The Shadow of War

by Bryan Gifford

  A wren’s call stopped him in his tracks. He raised a fist to signal to any of the men who might not have heard it and looked around for the source of the noise. An Outrider ahead of him waved, and he carefully picked his way up the rocks toward the man.

  Silas poked his head around a boulder. There, on a flat outcropping, was the enemy. Two dozen Acedens filled the small spit of dirt that overlooked the canyon, busying themselves with two large catapults.

  Silas frowned and glanced up at the rock wall above, hoping to himself that the Acedens didn’t have more scouts out there somewhere. He gave a warbler’s call, signaling for his men to form a perimeter and prepare for an ambush. Something about this seemed off; perhaps he sensed it in the almost idling way the soldiers lounged about even as the Alliance army approached.

  He sighed and spotted a similar overwatch across the valley: two dozen soldiers, two catapults, and a ballista. He could barely spot his own men in the trees surrounding it, raising their bows.

  Well, it was too late to turn back now. He raised a hand to call the attack but paused as the thunder in the valley rumbled even louder. In the distance, the Aceden army marched. It trickled like the thick black blood of an arzec, oozing inevitably toward the Alliance.

  No, there was no turning back. Silas pushed back the fear that preluded every fight and threw his hand forward.

  He shot out of the trees with a scream.

  Isroc rammed his spear through a man’s throat. He dove back into the shield wall and let the soldiers around him beat back the enemy. A man stumbled into Isroc with a dying scream and he shoved the soldier aside in time to intercept an attacking Aceden. He cursed and raised his new shield, meeting the Aceden’s spear with a thud.

  Isroc twisted to the side and yanked his foe over a body before driving his spear home. He climbed over the slain Alliance soldiers and shored the gap with his shield. Spears beat against him, pounding in his ears and rattling his teeth.

  With every man Isroc killed, two more took his place. It was an effort in futility, like trying to cut apart the individual grains on a vast shore. He shoved down his doubts and gritted his teeth, thrusting out with his spear again and again.

  It was a contest of gradual gains. Each army would push with sudden force and send the other inching backward. Then, the retreating army would advance and drive the other back. They fought over inches gained and lost, each step paid for in blood.

  Isroc’s arms had long since grown numb with the shock of endless beatings. His back screamed in agony, his feet throbbing. He knew he shouldn’t be at the front lines—he was this army’s general, after all, and his death would be a grave loss—but he couldn’t stand by and watch his men die. A leader should lead from the front.

  Fortunately, the Alliance held the advantage for the moment. They managed to push the enemy phalanxes back and used that momentum to continue their slow crawl forward. Numbers were largely irrelevant here in the confines of the canyon, and the edge was granted to whichever side fought with the most tenacity.

  The Acedens’ plan must have hinged on those catapults above. Both of Silas’ scout teams had taken the platforms and now used the catapults and ballistae to rain havoc down on the enemy. Dozens of Acedens fell beneath each barrage, their ranks churning in confusion. Arrows volleyed up toward the platforms, but the catapults were well out of bow range. Forced back beneath the growing pressure of Isroc’s advance and the rain of fire from above, the Acedens now retreated in full.

  The Alliance burst into cheers and shouts and attacked with renewed vigor. Isroc blocked harrying spears as he watched the enemy withdraw.

  It was too easy. They should have been fighting over this canyon, refusing to let the Alliance gain ground. Every inch they lost only put the Alliance closer to Markadesh and their leader. Why were they letting go so easily?

  Perhaps he was overthinking things. He was flush with exertion, mind growing hazed. If anything, he should be relieved, not worried. After all, they’d just won their first victory.

  Well, almost. Isroc raised his spear and shouted for teams to swap places, giving the front-line fighters a chance to catch their breath. He then thrust his weapon forward and the Alliance gave chase.

  Cain led his army of fifteen thousand through the narrow canyon. Ceerocai held ready at his side, he eyed the towering walls and lengthening shadows, anticipating a sudden attack. He was prepared for the beating of shields and the echoing of swords in the valley walls. Instead, it was all too quiet.

