XXIII. Fire, Death, and Fear

Aichlan collasped his spyglass with a muttered prayer, the army of Xanavene, seven-hundred thousand men strong, marched across the fire plains and down into the basin in rigid formation. Séverin and Maleah confirmed that the bulk of that army was made up of criminals and peasants pressed into service, some only having a couple months of training under their belts, the number was still daunting. Memories of Arlien haunted him. A cold sweat fell over Aichlan as he anxiously wrung his gauntlets. The column he had seen marching the main road back in Elysia had only been a fraction of the total forces. With that knowledge, Aichlan felt his heart sink further to the pits of his knotted stomach. Even factoring in desertion and death, nearly a million men marched upon them.

The opposing army wheeled in trebuchets, siege towers, and ballistae by oxen, which they set up around the lip of the basin overlooking the Colby-Nau capitol. The black flag of Xanavene flew high above their ranks. A white wolf’s paw upon banners and siege engines. Comprised of cavalry, heavy armored defenders and a phalanx of pike wielding infantry to spearhead the assault, Aichlan looked with dismay to the almost exclusively infantry based Rhodean army. Army was a term he used graciously in referring to them; they were a hodgepodge of different clans under various commanders with no unifying general or leader. He doubted they even had ranks or even the concept of rank.

The Rhodean army had set up at the edge of the growing fields, determined not to allow the opposition to step one foot into the city itself. The elves stood in staggered formation five ranks deep, a motley crew of warriors, miners, smiths and farmers wielding tools of their trade as weapons. The miners, ostensibly shock troops, wielding giant hammers and picks, were behind the Warriors with their obscenely large swords. Farmers, with scythe and trident were bunched up wherever they fit. Being the only users of something resembling a polearm, Aichlan wondered why they were not put in ranks in front. The lack of cohesion caused him further anxiety.

All were unarmored, save for those of the warrior clans who wore collared pauldrons on the right or left shoulder to differentiate themselves or a gladiators mantica on their sword arm. Tactically it was useless. Aichlan met up with the rest of his party as they rallied around Órfhlaith and her clan. These were the miners of the Gold-Flute and Silver-hand clans, headed by Órfhlaith’s and Eths families respectively, all wielding giant hammers, pickaxes or huge cleavers for swords. Órfhlaith’s attendant handed her a double-bladed sword-staff as she half-assed a troop inspection.

Aichlan sidled through the gaggle of troops and spotted Eth as he stumbled over to his side. It looked as if it took all his will and concentration to keep upright. Aichlan pulled his hand across his face and wondered if this would be the day his ill-fated journey ended. One way or another it had to, either Osric fell today or he did.

“Aichlan! O’er here!” Alice called as she waved at him.

Aichlan swore under his breath and made his way over. He had explicitly told Alice to stay behind in the city. The last place she should be was on a battlefield.

She circled around Kielan with the rest of their companions, Aichlan and Eth jogged to meet them. The huntress Taryn was with them as well, strapping on her bracer as she placed arrows tip down in the soil beside her. She sat and strung her longbow as he approached.

“’Lo there!” she stuck out her hand for him to shake. “You mus’ be Aichlan!”

“I am, and you are Taryn yes?”

Like most of his fellows, she was quite young, and had the bearing and speech of a peasant. She dressed as one who had cobbled together an outfit from her fathers shed and the back of the closet. From her patchwork short dress and jerkin, well-worn steel toed boots a size too large, and holey stockings sans garter, to the simple contours of an unremarkable face.

“One and only.” She responded cheerily.

Aichlan was surprised to see her up so soon; she had only recently gotten off bedrest. The cleric that had been attending her said her wounds would take several sessions to mend, complicated by the dehydrated state they received her in. Lacerations and bruises were one thing to mend, but organ damage was notoriously tricky, even for the highest rated clerics of The Order. After only one healing under Clarissa however, the woman seemed good as new.

“I wish that we could have been properly introduced under more hospitable conditions, however…”

Taryn swatted her hand at him. “Oh, don’ fret yer pretty head ’bout it luv. This kinda shite can’t be helped. You wouldn’t mind givin’ us a hand with placin’ me arra’s would ya?”

