Post by Charlie Brown on Dec 3, 2011 16:25:22 GMT -5
The Attavarian port city had appeared on the horizon an hour dusk, the failing sunlight dipping below the sea, almost submerged, almost extinguishing its burning flame. Columns of smoke rose from the industrial parts of the city, where blacksmiths and other craftsmen would ply their trades. The city looked oddly serene, they were so close to the sea they could hear the Gulls callings as they soared overhead, in the distance the massive warships could be seen lapping gently in the harbor, there was no sign of the Orakahn but they might still be far enough away to avoid detection, if one thing was obvious to all those in the seventh it was that the Oraks had already growing lax, confident in their imminent victory.
Cauldwyn road to the front of the column that had spread out into proper lines, ready to march to meet their enemy. His horse whinnied, a stream of frozen air twirling upwards, Cauldwyn let out a slow breath, the city had no walls, which was a blessing as you tended to lose the most men attempting to breach or capture the walls of a city or keep. The downside is, their fight would be a much longer one. His clear eyes scanned the city of any signs of activity and saw none, the city was too still, too quiet, his eyes followed the trail of billowing smoke from the industry section of the city. Forges did not light themselves. Cauldwyn, without need to look shifted in his saddle and spoke to his aide-de-camp
"Give the order. Raise the standards, let them know we're coming." Before he could finish his last sentence orders were being shouted down the line accompanied by the low tones of horns, Blue flags were raised, marked by their standard, a silver wolf's head on a blue banner. "Hold fast." The order was shouted down the line again and the ranks pulled in tight, each soldier going from a relaxed stance to a rigid hostile one, the discipline of the 7th legion was a sight to behold, they seemed to all be in synch with one another, moving perfectly, adjusting seamlessly as orders came flowing down the line.
He saw Andraia riding through the ranks closing in on him at a lackadaisical pace, nothing in her demeanor suggesting she had any concern about the coming fight; That was the one feature you could tell a veteran of the legions from a raw recruit, the veterans controlled the panic that happened during the pre-war they adopts rituals, habits, some sharpened their sword to perfection, others checked the bucks and durability of their armor, others prayed to their god. Cauldwyn nodded formally to her as she approached, coming along side him, her eyes scanning the same points his had only moments earlier. Andraia would know from the formation of the men alone that he intended to attack with little day light left.
"Andraia" he said, no affection in his voice, he could show none in front of his men, though all knew of the rather torrid affair that existed between them. His warhorse stamepd its feet in the snow, Cauldwyn putting a calming hand on his neck, he could smell war coming, knew the battle was but a moments wait, the anticipation of blood. A chanting hymn came to their ears, Cauldwyn's eyes flicking to the priests and priestesses that moved through his, offering divine protection and good luck. A priest approached the pair and he held his hand out, along stick of burning incense in his hand.
"And what of you general? Do you have a prayer you'd say to Verdus The Protector?"
Cauldwyn didn't even look at the priest when he spoke, though he hadn't ignored him, far from it.
"Say a prayer in my name, father. I have no tongue for it."
~~
In a camp there was no way to hide an affair like the one they were having but his men had respect for him and she’d earned their respect on the battle field. She wasn’t just the woman sleeping with their generally anymore, she was the knight that fought beside all of them. She liked it that way too, it proved she was more than a pretty face in armor because she was.
She road along the lines of men and pulled up beside Cauldwyn. Not even her horse felt nervous under her, feeding off the calm of its rider. A leader could never show fear, the moment they did was the moment their lines broke. Cauldwyn never would, not in front of his men and she knew that every one of them would die for him.
“Cauldwyn.” She nodded greeting to him, looking toward the city to survey the lines that they’d be breaking soon. One of her riders, the sandy haired man that looked just a few years her junior and shockingly like her road up and pulled in to her side, silently watching the same lines she did. They were to much alike for people not to have been whispering that they were related. Some though cousins or a nephew perhaps, few thought that he could possibly be her son.
The priests chants were a white noise in the back of her head that she ignored. Even when he came up to ask if they wished prayers. She shook her head when he turned to ask her and she smiled at the kind man. “I say my own prayers to my gods.”
When the priest left she side stepped her horse closer to his and slid her hand over to touch his arm lightly. Turning it over she held a lock of blond hair in it, braided and tied at either end with white ribbon.
~~
He glanced down at the lock of hair, turning it over in his hand, it wasn't the first he'd received. He banished the memories. He slid the lock into the leather bracers around his wrists and forearms. The younger rider approached and pulled in beside Andraia, Cauldwyn had never truly looked at the lad, he was just another face in a swimming sea of faces, he hadn't even looked at the knight, though he did know he had arrived, acknowledging with an admonishment.
"We all have our places and yours is not here" He said pointedly to the younger knight Despite some of his unconventional methods as an officer, being familiar on a personal level with many, he didn't entirely doaway with the structure of command and each notch in the chain must know its place. "Not yet anyway." he added as an afterthought, clucking his tongue and his worse moving off into a trot down the lines, the general inspecting his men, as he passed, shoulders went father back, chests farther out, expressions grim. He stopped in front of a group of recruits they had picked up just before leaving on maneuvers in what seemed a lifetime ago. They offered brave expressions, but Cauldwyn could see the anxiety written on their faces.
"Remember your training" he said to them, one of them barely old enough to grow the patchy beard he sported. "And you will survive. Rely on your brothers, watch the and do what they do." The three offered stumbling thanks for the quick words of encouragement, but Cauldwyn was already moving on, his officers following, Andraia at his side.
"I don't like this" He admitted quietly to her "They should be lining up outside the city, I think it's a trap. My concern..." he hiked a thumb at the smoke coming from the forges in the city. "... Is what they're building in there." he looked over at her as she rode, her face set with a determined look.
"thoughts?"
~~
“Malic is riding with me tonight.” She stopped him before he could send the young man away. It wasn’t unusual for her in the past battles they’d had that one of her men road with her. It rotated between all of them though, never the same one twice. She gave the honor to a different man each time. “Wait with the generals.” She ordered Malic before turning her horse to follow after Cauldwyn.
She offered no encouragements to the men, now while she road next to their General. She left those words to him, they would mean more from his lips than hers. Her eyes were watching the city still, thinking, calculating. It wasn’t until he spoke to her again, quietly to hide their words from the near by troops that she glanced at him.
“The amount of smoke means that they’re still heavy in building so whatever it is, it isn’t finish yet.” She hopped. “I don’t like the lack of information we have going into this either. I would have much perfered trying to get some men in to scout. A city offers to many places for ambush. Roof tops being the first and for most. Trapped streets and the like. I’d like to tell you to burn the city and flush them out but I know you wont.”
~~
"We can't risk damaging the harbor and the boats inside it. It's our only way back to Elendrael." Cauldwyn explained as they road, though he nodded his head at her concern about lack of intelligence. "Knowing what we were up against would change things significantly. He turned to the lowest ranking member of his retinue, a captain, and told him to make it so. The Pathfinders were quickly moving already, as though they had been anticipating the order. Culluhn saluted the officers from a distance as he and his unit skirted the edge of a gully that would hide them from view from the city, duck-walking, keeping their heads low ensuring nothing appeared along the ridge. Even though there weren't any walls, the scouts would have their cut out for them, and the Pathfinders weren't exactly equipped for urban combat.
A few hours went by and all they could do was wait, the sun was already waning and it was clear that Cauldwyn was becoming impatient at the lack of news. Twice he had seemed on the verge of ordering the men to assault the city, but seemed to think better of it. The command tent had been re-erected and Cauldwyn and his officers had filled it. Unlike they were normally found crammed around a table, this time they were spread out, talking amongst themselves in separate groups. They had planned and replanned, but it was fruitless work until the Pathfinders return. He sat alone, his sword out point down at the floor, grinding a whetstone along its edge.
~~
Andraia was silent in the tent, only offering small comments to the captains from time to time when something was directed at her. Her eyes were on the map on the table in front of him, memorizing the lay of the land and the paths in and out of the city. They all needed to know every bit of it if they were going to get as many of these men out of this fight alive. Like Cauldwyn she had a bad feeling about this. She’d told Crowley the same thing that morning through the mirror they communicated through and he told her not to worry. That was easy for him to say, he was safely tucked away back in Elandral.
Her fingers rested on the but of one of her swords, curling around the round end of it, rubbing against the leather wrapped hilt. This waiting game was the worst of it.
~~
The tent flap was thrust aside and a soldier entered, "The Pathfinders return general." Cauldwyn was out of his seat in a millisecond, his sword sliding into its sheath. "Tell the man, stand ready, we march within the hour." The soldier ran out to relay the orders and a great noise of a thousand marching feet sounded outside as they began to gather in their ranks, ready to march, ready to fight and kill.
Culluhn appeared at the tent flap a moment later and let himself in without being told to do so. He moved straight to the table that contained the large map they always gathered around to look.
"What news?" Cauldwyn asked hurriedly. Culluhn broke into a wide grin and pointed at the tent, "
"Go outside, General, look at the city." Cauldwyn side stepped Culluhn the others a foot step behind, he quickly made his way to through the ranks, the men separating like the red sea until he finally reached the front. He stopped in his tracks...
On each roof of the city were waving white flags, hundreds of them.
"What is this? I don't understand, why surrender?" Culluhn was coming up beside him to answer his questions.
"because they're not Oraks, general, it's the left overs of the Attavarian army, this is one of two cities that remain in their control, though Subai - Their officer - tells me they lost contact with the northern settlement a week ago, they were going to refit their soldiers and move out to help, but when they saw our columns kicking up dust on the trails, they assumed we were Oraks, they pulled a disappearing act, if we had walked into that city at this time of night, it would have been a slaughter."
Cauldwyn let out a slow breath, not sure if he believed what he was hearing.
"I thought them all dead... From the looks of that battlefield we saw, there were so many corpses, I didn't think enough had survived to hold a city..." He said, trailing off, this was far too good to be true.
"Aye, we all did" came Culluhn response as he scratched at his chin, "Orders, General?" for the first time anyone could remember the general had been stunned to silence.
"Pass the word to stand down and set up camp, can't very well march into an allies city uninvited. Culluhn, send one of your people back-" as he spoke the ranks erupted into jubilant cheers, the men crashing their swords on their shields. "Send one of your people back to, what was his name, Subai? Tell him I'll meet him as soon as possible."