  They had marched miles without sight of the enemy. Even his scouts reported that the way was clear. That left Cain with a bitter taste in his mouth. He was fortunate to get so far without losing a single man, but was he only marching them deeper into a trap? Worse, there was little he could do to prevent that. He was leading his men straight down the gullet of the beast.

  The sun set somewhere above and plunged the canyon into cold shadow. Ahead, mist started to form, curling around shrubs and rocks. They walked in silence through the damp dark until they came to a clearing.

  Across the small field—barely lit by the deepening blue of dusk—were several other canyon mouths. Split by sheer, almost spire-like ridges, these canyons seemed to branch off in all directions to carve a maze at the foot of the mountains.

  Cain slowed his army to a stop and inspected the potential deathtrap before them.

  “Well?” Mithaniel asked beside him. “Should we send the scouts in?”

  “We don’t have enough scouts with us to be effective if we split them up like that; it would take them days or even weeks to map out the area. We’ll take those three valleys to the left, that will at least take us farther northeast toward Markadesh since those others look like they divert south.”

  “The Acedens could use those other canyons to circle behind us.”

  “Send some of the scouts down those. If the enemy does try to flank us, then we’ll at least be prepared for them.” Of course, that was assuming anyone could find their way in that maze.

  Mithaniel groaned softly as he stared into the gorges. “I don’t like the looks of this.”

  Cain suppressed a shiver. Mist rising from their maws, they looked like rips in the fading light. “We don’t have a choice. We can’t afford to separate our army to cover all those valleys. That’s what the enemy wants. We’re few enough as it is… we stick together.”

  Mithaniel passed his orders along to the nearby generals who relayed them down the chain. Their army split into three groups in short order and began the march across the field.

  Cain then led his army across the field and stepped into the leftmost canyon. He picked his way through the rocks, suddenly wishing that he’d ordered his men to make camp instead of attempting to traverse these canyons at night. However, he hadn’t wanted to risk them being surrounded in such an indefensible location. Not that camping in the valleys were any better—the Acedens could just drop rocks on their heads from above. This was their only option; momentum and brute force.

  He hadn’t even swung his sword yet and he already felt backed into a corner.

  Which was why, when he saw the glints in the mist ahead, he wasn’t in the least surprised.

  The Acedens were here.

  The leather creaked beneath Adriel’s fingers as she gripped her reins tighter. Her horse must have sensed her frustration for he nickered nervously and pawed the ground with a hoof. Harin and her other Royal Guards eyed her warily, as if worried she’d run off and do something foolish.

  Perhaps they had reason to worry.

  She hated staying behind the lines, forced to watch her people fight and die. She was too important to “get her hands dirty”, Harin had said.

  She hated it, but he was right.

  So, she forced herself to sit here in her saddle like a useless lump. In the field ahead, her cavalry met the enemy riders, colliding in a horrible mix of horseflesh and steel. The terrible screams of dying horses and trampled men stretched the distance to her ears.
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br />   Harin raised a brow at her.

  Adriel grumbled and pulled her hand from her sword.

  Eventually, her cavalry circled away from the fighting and continued their wide arc across the field. Her spears advanced and formed a wall with spear butts braced against the ground. Men broke beneath the enemy cavalry, but their lines held firm and forced their attackers to a stop.

  From behind, her Vilant launched a volley of arrows, felling scores of riders as they beat against shields. Aceden heavy infantry marched past the retreating cavalry and smashed against the Alliance formations.

  Her cavalry spun around the Alliance and galloped up the other side. They then charged the Aceden flanks and hammered through hastily raised weapons. The cavalry drove a wedge through the enemy, and the Alliance advanced, cutting down the men hemmed off by the horses.

  Adriel nodded to a nearby soldier who waved a banner that would relay her message across the battleground. Soon, her army pushed across the field and met the bulk of the Aceden force.