Her demeanor was pleasant enough, as she went about placing the arrows, humming softly. Aichlan briefly scanned the field and saw no other archers. He was tempted to suggest she not make an emplacement, as a one-woman volley was unlikely to be effective, but decided against it. Aichlan had many questions for her, namely, how did she meet with Maleah? It was obvious by her manner of speech she came from southern Sorn, but that did little to explain anything else.

“Um, sure.”

“Aichlan!” Kielan called, waving him over. “Get over here!”

“Bollox. It’s a’ight then, I’ll get that pink haired lass to help, she don’t seem to be doin’ much.” Taryn grunted as she fastened her bowstring. “Oi! Pinkie!”

Aichlan silently excused himself and ran over to Kielan.

“How many do we have?” Aichlan asked.

“Close to a million, he won’t stand a chance.”

Aichlan let out a breath of relief; their odds were far better than when he was in Arlien. He was still concerned about the lack of formation and central command, however. The Colby-Nau had proven themselves competent warriors, at least the group he travelled with had. His time in the city had shown him that just like any society, they had their fair share of civilians; in fact, the majority of the city’s residents had sheltered in their homes, unable to wield a weapon of any sort.

Aichlan placed his hands on his hips and paced, as he took inventory of his comrades. Séverin and his sister were chatting amongst themselves as she mounted her mare. He would leave them alone for now. Everyone else milled about nervously, the air was tense with only sporadic conversation punctuating an otherwise oppressive silence. Not even the crickets sang this night.

Such large-scale battles had not been experienced by anyone for centuries, Fiora was silent like the others, this was a foreign concept for them. As a low-ranking officer of Sorn, she likely had not experienced any combat prior to their meeting in Nole. She most likely had the pre-battle jitters. He could hardly blame her; nothing could quite prepare anyone for the hell that was battle. Neat rows broken as flesh impacts spear, the smell of spilled bowels amidst a cacophony of terror and rage. It was awful.

Aichlan turned back to the huntress Taryn; she would be a real wild card. He had no idea who she was or where she came from, though she was likely fair with a bow, it would not guarantee her safety when the horde of Xanavene marched down on them.

Alice was oddly giddy as she paced around Fiora talking nonstop; likely, it was her way of coping. She had always been powerful with her spells, but with the addition of her glasses, she had become an invaluable asset. Being the cousin to the King of Aes Sidhe, he was loath to put her in danger. Even though his father and the King had been good friends, it was unlikely that would save him should he return home with a dead Alice. He would have to stay close to her, though in all reality she would probably be covering him more than he would her.

“My Lord Aichlan,” Aichlan turned to see Emarosa standing behind him, scepter in hand.

“I have the honor of serving with you under the Sister Clarissa.”

“What of the rest of the clergy from Therion?”

“Unfortunately, our numbers are small, and there aren’t enough of us to go around, but we are willing to do our best to aid the wounded.”

“I wouldn’t have anyone else by my side Emma, and I mean that.”

“Thank you, my Lord, I…I couldn’t help the lady Renata, but I can and will help you. It’s what she would have wanted.”

Emarosa had taken the whole situation rather hard, personally blaming herself for Renata’s fate. Aichlan placed a reassuring hand upon her shoulder. She had been by Renata’s side for as long as he could remember at least, and he was glad to see she was still alive. Even if she to blame for his initial exile, he knew her to be an innocent and sweet woman, and above all honest.

“We’ll get her back Emma. This I swear.”

Emarosa smiled and grasped his hand, letting go abruptly to wipe away a stray tear as she turned away. “I, I have to go Aichlan, but I’ll always be close by.” She said with a weak smile as she walked away to meet up with Clarissa.

“You know, eventually you’re gonna get a bill for all this.” Ransom said slyly as he slinked over to Aichlan.

“And where have you been?”

“I’ve been, around.” He replied with a smirk.

“I thought you long gone. It seems you missed an opportunity.”

“Or did I? Don’t get killed out there guy. I’m still owed a hefty sum by your little outfit here.” He said with a sardonic grin before he wandered off.

“Are ye ready?” Ashe asked as she placed a hand on his shoulder and massaged gently.

“Yes. How is Eth?”

“Drunk, he usually performs better that wye anyhow.”