Cauldwyn turned to his officers "see to your men" they obliged and quickly left to reform their men, who were now practically dancing with joy, back into soldiers who were supposed to be erecting a camp. Andraia and Cauldwyn were suddenly alone for the first time in a few days. To her, he turned and offered a brief smile while the attentions of everyone were not on either of them. He wore an open expression of relief, he'd have never let any of his soldiers, even those closest to him, see such a sign, subtley, Andraia's role was changing and he was opening more of himself to her without realizing it. And just as quickly as it came, it was gone and he was business as usual.
"I'd have words with you in the command tent before the Attavarian officer arrives."
~~
On the outside she let out a sigh of relief, on the inside she cursed. There wasn’t supposed to be any of the Attavarian army left alive to give account of what had happened. It left lose ends that Crowley wouldn’t be happy about but she showed none of it. She instead offered Cauldwyn a smile and a little nod.
“Of course General.”
She waited for him to enter, giving a nod to her son as he turned to give word to her men before she ducked inside the tent. Once the flap closed behind them had some small amount of silence she smiled at him. “Glad you waited for the intell.”
It could have been a disaster until they realized they weren’t fighting orak but people and in the middle of a battle that wasn’t always easy to do. She took a deep breath and sank down into one of the chairs around the table. It was a close call none the less but now she needed to know what these survivors knew.
~~
"Very" He admitted, had hadn't waited to wait, for good reason, surely the Orak's had picked up their trail by now, it was only a matter of time before they enclosed the full might of their army around them. He thought of the City they were just about to attack, and then realized. Cauldwyn cursed aloud, this put a dampener on their own plans...
"I realize now, we did walk into a trap. The Oraks are just trying to kill two birds with one stone. they've been encircling us the entire time, taking their time gathering up behind us. They must have known. Known that we'd make for a port instead of waiting for spring and marching through the passes. Damn me! They already know the Attavarians are here, they were just waiting for us to get here to close their fist around us"
And as though a prophet diving the future a call went up, a call to arms. They were already there. The tent flap was pushed aside and a messenger entered.
"Orakahns on the move, we're surrounded. Captain Culluhn asked me to relay this message: All of them. All the clans, the Orakahn are united."
Cauldwyn dismissed the messenger, and looked to Andraia who was already on her feet. Cauldwyn crossed the room and took his Attavarian sword from the stand on his makeshift desk, he tied the lock she had given him to the hilt and slid it into his belt. He then moved back to her, stoic as ever, taking her in his arms and pulling her to him, his arms around her. The exchange was brief, but it was all time afforded. They parted. Business as usual. Cauldwyn pulled his sword from it's sheath.
"Fortune favors the bold." He said with a wry smile, as he tended towards brashness and she to caution.
~~
If part of this hadn’t been staged she would have thought the same thing he had ages ago but she knew were the Orak were through Crowley, or did she. She heard the cry just seconds after he made his prediction and they were both on their feet. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen. It made her blood run cold suddenly as she looked back at Cauldwyn.
She was going over a million ideas and thoughts in her head at once, trying to come up with a fast battle plan but in the end she just shook her head. “We should fall back closer to the docks, start getting as many loaded onto the ships as we can and run. Burn the ships we don’t use so they can’t follow us.”
Damn it why hadn’t Crowley warned her. Or maybe he hadn’t for a reason. Maybe he was trying to get rid of more than just Cauldwyn. Crowley and her and been fighting for months over all of this, maybe he was done with it or maybe he didn’t have the cure at all and he just used her. She slammed a fist down on the table as she stood up and turned to him.
He pulled her into his arms and she sighed quietly before pressing her mouth against his. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she held him in the kiss for a long moment, taking the taste of him on her tongue to remember through the battle. She released him and let him go without another word, grabbing her cloak and following him out to swing into her horses saddle and ride after him.
~~
The men were all in organized ranks ready to repel an attack, all the officers had their eyes on Cauldwyn as he emerged from the tent, sword in hand. He looked out across the plains, there wasn't enough time. Not enough time to escape back into the city. They were walking up the lines, snow crunching beneath their feet, the breath of every man listless in the stillness of that moment as Cauldwyn stopped at the van. His voice rose above it all, a flock of birds skittering from the trees.
"Country men. Brothers in Arms. Today is a day for brave deeds today is a proud day to be of the Empire. Those overly proud men over there? They're The Oraks, They think they are our enemies, they think they are our equals, I think they are waiting to die!" A cheer went up over the thundering sound of thousands of Oraks moved over the plain, their voices erupting in their war cries. "We have been brought to the battlefield by mewling infants instead of LEADERS, but we are still men and women of Elendrael, made from sterner stuff! Each of you will take three for every one of us and we will send those dogs back to Trol'Trajar with their tails between their legs!" Another cheer went up accompanied by the clatter of shields crashing on swords, the thundering in the plain grew louder.
"ARCHERS... " He called "Choose your marks, make them count." The entire line seemed to tense they were mere feet away, they hadn't broken a sweat running more than three miles, they were still fresh to fight, Cauldwyn looked out at the vast ocean of Orakahn, how did they trap them like this? They were great warriors and intelligent, but this sort of intricate trap was beyond anything Cauldwyn had ever seen from them. "Not one step back" he said to those around him, standing at the vanguard of the line where the fighting would be the most bitter.
~~
Andraia had a moment of uncertainty as she looked out over the dark figures of the Orakahn charging toward them. Her horse shied, wanting to get away but she held it firm and kept it in place if dancing under her. The sun would rise red in the morning but the question was, who’s blood would it be bathed in. Mostly theirs, mostly the Oraks? What was to sure was that the bloodshed would be two sided tonight.
She’d seen a lot of things in her life. War, battles, fights to the death. She’d been frightened some of those times, perhaps many of those times but she wasn’t sure if she’d been as frightened then as she was now. They were going to die. Many of them if not all of them. She felt regret about not ever telling Cauldwyn the truth, about not being able to save her sick son at home, or the son that she’d brought with her. About not going back to Cree to find her first son and her daughter. She felt regret for not making better choices in her life.
All of these things that went through her head never showed on her face. She stayed strong on the outside for the men that lined in front and behind her. For the five riders that sat to her sides that had lived through the ship wreck with her ten years before. She stayed strong because that was something that could never be taken away from her by anyone but herself.
The archers let loose their arrows and the death cries of Orakahn filled the night, matched by screams and yells of encouragement from the lines of men. But those sounds were short lived as those Orakahn that got past the Archers arrows crashed on the line of men. “HOLD THE LINE!” She yelled, her horse screaming with the cries of men and the first smells of blood that hit the air. She reined it in, keeping it behind the front lines, riding back and forth, watching for breaks. The line on her end started to buckle and she jumped down off her horse, letting the creature run as she grabbed a shield and pushed it back into place. “HOLD!” She yelled again but the shield was already buckling under the weight of the Orakahn that pushed against it. She felt hands grasping at her, then felt the first stab of pain as a dagger was buried in her thigh. She grit her teeth and ignored it, putting more weight into her other leg as she pushed back and even made a few inches headway… before the line broke and the Orakahn flooded over them.
She remembered drawing her sword after that and fighting the creatures. She watched men slay and be slain. She watched the light leave their eyes all while fighting for her own life. She remembered watching her men get cut down, one by one by one until she and Malic stood back to back. She remembered feeling him fall, blond hair a ruin with red and a sword sliced through his arm. She couldn’t remember where she lost her footing, where she missed the parry or why there was so many of them on her at once. She did remember the feeling of cold that flowed through her as the sword was shoved through her chest. She remembered cutting down the Orakahn that did it and those around him before her strength gave out and she slid to the ground and was taken down into the dark.
After the fighting ended she lay on the cold ground, littlered with the bodies of the 7th Legion’s men around her. Her breath bubbled in her chest and her throat as she struggled for each cold breath. Snow started to fall, perfect, crisp, white snow. The slow flakes drifted down to earth, kissing the bodies of the dead. She watched as one large flake fell into her bloody palm and instantly turned red.
She didn’t know how she was still alive. She didn’t know how to make her body move or how to make her hands rise to pull the sword out of her chest.
She didn’t know how long it would be till the snow covered her body and the end came.
~~
As the Oraks charged, Cauldwyn raised his sword taking the next five strides at a run, war cry erupting from his mouth, the men heartbeat behind, they would meet the Oraks running. They crashed into one another with the clash of steel and body on body contact as the first few wavering seconds linger on in slow motion before the eyes focus and your sword is already bloody, the war cry dying in their throats, blood pounding in his ears, he saw almost through another's eyes, the movements feeling fluid, precise, right, a methodical killing machine supported by twelve hundred more. His Attavarian sword sliced through the thin leather armors of the Orakahn as easily as it did their flesh but he couldn't count how many had already fallen, in the midst of it, reality came screaming back and his ears were filled with the sounds of war, steel on steel, the curses and sobs, prayers, He flicked his sword blade down, the blood that had been coating it slashing the snow covered ground in angry red.
Then he could see his men being pressed on all sides, he ran an Orak through, tilting his body to the side so that he fell over, his next step forward brought his face to face with another, he faked left, catching the warrior off guard, his fist, from the right crashing into its face, sending his foe reeling back to the ground, two more took his place.
Cauldwyn spared a moment to look, he now stood a few feet beyond his lines that were collapsing in, and when he looked back he saw the running bodies of hundreds of Orakahn swarming around him, a cry went up from his lines and they surged forward, enveloping Cauldwyn just as the next wave of Oraks hit, it was like hitting a brick wall and the Oraks broke through the line. All the officers left were screaming for the line to hold, Cauldwyn looked to his right, his eyes catching Captain Culluhn, pointing, yelling, screaming, hold the line! and then his expression turned to one of surprise as n arrow thudded through his neck, lifting him off his feet and sprawling him broken on the snow.
They were crumbling on all sides, and then he saw her blond hair, and for another terrifying second he watched helplessly as a blade bit into her side and sent her to the ground, her knight surrounded her and the lines held, Cauldwyn joined them as the Oraks Swarmed her, seeming to form a circle as Cauldwyn blundered in slashing his sword out wildly causing the Oraks to jump back a step. He knelt low over her body and dragged her back behind the lines, a long scar of blood left behind in the snow, his men surrounded him as he collapsed in the snow, laying her shoulders back down, his hand went to the wound at her side, putting pressure trying to stem the flow of blood but it seeped between his fingers,
He yanked the nearest soldier down by his neck armor and yelled in his ears "get me a healer, NOW" he ran, Cauldwyn looked up, the lines were holding, just barely, they were about to collapse. He cradled her, looking into her face, lips already turning a shade of blue. Without any sadness, without regret, he said to her simply, as his hand stroked her cheek.
"It is a good day to die."
