Fan Fiction ❯ Shielded in Broken Armours ❯ Part 1: Song of the Nightingale ( Chapter 3 )
Anime/Manga: Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Fantasy / Adventure | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 11.30.2004 | Updated On: 11.30.2004 | Pages: 2 | Words: 4.0K | Visits: 192 | Status: Completed
by Alice Montrose
completed July 31, 2004
Chapter Three
"Khest!" The Angelian High Commander cursed, looking at the infantry units taking position at the entrance of the valley. "Imminent indeed."
He noted with relief the Demons were outnumbered by his own troops. But was that really an advantage? At any rate, their only retreat route was now blocked, and they would have to fight to get out of the valley.
He ordered his cavalry to split into two. They had to act fast, less the enemy received reinforcements.
"They want to keep us in here until the rest of their troops arrive," said Ceni, leading his horse towards Marzio. "We should be able to break through fairly easily, though."
The general frowned. "I don't know... I really don't know. Maybe they have something else in mind..."
But what could that be? Demonis' armed forces couldn't be camped anywhere near. All he could see were rocks and trees. No river valley, no clearings, just thick forest surrounding them.
"Let us suppose their emissary was part of the vanguard. They send word for the rest of the troops to come, and they try to block us in here until their arrival," Marzio told his Second-in-Command. "In this case, all we need to do is break the blockade, and we may buy ourselves enough time to come up with a decent retreat plan."
Captain Mah-Kel agreed. "Should we deploy the cavalry, then?"
"Absolutely not! The longer we delay fighting at full potential, the better. Besides, there is not enough space. Infantry can handle this much easier. We keep the cavalry for the battles to come."
And on they went. Marzio ordered the cavalry to advance in line with the infantry, and later retreat and wait until the way was safer for them. He tried to estimate how many enemy soldiers were blocking their path, and came up with the conclusion it could not possibly be more than a division. Still, he was sure they were very well prepared and willing to die defending their positions.
"Don't take unnecessary risks!" he shouted, knowing that the squad leaders would make sure his order reached everybody. "The only thing we must do is break through their lines. There is no reason to butcher our way out!"
"They will not give up easily," Ceni warned, riding beside him. The young captain seemed excited at the prospect. He had never taken part in a real battle before. Marzio had. He did not remember it keenly.
"Try and relax," he told the younger man. "You have never fought the Demons before. It will be very different from what you expect."
"In training..."
"Forget the damned training! Your opponent was not really after your head then!" He sighed. He was getting anxious himself. "Demon soldiers are often full of unexpected surprises. Try and keep your mind clear of hatred, captain. After all, they are merely defending what is theirs."
Ceni looked at him, confused. He just smiled and turned his horse, riding off at the back of the lines. The Lords and their provision wagons were there, guarded by a squadron of riders.
"As soon as infantry makes the way clear, I want you to get through as quickly as possible," he ordered the chief sergeant. "Pay no attention to what the Lords say, tie them up if they won't come willingly, but get on the other side, understood?"
"Yes, General!"
He returned to his prior position, not too close to the first line but close enough to supervise their march. The cavalry was still flanking the rest of the troops, but as they slowly advanced it remained further back, making place for the footmen, archers and lancers. Their enemy made no move to retreat; on the contrary, they were keeping impossible still.
'There is no way they are going to let us pass through,' Marzio thought. They were close now, less then 1000 feet. If he tried a little, he could even determine their leader's position by his uniform.
He pulled out his farseer and took a better look at what lay ahead.
He had been right. One regiment of infantry. Not heavily equipped, but that was what worried him. Their movements would be easier than those of the Angelians, not being hindered by any armour or heavy weaponry. No sight of provisions anywhere, which indicated they either expected to die, or that the rest of the Demon army was not as far away as Marzio had hoped.
He looked more attentively. Near the last line, a couple of riders could be seen. The regiment commander and his aides. He thought he saw the uniform of the Prince's Guard, and his heart sank. The man could very well be Ignis.
Damn the liking he had taken on the officer! By Seleh, he was the enemy!
He gave Ceni the farseer. "Look at the officer further back. Recognize the uniform?"
"Prince's Guard. But it's not the same one we saw this morning."
The words offered him some relief. "What makes you so sure, captain?"
"I saw him on horseback when he came. Though both horses are black, this Demon has a different pose. And his armour is more adorned, which makes him higher in rank."