Eth pulled his head from a small tub of ice water, gasping and swearing as he attempted to sober up quickly. “Bollox, Tha’ trick always works…”

Aichlan rolled his eyes and pulled on his gauntlets, hoping against hope that his friend did not get himself killed. Ashe snapped her fingers with an exclamation as she remembered something or another. She reached into her satchel and pulled out a steel buckler of about twelve inches in diameter.

“Sorry it isn’t painted, I plum forgot.”

Aichlan took the small shield and hefted it. He took up a ready stance and swung his sword a couple of times as he tried to reacclimatize himself to the fighting style. It was infinitely more comfortable than trying to use an arming sword two handed or fighting one handed with nothing in the other.

“It’s perfect as usual.” He leaned over and planted a kiss on her lips.

A horse neighed to their right, startling them. Ashe swore and placed her hand to her heart as Aichlan sheathed his sword. Not only did they have a solitary archer, and a solitary mage, but also a lone mounted soldier.

“What do you think of Séverin and his sister? Do you believe we can trust them?”

Ashe shrugged. “About as much as we can trust anyone else here.”

“You always have had a way of making things simple Ashe.” Aichlan said with a faint smirk. “Let’s just hope you’re right.”

“And when have I ever been wrong my dear?”

Aichlan caressed her cheek and leaned in to kiss her again.

“Hmm, was that for luck?” She said seductively.

“Let us hope.” He kissed her again and turned to leave.

“Aichlan, wait.” She held onto his hand, her eyes were wide, her lips trembling as she sought courage to speak.

He turned back a bit concerned; Ashe was not one to look so distraught. “What is it?”

She shook her head and surreptitiously wiped the moisture from her eyes. “Daen’t do anything reckless.”

“I’ll do my best.” He laughed.

“Aichlan, I’m serious. I, I daen’t have a good feeling about this whole occasion.”

“Ashe, I promise you, I will be fine so long as you stay by my side.”

Aichlan hesitantly broke away from her as he jogged over to Fiora and Alice. A hint of doubt made its way into his heart. He already had low prospects for victory, but that feeling had not caused the sudden dread he felt.

“Aichlan, I love you…” she called, but her words were lost to the ensuing war horns that announced the opposition’s arrival.

* * *

Alice tried her best to calm down with deep breathing exercises at Fiora’s request, but it seemed to have little effect. Alice paced anxiously, reciting spells under her breath in an attempt to commit them to memory, while Fiora tightened her bootstraps. Her face flushed both from irritation and anxiety as Alice chatted nonstop about seemingly nothing.

“How are you holding up Fiora?” Aichlan forced a smile to hide his own trepidations.

“Fine my Lord, just a bit nervous is all.” She replied sheepishly.

“As am I Fiora, no one has faced anything like this before, and anyone who claims they aren’t afraid or nervous is a damned liar.”

Fiora smiled at his candidness. “Or Alice.”

“I heard that! Moreover, I did not say I was not afraid Fiora, I’m just more excited than anything. It’s all so, unreal!”

“Try and breathe Alice, you’re making me more nervous carrying on like you are!” Fiora snapped.

She wore her scale armor over the Alfheim mail Clarissa had given her, as well as metal shin guards upon her thigh high boots, though she still practiced the typical form over function of modern militaries, she was far better protected than the elves.

“I want the two of you to stick by Eth and Clarissa, understood?”

“Yes, my Lord.” Fiora said, confidence returning.

“I want you to cover Alice and Alice; I want you to cover them, is that acceptable?”

Alice pouted. “Were you not going to act as my vanguard and defender Baron?”

Aichlan faltered, not sure how to respond. As a fellow Aes Sidhean and member of the Royal Family, he was honor bound to stand at her side. However, he felt a need to be in the front, given the relative lack of order on display by the elves.

“I will be in the front lines my lady…”

“Perfect, so shall I.”

Aichlan wished to argue further but could see it was fruitless. “Stay close to me. And don’t push yourself like you did the last time. If you find yourself drained, I want you to find Séverin or fall back.”

“I’ve already taken care of it Aichlan;” Alice opened her satchel and withdrew three glowing blue vials. “I made some elixirs of my own. I could go all day.”

Aichlan turned to Fiora, who somehow or another had taken on the role of both guard and handmaiden. “That may well be. Fiora, make sure—.”