The sun was shining and broke through the clouds, the last of the snow drifting down around them. And then a priest was at his side and the moment was gone, the priest ushered Cauldwyn out of the way and began applying his healing powers. He simply sat there stunned for a moment, watching as the priest tried to resuscitate Andraia, his hands covered in her blood. Someone was dragging him to his feet, a face was in his, his mouth moving but no sound was coming out... And then he felt it, a hard slap across his face, a Knight Captain, Brandur was yelling
"Get back in the damn fight!"
Cauldwyn pushed back, hefting his sword in his hand, joining his men at the front a brief intermission had fallen over the fighting, a few brief seconds to breath and take in the horror before them, they slogged through the shit and blood and the snow, a city of the dead. The Oraks were rallying for one last charge that would break their legion's spine and swarm over them, there was no running, no denying death.
"Make peace with your gods if you have them"
he said to those around them, many were already making signs against evil with their hands. The Orak's were changing.
Cauldwyn started a war cry and the rest joined in as they too charged, the remaining soldiers a speck amongst a sea. And they hit, and almost immediately they felt the weight of the superior force as they crashed through their first line and into the second, the fighting was fierce and Cauldwyn lost all sense of time, it could have been hours or only seconds, when, one moment he was raising his arm, killing, and then something else hit, but not them, he heard the screams of Oraks dying and the war cries of Attavarians as their cavalry smashes into the flank of the Oraks, their infantry only a step behind, the sound of their anger deafening as the Oraks turned to confront this new threat forgetting entirely about the bloodied seventh legion. Cauldwyn turned and swayed on his feet, just now feeling all the wounds he had suffered and the exhausting effect of fighting a pitched battle. His hand fell open and his sword dropped to the ground, point stabbing into it, holding it alot, the lock of hair hanging from the sword stained by blood. he looked about to fall, but then the Knight Captain Brandur was at his side, taking Cauldwyn's arm around his neck and half dragging him back and out of harm's way. His head lolled, eyes open but barely comprehending, though he did see the priest, still bent over Andraia, his hands glowing, the priest hadn't given up yet, that was a good sign. He sank into blackness.
~~
She remembered opening her eyes and seeing Cauldwyn over her. She wanted to open her mouth and tell him everything, to send him back home to save the son that she’d come here to save but nothing but bubbled blood left her paling lips and then she was given back to darkness. The healers hands worked feverishly to keep her from death and he did but it was a long hard battle, much like the one that ragged around them.
Dreams, they had to be dreams because every time she sliced down an Orak another took it’s place. She could hear screaming all around her and they where voices familiar to her. Malic, Cauldwyn, her men, all of them dying and she couldn’t hear them or see them. She couldn’t find them in the mass of bodies that swarmed around her. She heard Alexander screaming for her in his high pitched young voice and she was helpless. She screamed, long, loud, frustrated and pained and then she was being shook.
She startled awake, staring up into the face of the priest that had worked so hard on the battle field to keep her alive. She recognized the cloth of her tent and the furs of the bed pile she had. Her head swam in pain and dizziness as she pushed at the priest, trying to get to her feet. She needed to get up, needed to find her men, her son, Cauldwyn.
“No, my lady, you must rest. You're still weak.” The priest soothed, pushing her down gently, bringing a cup of water to her parched lips.
She sipped the water that trickled between her lips and lay back for a moment, gathering her strength about her. “Joval, where’s Malic?” She demanded, her voice rough even to her own ears. The she questioned was bandaged and battered from the fighting and he looked down to avoid her eyes. She had her answer and it made her close her eyes, a silent prayer whispered on her lips. “I should have left him with his brother.”
She pushed herself up again and the Priest tried to stop her. “Joval.” She said the warriors name, the last of her five that survived the fight and he stepped forward to pull the priest off her. She stood on shaky legs, the priest protesting that she shouldn’t be up yet all the while. Her head swam dark for a moment as she steadied herself on feet and a chair.
“The queen is never weak.” She hard Joval said behind her as he pushed the priest into a chair. The priest looked between the two of them and gave up, requesting that she drink some of the honey mead from the mug on the table. She gave him that much, drinking the thick liquid, letting it roll down her throat. She started to take a few steps toward the door and nearly fell but it was Joval’s arms that caught her and held her up till she got her feet back under her and they lay her fur cloak about her shoulders.
The air bit at her still cold skin that was left bare or only covered by the thin coverings that the priest had covered her with after the battle and removing the layers of her armor. She ignored it, focusing only on taking one step and then another till she could sit on the edge of the cart that held the body of her son. Save for the paleness of his skin he could have been sleeping but she knew that there was a large gash across his chest, hidden by the sheet that was drawn over his body. She touched his cheek lightly, brushing locks of his hair off his forehead. She was a fool to think that she could get out of all this unscathed but she would have traded her life for his if she could have. She leaned down to press a kiss to his head before pushing back to her feet, Joval’s arm there for her to grasp as she did.
“Make sure we have time for a pyre before we move on. And for Micken, Varic and Samual.” She said to her man and he nodded.
“I will my queen but first you my rest longer.”
“Cauldwyn?” She asked, almost dreading the answer.
“He will be told you wake.” Joval promised as he lead her back inside her tent to her pile of furs and then slipped out to leave her to the priest who fussed over her again.
A runner was sent to Cauldwyn to give him the news that she both lived and was awake.
~~
Sometime later, he hadn't been able to come when he heard she was alive, more or less. Though he longed to, he had other obligations. None had escaped that fight unscathed. Some time later he pushed aside her tent flaps and pushed hi way inside. The tent was cooling, the fires unlit and night was falling, she'd been unconscious a long time and they had feared the worst. he had sat by her side for as long as he could, and hated himself when he left it. He nodded to the priest and then gestured for him to leave them, but not before he received a short lecture on certain ministrations.
Cauldwyn's arm was stuck in a sling and a bandage covered half his head, wrapping over the eye that had been damaged once already, he walked with a limp, though he seemed mobile enough. He knelt by her side, his good hand running down to the hem of the fur comforter and drawing it up beneath her chin. he didn't say anything at first, he didn't know how, the words failed to come. Instead his hand moved to her cheek, his touch far more gentle than it ever had been before.
"The priest feared the worst. I told him you would claw your way out of death's grasp so long as you drew breath." he lowered himself into a sitting position and picked up a small wooden bowl, a jade elixir sat shallow at the bottom. "The priest says you must drink this" he explained as he put the bowl to her lips, her head propped on a bundle of fur. He would tilt the bowl, its bitter contents sliding down her throat. He got to his feet, slowly, and with difficulty, limping to the one lit torch stuck in its sconce, using it to light the others until the tent began to warm. He returned to her side then, still unsure what he should say, he knew that for the rest of the night, he would not leave her side, he had dismissed the priest, telling him he would manage himself.
His eyes searched her face, until their eyes met.
"What's wrong?" Cauldwyn asked, not needing to be a mind reader.
~~
She’d gone back to sleep when Joval had brought her back into the tent and settled her onto the fur bed. He’d turned her over to the priest again and limped back out the tent himself to see to making funeral pyres for her men and son. They didn’t bury their dead in Cree, they burned them and usually had a feast for days after to honor the memory of those past. The feast would have to wait but they could burn them and pray their souls be taken to sweeter places. Andraia would have liked to have helped build them with her own hands but her body needed more time and more healing before she’d be up doing much of anything.
She had been asleep when he first came in but the priest scolding after him like a nurse maid woke her and she lay under the cover of blankets and furs to watch Cauldwyn nodding and assuring the priest that he would take care of her. When he turned to look at her she offered him a small smile. He was alive, wounded but alive. Did anyone make it out of the battle unscathed?
The brush of his fingers against her cheek made her close her eyes and let out a breath in a soft sigh. His words made her smile a bit and she tried to laugh though she stopped as quickly as she started. Her chest was still tender where the blade had pierced through her.
“I’m quiet stubborn like that. Like someone else I know.” She said, her voice rough and tired. She turned her nose up at the elixir, the same stuff that the priest had been shoving down her since she’d woke the first time. For him though she parted her lips and let him pour it into her mouth and swallowed with less of a face than she would have made for the priest.
She watched as he walked around the tent, lighting the braziers to chase the cold away and by the time he’d come back to her she held a hand out for him to take. She squeezed his gently, drawing it under the covers with her as she rolled carefully onto her side.
“Malic.” She said his name and then paused, silent for another moment as she brought his hand to her lips, pressing his knuckles against her lips. “He was my son.”
~~
"I know." He said, he wasn't as unobservant as he sometimes seems, but he had seen their similarities, and the way she looked at him when she thought Cauldwyn wasn't paying her any heed. But he had never brought it up, never bothered to ask, he had simply decided that if she wanted to tell him she would, and now that he lay dead amongst the snow, he found himself wishing he could have met the man. The only words he had ever spoken to him were an admonishment for stepping over his bounds. "I'm sorry..."
he said after a time, he would never know what it was like to lose a child. A lover? That was a pain he knew all too well and he knew he didn't want to live through it a second time. He merely smiled, he didn't ask her why she hadn't told him, it was unimportant at that time, whatever mysteries came to light could wait.
"The Attavarians intervened at the last second, they would have joined us sooner but a second force had come in from the west. they had to fight through them to get to us. I've had closer calls, but I can't remember when."
He wasn't sure why he chose to say what he did, perhaps he thought that if he could distract her with anything, anything at all, it might ease the grief of losing a son.
"I was scared" Cauldwyn admitted finally, looking away, eyes locked on the floor. "That I was going to lose you." He didn't have the words to describe how deeply that fear had run and what it would have meant if he had lost her.
~~
I’m sorry. Isn’t that what everyone said when they realized that the dead was someone important to the living? She wished she could have said that it brought some comfort but it didn’t. She wanted to cry tears for him but she couldn’t even muster that up at the moment. She was still to much the warrior to cry right now. Perhaps when it was all over, when she saw this war at its end she’d cry enough tears to flood a river but for now she remained dry eyed.
“Have many strong are we now?” She tried to focus on those things, tried to find things to keep her mind busy. With numbers and troops and plans of the future she’d be less stir crazy to get out of this bed and do something stupid.
“We owe them our lives then. The last I remember of the battle we were fairing poorly.” And even what she did remember was foggy at best now. The details were harder to recall but most battles became that way. No one remembered the little things. Usually just how the fight started and how it ended. She squeezed his hand again at the thought.
“I was scared that you might too.” She answered forcing a small smile across her pale lips before she tugged on him, bringing him down to her he’d kiss her, something soft and sweet amidst all the death and blood. “I wish I could say I had worse wounds but I haven’t. Your priest is a skilled man. I might have to steal him from you when we get back to Elandral. I have another son then, he’s very ill. He has a rare childhood dieases.”
