Tides of Blood and Steel

by Christian Warren Freed

  “Sire, we have the road mined with caltrops. There is a heavy stream to the immediate west and a small swamp to the east. The enemy will have no choice but to take the secondary road into the forest,” Venten added.

  Stelskor studied the map. He soaked in the terrain features he’d spent a childhood exploring. The memories were saddening. All that he knew and loved threatened to be wiped from the world. The long days of his life were nothing compared to impending demise. His kingdom was going to burn and he was powerless to prevent it.

  “Perhaps it will work,” he said slowly.

  “It is the only clear chance we have. All of our primary fortifications have been overrun,” Aurec said. “The enemy has paid dearly for each one.”

  Stelskor clasped his son’s shoulder. “You have brought great honor to your name, my son. Gentlemen, I am spending the night here. I wish to see firsthand how the battle goes in the morning.”

  Aurec bit back the feeling that it was an unnecessary risk. Nightly skirmishes were often chaotic and violent. He failed to see the need for both king and prince to be on the front simultaneously. That time was fast approaching and it would be on the walls of Rogscroft. Not here in the wild.

  Wisely, Aurec held his tongue. “My quarters are yours, Father.”

  “Thank you.”

  A young scout poked his head into the command tent. Raste, if the king recalled correctly.

  “A small enemy force is approaching from the rocks to the west of our lines,” he said after a nod from Venten.

  Aurec’s eyes lit up. “How many?”

  “Just over a score.”

  “That is no attack force,” Venten cautioned.

  “Possibly engineers?” Aurec suggested.

  Stelskor added, “Or a reconnaissance for a coming assault.”

  “Either way we need to stop them. Assemble the men. I will be there shortly.”

  Raste nodded and offered a slim smile.

  The sounds of fully armed men rushing by drowned out the murmurs from the field commanders. Another night with another battle. Aurec was tired, bordering on sheer exhaustion. All of them were. They’d been going nonstop for nearly a month and there was no end in sight. He got less than four hours of sleep a night and hadn’t eaten half as much as he should. Rations were running low and there wasn’t much game left in the valley. Water was the only thing they did not lack.

  Stelskor gave his son a curious look. The boy had a hollow look, his skin greyish and tight. His eyes seemed darker from the perpetual bags beneath them. “You mean to lead the attack?”

  “I am more comfortable that way.” Aurec slid his now well-dented armor on and then his greaves.

  “Armor at night is not good for ambushes.”

  Aurec smiled. “Delranan iron is hard, Father. We learned that early on. I will be back as soon as this is finished.”

  King watched prince leave. A large part of him left as well. Stelskor longed to be young again, to have a sword in hand and to meet the enemy in an honorable contest. Only there was no honor in this war. All that left was survival. Losing meant death.

  “Luck in battle, my son,” he whispered after Aurec.

  * * * * *

  Mahn slowly pulled an arrow from his quiver and nocked it. He slowed his breathing, exhaling in long, drawn breaths. The first enemy soldier eased into his line of sight. At first he was naught but shadow, a figment in the tired scout’s imagination. Then came the smell. Mahn scrunched his nose at the odor the man gave off. It was the smell of a soldier who had not been able to bathe after weeks of light fighting.

  Three more emerged in line behind him. Mahn smiled. Provided he did not miss, this was almost too easy. He took aim and waited for the natural pause between breaths. Mahn drew a bead on the center of the first man’s chest. He blinked and let go. The arrow sped true and struck his target. A strangled gasp rang out as he fell. Mahn already had another arrow in hand before the soldier hit the ground.

  “Where did that come from?”

  Confusion gripped the Delrananians. One knelt to check their point man.

  “He’s dead.”

  “Who shot him?”

  Mahn fired again. The second arrow met the same results, only this time giving away his position.

  “Over there! Archers in the trees!”

  Mahn clutched his bow and ran. The enemy advanced recklessly, hungry for revenge on the man who killed their comrades. Mahn might have been impressed if it weren’t for being so fearful for his life.

  “Take him alive! I want answers.”

