by Ivory Autumn
Yet it had not sounded.
And there was no more time left.
“All of you,” Andrew spoke, his voice hushing the throb of voices. He looked over the crowd, not finding the words he needed to say. “The Fallen’s army is marching, and will be upon us before morning. His numbers are great, far greater than our own, I fear. We will have no more time to gather more to fight by our sides. We are it.”
The crowd bristled with murmurs of dismay.
After Andrew let his last words sink in, he spoke again. “If I give myself up into The Fallen’s hands, and if we disband, your lives will be spared, and you will live.”
The crowd roared with anger, shouts cut through the assembly. Then as quickly as that outburst exploded, it suddenly quieted as if the sudden realization of their peril began to sink in.
Andrew surveyed his army, feeling an overwhelming sense of love for them, even though he did not know each of them. Yet he did know. He had felt their strength his sword. Their conviction gave this sword the magic it held, not anything he himself was or had done. All he was, was a vessel. A torch bearer, holding as if were the hearts of all who stood up for their convictions.
As he stood overlooking his army, he was struck by the awesomeness of the moment. There was a choice to be made. A choice that could be their last to make on this earth. He had never supposed himself a leader of a great army. Still they had come. They were here standing before him, listening to him as if his words were worth listening to. If someone had told him what he would be doing, back when he lived at the hollow, he would have never believed them. He had never imagined himself brave enough to speak in front of so many. Now he was standing here. Changed by chance and circumstance. He felt different, older in a way, and younger in other ways. But what he felt, he couldn’t have explained. Only that he felt different, changed by pain and experience---these were his teachers, and unforgiving ones. They were the most truthful and did not lie. Seeing all these souls standing before him, so full of life and truth, so willing to fight, made his heart ache. He felt torn in two as he looked out over the great crowd. Hope, and sadness overwhelmed him. He did not want these voices to die, to be silenced, their lives wasted. His life was nothing compared to theirs.
“I have told you these things,” Andrew cried, “so that you may choose for yourselves the path to follow. It is your choice. You know as well as I that though our numbers are great, we are too few to go before such a mighty army. But great or few, your courage is stronger than any number. Your conviction far greater than any army. If you desire to fight, I will face any obstacle in order to stand before The Fallen! If we fight tomorrow, we may all perish, your lives handed over to The Fallen. But if we perish, we perish together, and not alone, in some dark corner, frightened by something we cannot see but which is all around us!”
An explosion of anger, and alarm burst through the crowd at his words. “We will fight, Andrew! We will fight!”
“You must understand,” Andrew raised his hands to silence the people, “that if it is your will, I will willingly submit myself to The Fallen, and entrust myself into his power. You must understand that if I do this all your lives will be spared.”
“What life?” a clear voice called out from the crowd. “Without freedom, we have no life. You know better than to say that. We will never be really be alive, as long as we are under such tyranny.”
A ripple of approval buzzed through the assembly. Shouts and exclamations swelled through the army.
“What would you have me do?” Andrew shouted. “My life isn't any more important than yours. My life for 10,000 souls does not seem a bad exchange. I am only the wielder of a sword that contains in it your strength. Nothing more. It is you who are strong. It is you who are important. It is you who have awakened to truth and let it stir your souls. It is you who have moved into action. It is you who have made the stand. Not me. No. Every one of you count, not one is insignificant. No one is more important than the other. All of us are brothers and sisters in this fight. We all desire the same thing. Freedom! We want it so badly that the ache of it burns in our chest and draws us into action. For you valiant few, I would die a hundred deaths. Those of you who choose to leave will not be thought of as cowardly in the least degree. Just as you decided to gather on your own, you must decide on your own if you must stay or leave. Just know that whatever you choose, I respect it. For me, here, together, summoned by truth, the battle has already been won on the battlefield of the mind which is far more dangerous than anything we may face in the coming morning. We have stood together. And if we stand together again, it is no different. Our numbers are lacking, but our courage is strong!”