~~
The men had lined up, exhausted and broken. They had reached their limit and now it was time to bury their brothers. Rows of unmarked graves lay freshly occupied and buried in front of them, the wind blowing listlessly over the battlefield where the Orakahn soldiers still lay where they had fallen, banners and pennants of the 7th snapping in the wind, torn and ragged, but still standing proud. Cauldwyn walked the line as he would before a battle, stopping here and there with a word or two. They had all lost friends, Cauldwyn still unable to erase the memory of Culluhn's stunned face as he fell to the snow, arrow protruding from his neck.
Finally he returned the centre of the line and faced his troops, all their faces spoke of the universal weariness but he knew his men who follow him as doggedly as they had to, to follow through. He felt a pang of guilt at that, knowing that this was just one small step among a thousand more.
"Brothers.." He voice carried over the wind, which seemed to die as he spoke, obeying his command. "Our comrades marched with us into the field of battle, knowing they would meet death eye to eye. They proudly fell so their brothers may live. And live we will, to honour their sacrifice, to follow through until two ends of time have become neatly tied. The road from here to there is long and the distance traveled already far. But always remember, they fell proudly, so that you may live, so that we may succeed in what they did not. Stay the course and you will know victory. This I promise. The 7th make no sacrifices in vain."
A cheer went up from the ragged ranks as they saluted their brothers, Cauldwyn's eyes looking past them, through the lines until they came to a stop on Andraia who was barely standing, supported by a long heavy stick on one side and Joval on the other. he had begged her to remain, but she wouldn't have it and so Cauldwyn relented. She could not turn away from this, she couldn't shut out the funeral pyres burning the body of her beloved son.
"And to those that joined with us when they did not have to, who sacrificed by doing so, marking themselves for exile, without question and to a man, I would have been proud to be their commander." Cauldwyn listed the names of Andraia's knights, Malic falling last on the list, his eyes lingered on Andraia who bore up stoically. he knew she would break down in private, perhaps not even in front of him. Brandur, one of the few survivng officers, stepped Forward and said simply:
"I can think of no higher praise, General." And then stepped back into the ranks. Cauldwyn nodded at the words and then spoke once more.
"Rest now, return to the city our Attavarian allies have held and regain your strength. We'll not be leaving for some time, so enjoy this period of rest before we drop from the pan and into the fire." The ranks saluted and Cauldwyn dismissed them, they began walking towards the city.
Commander Subai came to Cauldwyn as his men filtered towards Nasami.
"Well said, General" The Attavarian commented "A pity so many of my own men speak the common tongue, else I would have... borrowed those words myself"
Cauldwyn had found himself liking the amiable Attavarian commander, he found him to be a capable leader, his ready smile and easy going attitude could keep the morale high even under the most dire of circumstances. The commander bowed, Cauldwyn gave a brief nod and Subai joined those walking towards the city.
~~
Joval would have preferred to have seen her stay to bed than at the gravesites of the fallen solders but even he knew a lost cause when it was before him. He made her ride though to keep her strength as much as possible. The priests magic had brought her back from the brink of death but there was still healing that her body would have to do on its own. The priests magic was spread thin across the camp and she asked no more of him and often sent him away to heal others rather than tend to her. She had her knight and Cauldwyn when his duties didn’t draw him away.
Cauldwyn tended to her with such tender diligence that she often though a husband would have for a wife yet he owed her nothing. They were lovers with no promises spoken to one another. No promises would save her from his wraith when he learned the truth of it all.
She stood with the other officers, silent as the death that stretched out over the land before them. There were more graves than living and then the now burning pyres of her people that Joval had lit when the men had formed. She stood on her own two feet as Cauldwyn’s voice carried over the gathered living, fire reflecting in her eyes as she watched the bodies of her men and her son go to fire. They hadn’t asked to come on this with her, they had demanded. Many of them knew the truth, they knew why she was here but that wouldn’t have mattered. They followed her because she was their leader and their queen from a country they would likely never see again. She whispered a mother’s pray in her own language as the cheer from Cauldwyn’s words rang out. She wouldn’t cry here because on this field she was a warrior and a knight, she wasn’t a woman or a mother. In private she could be those things but here she was just another one of the men to honor the dead.
She could see the affect that his words had had on the troops. It was such a change from the way they’d trudged out to the fields to the way they marched back toward the city now. They walked with more pride and more hope than they’d had just an hour before. It showed how much these men respected Cauldwyn. He was a good leader. She was hard pressed to think of a man that equaled him in that though she still felt he was somewhat naive but who was she to point fingers with that. She’d been stupid enough to believe that Crowley would honor their arrangement. Now she’d lost one son and perhaps a second. Only time would tell if he still stood true to that. They had to get back to Elandrial first.
Joval’s strong arms lifted her into her saddle. She allowed him that much even in front of the army. She tugged her furs tighter around her and turned her horse back toward the capital, walking it along with the men. Her body was already aching and tired. It was a longer trip back than it had been to. When they made their way back toward the houses that the officers had been given she gave her horse over to Jovel and moved inside under her own power.
She left the crutch beside the door, walking slowly to the table to one side of the room. She leaned her hands against it, pressing them against the wood smooth from the hundreds of times that the family that had lived there had touched it. She closed her eyes as her fingers slid over it, wondering who they were or why. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, curling her fingers under the lip of the table and held them there for a moment before she turned and flung the table over, sending it sliding half way across the room with a burst of strength. The chairs followed as she screamed with each one she threw. Anything within reach was heafted across the room till she was left standing there panting, a hand pressed to the aching pink puckered scar under her left breast where the sword and run through her. Tears welled in her eyes and ran down her cheeks as she stood there trying to catch her breath again, staring at the mess in front of her, feeling no better for it.
~~
He waited just outside the door as he heard the table flip, followed by an anguished wail and the ceaseless smashing of the room's contents. She needed this, her moment of catharsis and he wouldn't interrupt it. When the sobs ceased and the crashing, he tentatively opened the door and stepped inside, shutting it softly behind him. Wordlessly he crossed the room, pottery and plates crunching beneath his booted feet. He had already shed his armor, he hadn't even a sword at his side, perhaps the first time she had seen him without one aside from when she lay with him amongst the furs they so frequently shared.
"You'll tear your sutures" He said as he reached her, his hands moving to the hem of her shirt, eyes searching for any signs of objection. If she didn't, he would raise the garment just past the wound, the cut angry and red beneath the bandages. The sutures were still intact but the rough movement of tearing apart the room had seeped blood through. "These need to be changed" he said softly, tears rolling down Andraia's cheek.
He lifted a hand to her face and wiped them away in a rare moment of tenderness. Both hands cupped her chin and raised it, so she would see there was no shame in shedding tears in front of him.
"If I could take your pain, I would do so happily." He wanted to envelop her in his arms but her injuries prevented it, his hands dropped to her shoulders, scarred and rough, much like her own. "You need to rest Andraia. I know it's not what you want to hear but you can not keep reopening this wound. It could fester.. You could die."
Perhaps she wanted to at that moment, Cauldwyn could never know her pain, he had never had a proper family, the only family he had known had turned their backs on him, exiled him. And for what? For disobeying the word of one man? he had never questioned the order of things before, but since they had started this mad journey, he had come to question much about the wisdom of having one man wield the twin powers of law and justice, it was too much for any one man, he had finally concluded.
"Let me help you to bed" he said in an almost pleading tone, he hated seeing her like this, hated feeling helpless. "Please." Another first.
~~
She stood in the center of the room, shoulders drooping and her head dipped low. Her hair fell to either side of her face as she stayed still save for the ragged rise and fall of her breathing. The only sounds in the room her wheezing breath and his boots crossing the floor. She looked as broken as the bits and pieces below his boots. She looked as though she didn’t even see him as he came around to her face, staring at nothing as he struggled to breath. Even his voice didn’t jar her right away.
It was the touch of his hands that made her move and she lashed out to strike him, grabbing his wrist and started to twist it to the side before she realized what she was doing and stopped. She made a choked sound and turned her head, letting go of his wrist so he could lift her shirt to examine the bandages around her chest. Her chest burned, both from the activity of trashing the room and her struggled breathing from it.
It wasn’t until his hard calloused fingers touched her face and turned her eyes back to see his face that she really saw him and it just made the tears roll faster down her cheeks. He was right though, as much as she didn’t want to lay in a bed for another day or week she had too. She had her doubts that this wound would be the end of her but there were many other deaths waiting on the horizon for them.
Her hands moved to grasp his arms, holding him still in front of her as he begged for her to let him take her to bed and she should have. The pleading tone of his voice breaking her heart all the more. He sounded as helpless as she felt.
“I need your promise.” She croaked the words through her tears as she looked at him. “I need your word and your promise on something first.” He might hate her for this later but she knew that once he gave his word he would hold true to it, no matter what wrongs he might see of her. “If something happens to me, if I die, promise me that you’ll return to my home in Elandrial and get my son, Alexander. Promise me that you’ll take care of him. Give me your word on your honor that you’ll do this for me. I know you owe me nothing, you’ve made no vows to me but I have no one else I can ask this of.” Her hands moved up to grasp the sides of his face, watching his eyes while she waited for his answer.
~~
She captured his wrist in her hand and he didn't pull away, she seemed lost, dazed, then she released and seemed to slump. She was indeed asking a lot of him, Cauldwyn was no father, what life could he give her son? There was more than one way of ensuring a child's future, however, and he would do what he could. After a time, he nodded.
"You have my word." he said placatingly as his hand moved to hers rest on his face, fingers lacing and dragging it away. "But it won't come to that. You'll see your son again. Once we return, there is no need for you to stay. I'm sure Lord Crowley will be pleased to have you back and you'll be reunited with your son."
if only he knew the extent of the treachery in which they had enfolded him in. He was, Andraia had concluded, naive in his own way. As though picking up a child he scooped her in his arms, he carried her into the next room where a small bed lay, a candle burning next to it on the table. Casuldwyn, with great care, eased her onto the bed, sinking beneath his weight.
"Malic was a good man, a good warrior. He's in a far more forgiving place than he had ever been in life... " He stood, then, reaching for a chair and dragging ti cross the floor next to her bed, he sat in it. "The healer will be here soon to make more of the elixir" the elixir he'd diligently been feeding to her, in the days past her injury he had only left her side when he had needed to, and though it was often hours before he could return, he always returned directly to ensure that her recovery went as smoothly as possible. he knew his words gave her no solace, no reprieve from the grief of seeing your child die before you. He looked to the floor, ashamed at the feelings that welled inside, when he looked back the ashen colour of her skin and the anguished expression on her face broke what little of a heart the general had.
