Dancers and acrobats entertained the guests, and through it all, through the laughter and smiles, no one would have guessed the true feelings of the bride and groom.
From time to time, Aedan’s gaze would meet Sylvanna’s across the room, and he wished it could have been her seated by his side, while at the same time he felt sorrow for Ariel, his wife, who had married him knowing that he loved another. Though she smiled on the outside, inside, Ariel’s heart was breaking: she had dreamed of this day since she was a child, hoping against hope it would come to pass, but never like this. She had done it out of love for Aedan and a desire to save him, but she could not stop thinking her new husband must have felt he was trapped, and if she had not set the snare, she had at least come to collect the game.
She had not spoken with Sylvanna since the night she told her she and Aedan would marry, and why.
It had been a difficult and painful conversation, all the more so because Sylvanna had tried to make it easy on her. Ariel had not known what to expect.
She did not know Sylvanna very well. The elf did not associate with the ladies of the court, preferring the company of soldiers, and the few times they had spoken had been nothing more than a formal exchange of pleasantries. Outwardly, she had displayed no emotion when Ariel gave her the news and explained the reasons for it. There had been only a barely perceptible flicker in her eyes, but for Ariel, it had been enough. Sylvanna had listened silently while Ariel spoke, and when she was done,
she had said, “You love him, too.”
Ariel could only nod.
“So,” Sylvanna had said, with no hint of emotion in her voice, “it is well. You will make him a good wife.”
Ariel had felt a lump in her throat as she replied, “He wanted you to know that he loves you.”
Sylvanna stared at her. “He asked you to tell me that?”
“No,” said Ariel softly, looking down at the floor.
“He could never have asked me such a thing. I offered of my own accord.”
“I see,” Sylvanna said. “It would have been unconscionable for him to ask you. But it was very gracious and noble of you to tell me. Thank you, Lady Ariel.”
“I … I hope we can be friends,” said Ariel.
“I shall always admire and respect you,” Sylvanna said. “But you do not want me for a friend. That would be too difficult for all concerned. I will stay until after the wedding. And then it would be best if I went back home to Tuarhievel. I have been away too long.
But please do not tell Aedan. I do not wish to say good-bye. Good night, my lady.”
As she watched Sylvanna from across the room, Ariel wondered how soon after the banquet she would leave. She glanced at Aedan, sitting next to her and speaking with her father. He will hate me, she thought. I love him with all my heart, and he will hate me. And then she saw Laera, sitting by the emperor and staring at them both with eyes like anthracite.
Suddenly, the doors to the banquet hall were opened, and the herald entered with a man beside
him, a captain in the army. The captain nodded to him grimly, and the herald blew a blast on his horn, cutting through the noise of merriment.
All eyes turned toward the captain, who went down to one knee and bowed his head.
“Sire, it grieves me to intrude upon this happy occasion, but I bring important news.”
“What is it, Captain?” Michael asked.
“Lord Arwyn is on the march, Sire. He has gathered all his forces and advanced across the border into Avanil. There has been a battle. Our garrisons have fallen. He is but a day’s march distant.”
A dead silence fell upon the hall.
The emperor stood. “My lords and ladies,” he said, “I crave your pardon for disrupting the festivities. All officers to your commands.
Sound the call for the troops to assemble. We march within the hour.
Those of you who do not bear arms with our forces, please stay and finish your dinner.”
“Forgive me,” Aedan said to Ariel as he got up, “but duty calls.”
“Of course,” she said, thinking, was there relief in his voice? As people started to rush out of the hall, Ariel quickly made her way to Sylvanna’s side. “You will not leave now, surely?” she said.
“No, not now,” Sylvanna said. “My departure shall have to be postponed.”
“Please watch out for him,” said Ariel.
Sylvanna simply looked at her. “I always have.”
The army gathered on the parade ground as the temple bells throughout the town tolled the alarm.
As Aedan stepped out of the boat, his squire was already dressed for battle and had brought his mount and arms and standard. He swung into the saddle and rode together with the emperor to assemble the troops.
Only a few days had passed since their last disastrous campaign, and yet they all came, as he had known they would. This time, there would be no battles with ogres, gnolls, goblins, undead.
This time, they would face the Army of Boeruine.
And this time, Aedan knew, it would finally be settled, one way or the other.
For Arwyn to attack in force now was too much of a coincidence. It would have taken him several days to gather his troops and march to Brosengae to make a push from there, supported by the troops manning his border garrisons. He must have started to organize his march as soon as the battered Army of Anuire returned from their illfated expedition.
Somehow, he must have known they had fought several engagements and were weakened and demoralized. The timing was too close to be coincidence.
His spies had done their work.
Well, weakened they were, perhaps, thought Aedan, as he gazed out at the assembled troops, but demoralized? There was firm resolve in every face he saw. They would be fighting to defend their city, and they knew that this, at last, would be the final battle.
There would be no retreat. And if Arwyn tried to pull back behind his garrisons, they would pursue and attack with everything they had. They were all weary of the war. Now was the time to end it.
