by Pirateaba
Her armor wasn’t brown anymore. It was black with soot in places, but red blood had painted it liberally as well. Gazi’s two-handed sword was also crimson and dripping. Maresar’s hands moved and she kept loosing arrows as she spoke.
“How long?”
“Two minutes. Orthenon needs more time.”
“He needs to retreat. Tell me where.”
Gazi was still panting, but Maresar saw two of her eyes turn, roving the clouded battlefield. She pointed.
“There. She’s mounted—aim up.”
“This high?”
Maresar aimed, calculating for the arc of her arrow, and loosed in an instant. Gazi waited a heartbeat and then shook her head.
“No. To the left two feet and down half a foot. That’s their head.”
“Fine.”
Maresar loosed a second arrow. Gazi nodded.
“Down. Straight through the chest. Next—over here. They’ve got a barrier spell up.”
“So what am I supposed to do? I don’t have any enchanted arrows.”
“Hit the horse.”
Gazi’s rasped commands let Maresar target three more mages in the mist. She killed one more, and only distracted two, but it was enough. The fog persisted a few more minutes as the [Mages] were forced to scramble for cover rather than focus on dispelling the enchantment.
That done, Maresar turned back to firing into the mist. She couldn’t see anything, even with her Skills, but she didn’t have to look. There were so many soldiers all she had to do was loose arrows and she’d hit someone.
“How are we doing?”
“We’re being cut up. We can’t hold much longer.”
Gazi was staring at the place in the fog she’d come from. The place where she’d gone with Orthenon, leading them straight to the center of the army.
It was a tactic that required the fog arrows to occupy the army. It could only work on a coalition army, too. The soldiers didn’t recognize each other, and some were too afraid to enter the fighting for fear they’d attack each other. Some did, and began killing their allies. But it was all to get to the enemy command, Maresar knew.
They’d charged the entire army in, save for the archers led by Maresar. A wedge had been driven into the enemy army, a spear aimed straight at the center. But it was a thin, brittle spear. Maresar knew the lines of soldiers were collapsing, struggling to fight an enemy on both sides that vastly outnumbered them.
“I’m going back in.”
Gazi gripped her sword, coughing. Maresar kicked her mount and blocked the Gazer’s way.
“Not a chance. You’re too weak without your main eye.”
“Orthenon needs help.”
“He can do without you. You just took a spell to the chest. Even with your armor, it nearly got you. If you can’t dodge that, you’ll just get killed.”
Gazi opened her mouth to protest, and then all four eyes swiveled across the battlefield at once.
“The fog’s lifting! Orthenon’s…a few more seconds. He’s nearly killed half—he’s moving! Be ready!”
“At last!”
Maresar turned her horse and raced down the line of her archers, shooting.
“Volley the soldiers to the right and left of the formation! Loose!”
Her archers turned. They began to shoot, avoiding the patch of fog where their own soldiers lay. Maresar put an arrow to her own bow and began loosing arrow after arrow, as fast she could.
They only had a few more seconds to do as much damage as possible. And then…it would depend on Orthenon whether the plan had worked as well as not. If he could kill the enemy [General], excellent. But that wasn’t the plan. The plan…
Was simpler than that.
—-
He had truly thought he was going to die. But as Uleth stared at the heavy ranks of soldiers between him and the struggling warriors on horseback, he knew he would live.
Orthenon was fighting in the center of the scrum of soldiers, slashing with his spear as if it were a sword. He’d killed a score of Uleth’s finest soldiers, but it wasn’t enough. Uleth gripped his sword’s hilt, but made himself let go. A [General] didn’t need to fight and risk his life. He had mobilized the nearby regiments and they were all converging on this position. A few seconds and he’d have Orthenon cornered—
The tall, gaunt man on horseback raised his spear. There was no mistaking his voice, even over the clash of arms.
“Withdraw!”
He shouted and turned his mount. To Uleth’s disbelief, the soldiers began withdrawing, falling back, disappearing back into the fog.