"We will see him avenged.. . My love." Much like the promise he had made to take care of her child, he swore to exact revenge in her name if she herself could not.
Cauldwyn road to the front of the column that had spread out into proper lines, ready to march to meet their enemy. His horse whinnied, a stream of frozen air twirling upwards, Cauldwyn let out a slow breath, the city had no walls, which was a blessing as you tended to lose the most men attempting to breach or capture the walls of a city or keep. The downside is, their fight would be a much longer one. His clear eyes scanned the city of any signs of activity and saw none, the city was too still, too quiet, his eyes followed the trail of billowing smoke from the industry section of the city. Forges did not light themselves. Cauldwyn, without need to look shifted in his saddle and spoke to his aide-de-camp
"Give the order. Raise the standards, let them know we're coming." Before he could finish his last sentence orders were being shouted down the line accompanied by the low tones of horns, Blue flags were raised, marked by their standard, a silver wolf's head on a blue banner. "Hold fast." The order was shouted down the line again and the ranks pulled in tight, each soldier going from a relaxed stance to a rigid hostile one, the discipline of the 7th legion was a sight to behold, they seemed to all be in synch with one another, moving perfectly, adjusting seamlessly as orders came flowing down the line.
He saw Andraia riding through the ranks closing in on him at a lackadaisical pace, nothing in her demeanor suggesting she had any concern about the coming fight; That was the one feature you could tell a veteran of the legions from a raw recruit, the veterans controlled the panic that happened during the pre-war they adopts rituals, habits, some sharpened their sword to perfection, others checked the bucks and durability of their armor, others prayed to their god. Cauldwyn nodded formally to her as she approached, coming along side him, her eyes scanning the same points his had only moments earlier. Andraia would know from the formation of the men alone that he intended to attack with little day light left.
"Andraia" he said, no affection in his voice, he could show none in front of his men, though all knew of the rather torrid affair that existed between them. His warhorse stamepd its feet in the snow, Cauldwyn putting a calming hand on his neck, he could smell war coming, knew the battle was but a moments wait, the anticipation of blood. A chanting hymn came to their ears, Cauldwyn's eyes flicking to the priests and priestesses that moved through his, offering divine protection and good luck. A priest approached the pair and he held his hand out, along stick of burning incense in his hand.
"And what of you general? Do you have a prayer you'd say to Verdus The Protector?"
Cauldwyn didn't even look at the priest when he spoke, though he hadn't ignored him, far from it.
"Say a prayer in my name, father. I have no tongue for it."
~~
In a camp there was no way to hide an affair like the one they were having but his men had respect for him and she’d earned their respect on the battle field. She wasn’t just the woman sleeping with their generally anymore, she was the knight that fought beside all of them. She liked it that way too, it proved she was more than a pretty face in armor because she was.
She road along the lines of men and pulled up beside Cauldwyn. Not even her horse felt nervous under her, feeding off the calm of its rider. A leader could never show fear, the moment they did was the moment their lines broke. Cauldwyn never would, not in front of his men and she knew that every one of them would die for him.
“Cauldwyn.” She nodded greeting to him, looking toward the city to survey the lines that they’d be breaking soon. One of her riders, the sandy haired man that looked just a few years her junior and shockingly like her road up and pulled in to her side, silently watching the same lines she did. They were to much alike for people not to have been whispering that they were related. Some though cousins or a nephew perhaps, few thought that he could possibly be her son.
The priests chants were a white noise in the back of her head that she ignored. Even when he came up to ask if they wished prayers. She shook her head when he turned to ask her and she smiled at the kind man. “I say my own prayers to my gods.”
When the priest left she side stepped her horse closer to his and slid her hand over to touch his arm lightly. Turning it over she held a lock of blond hair in it, braided and tied at either end with white ribbon.
~~
He glanced down at the lock of hair, turning it over in his hand, it wasn't the first he'd received. He banished the memories. He slid the lock into the leather bracers around his wrists and forearms. The younger rider approached and pulled in beside Andraia, Cauldwyn had never truly looked at the lad, he was just another face in a swimming sea of faces, he hadn't even looked at the knight, though he did know he had arrived, acknowledging with an admonishment.
"We all have our places and yours is not here" He said pointedly to the younger knight Despite some of his unconventional methods as an officer, being familiar on a personal level with many, he didn't entirely doaway with the structure of command and each notch in the chain must know its place. "Not yet anyway." he added as an afterthought, clucking his tongue and his worse moving off into a trot down the lines, the general inspecting his men, as he passed, shoulders went father back, chests farther out, expressions grim. He stopped in front of a group of recruits they had picked up just before leaving on maneuvers in what seemed a lifetime ago. They offered brave expressions, but Cauldwyn could see the anxiety written on their faces.
"Remember your training" he said to them, one of them barely old enough to grow the patchy beard he sported. "And you will survive. Rely on your brothers, watch the and do what they do." The three offered stumbling thanks for the quick words of encouragement, but Cauldwyn was already moving on, his officers following, Andraia at his side.
"I don't like this" He admitted quietly to her "They should be lining up outside the city, I think it's a trap. My concern..." he hiked a thumb at the smoke coming from the forges in the city. "... Is what they're building in there." he looked over at her as she rode, her face set with a determined look.
"thoughts?"
~~
“Malic is riding with me tonight.” She stopped him before he could send the young man away. It wasn’t unusual for her in the past battles they’d had that one of her men road with her. It rotated between all of them though, never the same one twice. She gave the honor to a different man each time. “Wait with the generals.” She ordered Malic before turning her horse to follow after Cauldwyn.
She offered no encouragements to the men, now while she road next to their General. She left those words to him, they would mean more from his lips than hers. Her eyes were watching the city still, thinking, calculating. It wasn’t until he spoke to her again, quietly to hide their words from the near by troops that she glanced at him.
“The amount of smoke means that they’re still heavy in building so whatever it is, it isn’t finish yet.” She hopped. “I don’t like the lack of information we have going into this either. I would have much perfered trying to get some men in to scout. A city offers to many places for ambush. Roof tops being the first and for most. Trapped streets and the like. I’d like to tell you to burn the city and flush them out but I know you wont.”
~~
"We can't risk damaging the harbor and the boats inside it. It's our only way back to Elendrael." Cauldwyn explained as they road, though he nodded his head at her concern about lack of intelligence. "Knowing what we were up against would change things significantly. He turned to the lowest ranking member of his retinue, a captain, and told him to make it so. The Pathfinders were quickly moving already, as though they had been anticipating the order. Culluhn saluted the officers from a distance as he and his unit skirted the edge of a gully that would hide them from view from the city, duck-walking, keeping their heads low ensuring nothing appeared along the ridge. Even though there weren't any walls, the scouts would have their cut out for them, and the Pathfinders weren't exactly equipped for urban combat.
A few hours went by and all they could do was wait, the sun was already waning and it was clear that Cauldwyn was becoming impatient at the lack of news. Twice he had seemed on the verge of ordering the men to assault the city, but seemed to think better of it. The command tent had been re-erected and Cauldwyn and his officers had filled it. Unlike they were normally found crammed around a table, this time they were spread out, talking amongst themselves in separate groups. They had planned and replanned, but it was fruitless work until the Pathfinders return. He sat alone, his sword out point down at the floor, grinding a whetstone along its edge.
~~
Andraia was silent in the tent, only offering small comments to the captains from time to time when something was directed at her. Her eyes were on the map on the table in front of him, memorizing the lay of the land and the paths in and out of the city. They all needed to know every bit of it if they were going to get as many of these men out of this fight alive. Like Cauldwyn she had a bad feeling about this. She’d told Crowley the same thing that morning through the mirror they communicated through and he told her not to worry. That was easy for him to say, he was safely tucked away back in Elandral.
Her fingers rested on the but of one of her swords, curling around the round end of it, rubbing against the leather wrapped hilt. This waiting game was the worst of it.
~~
The tent flap was thrust aside and a soldier entered, "The Pathfinders return general." Cauldwyn was out of his seat in a millisecond, his sword sliding into its sheath. "Tell the man, stand ready, we march within the hour." The soldier ran out to relay the orders and a great noise of a thousand marching feet sounded outside as they began to gather in their ranks, ready to march, ready to fight and kill.
Culluhn appeared at the tent flap a moment later and let himself in without being told to do so. He moved straight to the table that contained the large map they always gathered around to look.
"What news?" Cauldwyn asked hurriedly. Culluhn broke into a wide grin and pointed at the tent, "
"Go outside, General, look at the city." Cauldwyn side stepped Culluhn the others a foot step behind, he quickly made his way to through the ranks, the men separating like the red sea until he finally reached the front. He stopped in his tracks...
On each roof of the city were waving white flags, hundreds of them.
"What is this? I don't understand, why surrender?" Culluhn was coming up beside him to answer his questions.
"because they're not Oraks, general, it's the left overs of the Attavarian army, this is one of two cities that remain in their control, though Subai - Their officer - tells me they lost contact with the northern settlement a week ago, they were going to refit their soldiers and move out to help, but when they saw our columns kicking up dust on the trails, they assumed we were Oraks, they pulled a disappearing act, if we had walked into that city at this time of night, it would have been a slaughter."
Cauldwyn let out a slow breath, not sure if he believed what he was hearing.
"I thought them all dead... From the looks of that battlefield we saw, there were so many corpses, I didn't think enough had survived to hold a city..." He said, trailing off, this was far too good to be true.
"Aye, we all did" came Culluhn response as he scratched at his chin, "Orders, General?" for the first time anyone could remember the general had been stunned to silence.
"Pass the word to stand down and set up camp, can't very well march into an allies city uninvited. Culluhn, send one of your people back-" as he spoke the ranks erupted into jubilant cheers, the men crashing their swords on their shields. "Send one of your people back to, what was his name, Subai? Tell him I'll meet him as soon as possible."
Cauldwyn turned to his officers "see to your men" they obliged and quickly left to reform their men, who were now practically dancing with joy, back into soldiers who were supposed to be erecting a camp. Andraia and Cauldwyn were suddenly alone for the first time in a few days. To her, he turned and offered a brief smile while the attentions of everyone were not on either of them. He wore an open expression of relief, he'd have never let any of his soldiers, even those closest to him, see such a sign, subtley, Andraia's role was changing and he was opening more of himself to her without realizing it. And just as quickly as it came, it was gone and he was business as usual.