  Mahn snapped at himself. He fought the urge to stop and fire on the sergeant in command. That would certainly alleviate some of the command functions. Cut the head from the beast and watch it die. He couldn’t risk it. The enemy was much too close to take the chance. The old scout really didn’t feel like dying or being captured tonight. Still, he admired their brazenness. Most soldiers would not rush a bank of unknown archers in the middle of the night when two of their own had already fallen.

  “Hurry, don’t lose him!”

  Dread pounded in his heart. Every footstep was the sound of thunder. The enemy was getting closer. Mahn pushed himself harder. Thoughts of the prince and his force disappeared in the name of self-preservation. Decades of soldiering had honed his muscles, trimming away the unnecessary fat, but he was running out of breath. The Wolfsreik might easily catch him well before he reached the safety of his mount.

  A sudden blast of air brushed past his face, followed closely by the telltale zip of an arrow being shot. A cry came from behind. Mahn looked up and smiled. Raste was there, sitting on his horse and drawing aim.

  “What took you so long?” Raste asked after firing another shot.

  Mahn pushed through his heaving chest. “Damnation. That was too close. You could have hit me, boy.”

  The younger Raste took insult at the comment. “Did you get a good look at them?”

  Mahn climbed into the saddle before answering. “They’re not scouts or engineers.”

  “Assassins.”

  He nodded. “A Wolfsreik terminator team.”

  Raste struggled to fight the surge of rising panic. “We must warn the prince.”

  The sounds of battle suddenly erupted from the night.

  “Too late for that,” Mahn murmured.

  Aurec and his men had engaged the enemy. The ambush quickly turned into a melee. Bodies slammed into one another. Blades hacked and slashed. The men of the Wolfsreik were more than a match for anything Aurec had to throw at them. Outnumbered and overpowered, the Wolfsreik fought like men possessed. Men fell amidst their screams. Slowly, ever so slowly, Badron’s assassins began to gain the advantage. Raste watched apprehensively, sword drawn.

  “We’re not made to battle assassins,” Mahn cautioned.

  Raste pointed angrily at the battle. “Neither are Aurec’s men. We need to help before the prince is killed.”

  He was right. Mahn held extreme doubts about rushing into a pack of men intent on killing. They might easily be killed by their own men. Both scouts were competent enough swordsmen, but they were unarmored and ill-prepared to fight some of the Wolfsreik’s best at night.

  “Mahn, you can sit here and debate your morals, but I will not sit by and watch my prince get killed. Sit here and figure out how to tell the king his son is dead.”

  Raste charged into the fight, leaving the older Mahn cursing and hurrying to catch up. Their horses spooked in sudden fear of the fight, for they were not trained war horses. Raste tightened his thighs and used the horse as much as his wildly slashing blade. His sword ripped down an exposed back. A spray of hot blood accompanied the savage screams as the assassin fell in a twitching heap. Rough hands reached up to drag Raste down. Mahn was the only thing that saved him. He barreled his horse into the assassins and gave Raste time to break free.

  “Kill the horses!” bellowed a sharp voice.

  Mahn recognized it as the same one who had led the hunt against him thr
ough the forest. Mahn tried to pierce the scene and find the sergeant. Nothing could demoralize a unit like the loss of its leadership. His efforts were cut short. Lashing out, he took a hand at the wrist. His horse bucked up and thrashed wildly. Hooves struck multiple men, including one of his, and broke bones.

  His horse screamed in sheer horror. An enemy blade plunged deep into its throat. Blood poured from the wound, painting the white hair crimson. Mahn was thrown to the ground. He managed to kick away before the horse’s weight crushed him. More hands tore at him. Mahn struggled and fought but it was of no use. Blow after blow hammered into him. He bit back a cry when the loud snap accompanied his nose breaking.

  “Leave him! I want that bastard.”

  Alone, Mahn forced himself to get up. His body ached from the beating and he was fairly certain his nose and at least one rib were broken. He couldn’t see his opponent but the voice was enough.

  “You killed two of my men,” the sergeant growled.

  Mahn spit a mouthful of blood. “A shame I didn’t get you.”