“For you Andrew, we would gladly die!” A man cried, his voice loud, and stirring. “Even if we were to leave, what kind of life would we go back to? One of dissipation and no direction. There is no place in the world left for people like us, Andrew. It has cast us out. And we are but slaves, fugitives, friendless and alone. Here, we are much more. Here, we are united. Here have purpose and a reason to go on living. If it is our fate to die, then we will die with dignity and self respect. No. We will stay and fight for you and the cause that brought us together!”
“Yes, we will stay. We will fight!” voices resounded through the army. “For it is better to die together, than to live alone, as outcasts, in a such a world as this.”
“We will fight! We will FIGHT! We will STAND!” The voices echoed together with one voice, loud, and clear, their voices rolling through the land like a mighty wave, more stirring than anything Andrew had ever heard in his life. Their voices rumbled like thunder, moving something deep and solid within every soul there. Many of these individual gathered that day had lived lonely, set apart lives. Alone in their belief of a cause that so many people had forgotten. Alone in their ideals of freedom and justice. Alone, and voiceless and afraid to be heard. Yet, with each cheer, the souls who had been suppressed for so long, now had found their voice. Words that had long been hidden had finally been given breath and volume to their conviction. Voices united with the voices of all those repressed, and words that had been hidden and afraid rose as one. The sound throbbed and rumbled, powerful, strong, and unafraid. The army sounded far greater in numbers than they actually were. Their voices shook the ground, trembled the very ocean, and rippled over the entire world in a single moment.
Those who had been busy doing whatever it was they were doing, stopped short, unsure of what they heard---only that they heard it, and that the sound rocked the very core of the earth, and caused the darkness to tremble.
A warm feeling flooded Andrew’s body, like he had been bathed in the most dazzling array sunlight. Andrew’s hands went up to his face. His cheeks were wet, and he hadn’t even noticed that tears had escaped his eyes.
“We may not be 500,000,” Andrew cried. “But what we are, what we stand for is greater and more powerful than any other force on earth. We are the voice of Freedom. We will not let that voice be silenced. If we are to die tomorrow, then let us die together. Let our voices be heard, let the sound never die!”
Chapter Twenty-seven
Battle of Black Ice
The night air was cold and biting. Odd patches of moonshine glistened down on the earth, only to be covered with restless clouds that could not decide whether to congregate or set out on their own.
It was the new moon. A sliver of moonlight light shone down on the world, like a half-closed eye. Yet it looked old. Old, worn, grayish, and tired. With the moon’s phase, it was as if a door that had been shut for a long time was beginning to open, a very dark door. Like the jaws of some terrible creature, the growing darkness was sinking its fangs into the light, slowly drawing from it all that it could, clutching it by the throat, slowly watching it die by degrees.
Who could release its hold? This ever-gripping jaw, this new door creaking and groaning with each hour, was not easily stopped. The wider this door opened, the colder the temperature dropped, bringing with it its
close companions: frost, ice, and snow.
An agitated wind beat upon the ocean, heaving angry waves against the shore in a spray of icy froth. The sea reflected Andrew’s mood---disturbed, restless, angry, and cold.
Andrew’s army was camped with their back flank towards the ocean, and all eyes drawn to the north-eastern road that led far around the edge of the ocean towards the north where The Fallen dwelt. They supposed that this road was the only road that The Fallen’s army could come through. If the Fallen’s army was coming, Andrew’s army would be ready, watching, and waiting.
The night had been subdued as if it, too, was pensive and tired of waiting for what might come. Andrew glanced above him and watched as Flicker soared over the ocean, his wings outstretched, his eyes flickering like stars through the darkness. Horses neighed, as the captains Andrew had picked, readied his men for battle.
Andrew pulled himself onto his horse, and breathed deeply. Northward, over the ocean, Andrew could make out the faint outlines of The Fractured Mountains---fractured, Andrew supposed, because of the dark star that had landed behind them, fracturing them in half.