Michael rode up to his troops as their officers formed them up and called them to attention. As he started to address them, Aedan thought back to that
day on the coastal plains by Seaharrow, when a younger Michael had stood before his “troops” of children, exhorting them to victory over the evil forces of Azrai. This time, however, there was a real sword in his hand, not a wooden toy And this time, his voice was not high-pitched and squeaky, but it rang out clear and true. And this time, Ariel would not take part in the combat, but would remain behind, wondering if her new husband would return home safely He glanced at Sylvanna riding up to join them with Gylvain and the other elves.
There were fewer of them than had started the campaign, eight long and weary years ago. Their number had been reduced by half. Elves fighting and dying in a human conflict, he thought. Shades of Deismaar, indeed.
“Warriors of the Empire of Anuire!” shouted Michael, his voice carrying across the parade ground as he sat mounted before his troops.
“Once more we march to battle! Many times we have assembled here over the past eight years. I see many familiar faces.
And there are those, sadly, that I do not see. Our comrades-in-arms who have fallen in past campaigns. They all fought valiantly and gave their lives for the cause we defend. Today, they stand with us in spirit, and if they could speak, they would surely ask of us to ensure that they did not die in vain.
“For too long, this war has raged. The Army of Boeruine has struck out time and again, but never has there been a decisive engagement. They have plundered our lands. They have burned our fields and villages, slaughtered our livestock, trampled our crops, and murdered our fellow citizens. And for what cause? So that one man’s ambition can be fulfilled! A man whose lust for power knows no bounds. oeruine would sit upon the Iron Throne and call himself your emperor. He denies my birthright and calls me a pretender to the throne.”
At this, a loud chorus o
f angry dissent rang out.
Michael raised his arms for silence.
“Hear me!” he shouted. -If I were to lead you into battle merely to secure my place, I would indeed be that pretender he accuses me of being. If my palace, throne, and crown were all I cared about, I would be unworthy to lead you into battle. And if I truly believed Arwyn of Boeruine would make a better emperor than I, that the people of the empire would thrive and prosper under his rule, I tell you here and now I would step down from the throne and give it to him.”
Almost as one, they shouted, -No!”
“We have faced much hardship together,” Michael went on when they had settled down. “We have suffered the extremes of weather. We have gone hungry, tired, and sleepless on the march. We have faced the dangers of the Shadow World together, and we have grieved over our fallen comrades.
Never before in the history of the empire has there been such a conflict.
And never before in the history of the empire has there been such a true and valiant army! You honor me, but even more than that, you honor yourselves!”
The troops raised a cheer.
-If the gods meant for us to fail, we would have failed long since, said Michael. “If the gods meant for me to fall, I would have long since fallen. But this I promise you: I shall not fall!”
They cheered once more.
“There shall be no more expeditions through the Shadow World! There shall be no more retreat! There
shall be no more burning of our fields or looting of our towns! And after this, there shall be no more Army of Boeruine!”
They all shouted themselves hoarse and raised their weapons, stamped their feet, and struck their shields with their swords. Words, thought Aedan.
Simple words. And yet, he gives them so much meaning. It was because every sentiment that he expressed he truly felt.
“I was once told by a man much wiser in these things than I that there is no meaning in fighting for a palace, or a throne, or crown, that those are merely things, and things are not worth fighting for or dying for. We do not fight for the Cairn, or for the crown, or for the Iron Throne. We fight for an idea.
The idea that in unity, there is strength that cannot be defeated. The idea that in law, there is order, so that men may live in peace and prosper. The idea that in courage, there is honor, so we may lift our heads high. And the idea that in resolve, there is purpose, so that we cannot be deterred.
“The empire has no true borders, because borders cannot encompass an idea. The empire is more than just our land, for land cannot an empire make. The Empire of Anuire is in the hands of the man who plows his field, of the woman who gives birth, of the child who dreams about the future. The empire is in all our hearts! And so long as there is breath within my body, I shall not allow those hearts to break! The war ends here and now! It ends today! It ends before we even see the enemy, for we shall win it with our courage, with our resolve, and with our purpose!”
He raised his sword high over his head. “For the empire! And for victory!”
The troops raised a roar that could be heard throughout the city, crying out, “Roele! Roele!” as Michael rode the length of their ranks, standing in his stirrups and waving his sword over his head.
He used my very words, thought Aedan, shaking his head in admiration.
Only he said them far better I ever could.
-A wiser man than I?- said Aedan, when the emperor returned to his side.
The troops continued cheering.
‘Indisputably,- said Michael with a perfectly straight face. “But because I’m such a self-indulgent bastard, I cannot for the life of me remember who he was.”
It was almost sunrise when the two armies came within sight of one another on the plains halfway between the cities of Anuire and the castle of Dalton, visible in the distance. Each army had marched all night in an attempt to outpace the other. Michael had known he needed to maintain as much distance as possible between Lord Arwyn’s forces and the capital. Arwyn had force-marched after rolling over the border garrisons in an attempt to gain the high ground on the hills around Anuire. It was a draw, and both met in the middle. Still, the first advantage had gone to the Army of Anuire. They had denied Arwyn the superior ground.