  The first blow caught him in the jaw and nearly succeeded in knocking him flat. Knives of pain lanced behind his eyes. Mahn swung wildly, but missed. The assassin grinned savagely. He smelled weakness and knew it was a matter of moments before the old man took his last breath. He made a feint to the right and kicked Mahn in the right knee. Mahn fell and tried to roll away, but the Wolfsreik dropped down on him and wrapped his massive, calloused hands around his throat. Mahn punched up, driving the slim dagger he’d snatched from his boot into the sergeant’s neck. The body hit the ground with a squishy thud. The battle was over. None of the enemy remained on the field. Mahn just lay there and tried to catch his breath.

  Aurec was on his knees, breathing hard and leaning on his sword for support. Dark blood stained his face and hands.

  “They are all dead,” Venten announced. The older man was in worse shape.

  Aurec glanced at his friend. “We should leave before more come. Their entire line will have heard the noise.”

  Venten immediately started to round up the men. Thirteen were dead, another dozen sustaining major wounds. In all, Aurec’s tiny band had been fortunate. They should have been dead to the man. A light snow began to fall, almost as if nature wanted to conceal the horrors of what had just happened. Aurec tilted his head to the sky and breathed deeply. The night air was crisp yet moist. He felt a deep joy and fought to regain his composure. It felt good to be alive.

  Instantly refreshed, the prince rose shakily to his feet and went to check on his men. So many bodies being loaded onto horseback sickened him. Each man in his command was a friend. When he came across Mahn, his heart fell. The old man had been a constant in his life since he was a little boy.

  “I’m not dead yet,” Mahn growled.

  Prince Aurec dropped to a knee and laid a gentle hand on his friend. “You look terrible, old man.”

  “It comes with trying to keep up with you.” He tried to laugh, but it hurt too much.

  “Can you get up?”

  He shook his head slowly. “Just pull me up.”

  Aurec did. His howl of pain echoed across the boulder-strewn area.

  “Another outburst like that and you’ll bring the enemy down on us in force,” Venten cautioned.

  The prince passed a sidelong look. “Be thankful he can still make that sound. Help me get him on his horse.”

  * * * * *

  “That was reckless of you, Aurec.” Stelskor’s eyes were sad, as if he knew that his son should have been lost this night.

  Aurec tossed the remains of his pear down on his simple cot and filled a goblet with water. He’d already wiped the dried blood away and pulled off his boots. Until now he hadn’t realized how exhausted he was. Dawn was not far off. Aurec finally collapsed onto his cot and addressed his father.

  “It had to be done. I didn’t see any way around it, Father.”

  The king scratched his jaw. “You are a prince of this kingdom. If I die, you will rule our people.”

  Aurec smiled. “If that is the case you should probably hurry back to Rogscroft. This is a far too dangerous place for a king and we are not sure who those assassins had come to kill.”

  He was proud of the retort and hoped he finally matched his father in wit.

  Even Stelskor chuckled. “You are lucky I am so old, otherwise I would have taken your place out there. The problem with age is you forget what it feels like to hold a sword in your hand. To be alive again. Never get old, my son.”

  “The other options don’t enthuse me much,” Aurec said and drank deep before setting the empty goblet down. “We did good tonight.”

  “What kind of casualties did we sustain?”

  Aurec didn’t want to answer, but his father was the king and deserved the truth. “Thirteen dead and the same wounded. Father, they sent in an assassin squad. The Black Guard. We got lucky.”

  “The Black Guard,” Stelskor whispered. “Could they have known I am here?”

  The thought was disturbing. The implications even more so. Stelskor didn’t want to think that there might be traitors in the camp. It was certainly possible. The kingdom was on the verge of collapse. Most any man would be tempted to sell out his people for the promise of security and extended life. He personally doubted Badron and his captains would hold to such promises. A traitor once never stopped being one.

  Aurec’s response came hard and decisive. “It is a real possibility, Father. I think we need to get you out of here before they try again. Badron won’t hesitate to launch a full-scale assault if he learns we are both here instead of in the city. It would be too easy for him.”

  “I agree. Take care of yourself, Son. This is one of our darkest hours, but more are coming. Our people will have need of both of us before the end. Use your forces wisely and know when to retreat.”