"I'd have words with you in the command tent before the Attavarian officer arrives."
~~
On the outside she let out a sigh of relief, on the inside she cursed. There wasn’t supposed to be any of the Attavarian army left alive to give account of what had happened. It left lose ends that Crowley wouldn’t be happy about but she showed none of it. She instead offered Cauldwyn a smile and a little nod.
“Of course General.”
She waited for him to enter, giving a nod to her son as he turned to give word to her men before she ducked inside the tent. Once the flap closed behind them had some small amount of silence she smiled at him. “Glad you waited for the intell.”
It could have been a disaster until they realized they weren’t fighting orak but people and in the middle of a battle that wasn’t always easy to do. She took a deep breath and sank down into one of the chairs around the table. It was a close call none the less but now she needed to know what these survivors knew.
~~
"Very" He admitted, had hadn't waited to wait, for good reason, surely the Orak's had picked up their trail by now, it was only a matter of time before they enclosed the full might of their army around them. He thought of the City they were just about to attack, and then realized. Cauldwyn cursed aloud, this put a dampener on their own plans...
"I realize now, we did walk into a trap. The Oraks are just trying to kill two birds with one stone. they've been encircling us the entire time, taking their time gathering up behind us. They must have known. Known that we'd make for a port instead of waiting for spring and marching through the passes. Damn me! They already know the Attavarians are here, they were just waiting for us to get here to close their fist around us"
And as though a prophet diving the future a call went up, a call to arms. They were already there. The tent flap was pushed aside and a messenger entered.
"Orakahns on the move, we're surrounded. Captain Culluhn asked me to relay this message: All of them. All the clans, the Orakahn are united."
Cauldwyn dismissed the messenger, and looked to Andraia who was already on her feet. Cauldwyn crossed the room and took his Attavarian sword from the stand on his makeshift desk, he tied the lock she had given him to the hilt and slid it into his belt. He then moved back to her, stoic as ever, taking her in his arms and pulling her to him, his arms around her. The exchange was brief, but it was all time afforded. They parted. Business as usual. Cauldwyn pulled his sword from it's sheath.
"Fortune favors the bold." He said with a wry smile, as he tended towards brashness and she to caution.
~~
If part of this hadn’t been staged she would have thought the same thing he had ages ago but she knew were the Orak were through Crowley, or did she. She heard the cry just seconds after he made his prediction and they were both on their feet. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen. It made her blood run cold suddenly as she looked back at Cauldwyn.
She was going over a million ideas and thoughts in her head at once, trying to come up with a fast battle plan but in the end she just shook her head. “We should fall back closer to the docks, start getting as many loaded onto the ships as we can and run. Burn the ships we don’t use so they can’t follow us.”
Damn it why hadn’t Crowley warned her. Or maybe he hadn’t for a reason. Maybe he was trying to get rid of more than just Cauldwyn. Crowley and her and been fighting for months over all of this, maybe he was done with it or maybe he didn’t have the cure at all and he just used her. She slammed a fist down on the table as she stood up and turned to him.
He pulled her into his arms and she sighed quietly before pressing her mouth against his. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she held him in the kiss for a long moment, taking the taste of him on her tongue to remember through the battle. She released him and let him go without another word, grabbing her cloak and following him out to swing into her horses saddle and ride after him.
~~
The men were all in organized ranks ready to repel an attack, all the officers had their eyes on Cauldwyn as he emerged from the tent, sword in hand. He looked out across the plains, there wasn't enough time. Not enough time to escape back into the city. They were walking up the lines, snow crunching beneath their feet, the breath of every man listless in the stillness of that moment as Cauldwyn stopped at the van. His voice rose above it all, a flock of birds skittering from the trees.
"Country men. Brothers in Arms. Today is a day for brave deeds today is a proud day to be of the Empire. Those overly proud men over there? They're The Oraks, They think they are our enemies, they think they are our equals, I think they are waiting to die!" A cheer went up over the thundering sound of thousands of Oraks moved over the plain, their voices erupting in their war cries. "We have been brought to the battlefield by mewling infants instead of LEADERS, but we are still men and women of Elendrael, made from sterner stuff! Each of you will take three for every one of us and we will send those dogs back to Trol'Trajar with their tails between their legs!" Another cheer went up accompanied by the clatter of shields crashing on swords, the thundering in the plain grew louder.
"ARCHERS... " He called "Choose your marks, make them count." The entire line seemed to tense they were mere feet away, they hadn't broken a sweat running more than three miles, they were still fresh to fight, Cauldwyn looked out at the vast ocean of Orakahn, how did they trap them like this? They were great warriors and intelligent, but this sort of intricate trap was beyond anything Cauldwyn had ever seen from them. "Not one step back" he said to those around him, standing at the vanguard of the line where the fighting would be the most bitter.
~~
Andraia had a moment of uncertainty as she looked out over the dark figures of the Orakahn charging toward them. Her horse shied, wanting to get away but she held it firm and kept it in place if dancing under her. The sun would rise red in the morning but the question was, who’s blood would it be bathed in. Mostly theirs, mostly the Oraks? What was to sure was that the bloodshed would be two sided tonight.
She’d seen a lot of things in her life. War, battles, fights to the death. She’d been frightened some of those times, perhaps many of those times but she wasn’t sure if she’d been as frightened then as she was now. They were going to die. Many of them if not all of them. She felt regret about not ever telling Cauldwyn the truth, about not being able to save her sick son at home, or the son that she’d brought with her. About not going back to Cree to find her first son and her daughter. She felt regret for not making better choices in her life.
All of these things that went through her head never showed on her face. She stayed strong on the outside for the men that lined in front and behind her. For the five riders that sat to her sides that had lived through the ship wreck with her ten years before. She stayed strong because that was something that could never be taken away from her by anyone but herself.
The archers let loose their arrows and the death cries of Orakahn filled the night, matched by screams and yells of encouragement from the lines of men. But those sounds were short lived as those Orakahn that got past the Archers arrows crashed on the line of men. “HOLD THE LINE!” She yelled, her horse screaming with the cries of men and the first smells of blood that hit the air. She reined it in, keeping it behind the front lines, riding back and forth, watching for breaks. The line on her end started to buckle and she jumped down off her horse, letting the creature run as she grabbed a shield and pushed it back into place. “HOLD!” She yelled again but the shield was already buckling under the weight of the Orakahn that pushed against it. She felt hands grasping at her, then felt the first stab of pain as a dagger was buried in her thigh. She grit her teeth and ignored it, putting more weight into her other leg as she pushed back and even made a few inches headway… before the line broke and the Orakahn flooded over them.
She remembered drawing her sword after that and fighting the creatures. She watched men slay and be slain. She watched the light leave their eyes all while fighting for her own life. She remembered watching her men get cut down, one by one by one until she and Malic stood back to back. She remembered feeling him fall, blond hair a ruin with red and a sword sliced through his arm. She couldn’t remember where she lost her footing, where she missed the parry or why there was so many of them on her at once. She did remember the feeling of cold that flowed through her as the sword was shoved through her chest. She remembered cutting down the Orakahn that did it and those around him before her strength gave out and she slid to the ground and was taken down into the dark.
After the fighting ended she lay on the cold ground, littlered with the bodies of the 7th Legion’s men around her. Her breath bubbled in her chest and her throat as she struggled for each cold breath. Snow started to fall, perfect, crisp, white snow. The slow flakes drifted down to earth, kissing the bodies of the dead. She watched as one large flake fell into her bloody palm and instantly turned red.
She didn’t know how she was still alive. She didn’t know how to make her body move or how to make her hands rise to pull the sword out of her chest.
She didn’t know how long it would be till the snow covered her body and the end came.
~~
As the Oraks charged, Cauldwyn raised his sword taking the next five strides at a run, war cry erupting from his mouth, the men heartbeat behind, they would meet the Oraks running. They crashed into one another with the clash of steel and body on body contact as the first few wavering seconds linger on in slow motion before the eyes focus and your sword is already bloody, the war cry dying in their throats, blood pounding in his ears, he saw almost through another's eyes, the movements feeling fluid, precise, right, a methodical killing machine supported by twelve hundred more. His Attavarian sword sliced through the thin leather armors of the Orakahn as easily as it did their flesh but he couldn't count how many had already fallen, in the midst of it, reality came screaming back and his ears were filled with the sounds of war, steel on steel, the curses and sobs, prayers, He flicked his sword blade down, the blood that had been coating it slashing the snow covered ground in angry red.
Then he could see his men being pressed on all sides, he ran an Orak through, tilting his body to the side so that he fell over, his next step forward brought his face to face with another, he faked left, catching the warrior off guard, his fist, from the right crashing into its face, sending his foe reeling back to the ground, two more took his place.
Cauldwyn spared a moment to look, he now stood a few feet beyond his lines that were collapsing in, and when he looked back he saw the running bodies of hundreds of Orakahn swarming around him, a cry went up from his lines and they surged forward, enveloping Cauldwyn just as the next wave of Oraks hit, it was like hitting a brick wall and the Oraks broke through the line. All the officers left were screaming for the line to hold, Cauldwyn looked to his right, his eyes catching Captain Culluhn, pointing, yelling, screaming, hold the line! and then his expression turned to one of surprise as n arrow thudded through his neck, lifting him off his feet and sprawling him broken on the snow.
They were crumbling on all sides, and then he saw her blond hair, and for another terrifying second he watched helplessly as a blade bit into her side and sent her to the ground, her knight surrounded her and the lines held, Cauldwyn joined them as the Oraks Swarmed her, seeming to form a circle as Cauldwyn blundered in slashing his sword out wildly causing the Oraks to jump back a step. He knelt low over her body and dragged her back behind the lines, a long scar of blood left behind in the snow, his men surrounded him as he collapsed in the snow, laying her shoulders back down, his hand went to the wound at her side, putting pressure trying to stem the flow of blood but it seeped between his fingers,
He yanked the nearest soldier down by his neck armor and yelled in his ears "get me a healer, NOW" he ran, Cauldwyn looked up, the lines were holding, just barely, they were about to collapse. He cradled her, looking into her face, lips already turning a shade of blue. Without any sadness, without regret, he said to her simply, as his hand stroked her cheek.
"It is a good day to die."
The sun was shining and broke through the clouds, the last of the snow drifting down around them. And then a priest was at his side and the moment was gone, the priest ushered Cauldwyn out of the way and began applying his healing powers. He simply sat there stunned for a moment, watching as the priest tried to resuscitate Andraia, his hands covered in her blood. Someone was dragging him to his feet, a face was in his, his mouth moving but no sound was coming out... And then he felt it, a hard slap across his face, a Knight Captain, Brandur was yelling
"Get back in the damn fight!"