“I’m already ahead of you my Lord.” She said, holding up a vial of the strange liquid meant to revitalize mages who exceeded their limits.

“My skills have improved considerably since that wretched fen, Aichlan.” Alice puffed out her chest with a flick of her hair. “You need only serve out your role as my sword and shield, or have you forgotten your oath?”

Aichlan had not forgotten, though he did not realize that words said to offer comfort would later be brandished as vows.

“It is nay forgotten my lady, but I have my own way of ensuring my charges safety, pray you accept my methods.” Aichlan patted her on the shoulder as more horns sounded and Órfhlaith issued orders, “Come, battle is upon us.”

* * *

Aichlan met up with Eth as he continued to drown himself in ice water, Maleah was nearby with Taryn, checking and rechecking their gear.

“Maleah, are you well?”

“Enough.” She said with a yawn. “Where are my men?”

Aichlan forced a tight smile, not entirely blaming her for wanting to be difficult. “They are back on the mountain, I assure you they are being well cared for, but how about you, these are your fellow countrymen, if you wish to wait behind, I won’t hold it against you.”

She scoffed and stared at him with ruby eyes full of contempt and apathy to the situation at hand.

“Most of them are cowards and criminals. It’s not them I’m worried about.” She replied offhandedly. “You ever fought a mage Aichlan?”

In fact, he had not. “No actually.”

“Then perhaps you should stay behind, I won’t hold it against you.” She wheeled her horse around towards the front.

“Now see here!” Alice began, quickly silenced by Aichlan’s raised hand.

“Your concern is noted.” Aichlan did not have time nor desire to make anything of it. “Alice, join with Kielan and the others, I shall join you in a moment.”

Alice folder her arms across her chest and remained rooted. “I think not, you are in my employ Baron, and I shan’t be dismissed.”

“Alice, my methods, remember? You aren’t to question them.”

Fiora gently took Alice by the crook of her arm. “Perhaps it would be best we gather with our unit; we would not want to be caught in the open alone when the battle begins.”

Alice glared at Aichlan for several moments, her lip trembling. “Do not make me wait,”

Alice stormed off before he could respond, not that he had anything to say to her. Fiora offered a repentant look in passing as she hurried after the haughty mage.

Maleah flicked her hair from her face and adjusted her grip on her weapon. “Aren’t you the general?”

Aichlan paused, unsure of how to answer her. He was a general, but not the general. Even if he were, he was not sure what difference it would make. Especially when it came to Alice. She was a Duchess by birth, and very well the next monarch of his home kingdom. He could quite literally expect to tell the woman nothing and have it stick.

“I am…”

“Why are you down here?” she gestured towards his muddy boots. “On foot no less.”

Aichlan glanced around. “Where the hell else would I be?”

She looked him over with a look of confusion and subtle admiration. Aichlan had never really been good at issuing orders from the sidelines; he had always been in the thick of things, the same as his father. He had always been a warrior first, even in The Order, where his rank would have permitted him to issue orders from a desk somewhere far from the conflict. And despite being a competent rider, he never much cared for horses.

“It is tactically unsound for the commander to be in rank with the standard infantry.” Séverin added a bit more tactfully. “Surely you know this better than anyone.”

Aichlan shrugged. “This is all I know, and what works best for me.”

“And should you fall?” Séverin persisted. “The elves could certainly use a tactical mind; numbers won’t be enough I am afraid.”

Aichlan frowned. “I think you underestimate them. Though their methods are crude, they are warriors. And I’ll not hang back whilst others fight for me, it simply isn’t my way.”

“Hmm. Then let us hope your unorthodox method of leadership serves us well.”

“I’m sure we’ll do fine.” Aichlan said brusquely.

Aichlan searched out a familiar face in the crowd, eager to be done with the conversation. The elves had a nation, they did not need him micromanaging their war effort. So long as he kept himself and his charges alive, it would work out. Upon spotting Ashe, Aichlan quickly made a beeline in her direction, not bothering to excuse himself.

“He’s gonna die up there.” Maleah murmured, not quite to herself.

“Quiet Maleah.” Séverin chastised.

Aichlan shook his head and quickened his pace to meet with Ashe again and ready for the charge.