  Father and son hugged, if only briefly, and then broke up. Stelskor exited into the night, leaving his son with more questions unanswered.

  SEVENTEEN

  A New Threat

  Dawn was hardly a prickling of light on the eastern horizon. Snow drifted down lazily. Rolnir and Piper soon had their cloaked shoulders spotted with snow. The general of the Wolfsreik shivered against the chill wind. The fierce look in his eye remained unaffected, however. This was to be his finest hour. Weather could not dampen his spirits. His army was so close to breaking the enemy lines.

  “It is time to break their backs, Piper,” he said. “Once we do that the road to the city will be uncontested.”

  “The Black Guard failed to kill their king,” Piper casually pointed out.

  Rolnir grunted. “It is a small matter. Stelskor is only a figurehead. The real power lies with Aurec. We need to defeat him in order to make war on the city.”

  Piper Joach nodded. There were times when he enjoyed his job and others when he was glad to not be in charge. He knew Badron would be enraged when he learned of his private killers’ failure. The king of Delranan was becoming increasingly violent. Piper almost felt bad leaving Rolnir to suffer that madness, but such was the privilege of rank.

  “End this, Piper,” Rolnir commanded.

  Piper saluted with a brazen smile and marched off.

  The thunder of five hundred horses echoed throughout the valley. The lightly armored defenders watched the advancing battalion and readied to hold the line. Thousands of Wolfsreik foot soldiers marched forward in rank after rank. A few hundred meters away the Delrananian catapults opened fire.

  Piper dispassionately watched as dozens of rounds exploded in gouts of flaming pitch across the Rogscroft lines. A few more salvos and there won’t be any lines, he mused. Men and trees caught fire. Men ran screaming through the valley.

  “Now!” Piper shouted at his adjutant.

  A deep bugle note sang over the army. The men raised a great cheer. The battalion of heavy horse broke into a trot, lances lowered.

  “Retreat!”

  The command was almost drowned out
beneath the barrage. Piper watched the enemy line snap, bending slowly until the stress became too much. Enemy soldiers turned and fled for their lives. Piper smiled. Aurec’s men were brave, but not foolhardy. Their mission had been to harass, not engage the Wolfsreik in pitched battle. They fled, and rightfully so.

  “Have the infantry sweep the tree line for archers. I don’t want any surprises waiting for us when the king comes through.”

  Another horn blast.

  Piper mounted his horse, satisfied with what he saw. “I am riding forward to see for myself. Maybe we got lucky and killed the prince.”

  He didn’t believe it for as long as it took to say. Lady Fortune would never be so kind to any man trying to kill another. Soldiers knew this as well, but enjoyed the image it gave their commander. Respect rose as he dared to laugh in death’s face.

  “Inform General Rolnir where I am.”

  Piper gained the tree line, or rather what remained after the artillery bombardment. Flames climbed the blackened trunks. Acrid smoke reduced his visibility to scant meters. His biggest worry was the fire spreading across the canopy. Forest fires were notorious for flaring up and spreading through the treetops at uncanny speeds. Fortunately winter had come, leaving the trees barren.

  Charred bodies lay in twisted angles across the area. The early snows had melted under the inferno. Piper shook his head. This was madness. War was going to claim what remained of his morality if he didn’t fight it. The carnage around him made it easy to imagine all of Rogscroft burning to the ground. The cavalry had already charged past. Their task was to destroy the enemy, not secure territory. Infantry and follow-on forces had the charge of securing what was taken in battle. Piper had given the battalion commander free reign to pursue the enemy to the banks of the Driml River. Aurec would be trapped if Piper’s men gained the bridge first.

  Piper guided his horse around a burned corpse, doing his best to ignore the stench. Most of his desire for revenge suddenly left him. A hole in his heart grew in its place. His entire focus had been on revenge for so long he had forgotten everything else. Any embarrassment his men had suffered at the beginning of the war had been repaid a hundred times over during the course of the campaign. Piper felt much older than his thirty years. He wanted to go home lest his humanity was stolen.