Marzio took the farseer and put it back in its case, not being able to suppress a relieved sigh. "Someone he trusts - Captain of the Guard, perhaps?" he suggested. "And if his Personal Guard is here, then probably the Prince is around as well. Did I tell you his emissary was a Dreak?" Ceni shook his head. "Well, it probably slipped my mind. But think of it, Ceni - a Dreak!"
"No wonder he was so proud. I heard that they are trained in such a way there are no feelings left in them safe for blind devotion to their sovereign."
Marzio shook his head. "No, Ceni; they are merely elite warriors. They have feelings just like the rest of us." Perhaps more, if one was to judge by what Marzio had seen in Ignis. "It is true, they will fight to the death. But that doesn't mean that they feel no mercy, or perhaps pity for those they kill. Meris Ignis seemed... disturbed by the prospect of a battle."
But they were really close, now. In fact, they were close enough to begin the attack. He pulled out his sword, and raised it above his head. When his hand fell, the Angelians gave one cry of battle and threw themselves upon the enemy.
Well hidden by the forest's thicket, the Demon cavalry observed the advance of the Angelian army. All was deadly quiet, and Tempesta knew it was the calm before the battle. May Drako hold them in his favour today!
At her left Ignis stood stiff on the back of his war stallion, kneading the leather reins through his gloved fingers.
"A little nervous, are we?" she whispered, for his ears alone. It was his first battle, after all.
"You know where I stand. I would not be here otherwise." The helmet covered his face, and she could not make out his expression. But, judging by his voice, he was really determined to go through with this.
In the valley below, the Angelian cavalry made way for the infantry to advance. Just like he had predicted. She wondered if he was by any chance able to read people's minds. Gods knowing, he sometimes acted like he actually did.
"I hope you were right. If not, we will lose the element of surprise."
"Don't worry," he replied, remaining motionless safe for his hands. "General Zain-Reil will not risk the lives of his men in vain. He knows breaking a path through our lines is his only way out. No use risking his men's lives in what looks like a minor battle."
The way in which he pronounced the last few words made her realize he too was aware of the outcome. Yet he had not seemed to be...
'There you go, underestimating him again!' She was used to it, by now. People frequently underestimated Ignis. It was not hard, with his innocent expression and that amazed look in his eyes. He made you easily forget who he was. Even easier to forget he probably was the best warrior in the land.
But he was not all-powerful. He was, in fact, desperate for company, even if he would have never admitted to it. He had been alone for far too long, and had gone through a lot of pain in the past five years. He needed support and friendship. And love, too, although she doubted it would be that easy for him to love again.
"Ready?" It had gone as planned, and the battle had begun in the valley. Captain Alisi-Feit was not taking any chances. Good.
She pulled out her sword and nodded. "When you are."
He signalled the men to begin the attack. That day was not going to be easy to forget.
It was working! Instead of trying to kill everyone on sight, all they had to do was break a path through the enemy lines, and keep it open for as long as the rest of the troops needed to get safely on the other side. The men fought hard and gained ground, and they advanced slowly but securely. The carts were slowly advancing, and the cavalry had yet to regroup. If things kept going this way, they would be through in less than one hour.
But something was not quite right. The Demons seemed to fight just as much as it was necessary to keep their current positions. They were not really stopping them, more like drawing out of the way slowly, then regrouping and striking again. What kind of tactic was this?
The officers he had seen before too were avoiding direct confrontation. They remained back, as if they were expecting some signal to engage in battle themselves. The Demons were too calm and too sure on their positions. There was more to this then it seemed. More... but what was it that the Angelians did not know?
Ceni noticed this too. "They're still not planning on fighting back. There is something that does not fit in. We are almost through. Are they not supposed to stand their ground and do their best to keep us from advancing?"
"Yes, they are. That is the general strategy." Unless... By the Gods! "Unless they were planning an attack from one of the flanks. Ceni, quickly, order the cavalry to engage in battle as well. We must break their lines, now!"
But, as he was saying this, a feral cry was heard from their back, accompanied by clatter of hoofs. He turned to see waves of Demon horsemen flowing down from the forests at their back, in a wild cavalcade.
Taken by surprise, the Angelians had little time to come to their senses. Before the shock passed, the Demon infantry was upon them as well. And these men they could see now were not the same ones that had been retreating in front of them. They had transformed into something furious and fearless, cutting their way through the Angelians like they would have done this every day of their life.