He did not expect us to mobilize so quickly, Aedan thought. Arwyn had counted on facing an army that would be , weakened, disorganized, unable to assemble in time to halt his advance upon 33?
the city. But he had not counted on the captain who had ridden like a man possessed to warn of his advance across the border. He had not counted on the indomitable spirit and resolve of the Anuirean troops.
And he had not counted on Michael’s ability to inspire them. In calling Michael the “Pretender,” Arwyn had devalued him, and in devaluing him, he had underestimated him, as well.
Both armies took up position and settled down to wait for dawn. The soldiers took their rest upon the ground, with their weapons by their side, ready to form for battle on a moment’s notice, but Michael did not rest. With Aedan by his side, carrying his standard, he rode among the troops, talking to them, asking about their families, calling many of them by name-it was amazing to Aedan how many of those names the emperor could remember-and Aedan watched their faces light up as Michael rode among them, encouraging them and speaking to them like a fellow soldier, not a monarch.
To one group: “So, a brisk evening walk, a short rest beneath the stars, and we’re ready for the morning’s work, eh, boys? We’ll show them what we’re made of, won’t we?”
To another: “Well, are you boys ready to give Arwyn a sound thrashing?
Shall we push him all the way to Thurazor and let the goblins have his liver for breakfast?”
And to some troops from Elinie: “What do you say, boys, shall we get this nonsense over with so you can all go back to Elinie and fish the Saemil? I hear the trout there grow this big-” holding his hands three feet apart-“and jump right out of the river and straight into your frying pans! I think
maybe I’ll go with you after we’ve taught these louts a lesson. It’s been a long time since I’ve gone fishing.
He has the gift, thought Aedan. Seeing him now, relaxed and confident, bantering with them in a friendly manner, they would never have suspected that only a few days ago, he had been locked within his chambers, plunged into deep depression and drinking himself into a stupor. He was just as vulnerable to weakness as the rest of them, but he never for a moment let that show. His confidence gave them confidence. His refusal to feel fatigue gave them energy. And even Aedan started to believe. He felt his spirits rising and suddenly, defeat did not seem possible.
When dawn came, Arwyn’s troops attacked. By then, Michael had Korven pass the word to all the officers. “We shall let Arwyn come to us,- he said.
“We shall let them make the charge, and see us standing here, implacable, immobile, like a wall on which his attack shall break. Let each man stand in silence. I want no battle cries. Let them see our faces-fearless, still, and resolute as death.”
As the Army of Boeruine made their charge, the Anuireans stood firm, silent and motionless as statues. Aedan saw Michael anxiously scanning the charging ranks for Arwyn’s standard. Yes, there it was, slightly to the left and in the forefront, as could be expected. Arwyn was a warlord in every sense of the word. He would not remain behind in safety, watching from a rise as his troops attacked. He would ride in the vanguard, with his standardbearer by his side, so that his troops could see him leading them.
As Aedan watched them come, he thought, by Haelyn, he has brought them all. He has pulled back all his troops from the forest borders of Alamie and the Five Peaks, the forces from Talinie and Taeghas, and the garrisons in Brosengae. And there were goblin fighters with them, wolfrider detachments from the Prince of Thurazor. He must have left no one behind to guard the rear, thought Aedan. This time, it was all or nothing.
As the front ranks met, trumpet calls were sounded in the rear of Michael’s army, and o
n cue, they quickly started advancing, moving to the left and right, reforming into wings to envelop the flanks of Arwyn’s charging troops. Michael spurred his mount, and with sword raised, charged into them like a scythe cutting through wheat.
Immediately, his staff set spurs as well, trying to form a protective circle around him, but trying to protect Michael was like trying to catch the wind. He had set his sights on Arwyn’s standard, and his gaze had never left it.
Now, he tried to cut his way through to his enemy, the man who’d take his throne.
The clanging of steel against steel filled the air, as did the shouts of men and the neighing of horses. In almost no time at all, the ground was churned up by many feet and hooves, the grass torn and trampled, and the choking dust rising. Holding aloft the standard in one hand and his sword in the other and controlling his plunging mount with his knees, Aedan had no benefit of shield, but Sylvanna stayed on his left flank, protecting it while he struck out on his right, trying to stay near the emperor.
The battle was a wild melee now, and in the tumult and the confusion and the dust, the fighters
335 could know each other only by their colors and devices. Arwyn’s flanks were being battered, but he had the advantage of superior numbers, and his center remained strong. Here and there, fighters penetrated deep into the body of the opposing army, on both sides, while in other places, the ranks held on for longer until there were men on both sides hemmed in by their opponents and forced to turn in all directions as they fought.
The noise was deafening. Men fell and were trampled by the surging bodies all around them. Spears were all but useless in such close quarters, except to those who held them up, seeking to unhorse a knight.
Out of the corner of his eye, Aedan saw young Ghieste fall as a spear got past his guard and pushed him from his mount. Unbalanced, he went down into the milling bodies, and Aedan did not see him rise again. A moment later, the same thing almost happened to him. He saw a pike thrusting up at him, deflected it with his blade, then slashed down at his attacker, splitting his helm. The man had no time to scream.
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