“Everyone!” Andrew shouted, moving his horse to the front of the army. “Let none sleep tonight. All keep a watchful eye towards the eastern road, for that is where The Fallen’s army is sure to come from.”
Andrew smiled and lifted his sword. Its light illuminated his army in a radiant glow that surpassed that of the pitiful moonshine.
“Tonight,” he cried, “on this sandy shore we will raise our swords in battle for the ideals that we believe in. For it is only you brave few that carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. You few who are blessed with the burden of retaining the great liberties for which we now fight. Tonight we fight for the slave, the voiceless, the lost, and those fearing souls who cannot fight because they dare not. We fight because we are the last ones left to speak when no one dares utter a sound---to fight when others cower down, to rise up when others have turned away. We live in a time when our voices and the things we speak are outlawed, our voices silenced, and our words buried. But today let our swords, hearts, thoughts, and voices rise in unison, against our foe, so that none, not even The Fallen himself can silence us! No. We will not be silenced. We will be heard!”
Andrew’s men exploded in a thunderous roar. Drums sounded, all cheered, and cried out in unison, their voices filled with passion, and power. Gradually their cheers died out, replaced by the constant pounding of the ocean. Its roar raged on, like a chisel grinding away at them, carving away the sand and loose stones, until all that was left was something that felt brittle, fragile, and easily broken.
Everyone there felt a heavy weight in their hearts, as they analyzed their life, and its meaning. Was this night really to be the end? Or was there to be a new beginning? It was a strange feeling of sadness, of awaking, and foreboding, of a coming, and of leaving.
Everyone could feel it working on their nerves. This feeling caused many to suddenly stop whatever they were doing and stare at everything as if perhaps, it was the last day of their existence. The earth was filled with a pensive, strained, and impregnated feeling of desperation, fear, and hope. The sky, though ridden with clouds, seemed to push back the gray sheets of vapor, willing the light of the stars to be seen by those who stood under her for the last time.
Andrew smiled, and gazed up at the sky, watching the stars. They flickered, and gleamed like he had never seen them on earth before. Like flowers of the sky, they bloomed in their full glory before a winter frost would soon touch their beauty and obscure them forever.
“Listen!” Freddie suddenly cried from behind him, breaking Andrew out of his reverie. “I hear something!”
Andrew turned to his friend and stared at him quizzically. Freddie sat on his horse with Croffin and Talic, both of whom were sound asleep, snuggled up to Freddie, their tongues hanging out, slobber seeping from their mouths. Andrew laughed. “I can’t imagine you hearing anything but snoring, Freddie.”
Freddie held up his finger. “No. There it is again. Do you not hear it?”
Andrew held his breath, and listened. At first he heard only the roaring ocean as it pounded against the shore. Then he heard the throb of drums, the pounding of feet against the ground. His eyes grew wide. Fear shot through him like an arrow, piercing him to his core. Far out on the eastern road he could see numberless torches, row upon row of soldiers, the closer they got, the more they seemed to unfold and expand, surrounding them, trapping them from all sides against the back of the ocean.
Cries of fear cut through his army, bringing down the solid, and sure. Some ran, others cast themselves into the ocean in hopes that their fate would be better than if they stood before such a daunting army.
“Andrew,” one of his captains cried. “The men, do you not see? Many flee away. Should we not go after them? They should be punished!”
Andrew stared ahead, unblinking. “No. Let them go. If they are not strong enough to stand, they were never a part of this army, anyway. They came of their free will, and they may go in the same manner. We did not come this far to become dictators and executioners ourselves---to make others bend before our will. No. All those who will stand, stand! If we are to be a free people, we must choose it. There is no other way to obtain it!”
“Ivory, Freddie, Talic,” Andrew called, “stay behind me!” Andrew pushed his horse far in front of the men. Ivory, Talic, and Freddie followed on their horses, quiet, subdued, and respectful of Andrew’s wishes.
He turned to his men, and stared at them. “Men,” Andrew cried, in a loud voice, bringing his horse to the front, “Any of you who wish to turn back now. Do so!”