But it was lifting too. And as Uleth stared, he saw the battlefield swim back into focus. Only now did he see the huge line of soldiers, like an arrow, penetrating the ranks of his soldiers, pulling back. It was insanity. If they had tried that in the daylight, they would have been overrun from every side. But in the fog, where no one could see who was friend or foe—
“Crush them! Don’t let Orthenon escape!”
The order came too late. As the soldiers returned to their formations, Orthenon and his riders raced past. Uleth saw the [Steward] stab a soldier through the helmet as he charged his mount down the pathway he had created, back towards safety.
Uleth turned, almost blinded by fury.
“I want every mounted warrior out there hunting him down! Now!”
He looked for the [Strategist] from Germina, but the man was nowhere to be found. Uleth had to shout before one of the [Tacticians] ran towards him, face pale. Uleth screamed at him.
“Where are my [Strategists]?”
“They’re all dead! All—there’s only the lesser [Tacticians] alive!”
“What?”
But it was true. Caught so close together, without their shields of soldiers, Orthenon’s men and the [Steward] himself had cut right through the [Strategists] and [Tacticians]. That was why he’d attacked, surely.
An army without [Strategists] was slower. Weaker. Uleth could feel his blood boiling in his veins. But they were still outnumbered. He snapped at the frightened [Tactician].
“What are you waiting for? Surround them and kill them all!”
His [Horncaller] raised the horn and blew the call to attack. But it was too late. Uleth stared in disbelief as Orthenon’s mounted cavalry retreated. As did the [Archers]. And the foot. The entire force of the King of Destruction’s army began to retreat as fast as they could from the battlefield.
—-
This was war. Trey found himself hacking at a man with a shield, screaming as he tried to strike the man, stab him through the faceguard. Then someone cut into the man’s side. Teres shoved her blade deep as the soldier screamed and fell back.
They were alive. For a few more seconds. Trey turned, shaking, from the group of soldiers who’d attacked the square of refugees from the rear. He looked back towards the real battle.
With Flos. The King of Destruction was racing through the heart of the soldiers as if they were grass, cutting left and right, arm moving almost too fast to see. And behind him rode the vanguard, the old men and women. And they were…slaughtering the soldiers.
“How?”
Trey whispered it. He saw a woman who could have been anyone’s mother crack someone’s head open like an egg with a mace, and then smash someone in the chest. The people behind Flos were fighting like you saw in movies, like they were untouchable!
“It’s his Skill! It has to be!”
Teres screamed it in Trey’s ear. [Royal Vanguard]. But that couldn’t be it. Not just that. Because across the battlefield, the refugees were giving the enemy army an incredible battle.
The group of people on foot had charged into the ranks of soldiers and begun hacking them apart with the same incredible display. Trey saw Tengrip, slashing about him with an axe.
“He’s old! How can he do that!?”
“Because he’s old!”
“What?”
Trey stared at his sister. She stared at the battle, her sword wet w
ith blood, a look of—excitement?—on her face.
“They’re old! Retired! But they were all warriors! Think of how many levels they have!”
Trey thought. Then he saw Tengrip struggling with a huge man. He was darting back as the other man, holding a much larger axe, tried to cut Tengrip in half with it. But the [Axe Guard] slid forwards, and then he did something with his axe—
Teres clapped a hand to her mouth and Trey’s stomach lurched as Tengrip cut sideways with one hand. The huge soldier had a shield, but it was like it didn’t exist. The axe struck the shield. The metal deformed, and then the blade of the axe cut into the man’s body, through his armor, into his side, rending skin, tearing his body in half—
The huge soldier fell without a word. Tengrip staggered away. He’d lost his axe. He limped away from the battle, towards the square of refugees. He was bloody, but grinning as he saw Trey and Teres.
“Still alive?”
“Where are you going?”
Teres stared at Tengrip, as if he hadn’t just killed at least eight soldiers himself. The old man wrinkled his nose and lifted his right hand.