  A barrage of catapult fire rained down on them as they fought, hurling mangled bodies through the air. Adriel suppressed a growl with each boulder that landed. Her army needed to move quickly, or those catapults were going to turn them all to mincemeat.

  Flaming arrows filled the dusk air like thousands of fireflies. Fires spread out to sweep across dry autumn grass.

  Adriel shifted uncomfortably in her saddle. This wasn’t looking good.

  Then, boulders arced over the battlefield, aflame like great, red eyes. They hurtled into her army, spewing fire and oil. Men and women shrieked as fires lashed their armor and cooked their skin.

  She should order a retreat, prevent more deaths and regroup for another assault. She waved for her bannerman but paused. No… she couldn’t retreat. Getting such a large army to turn around and withdraw would take far too long, all the while getting rained on by arrows and boulders and fire.

  She had no choice but to keep up the attack, no matter how difficult it would be. She growled and ordered her bannerman to signal a renewed attack to the north where the fires were weakest. Soon, her army flowed to the side and stamped over flames to engage the enemy phalanx.

  This was going to be a very, very long night.

  Fire spewed from the darkness. Mist evaporated, and the air filled with the intense heat of a dozen brilliant conflagrations as men burned alive. Their wails lingered in Cain’s ears as he barely brought Ceerocai up in time to block a column of fire.

  The flames bound around him and leapt over the men behind. Bodies dropped, popping and sizzling. Cain cursed, eyes stinging as he peered through the warped air to the darkness beyond. A barricade of solid metal stretched across the narrow canyon. Barrels poked out from small windows that were just large enough to see some of the deathly machines behind them. Glinting brass tanks and winding gears.

  “What are those things?” Cain cried to Mithaniel. The Iscara strained against the fires, the flames clawing hungrily at the shield of air before him.

  “I don’t know,” he sputtered. “They’re like Iscarius’ chariots. We’ve got to do something about them. Quick!”

  Cain slashed away another gout of flames and turned to his army. His entire front line was on fire. Behind, men trembled, eyes wide at the sight of so many dead, their bodies roasting in the night.

  Mithaniel was right. These machines—whatever they were—needed to be taken care of.

  “Can you do something, Mithaniel? Make a shield for us, break those barrels, anything?”

  Mithaniel paused for breath as the flames ended, plunging them back into darkness. Then, flaming arrows shot toward them. He cursed and pulled Cain into his arms. Arrows shattered in the air around them and dropped like discarded kindling. Behind them, men cried out as the projectiles met their marks.

  “I can try a shield,” Mithaniel cried as the barrels turned on the two men, “but I need you to guard me. It will take time!”

  Cain waved for his men. “Stay back!” They were all too eager to comply. He then leapt, waving his sword out as the flames gushed forward. The fires converged on him and he raised his weapon into a defensive stance, bracing himself against the force of the attack. The hot air scoured his skin, singed his hairs. The earth blackened and charred in a convex shape around him, leaving a pocket of safety for Mithaniel.

  The Iscara knelt and placed a hand on the ground. He muttered to himself, and soon, the earth started shaking. Arrows arced overhead to try and stop him, but this close to the barricade, the projectiles could only soar harmlessly by and plink against the Alliance’s shields.

  Fire continued to hammer into Cain, grinding him backward inch by inch. He laid about with wide swipes of his blade, rebounding the fires and sending them jettisoning off in all directions. Every barrel concentrated on him, a massive wave of terrible flames.

  “Hurry, Mithaniel!” Cain shouted, digging in with every bit of his strength to keep his footing.

  Mithaniel bellowed, and the ground before them ruptured. Rock and earth spewed up into the air and pieced together chunks to form a wall. Fire pierced it in places, but the shield held for a time. Then, it came tumbling down.

  A landslide of stone and earth crashed into the barricade. Steel crunched and barrels twisted, flames puffing out.

  Cain shielded his face against the shower of debris and stumbled back.

  Mithaniel wobbled to his feet, coughing in the spray of dust. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t keep it together.”

