<u>Chapter 48 - Howling Gale</u>


    Night came and with it arrived winter''s chilling fervor. Clouds enveloped the sky, a dimness trapped within giving them a hazy glow. It warned of precipitation. Elizia had her camp set like any other day, save for the supply wagons which were kept farther off hidden inside the occasional tree and thicket clusters and watched by only a handful of men per wagon.


    "Follow me at a canter in about an hour''s time. When the flare signal goes up, commence the charge," she told Faren and Azurus, both of which would be leading half her forces each. Her own task was to slip her way towards the enemy camp along with ninety-nine of her best archers to pick off their sentries. The snowy fields and thick dead grass beneath would drown out sounds of thundering hooves until they were too close for any reasonable preparation to be made against them.


    "Are you sure, my lady?" Faren asked. "You might make it unseen more than half way to their camp, but for the half mile or so, you''ll have to crouch or crawl on your belly."


    "I can manage a bit of cold, Faren. I won''t be putting myself in harm''s way like the charging riders," she assured him. He bent his lips as if not convinced, but spoke no further. Elizia pulled up her hood, regarding the two one last time, holding Azurus'' gaze for a tad longer. A tad too long.


    "Good luck," he said in a monotonous tone. "Turn back if you''re spotted."


    "I know," she frowned, marching away. Ninety-nine others wrapped in cloaks with pulled up hoods awaited her. Elizia began jogging and they fell in line behind. The sounds of crunching footsteps annoyed her. The snow wasn''t fresh and soft like sand. It had been resting on the field for a while and had somewhat frozen over. Knowing her approach was audible made her insides turn. And an empty stomach only made the feeling worse.


    Elizia huffed. Her stamina drained quick with the added resistance of snow. She was needing to breathe through her mouth sooner than anticipated. Puffs of clouds came out with every exhale. Cold air pricked her lungs. It wasn''t long before her nose grew runny and thick phlegm began gathering at the back of her throat, making breathing an arduous endeavor.


    She was trained for this. Every soldier was. Drills were done more often in winter to ensure the Serene army had experience in every situation. But Flames, training did not teach her to execute her emotions. She''d half a mind to curse the Creator for creating cold weather. Her heart pounded, but she felt no warmer than if she were standing still.


    Lights of the enemy encampment at last came into view. Elizia held up her hand to slow her men. She lowered herself to a crouch. Her archers spread out in a line to encompass at least half of the enemy camp''s circumference. They would take out as many perimeter guards in as wide an area as possible.


    Elizia''s thighs began to ache after not too long a while. The leather gloves she''d put on were proving poor protection for her fingers too. She sniffled more often than she would''ve preferred and swallowed a dozen times until her throat started aching.


    The flickering of fire light became apparent. Her knee joints cried for respite. Enemy sentries at last came into view. Armored men like black pillars standing with spears in hand and horns on their belt. Each rebel was a few dozen meters apart from the next.


    Elizia dropped to her knees. Her trousers quickly soaked in snow and made her shiver. She fell on her belly each of her archers doing the same. Heat was siphoned out of her body as if she''d just leapt into a frigid pond. She kept her teeth clenched, kicking softly with her legs and dragging herself forward with her forearms. A gasp escaped her lips as ice kissed her skin, her boiled leather vest doing a poor job at keeping snow out while she crawled. It spilled into her boots, her shirt, and chilled the mail beneath the leather top. Everyone with her risked a fever, but this maneuver might yet prevent numerous allied casualties. Only the front half of the enemy''s perimeter guards needed to be slain to prevent warning calls to their encampment.


    Once in range, Elizia marked her target. She sat up while shivering at the wet and knocked an arrow on her bow. Harsh wind blew down her hood, exposing her ears to a stinging chill. It was snowing, she realized. Light flurries, but it would grow if the glowing night clouds were any indication. A small crack appeared, exposing a piece of Leona, the largest moon. Elizia dropped herself, afraid the peeking maiden would expose her, but the crack in the clouds closed as fast as it''d appeared.


    A howling gale blew straight into her. "Ashes of blood," she muttered. A blizzard was nigh, but that was the least of her worries. Such a strong wind forced her to crawl closer to her target. Elizia ground her teeth and pressed flat against the snow again, crawling. Her gaze flickered past her target and lingered in envy on the campfires in the enemy camp.