“I’m tired and I think I sprained my wrist. I’ll leave the rest of the fighting to you lot.”
His wrist was hanging loosely, as if it wasn’t…attached properly. Trey stared at it.
Fragile bones.
Then someone grabbed his arm. Trey stared into a woman’s face and saw more soldiers were breaking off towards them.
“Get ready!”
The fighting was reaching their position in the line. Trey saw bodies pressed together, hacking at each other, and then he was in the middle of it again. Tengrip was hacking at someone with his off-hand, and Trey was trying to block something—and then—
“Look out!”
The world went dark. Trey looked up, and saw something huge pass overhead. He felt the earth shake. He looked up.
A huge boulder, bloodied, three times as large as a horse, had just landed. It had crushed dozens of people and—and rolled.
There was blood and…and…Trey stared at what was left of the people after the boulder had hit them. He turned, forgetting about the battle and saw the [Mage].
He was standing alone now, at the center of the clashing soldiers. His hands were raised, and he was pointing. Every time he pointed, a spire of stone would shoot up from the ground, impaling those above. Then the [Mage] put his fingers together and another spray of rock fragments shot out, shredding a group of people that had tried to charge him.
Two figures dominated the battle. Flos, racing through the soldiers, cutting them down like grain. And the [Mage], casually killing everyone he saw with a gesture.
And they were aiming for each other, the King and the [Mage]. Flos turned his mount, beheading a man and rode straight at the [Mage], ignoring the people in his way. But the [Mage] raised a finger and Flos threw himself from the saddle. Jagged spears of stone shot from the earth, impaling the soldiers around Flos and his horse—his own side.
But he was still aiming for Flos. The King leapt sideways, as more stone darts shot across the ground like hail. He deflected some with his sword, but more struck him on the chest and arm. Trey saw Flos stagger and cried out.
A huge boulder rose from the ground in front of the mage. It hovered and then shot at Flos like some ancient cannonball. The King dodged by a hair’s breath. The boulder shot through the ranks of soldiers, sending bodies flying like bowling pins. But there was difference between pins and bodies crushed, turned to red paste by the [Mage]’s spell.
He was doing as much damage to his side as Flos’. But he was closing in on the King. And so, for the first time, Trey saw Flos run. The King darted through the ranks of soldiers. He leapt—at least six feet into the air!—and kicked a horseman out of the saddle. Flos kicked the horse and ran as more stone spires burst out of the ground behind him.
“Fall back!”
He roared it and the people broke away, running across the ground towards the refugees. Far less. Far fewer. And the [Mage] still kept casting spells.
The earth broke around the fleeing people. Spears of stone stabbed up—stone arrows struck their backs. The spellcasting only stopped when one of the archers around Trey began shooting at the [Mage]. The first few swerved before hitting him, but the [Mage] immediately raised stone slabs, covering him from attack.
Trey saw Flos riding towards them, gripping his side. He had a potion in his hands, but he thrust it at a man who was trying to hold his insides in. He had jagged bits of stone embedded in his very skin. Flos was holding a hand over his ribs and he was bleeding.
He stopped before his subjects. They called out to him, but Flos stared until he saw the twins. He slowly walked his horse towards Trey. He coughed and Trey heard a wheezing sound as Flos spoke.
“I fear…I may have been outmatched. By a single [Geomancer], no less.”
There was no despair in his eyes, no denial either. Only grim determination, and…acceptance. He would go down fighting.
Trey looked at Flos, and then stared at the other army. They were forming into ranks. Fewer of them…far fewer. But still several hundred. And the [Mage] stood in an open space in the center of that army.
They weren’t moving to attack. They had taken up the same formation as the refugees, in fact. A close box around the [Mage]. They were going to let him kill everyone.
The man in yellow robes wasn’t casting spells. Not yet. He was drinking from a bottle. A mana potion? He tossed it aside and raised a hand. An arrow flying at him broke on a second shield of stone.