Cauldwyn pushed back, hefting his sword in his hand, joining his men at the front a brief intermission had fallen over the fighting, a few brief seconds to breath and take in the horror before them, they slogged through the shit and blood and the snow, a city of the dead. The Oraks were rallying for one last charge that would break their legion's spine and swarm over them, there was no running, no denying death.
"Make peace with your gods if you have them"
he said to those around them, many were already making signs against evil with their hands. The Orak's were changing.
Cauldwyn started a war cry and the rest joined in as they too charged, the remaining soldiers a speck amongst a sea. And they hit, and almost immediately they felt the weight of the superior force as they crashed through their first line and into the second, the fighting was fierce and Cauldwyn lost all sense of time, it could have been hours or only seconds, when, one moment he was raising his arm, killing, and then something else hit, but not them, he heard the screams of Oraks dying and the war cries of Attavarians as their cavalry smashes into the flank of the Oraks, their infantry only a step behind, the sound of their anger deafening as the Oraks turned to confront this new threat forgetting entirely about the bloodied seventh legion. Cauldwyn turned and swayed on his feet, just now feeling all the wounds he had suffered and the exhausting effect of fighting a pitched battle. His hand fell open and his sword dropped to the ground, point stabbing into it, holding it alot, the lock of hair hanging from the sword stained by blood. he looked about to fall, but then the Knight Captain Brandur was at his side, taking Cauldwyn's arm around his neck and half dragging him back and out of harm's way. His head lolled, eyes open but barely comprehending, though he did see the priest, still bent over Andraia, his hands glowing, the priest hadn't given up yet, that was a good sign. He sank into blackness.
~~
She remembered opening her eyes and seeing Cauldwyn over her. She wanted to open her mouth and tell him everything, to send him back home to save the son that she’d come here to save but nothing but bubbled blood left her paling lips and then she was given back to darkness. The healers hands worked feverishly to keep her from death and he did but it was a long hard battle, much like the one that ragged around them.
Dreams, they had to be dreams because every time she sliced down an Orak another took it’s place. She could hear screaming all around her and they where voices familiar to her. Malic, Cauldwyn, her men, all of them dying and she couldn’t hear them or see them. She couldn’t find them in the mass of bodies that swarmed around her. She heard Alexander screaming for her in his high pitched young voice and she was helpless. She screamed, long, loud, frustrated and pained and then she was being shook.
She startled awake, staring up into the face of the priest that had worked so hard on the battle field to keep her alive. She recognized the cloth of her tent and the furs of the bed pile she had. Her head swam in pain and dizziness as she pushed at the priest, trying to get to her feet. She needed to get up, needed to find her men, her son, Cauldwyn.
“No, my lady, you must rest. You're still weak.” The priest soothed, pushing her down gently, bringing a cup of water to her parched lips.
She sipped the water that trickled between her lips and lay back for a moment, gathering her strength about her. “Joval, where’s Malic?” She demanded, her voice rough even to her own ears. The she questioned was bandaged and battered from the fighting and he looked down to avoid her eyes. She had her answer and it made her close her eyes, a silent prayer whispered on her lips. “I should have left him with his brother.”
She pushed herself up again and the Priest tried to stop her. “Joval.” She said the warriors name, the last of her five that survived the fight and he stepped forward to pull the priest off her. She stood on shaky legs, the priest protesting that she shouldn’t be up yet all the while. Her head swam dark for a moment as she steadied herself on feet and a chair.
“The queen is never weak.” She hard Joval said behind her as he pushed the priest into a chair. The priest looked between the two of them and gave up, requesting that she drink some of the honey mead from the mug on the table. She gave him that much, drinking the thick liquid, letting it roll down her throat. She started to take a few steps toward the door and nearly fell but it was Joval’s arms that caught her and held her up till she got her feet back under her and they lay her fur cloak about her shoulders.
The air bit at her still cold skin that was left bare or only covered by the thin coverings that the priest had covered her with after the battle and removing the layers of her armor. She ignored it, focusing only on taking one step and then another till she could sit on the edge of the cart that held the body of her son. Save for the paleness of his skin he could have been sleeping but she knew that there was a large gash across his chest, hidden by the sheet that was drawn over his body. She touched his cheek lightly, brushing locks of his hair off his forehead. She was a fool to think that she could get out of all this unscathed but she would have traded her life for his if she could have. She leaned down to press a kiss to his head before pushing back to her feet, Joval’s arm there for her to grasp as she did.
“Make sure we have time for a pyre before we move on. And for Micken, Varic and Samual.” She said to her man and he nodded.
“I will my queen but first you my rest longer.”
“Cauldwyn?” She asked, almost dreading the answer.
“He will be told you wake.” Joval promised as he lead her back inside her tent to her pile of furs and then slipped out to leave her to the priest who fussed over her again.
A runner was sent to Cauldwyn to give him the news that she both lived and was awake.
~~
Sometime later, he hadn't been able to come when he heard she was alive, more or less. Though he longed to, he had other obligations. None had escaped that fight unscathed. Some time later he pushed aside her tent flaps and pushed hi way inside. The tent was cooling, the fires unlit and night was falling, she'd been unconscious a long time and they had feared the worst. he had sat by her side for as long as he could, and hated himself when he left it. He nodded to the priest and then gestured for him to leave them, but not before he received a short lecture on certain ministrations.
Cauldwyn's arm was stuck in a sling and a bandage covered half his head, wrapping over the eye that had been damaged once already, he walked with a limp, though he seemed mobile enough. He knelt by her side, his good hand running down to the hem of the fur comforter and drawing it up beneath her chin. he didn't say anything at first, he didn't know how, the words failed to come. Instead his hand moved to her cheek, his touch far more gentle than it ever had been before.
"The priest feared the worst. I told him you would claw your way out of death's grasp so long as you drew breath." he lowered himself into a sitting position and picked up a small wooden bowl, a jade elixir sat shallow at the bottom. "The priest says you must drink this" he explained as he put the bowl to her lips, her head propped on a bundle of fur. He would tilt the bowl, its bitter contents sliding down her throat. He got to his feet, slowly, and with difficulty, limping to the one lit torch stuck in its sconce, using it to light the others until the tent began to warm. He returned to her side then, still unsure what he should say, he knew that for the rest of the night, he would not leave her side, he had dismissed the priest, telling him he would manage himself.
His eyes searched her face, until their eyes met.
"What's wrong?" Cauldwyn asked, not needing to be a mind reader.
~~
She’d gone back to sleep when Joval had brought her back into the tent and settled her onto the fur bed. He’d turned her over to the priest again and limped back out the tent himself to see to making funeral pyres for her men and son. They didn’t bury their dead in Cree, they burned them and usually had a feast for days after to honor the memory of those past. The feast would have to wait but they could burn them and pray their souls be taken to sweeter places. Andraia would have liked to have helped build them with her own hands but her body needed more time and more healing before she’d be up doing much of anything.
She had been asleep when he first came in but the priest scolding after him like a nurse maid woke her and she lay under the cover of blankets and furs to watch Cauldwyn nodding and assuring the priest that he would take care of her. When he turned to look at her she offered him a small smile. He was alive, wounded but alive. Did anyone make it out of the battle unscathed?
The brush of his fingers against her cheek made her close her eyes and let out a breath in a soft sigh. His words made her smile a bit and she tried to laugh though she stopped as quickly as she started. Her chest was still tender where the blade had pierced through her.
“I’m quiet stubborn like that. Like someone else I know.” She said, her voice rough and tired. She turned her nose up at the elixir, the same stuff that the priest had been shoving down her since she’d woke the first time. For him though she parted her lips and let him pour it into her mouth and swallowed with less of a face than she would have made for the priest.
She watched as he walked around the tent, lighting the braziers to chase the cold away and by the time he’d come back to her she held a hand out for him to take. She squeezed his gently, drawing it under the covers with her as she rolled carefully onto her side.
“Malic.” She said his name and then paused, silent for another moment as she brought his hand to her lips, pressing his knuckles against her lips. “He was my son.”
~~
"I know." He said, he wasn't as unobservant as he sometimes seems, but he had seen their similarities, and the way she looked at him when she thought Cauldwyn wasn't paying her any heed. But he had never brought it up, never bothered to ask, he had simply decided that if she wanted to tell him she would, and now that he lay dead amongst the snow, he found himself wishing he could have met the man. The only words he had ever spoken to him were an admonishment for stepping over his bounds. "I'm sorry..."
he said after a time, he would never know what it was like to lose a child. A lover? That was a pain he knew all too well and he knew he didn't want to live through it a second time. He merely smiled, he didn't ask her why she hadn't told him, it was unimportant at that time, whatever mysteries came to light could wait.
"The Attavarians intervened at the last second, they would have joined us sooner but a second force had come in from the west. they had to fight through them to get to us. I've had closer calls, but I can't remember when."
He wasn't sure why he chose to say what he did, perhaps he thought that if he could distract her with anything, anything at all, it might ease the grief of losing a son.
"I was scared" Cauldwyn admitted finally, looking away, eyes locked on the floor. "That I was going to lose you." He didn't have the words to describe how deeply that fear had run and what it would have meant if he had lost her.
~~
I’m sorry. Isn’t that what everyone said when they realized that the dead was someone important to the living? She wished she could have said that it brought some comfort but it didn’t. She wanted to cry tears for him but she couldn’t even muster that up at the moment. She was still to much the warrior to cry right now. Perhaps when it was all over, when she saw this war at its end she’d cry enough tears to flood a river but for now she remained dry eyed.
“Have many strong are we now?” She tried to focus on those things, tried to find things to keep her mind busy. With numbers and troops and plans of the future she’d be less stir crazy to get out of this bed and do something stupid.
“We owe them our lives then. The last I remember of the battle we were fairing poorly.” And even what she did remember was foggy at best now. The details were harder to recall but most battles became that way. No one remembered the little things. Usually just how the fight started and how it ended. She squeezed his hand again at the thought.
“I was scared that you might too.” She answered forcing a small smile across her pale lips before she tugged on him, bringing him down to her he’d kiss her, something soft and sweet amidst all the death and blood. “I wish I could say I had worse wounds but I haven’t. Your priest is a skilled man. I might have to steal him from you when we get back to Elandral. I have another son then, he’s very ill. He has a rare childhood dieases.”