  “That’s alright. It got the job done.” Cain waved his sword overhead to give the order to attack. Arrows pelted down from both sides as he led the Alliance over the mound of earth.

  Cain dropped, knocking spears aside as he smashed into shields. He landed on a soldier and swung, Acedens dropping with each powerful blow. He carved a small path through the enemy formation and his Alliance pushed in from behind.

  Staggering up to Cain’s side, Mithaniel beat back weapons with his shield, occasionally testing the Aceden ranks with his sword. Cain caved in a man’s breastplate and kicked him back into the throngs. “You need to get out here. We can’t afford to lose you.”

  “That shield wore me out, but I can still fight. I have to!”

  Cain slammed Ceerocai down over an attacker. “Get out of here and go help the other assault teams. If they’re facing more of those machines, then they’re helpless without you!”

  “I don’t know if I can. I—”

  “Damn it, man, do it! You’re their only hope for survival.”

  Cain shoved past him and gave a powerful swing, cutting down several men and buying his friend the chance to escape. Mithaniel slipped through the Alliance as they advanced up around Cain.

  Ceerocai spinning in a bloody dance, Cain led his army deeper into the enemy lines.

  The morning sun crawled from behind the distant mountains, pink and orange.

  Silas caught a sword in Sitare’s blades and yanked it aside, thrusting the other end through his attacker’s gut. He tossed the screaming man off the cliff and rushed another Aceden.

  It had been a long three days of killing. They’d taken two more platforms, each capture allowing Isroc’s troops to advance a bit further. But Silas had lost dozens of men with each assault. They were now a handful of their former numbers.

  Below, it appeared Isroc fared even worse. Their losses had been excruciating. Normally, a standing army would break if it lost even ten percent of its fighting force, but they had no choice but to keep the pressure on their enemy. They were winning, even if it came at a steep cost.

  Silas cut down his foe and waved for a group of Outriders to follow. Together, they made toward the first of the catapults.

  Crossbowmen raised their weapons, but Silas’ archers were faster. The Acedens dropped, and a few bolts whizzed past. Silas and his men charged and met the small group of soldiers.

  Silas stumbled over a body and stopped at the catapult. Rubbing his bleary eyes, he dared a peek out over the cliff
. Isroc’s army had come to a dead stop. The catapults on the other side of the valley still fired down on the Alliance; it seemed the Outriders were having a rough time taking that platform.

  Worse than boulders squashing them from above, however, was the fire. Great geysers of flames erupted from a strange metal barricade, lighting dozens of men afire with every wave. Flaming arrows launched from the Aceden army beyond and mixed with the oily fire to spread chaos. He’d seen this kind of destruction only once before, at Ilross. They had lost.

  Silas wasn’t going to let that happen again.

  He waved several men over with a string of curses, and together, they threw their weight into the catapult. The massive thing dragged through the rocks, slowly angling to the left.

  Acedens hurled themselves at Silas and his men. A small knot of Outriders defended them as they turned the catapult, weapons clanging. An Outrider fell back into Silas, blood spraying across the catapult. Silas whipped his head back and narrowly avoided an axe that bit into the machine’s wood.

  Silas severed the man’s arm and pushed him screaming back into his fellows. He then drove a shoulder into the catapult and shoved it the final inches. With a barked order, his men yanked on the machine’s ropes and launched a boulder into the air. The projectile sailed down the canyon and smashed into the empty field between the Aceden army and their barricade.

  Cursing, Silas picked up a crossbow and shot it at a charging Aceden. The man tumbled with a bolt to the face.

  A sword nearly took his own face off. He danced back and weaved through several quick swipes before thrusting Sitare. The Aceden sidestepped with a lithe motion and came out the other side with a stab of his own.

  Silas slammed back against the catapult, steel ringing past his face.

  Wait, that was a woman! The Aceden lunged again, but this time, she’d anticipated his dodge. She cut down an Outrider still operating the catapult and then a second.