Flos turned his mount. He looked around, and saw only a dozen of the people who’d charged with him. But they rode towards their King, holding their weapons at the ready, not a trace of fear in their eyes.
“I have one Skill I could use. If this were an army. But it is not. These are my people. Not soldiers. If I had an enchanted blade, or armor like Gazi…but I do not. And I have few Skills that can be activated.”
Flos looked at Trey, eyes full of regret. He sighed, and raised his sword. All was silent as Flos shouted.
“The King of Destruction rides! Who will come with me?”
This time everyone shouted. They raised their blades, and Trey found himself raising his sword. The refugees, thousands of them, prepared to charge. Together they could—
The [Mage] clapped his hands. The ground turned to mud ahead of him, a wet, deep bog. Flos’ eyes narrowed. He pointed to the hills.
“Around, then. If he cuts us down by the hundreds, we must still charge. Do you understand?”
Trey’s heart was beating out of his chest. This was it then. Flos sighed. He looked at the twins and then raised his sword.
“One last time, then.”
He opened his mouth to shout the command to charge, and halted. His eyes widened. Trey saw the King’s grim expression change. He stared past the army of soldiers, past the [Mage] in yellow robes and breathed one word.
“Mars.”
—-
They were running. In full retreat. Gazi was on horseback and she felt her burnt skin screaming every time her horse took a step. But she had to run. They all had to run.
An army of tens of thousands was hot on their heels.
They had done it. The enemy [General] was enraged beyond belief. He didn’t have any clever strategies, any schemes. He wasn’t using his [Mages] or siege weapons. He was just trying to crush their small force with his own.
His soldiers were charging, but they weren’t faster than the soldiers that Orthenon had picked. And he had his own Skills that let them race across the ground. Even a foot soldier could cover miles in full armor with Orthenon leading them. It was the cavalry that was the true danger. Gazi’s head turned and she snapped at the man riding ahead of her.
“Another group. Two hundred, coming from the left!”
“The Second Horse, on me! Crush them!”
Orthenon turned his mount and a group of riders broke away. They shot back,
meeting the armed [Lancers] in a clash of weapons. Gazi saw Orthenon’s sword blur. He’d tossed away his spear to use his Skills.
[Sword Art: The Tide Breaks]. Five warriors racing at Orthenon crumpled from their saddles, cut straight through their armor by devastating slashes. Orthenon cut again and his blade scythed through a lance. It was enchanted.
But it wasn’t enough. Not alone. Not against an army. Orthon used a second Skill even as Gazi watched, striking all around him.
[Sword Art: Scattering Petals on the Wind]. This too killed as his enchanted blade cut in every direction. But he was running out of Skills to use.
“Gazi!”
Someone rode past her. Maresar was still loosing arrows from her bow, picking off riders on their trail. She shouted at the half-Gazer.
“How many more miles?”
“Twelve!”
They raced across the dry ground as an army poured across the flat landscape after them. Gazi felt her horse panting for breath. Would they die before they reached the city? She didn’t know. She saw a group of warriors—elites by the look of them—riding camels and bearing down on a group of fleeing soldiers. Gazi gritted her teeth and turned her mount. She rode back, unsheathing her sword.
Twelve miles.
—-
“Mars.”
It was one word. A whisper that carried. Flos stared at a hilltop. Trey followed his gaze.
“Mars? But isn’t she—”
“Guarding the city. But if she heard of the battle she would have come.”
“She’d need an army! What about the city?”
“No. She wouldn’t need an army. Look.”
Flos pointed and Trey saw her at last. A figure in shining armor on a hilltop, red hair blowing in the wind.
“She came alone.”
It was like a dream. There stood Mars, her silver armor buffed, her hair caught by the setting sun. But this was also reality, and Trey’s blood ran cold.
“She’s alone?”
She couldn’t be. No one could be that stupid. But Mars raised her sword and took the shield from her back, and Trey saw she was indeed alone. And now the enemy had seen her too.