Marzio managed to fight back the wave of panic that had hit him at first, and started shouting his orders to those that could still hear him. They would not make it through without major losses, but they had to. Unfortunately, none of his men seemed to hear him through the wild cries and the uproar that was building all around. His voice was swallowed by the other sounds. Metal hitting metal; cries of pain and of victory; horses neighing, frightened by the battle. No way to get to Ceni either. He lost the man in the crowd. And he was forced to protect his own life, too.
He was attacked repeatedly, but he managed to remain on his horse, in one piece. His own rage took hold of him. There was no way he would let the Demons take him down easily. If it was a battle they wanted, then a battle they would get! He was not one to go down without a fight.
He took a blow on his left upper arm, but it was not serious and he kept on striking the enemies that came up to face him, trying his best to make the wounds his sword inflicted lethal. The blade was now slick with blood, but it did not matter. Nothing mattered anymore.
Marzio suddenly found himself right out of the range of battle, and took a minute to catch his breath before throwing himself back in again. His armour and uniform were stained with blood, some of it his own. But he'd be damned if he let things stay as they were now.
He looked around, trying to identify someone he knew. He saw Ceni, far off on his right, engaged in battle with the officer that had been leading the infantry. Or at least, he thought it was the same man. Somewhere to his left, he saw a Demon dressed in high uniform and adorned armour dispatching of as many enemies as he - she? - could. A woman... and by the fighting technique, he believed it was Tempesta Neri-Lokh.
He noticed other good fighters, both Angelian and Demon, engaged in battle to the death. But the one that caught his eyes was mounting a black stallion, and fighting like the evil spirits had taken possession of him. Clean kills, he remarked, amazed. Always clean kills, no pain for this man's opponents. A swift, merciful death.
'This one is mine,' he decided on the spot, and pushed his horse back into the sea of bodies.
The red-haired Dreak lost sight of General Zain-Reil, and for a moment he feared the Angelian might have been killed. But he had no time to think about it, being attacked by an enemy every time he managed to dispose of another. It was really hard to remember all the concepts that had been drilled in him during training. But, after a certain while, they became reflexes.
He had never thought the fight would be so chaotic. He could barely make out his own position. He had lost all sense of orientation. He could hear the river flowing somewhere to his right, so he guessed he had to be on the west side of the battlefield.
So much blood on his hands. So many lives on his conscience. But it had become a reflex. Raising the sword, thrusting it through the enemy's chest or throat, through armour or garments or skin. No feelings of what he was doing. Just the instinct to survive.
He could not see Tempesta or Owen anywhere near. He did not recognize anyone, but instinct told him his friends were still alive, somewhere in the rabble surrounding him.
He parried a blow with his shield. Another thrust, another kill. How long would this go on?
A shout of challenge made him turn his head and raise his shield just in time. The received blow was strong enough to deform the metal; one second later and he would have lost his left arm. Ignis caught sight of blood-covered armour and broadsword, and a silver helmet that shone in the sun of the afternoon. Then he had to parry another blow, and another.
This man was different from the others he had fought. This man had strength, and a good technique. He was a trained warrior.
He landed a few blows himself, trying to make the man drop his shield and be thus in disadvantage. One of them landed on the man's shoulder, the force of the impact making him drop his sword. He bent down quickly to catch it before it could hit the ground.
Ground? There was no ground under them. A sea of dismembered corpses was all that he could see.
Ignis allowed the Angelian to get his sword. He did not like to kill people who could no longer defend themselves. There was no honour in that.
He was prepared to begin the fight again. Just then, the man threw off his helmet, and Ignis' arm stopped in mid-blow. His earlier reticence returned.
The man he was fighting was General Zain-Reil.
He could not kill this man. He was forbidden to kill him.
His hesitation almost cost him his life. The Angelian raised his sword and was ready to deliver a final blow. But another Demon knight came from behind, and hit his right side. The sword broke through the armour, and with a short cry of pain the general dropped his weapon again.
The other Demon was ready to kill the enemy general, and Ignis shouted loudly so he could be overheard, "No! He is mine!"
They fought and fought and fought. The Demon would not give up easily either. Marzio hit, his opponent hit back. They were engaged in a deadly dance and only one could make it out alive.