    Satisfied with her distance, she stopped. The winds still raged and snowfall picked up. A layer of frosting gathered on Elizia''s back and quickly began melding her into a part of the white fields. She remained flat on her belly, patient, waiting for the man not a hundred paces away from her to turn his head the other way. A numbness began to spread across her entire body and her patience was wearing thin. Regret settled at not having listened to Faren. Elizia kept her sight on her target. Snowflakes gathered on her long lashes and fogged her vision. She caught her target yawning with narrowed eyes.


    Her patience snapped. She sat upright and nocked in one shaky moment. Her entire body trembled from the cold. Elizia dragged her wet sleeve across her eyes and drew back. Focus. Just a single shot and her task was complete. A single shot and she could run back to camp and curl up beneath warm blankets.


    No armor on her target''s neck. Windpipe pierced, he might not die fast, but his ability to blow his horn would cease to exist. Elizia aimed, confident. The sentry finished his yawn, suddenly frowning at the upright shadowy figure of her form. It was too late for him to —achoo!


    Harsh wind blew snow into Elizia''s eyes. The sneeze left a terrible pain in her head and chest. She drew again, with more haste this time, teeth chattering and limbs shaky. She blinked furiously but the fog did not clear. Her heartbeats turned erratic. The knowledge of knowing she''d been spotted screamed urgency at her. Her limbs trembled further with a violent fervor.


    Elizia wiped her eyes a second time, knowing that doing so would steal precious seconds from her. The guard had his horn in hand. Phlegm caught in her throat, Elizia opened her mouth and inhaled a ragged breath of sharp cold. She drew back again, the cold wet of her shirt pressing down on her breasts as she flexed her back.


    The point of the guardsman''s horn was a mere inch from his mouth when Elizia heard a familiar twang. The sound echoed in her ears and made the insides vibrate, exacerbating her headache.


    She missed.


    The shot glanced off the horn, scarring it deeply, but leaving the bearer unharmed. The weight of failure threatened to crush Elizia. She nocked again but the horn was already on her target''s lips. He blew. A high pitch little different from the blizzard winds sounded. He blew again, harder apparently. Same sound.


    A small glimmer of hope restored a fraction of Elizia''s strength. The damage she''d done to the horn had stolen its true voice. She drew back and loosed. This time, her target collapsed. Elizia coughed and gurgled, spitting out a vile thickness that left a bitter taste in her mouth. She breathed easy, relieved, though her heart hammered. She waited, seeking the other perimeter guards through her limited vision range. There were none. Her detachment had executed their mission flawlessly.


    Elizia took out another arrow and doused the tip in a small vial of oil kept in the pockets of her cloak before lighting it with a piece of flint. The tendrils of warmth from that tiny fire was something she desperately wanted to hold onto at that moment. But no. She loosed the arrow into the sky, not too high for enemies to grow suspicious, but just high enough to signal her riders.


    That brief flicker of light revealed something it should not have. A mass of black upon the white field. Amidst the storm, Elizia heard crunching sounds growing closer to her. Distant shadows grew in size. Terror leeched on what little energy she had spared for the return run to camp. The rebels too had been preparing a night raid of their own.


    Imagination is a weapon.


    A night attack for footmen against a cavalry unit was unexpected. Even more so in poor weather. But specifically because it was unexpected was it also expected. "Consider every possibility. Every scenario. Prepare on your own assumptions. But be wary when acting on an assumption perceived of the enemy." The words slipped out of her mouth like a memory. Words written within the old journals of her ancestors.


    Elizia had erred. And now, she and the ninety-nine others were caught between two groups of enemies, both parties aware of the charge she had planned.


    They would prepare.


    And many of her soldiers would die.


    The worst case scenario.


    Fury at her own failure brought her to her feet. The world spun and numbness plagued her arms. But years of practiced movements were not so easily forgotten. She felt the crunching footsteps of enemies approaching her. Almost felt them within the roots of dead plants around, as if she were mentally connected to them. Dimly aware of her of her own detachment sprinting to consolidate manpower to her, Elizia drew back her bowstring.


    The blizzard raged.


    ***


    The flickering flame of Elizia''s signal soared like a shooting star. Azurus double checked his belt and the latches of the diamond shield attached to his left arm. He dusted off snow from Eleanoire''s armor and mane before digging into her ribs with his heel. She spurred forward at an increased pace, thousands of riders following after her. To his left and a little farther back, Lieutenant Faren led the other half of Elizia''s unit. Very few men remained in the encampment to watch the wagon drivers and physics.