~~
The men had lined up, exhausted and broken. They had reached their limit and now it was time to bury their brothers. Rows of unmarked graves lay freshly occupied and buried in front of them, the wind blowing listlessly over the battlefield where the Orakahn soldiers still lay where they had fallen, banners and pennants of the 7th snapping in the wind, torn and ragged, but still standing proud. Cauldwyn walked the line as he would before a battle, stopping here and there with a word or two. They had all lost friends, Cauldwyn still unable to erase the memory of Culluhn's stunned face as he fell to the snow, arrow protruding from his neck.
Finally he returned the centre of the line and faced his troops, all their faces spoke of the universal weariness but he knew his men who follow him as doggedly as they had to, to follow through. He felt a pang of guilt at that, knowing that this was just one small step among a thousand more.
"Brothers.." He voice carried over the wind, which seemed to die as he spoke, obeying his command. "Our comrades marched with us into the field of battle, knowing they would meet death eye to eye. They proudly fell so their brothers may live. And live we will, to honour their sacrifice, to follow through until two ends of time have become neatly tied. The road from here to there is long and the distance traveled already far. But always remember, they fell proudly, so that you may live, so that we may succeed in what they did not. Stay the course and you will know victory. This I promise. The 7th make no sacrifices in vain."
A cheer went up from the ragged ranks as they saluted their brothers, Cauldwyn's eyes looking past them, through the lines until they came to a stop on Andraia who was barely standing, supported by a long heavy stick on one side and Joval on the other. he had begged her to remain, but she wouldn't have it and so Cauldwyn relented. She could not turn away from this, she couldn't shut out the funeral pyres burning the body of her beloved son.
"And to those that joined with us when they did not have to, who sacrificed by doing so, marking themselves for exile, without question and to a man, I would have been proud to be their commander." Cauldwyn listed the names of Andraia's knights, Malic falling last on the list, his eyes lingered on Andraia who bore up stoically. he knew she would break down in private, perhaps not even in front of him. Brandur, one of the few survivng officers, stepped Forward and said simply:
"I can think of no higher praise, General." And then stepped back into the ranks. Cauldwyn nodded at the words and then spoke once more.
"Rest now, return to the city our Attavarian allies have held and regain your strength. We'll not be leaving for some time, so enjoy this period of rest before we drop from the pan and into the fire." The ranks saluted and Cauldwyn dismissed them, they began walking towards the city.
Commander Subai came to Cauldwyn as his men filtered towards Nasami.
"Well said, General" The Attavarian commented "A pity so many of my own men speak the common tongue, else I would have... borrowed those words myself"
Cauldwyn had found himself liking the amiable Attavarian commander, he found him to be a capable leader, his ready smile and easy going attitude could keep the morale high even under the most dire of circumstances. The commander bowed, Cauldwyn gave a brief nod and Subai joined those walking towards the city.
~~
Joval would have preferred to have seen her stay to bed than at the gravesites of the fallen solders but even he knew a lost cause when it was before him. He made her ride though to keep her strength as much as possible. The priests magic had brought her back from the brink of death but there was still healing that her body would have to do on its own. The priests magic was spread thin across the camp and she asked no more of him and often sent him away to heal others rather than tend to her. She had her knight and Cauldwyn when his duties didn’t draw him away.
Cauldwyn tended to her with such tender diligence that she often though a husband would have for a wife yet he owed her nothing. They were lovers with no promises spoken to one another. No promises would save her from his wraith when he learned the truth of it all.
She stood with the other officers, silent as the death that stretched out over the land before them. There were more graves than living and then the now burning pyres of her people that Joval had lit when the men had formed. She stood on her own two feet as Cauldwyn’s voice carried over the gathered living, fire reflecting in her eyes as she watched the bodies of her men and her son go to fire. They hadn’t asked to come on this with her, they had demanded. Many of them knew the truth, they knew why she was here but that wouldn’t have mattered. They followed her because she was their leader and their queen from a country they would likely never see again. She whispered a mother’s pray in her own language as the cheer from Cauldwyn’s words rang out. She wouldn’t cry here because on this field she was a warrior and a knight, she wasn’t a woman or a mother. In private she could be those things but here she was just another one of the men to honor the dead.
She could see the affect that his words had had on the troops. It was such a change from the way they’d trudged out to the fields to the way they marched back toward the city now. They walked with more pride and more hope than they’d had just an hour before. It showed how much these men respected Cauldwyn. He was a good leader. She was hard pressed to think of a man that equaled him in that though she still felt he was somewhat naive but who was she to point fingers with that. She’d been stupid enough to believe that Crowley would honor their arrangement. Now she’d lost one son and perhaps a second. Only time would tell if he still stood true to that. They had to get back to Elandrial first.
Joval’s strong arms lifted her into her saddle. She allowed him that much even in front of the army. She tugged her furs tighter around her and turned her horse back toward the capital, walking it along with the men. Her body was already aching and tired. It was a longer trip back than it had been to. When they made their way back toward the houses that the officers had been given she gave her horse over to Jovel and moved inside under her own power.
She left the crutch beside the door, walking slowly to the table to one side of the room. She leaned her hands against it, pressing them against the wood smooth from the hundreds of times that the family that had lived there had touched it. She closed her eyes as her fingers slid over it, wondering who they were or why. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, curling her fingers under the lip of the table and held them there for a moment before she turned and flung the table over, sending it sliding half way across the room with a burst of strength. The chairs followed as she screamed with each one she threw. Anything within reach was heafted across the room till she was left standing there panting, a hand pressed to the aching pink puckered scar under her left breast where the sword and run through her. Tears welled in her eyes and ran down her cheeks as she stood there trying to catch her breath again, staring at the mess in front of her, feeling no better for it.
~~
He waited just outside the door as he heard the table flip, followed by an anguished wail and the ceaseless smashing of the room's contents. She needed this, her moment of catharsis and he wouldn't interrupt it. When the sobs ceased and the crashing, he tentatively opened the door and stepped inside, shutting it softly behind him. Wordlessly he crossed the room, pottery and plates crunching beneath his booted feet. He had already shed his armor, he hadn't even a sword at his side, perhaps the first time she had seen him without one aside from when she lay with him amongst the furs they so frequently shared.
"You'll tear your sutures" He said as he reached her, his hands moving to the hem of her shirt, eyes searching for any signs of objection. If she didn't, he would raise the garment just past the wound, the cut angry and red beneath the bandages. The sutures were still intact but the rough movement of tearing apart the room had seeped blood through. "These need to be changed" he said softly, tears rolling down Andraia's cheek.
He lifted a hand to her face and wiped them away in a rare moment of tenderness. Both hands cupped her chin and raised it, so she would see there was no shame in shedding tears in front of him.
"If I could take your pain, I would do so happily." He wanted to envelop her in his arms but her injuries prevented it, his hands dropped to her shoulders, scarred and rough, much like her own. "You need to rest Andraia. I know it's not what you want to hear but you can not keep reopening this wound. It could fester.. You could die."
Perhaps she wanted to at that moment, Cauldwyn could never know her pain, he had never had a proper family, the only family he had known had turned their backs on him, exiled him. And for what? For disobeying the word of one man? he had never questioned the order of things before, but since they had started this mad journey, he had come to question much about the wisdom of having one man wield the twin powers of law and justice, it was too much for any one man, he had finally concluded.
"Let me help you to bed" he said in an almost pleading tone, he hated seeing her like this, hated feeling helpless. "Please." Another first.
~~
She stood in the center of the room, shoulders drooping and her head dipped low. Her hair fell to either side of her face as she stayed still save for the ragged rise and fall of her breathing. The only sounds in the room her wheezing breath and his boots crossing the floor. She looked as broken as the bits and pieces below his boots. She looked as though she didn’t even see him as he came around to her face, staring at nothing as he struggled to breath. Even his voice didn’t jar her right away.
It was the touch of his hands that made her move and she lashed out to strike him, grabbing his wrist and started to twist it to the side before she realized what she was doing and stopped. She made a choked sound and turned her head, letting go of his wrist so he could lift her shirt to examine the bandages around her chest. Her chest burned, both from the activity of trashing the room and her struggled breathing from it.
It wasn’t until his hard calloused fingers touched her face and turned her eyes back to see his face that she really saw him and it just made the tears roll faster down her cheeks. He was right though, as much as she didn’t want to lay in a bed for another day or week she had too. She had her doubts that this wound would be the end of her but there were many other deaths waiting on the horizon for them.
Her hands moved to grasp his arms, holding him still in front of her as he begged for her to let him take her to bed and she should have. The pleading tone of his voice breaking her heart all the more. He sounded as helpless as she felt.
“I need your promise.” She croaked the words through her tears as she looked at him. “I need your word and your promise on something first.” He might hate her for this later but she knew that once he gave his word he would hold true to it, no matter what wrongs he might see of her. “If something happens to me, if I die, promise me that you’ll return to my home in Elandrial and get my son, Alexander. Promise me that you’ll take care of him. Give me your word on your honor that you’ll do this for me. I know you owe me nothing, you’ve made no vows to me but I have no one else I can ask this of.” Her hands moved up to grasp the sides of his face, watching his eyes while she waited for his answer.
~~
She captured his wrist in her hand and he didn't pull away, she seemed lost, dazed, then she released and seemed to slump. She was indeed asking a lot of him, Cauldwyn was no father, what life could he give her son? There was more than one way of ensuring a child's future, however, and he would do what he could. After a time, he nodded.
"You have my word." he said placatingly as his hand moved to hers rest on his face, fingers lacing and dragging it away. "But it won't come to that. You'll see your son again. Once we return, there is no need for you to stay. I'm sure Lord Crowley will be pleased to have you back and you'll be reunited with your son."
if only he knew the extent of the treachery in which they had enfolded him in. He was, Andraia had concluded, naive in his own way. As though picking up a child he scooped her in his arms, he carried her into the next room where a small bed lay, a candle burning next to it on the table. Casuldwyn, with great care, eased her onto the bed, sinking beneath his weight.
"Malic was a good man, a good warrior. He's in a far more forgiving place than he had ever been in life... " He stood, then, reaching for a chair and dragging ti cross the floor next to her bed, he sat in it. "The healer will be here soon to make more of the elixir" the elixir he'd diligently been feeding to her, in the days past her injury he had only left her side when he had needed to, and though it was often hours before he could return, he always returned directly to ensure that her recovery went as smoothly as possible. he knew his words gave her no solace, no reprieve from the grief of seeing your child die before you. He looked to the floor, ashamed at the feelings that welled inside, when he looked back the ashen colour of her skin and the anguished expression on her face broke what little of a heart the general had.
"We will see him avenged.. . My love." Much like the promise he had made to take care of her child, he swore to exact revenge in her name if she herself could not.