Strike, parry. Strike again. Marzio's left arm was getting cramped and pain spread through it from the wound he had received earlier. He would not keep his shield for much longer.
He received a blow on his right shoulder. Luckily, it did not go through the armour, but it was strong enough to make him drop his sword. He bowed to recover it, not sure if this meant his death or not. He was lucky. The Demon allowed him to catch it in its fall. He would not kill an unarmed man, in a battle where little mistakes could prove fatal.
His helmet felt heavy on his head, and the sun had heated it to an unbearable temperature. He disposed of it. It meant exposing his head, but it did not matter anymore. He would either die or live; it was as simple as that. Having his head unprotected did not mean anything, really.
But something happened, then. The Demon suddenly froze in his attack. What was the meaning of that?
Now, he had to act now, and quickly. It was his only chance. Whatever had surprised his adversary was in his advantage. He had been wrong. He would be the one to live.
Metal hit metal. Pain crossed his side, making him scream. His hand fell, paralysed. He lost his sword, for good this time. He dropped the shield as well, holding his right side with his left hand. Fortune was against him, after all.
He said a quick prayer in his mind, asking Seleh to protect his family and Drako to take his soul to the other side. He fixed his eyes on the knight before him, to remember the man. Plain golden armour, red uniform. Golden helmet. Wild eyes, staring at him from behind the visor.
"Ignis?"
His sight blurred. Hot blood was wet on his hand, flowing free from the fresh wound. He was getting dizzy. He forced himself to keep his eyes open.
'Ignis?'
The other Demon raised his sword once more. He would strike again...
But Marzio was already falling through a dark abyss. Hands reached out to grab him. Light reflected on a blade above his head. The hands were snatching at him, pulling him down the horse. He tried to fight them, but strength had left him. He was lethargic, and his body fell downward. The hands still pulled at him. He did not want to go. But he had no choice. Never in his life had he had a choice.
Something hard stopped his fall. Someone shouted "He is mine!" but he did not know the voice. Who was it? Who was keeping him there? Darkness was all around him now. The voice was calling him. He could not move. He could not think. The voice kept calling, but it was far off and fading.
Who...?
Praise Drako! The Demon knight had heard him. He had recognized him. He had stopped.
The Angelian general's body dropped forward on his horse. The animal got frightened and neighed. He started running, past Ignis, through the men fighting on horseback or afoot.
He couldn't let him get away!
Ignis turned his horse and launched in a race against the runaway animal. The lines parted before him like waves in front of a ship. A part of his mind registered that the Angelians were dropping their weapons. They had seen the High Commander's body. They thought him dead, and were surrendering. No use fighting without a leader. Without the one that had been their support and in which lay all their hopes.
Nevertheless, Ignis kept shouting at his men, "Let the horse through. He is mine!" If one tried to stop the startled animal, it had to be by force. And if the body dropped from the saddle, then the Angelian could very well break his neck in the fall. There was little hope he was still alive, but it was something Ignis wanted to hang on to. If the general was still alive, he could heal him. He could save his life.
He would absolutely not let him die.
"Where in the seven hells are you going?" Tempesta shouted at him when he passed her by.
He did not stop his race. "Take care of the prisoners!" he shouted back, not sure if she had heard him. But she didn't need to be told what to do. It was her duty, after all.
He kept racing south, following the trail of blood the general's horse had left behind. Severe blood-loss was not a good sign. But he had to be alive.
His own stallion was getting tired. No matter, he was close now. He lunged his hand and managed to get hold of the reins. The other horse slowed down, to finally draw to a stop.
Ignis jumped from the saddle, pulling pulled the general's body down as well. Gently, less he would cause any more damage. He laid the man back on the grass and bent over him, checking for a pulse.
He found it. Slow, but it was there, and steady too. It gave him enough time to get into camp before actually beginning the healing process. This was good. He could do it properly, then.
He fought the tiredness he felt, and rose to his feet. He took off his cloak and tore a piece of cloth that was more or less clean, and slowly pushed it under the Angelian's broken armour, to slow down the flow of blood. He managed to get the man up and back on his horse. He mounted himself, grabbed the other horse's reins and began another wild race, back to the Demonis camp in the woods. He slowed down a couple of times, to make sure the general did not fall off his mount, but that was all. Every second mattered, now.
But he would make it in time. He was sure of it. He had to be sure of it. Hope was the last thing to die, or at least so it was said.