    Snow blew into Azurus'' eyes. He snapped down his visor, keeping his sight focused on the distant lights of the enemy camp. His gauntleted fingers squeezed the reins they held. Anticipation made his heart drum. But after a while, something happened that he did not expect. Eleanoire slowed noticeably, other riders gaining on her lead. Azurus kicked at her side but she refused to speed up.


    Then, screams erupted before him.


    "Enemies! Enemies up front!"


    Azurus snapped his visor up and kept a hand above his eyes, peering into the night. Slicing winds hurled snow in every which way like the southern sands kicked up during a dust storm. Through it all, he saw the enemies. Not a scattered force of stealthy figures planning a raid, but a prepared battalion sitting in place, fully armored with pikes forward and rectangular shields planted firmly into the foot deep snow. The exact scenario that Elizia had planned to avoid is what had happened.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    The charge had come too far to slow. Even if the riders at the forefront saw the enemies, rearing their mounts now would only cause the ones behind them to crash into their own allies. Eleanoire had seen these enemies and had slowed enough to save Azurus'' life. But she hadn''t saved him from bearing witness to the ensuing destruction.


    Soldiers that had overtaken Azurus crashed into enemy lines. Spears impaled the flesh of unarmored horses. Whinnying cries were carried far by the gale. Men were thrown forward into enemy ranks. Screams erupted. Spear bearers of the cavalry stabbed at the enemy vanguard, but as their mounts were slain and toppled, their efforts came undone and they too fell, some with a leg trapped beneath the body of their toppled horses. The enemies spared them no mercy, killing fallen soldiers to a man.


    Azurus drew his sword and urged Eleanoire forward. She at last ran again and straight towards the carnage. Only, the first wave of horsemen had absorbed the attention of the rebel vanguard''s pike bearers. The black mare leapt as it reached the front. Azurus sucked in a breath while flying through the air. That moment seemed to last forever and he almost lost his balance. Then, the mare crashed down, trampling several men beneath her hooves and causing surrounding enemies to stumble back and trip over their own feet.


    The impact caused Azurus'' visor to snap down again. He clutched Eleanoire''s reins with his left and hacked at enemies with his right. The thrill of battle coursed through his veins as he found himself alone within enemy ranks. He was barely aware of who it was he attacked. The blizzard allowed him a mere few feet of vision and the visor hindered that further. He hacked this way and that, Eleanoire whinnying all the while trying to move forward within this sea of soldiers trying to hack at her armor.


    Thundering crashes sounded behind Azurus as more allies fell victim to the enemy vanguard. Few managed to leap past the iron wall just as he did, opening pockets of space into the rebel ranks. Azurus screamed and he slashed with his blade, vapor breath catching inside his helm and making its insides drip with condensation. His vision fogged further but his right arm kept moving out of instinct. Resistance with each swing told him he was cutting something. Screams told him he was hurting someone.


    A sense of urgency made his heart pound even faster than it already was. Caught in the chaos, he''d forgotten a crucial fact. If enemies were here, then that meant they had at some point learned of the night raid that Elizia was planning. It only meant one thing. She and her archers had to have been seen. They were caught between the enemy camp and a battalion of their soldiers. Caught in a snowstorm where archers were less effective, and too lightly dressed to engage such well-armed rebel soldiers. Azurus hacked with more fury, shoulder burning from overuse.


    The Flames burn you, Jasim Galadin! If any harm befalls Elizia because you decided to sell arms to our enemies, I swear I''ll cut your head off mys—


    Someone tugged Azurus'' leg. He slashed in the general direction, feeling the edge of his blade bite into something soft like flesh. A roar erupted at his side but the hand around his ankles didn''t loose. They tugged even harder. Azurus'' world tilted the wrong way as he slipped off his mount and crashed into the snowy ground.


    ***


    Faren was grateful for having ordered his charge a few dozen seconds after Azurus had led his. The blizzard didn''t allow him to see very far, but the screams and clamoring from somewhere on his right told him all that he needed to know. "To the left!" he bellowed, raising one arm and waving it to the side. Surely not every man he was leading had heard him or seen his arm, but Lady Sar''tara''s well trained soldiers echoed his orders with shouts of their own.


    The entire unit turned with barely a dozen meters of distance between them and the pike bearing enemy vanguard. "Archers!" Faren called, letting go of the reins and drawing his bow as the unit had practiced so many times. The first few lines of his riders had lances. Those behind carried swords and bows. Powerful and unstable winds would reduce the effectiveness of arrows, but they were bound to catch some enemies. "Fire at will," he roared as he loosed his own shot. He nocked another and sucked in a sharp breath, loosing a second time before putting his hands on the reins again to steer his mount. He opened his mouth and screamed the Vashiri war cry with as much might as his throat could muster. Those following too began screaming.