A great many wavering souls, once strong, now bowed with fear, began to brake away from the army, quietly disappearing into the night, while others ran to the oncoming army, readily surrendering to the powerful forces before them.
Andrew watched the departing souls with heavy heart, but with firmness of resolve. He pointed to the oncoming army. “Their numbers are great. Yet, you are greater. Your cause is greater, your bravery, your hearts. You know what true strength is. You know that truth is far grater than a lie!”
“Truth, truth, truth!” A resounding echoed thundered through the army, so strong and chilling, that Goosebumps appeared on Andrew’s skin.
“For truth!” Andrew cried. “Shout it, proclaim it with all the force that is in you, for we will make such a noise, that even the deaf can hear our cries. For freedom!”
The men gathered behind Andrew, their voices hushing as they watched the oncoming army, and those wavering souls who had succumbed to fear, and had forsaken them. They greeted the oncoming army, after laying down their weapons, joining their enemies.
All hushed to a dead calm, except for the roar of the ocean. Even the oncoming army’s drums ceased and all grew heavy with silence.
Flicker soared above the ocean, veering in low towards Andrew. “Look towards the ocean! We are surrounded. They come on all sides!”
Andrew glanced behind him at the ocean, listening to the sound of a low, chilling cry as it throbbed over the waves. It was faint at first, but then grew, louder, and louder. As the sound grew in volume, the roar from the ocean became more hushed, and its thunderous crashings lessoned. A vibrating, low-throated sound of a horn echoed over the waves. The weary sound was as chilling as metal grating against metal, penetrating the very depths of the ocean, chilling it with its message of utter darkness. The sound frosted over the water, freezing it in almost an instant. Great cracks and poppings were heard as the ice came together and stood still as glass.
The sound of the throbbing ocean was instantaneously cut off, as if smothered in a scream. The vacant sound was ghostly and lingering, like a thrashing soul who had been suffocated to death without warning. Andrew stood transfixed by the phenomenon. Hardly a soldier blinked. In the distance, on the very surface of the frozen ice, were hundreds of shimmering blue flames, carried by concourses of men, coming towa
rds them. Their blue torches were reflected on the dark ice, their outlines as numberless as those who stood poised at their front, ready to devour them.
They were surrounded on all sides, both front and back. There was no escaping. No way out, but to fight.
His men cried out in fear. But Andrew held up a hand to calm the men. His own heart was afraid. “We indeed are out-numbered. Surrounded on all sides, but it has always been thus. I have said this before. And I say it again. Any of you who wish to turn back now. Do so!”
No one moved.
Andrew nodded, his face solemn, and filled with passion. Here standing before him were the solid trees, the souls with deep roots and unwavering hearts. His ten-thousand had diminished into what looked about seven thousand. But that did not matter to him. These were the brightest and the best. Souls that were priceless, who would not bend. He held up his sword. His eyes blazed, his was face fierce and filled with a light that came from within. The army, his army was much more than just an army. They were the last bearers of light, souls in whom no lie could beguile, no deception blind---souls in whom no earthly power could cause them to conform. Emotions of every kind swirled in Andrew’s pounding heart. In his hand he held a sword that held the power of these souls in its blade, only made sharp by their undulled spirits.
Andrew had half of his army face outward, while the other half faced the ocean. Andrew turned his horse towards the frozen water, and then stopped and looked back at his army. His captains stood in front, ready to give the signal. Everyone looked frightened, but more than that, they looked courageous. Horses neighed nervously, men drew their swords, bows were drawn, and all grew very quiet.
Far out over the ice, and all around them a great howl, jagged and as cold as snow and biting as frost, pushed its way through their ranks. The Fallen’s army awoke with the sound in a deafening cry. Wolves howled, creatures of the night screeched, and moaned. It was as if the very jaws of hell had been opened and all that was dark and ugly was now pouring over the ice towards them, as well as coming from behind.