse on his knees.
Joshua held his blade pointed at him in the air and sunk it in the nape of his neck. The edge ripped through the flesh, and in a slight cutting movement, the champion’s head fell blunt to the ground, and his body joined.
The high commander signaled for his soldiers to fall back. He rushed with them toward the gates of Orgna. As they were close, the cannons were being loaded to blow up the gates. Some brave soldiers refused to withdraw, they wanted to fight until the end. Few of them marched inside the barracks with haste, but as Ahna ignored Joshua’s retreat call, he walked to her and placed his hand on her shoulder.
“Fall back, mage. That’s an order.”
Ahna shook her head and prepared to strike at the enemy again.
“Gods damn this!” Joshua exclaimed in desperation. “Get the rest off the battlefield!”
Their eyes then met. Ahna looked deep into his proud gaze that shone with the light of bravery. She discerned what he had pledged to be his resolve. He would stay here, until the end.
He kept his eyes fixed on her. “Get as many as you can through the last tunnel. Then blow it up.”
“What will you do?”
He gave one single nod and frowned with determination. “I’ll hold them off just a little longer.” He did not let Ahna retort. “To the tunnels, rebels!” Most stayed by his side, none wanted to leave. But he gave the order again with the loudest roar. “That’s an order!”
Tempest of Bravoure: Kingdom Ascent Page 16