    Faren felt himself grow hot with rage. The biting cold was now that much easier to endure. He loosed a couple more arrows into the enemy battalion''s side, riding right past their ranks with some twenty meters of distance between them. The war cry quieted for a moment as the soldiers recovered their voices. "Final ten lines, decimate enemy ranks!" Faren bellowed. The orders were relayed, echoing back. Faren glanced behind but the accursed blizzard didn''t allow him to see much. He had no way of knowing if the rear ten lines were attacking the enemy''s exposed side. He could only trust that they were.


    His own thoughts were focused on the enemy camp as was originally planned. A powerful urge to panic threatened to consume his mind. The plan had gone awry, but there was no use in lamenting over it. A commander couldn''t allow his mind to slow during an active battle. Years of experience fighting at Lady Sar''tara''s side had taught him to remain calm at all times. But the knowledge that her daughter was caught somewhere between enemy ranks constantly beat at that calmness, threatening to push it into a sea of fear ever present in a shadowed corner of his thoughts.


    "I''m coming, my lady," he muttered, vapor coming out of his mouth as he spoke. "Please stay safe until then. I won''t fail twice. I refuse to fail twice."


    Faren wiped away snow that had caught in his brow. He inhaled another lance of ice. And then he screamed the war cry again, blood boiling.


    I''m coming. I would rather die than fail again!


    ***


    Azurus screamed as he deflected a spear tip with his diamond shield. Another came down on his breastplate and glanced off, deeply scratching the surface. Eleanoire cried out and kicked with her hind legs, clearing out space for him. He quickly rolled over to his belly and pushed himself up to his feet. A sword wielding enemy screamed as he charged with weapon arm raised. Azurus saw five splits of the man through his visor. He curled his fingers and lunged, striking the man with his gauntleted fist and stopping his charge short. The man collapsed, dark red spilling out of his nose and coloring the snow by his head.


    Azurus fished his own longsword out of the snow and began swinging. He felt more comfortable on his feet when fighting in such harsh conditions. He had better sight of his enemies and knew exactly who it was he was attacking. No sickness came over him as he cut down man after man, retaliating blows glancing off his armor and sheild. He wasn''t massacring peasants this time. He was fighting for his life and against trained men. The thrill of battle reinforced his resolve.


    Elizia.


    The thought of a friend surrounded just as he was filled him with untold bloodlust. She wasn''t armored like him. She couldn’t survive a vicious melee like he could. Azurus screamed and burrowed himself deeper into enemy lines. A splatter of blood slipped through his visor, warm droplets touching his face.


    Amidst the unending whistling of winter, Azurus heard a distinct cry. A sound he had only brief memories of. A war cry that he''d heard Lady Sar''tara''s soldiers using when training at the fields surrounding Arcaeus Peak. Those cries seemed to be matched by rebel soldiers, only theirs sounded panicked and full of pain rather than visceral and encouraging.


    The rebel soldiers before Azurus split their attention towards the left. Flickers of fear shown in their eyes. They came at him, but with haphazard resolve and weakened arms. He blew back their attacks, finding even more strength at the knowledge of allies somewhere near. Lieutenant Faren, it seemed, hadn''t erred as he had and had likely managed to drill his riders into the rebel battalion''s side or flank.


    Azurus severed a head and skewered two men at once with a mighty thrust. He rent out the blade and spun, spear tips glancing off his pauldron. He brought his sword down in a diagonal arc, tearing open a man''s chainmail shirt and skin beneath, then swept his blade across, and through the ribs of another, splitting the man almost in two. He spun again, anticipating enemies behind, deflecting swords aimed at his neck just in time, before bringing his own weapon back in a reverse arc to slash at the throats of two men standing next to each other.


    Azurus heard the whinnies of many horses somewhere to his left. A wedge formation of allied riders was trampling past enemy lines. Rebel soldiers before him fled. He ran too, cutting his way towards Eleanoire before mounting her and hacking at as many fleeing enemies as he could. The unit he''d been leading found a second wind and followed the current of the battle, riding towards the right and trampling enemies fleeing on foot. From here, the battle became one sided.


    Azurus drove Eleanoire hard. His right arm ached from having swung his sword for so long. He sheathed his blade and focused on riding, breaking past enemy lines and driving through an expanse of white emptiness, snow blowing all around. Visor still down, he steered Eleanoire forward toward the enemy camp, toward where he suspected Elizia to be, praying to the Eternal Flames that she was still safe.


    ***


    Elizia reached back and nocked her final arrow. She aimed at the nearest approaching shadow and loosed. The leather at her fingertips had worn significantly from overuse. The others near her loosed into the darkness, but few of them hit. They couldn''t see within the blizzard as well as she could.


    No. That was wrong. She couldn''t see either. But somehow, she knew where each enemy was. She knew how far they were, at what speed each travelled, and could near estimate their size by the weight of their footsteps. She truly felt connected to the ground.


    All of that knowledge, however, was going to be wasted. None of the others around her had been firing as fast as her. Enemies from the camp behind and those from the battalion upfront closed in around them. Elizia drew the two soldier''s daggers at her waist. Every soldier around her drew their swords and encircled her, keeping her protected within a formation.


    "Protect the lady!" they cried.


    Elizia felt a lump in her throat. She could hardly complain. All she had to fight well-armed enemies with were her daggers. These elite archers would die protecting her if no relief force came soon. Snow piling up on her head gave her brain freeze. Standing still was quickly draining her fierce will to fight. She needed to keep moving, or she feared the weather would claim her life before any enemy did.


    She dusted off her head and pulled up her hood, looking near indistinguishable from her men. Then, she weaved past the encirclement formation and clenched her teeth. The first of the rebel soldiers closed in and attacked the vanguard of the circle. Elizia could feel a dozen more behind him, all of them spread out within a hundred feet, and many more to each of his sides.


    She steeled her resolved, crouching low and darting forward.


    "Where''s the lady?" came panicked cries from behind, as a few of her men realized she was no longer within the circle.


    Elizia ignored them and joined her own vanguard. Her damp shirt had stiffened in the cold. Boots filled with snow, she could barely feel anything from shins down. But those were the last of her worries. If the blizzard was hindering her sight, then it would be the same for her foes.


    Only, she could feel them approach and knew exactly where they were.


    Knees almost completely bent, Elizia waited until the nearest enemy was barely three feet before her. He had his mouth open, screaming, an iron cap on his head, and a shirt of mail on his shoulders. His attention was focused on an ally soldier a few feet to her left. She lunged, howling, stabbing a dagger just beneath his chin. Hot blood spilled over her gloves, warming her near numb fingers, and Elizia was grateful for it.


    She shifted her focus to the next approaching enemy, crouching down again and repeating the same maneuver.


    One… two… three…


    That brief line of fear she''d felt when knowing she''d be facing rebels soldiers with nothing but two daggers retreated to whatever dark corner it''d come from. Her sense of danger had lessened greatly. The enemies weren''t approaching in ranks but rather one by one, assuming her group an isolated bunch that could easily be dealt with.


    And one by one, Elizia hunted them.


    The storm which had slowed her had now become an advantage. Some who were engaged with her own men she killed from behind. She moved around the circle her men had created to protect her, doing her best to cull enemy numbers and protect them instead. Her hands were soon drenched in warm blood and many a time it sprayed across her face. She ignored the imagery of violence forming in her mind, and took the warmth of her enemy''s blood for what it truly was at that moment —a blessing.


    Somewhere in the distance, the Vashiri war cry erupted. Her riders were near. Some part of Elizia had always thought the cries as odd. She''d been embarrassed to scream it herself at times, when mother had ordered her to do so. But here and now, she felt a deep resonance with that cry. It was familiar. Not nostalgic familiar, but insatiably familiar, like having found a piece of herself that was keeping her from being whole. It strengthened her. Made her heart beat faster than thunder traveled. The same cries exploded from the men behind her.


    A tempest raged beneath Elizia''s skin. Numbness from her fingers and toes retreated and a strange yet serene warmth embraced her. She could feel the approaching enemies slowing, hesitating, as if they were considering whether the group they thought to hunt really was as small they''d originally believed.


    They couldn''t see the true size of Elizia''s one hundred man force within the blizzard. She didn''t let the chance slide. "Quiver! Now!" she barked at one of the soldiers nearest to her. He flinched, taken aback at seeing her at the van rather than within the encirclement. But he handed her his quiver and Elizia renewed firing into the darkness, picking off the hesitating enemies one by one. She switched to daggers when the enemies drew near, mustering the courage to scream the Vashiri war cry herself. It wasn''t quite as embarrassing as she''d found it to be as a child.


    Somewhere, not too far to the right, Elizia felt the rhythm of thousands of hooves quickly approaching her location.