Much of the previous night’s rain had frozen over, leaving the grassy fields covered in a thin layer of frost. Despite the warmth of morning’s first light, the air was frigid. Maebus wiped a fine misting of ice crystals from his eyebrows. Among the cold morning mist and dank atmosphere stood the ranks of the Realmsic Army.
Throughout the night, the battalion had marched in formation to their assignments. Just as Commander Khroy had strategized, a part of their force took up defensive perimeters around the back of the Realmsic Castle. The remainder was several miles beyond the outskirts of the capital, where Maebus was currently positioned. Each line of soldiers prepared a specific task according to their function. Their training, along with many years of battle experience, had taught them to work as one. The King was pleased.
Dressed in full battle armor, Maebus sat horseback at the head of their formation. Beside him sat Commander Khroy. As the sun continued to rise above them, all remained eerily calm. Maebus observed weapons being distributed among the military. War torches were ignited. He knew that the life of a Realmsic soldier was afforded few comforts. Many years were invested into each individual to develop the fortitude which they displayed.
Maebus thought of how their bodies were conditioned to withstand pain; their minds were disciplined to follow orders. Initially, recruits were trained in the harshest environments and soon became indifferent to hot and cold climates. Through brutal combat drills known as the Helzig, a recruit was mentally and physically abused. Rigorous exercises built discipline and strength. Their minds were stretched beyond the limits of tolerance, and then stretched further. Their bodies became like steel as they endured similar punishment.
After healing and re-healing, the body calloused and became capable of withstanding the force of a magical blast, as well as the blow of an opponent’s weapon. From that point, a recruit was subjected to the wrath of the Crucifers: War Wizards militarized for the sole purpose of defending the kingdom. From the Crucifers, soldiers didn’t learn magic but, rather, applied defenses against it.
Maebus regretted that he hadn’t trained as his men did. But he knew he would be no less ready. To be a Realmsic soldier indeed meant to suffer. But no greater pride came from the survival of such trials. No greater confidence came from knowing you were the best.
Beyond a shadow of a doubt, his Realmsic Army was ready to face the Legion. He knew that rumors had circulated their ranks for some time that the Legion would be the fiercest opponents they’d yet to face. Many marched into battle knowing it would be their last, but the notion of fear had long left the Realmsic soldier.
With Khroy at his side, Maebus watched the approach of a Realmsic Army Captain, who swiftly galloped towards their position, undoubtedly with a status report. With a mighty neigh, the man’s steed, a painted stallion, halted before them. Pulling on its reins, the Captain dismounted in one fluid motion.
“Sire, Commander,” he saluted, “I’m Captain Derwun. I bring the latest report from the field.”
Maebus immediately noticed the soldier’s hard, dark eyes, sunken into a chiseled, narrow face. Upon closer examination, he saw that Derwun’s beard was actually mud smeared beneath his chin. His hands were also caked with the dried substance. Older, experienced soldiers sometimes did this to symbolize the earth which they came from, and would possibly return to. Derwun was ready for war.
Maebus nodded to Khroy, who questioned the Captain. “What have you, Captain Derwun?”
“Sir, as ordered, the combat battalion has taken their designated positions.”
“And what are the positions?”
“Combat Battalion One has been separated into two platoons. Each is aligned along our natural ridges here beyond Centre Pointe, and will maintain a left and right perimeter.”
Khroy briefly turned to Maebus. “The ridges provide a natural funnel that will force the enemy into a smaller, localized area,” he explained. “Each platoon should outnumber the amount of Legionaries who file through it.”
“Excellent,” Maebus stated. “Captain, please continue.”
“Aye, Commandant. Beyond Combat Battalion One is a mobile formation of Crucifers. They will maintain their position but provide distance support via air attacks.
“The Crucifers will shoot fireballs just over our troops into Damian’s forces, like a magical rain of fire. If the first perimeter is breached, the Crucifers will march forward and reestablish the stronghold. If the enemy is still able to break through our defensive line, they’ll encounter Combat Battalion Two—our second defensive line positioned outside of the Realmsic Castle. Once they engage, the Crucifers will double back and attack the Warlord’s forces from behind.”
“No,” Maebus interrupted. “I don’t want the Crucifers to engage the Legion directly. Have them rally to the high grounds located just east of the castle. Combat Battalion Two will need their continued air support.”
Khroy raised an eyebrow. “Sire,” he began, “Combat Battalion Two is a significantly smaller force than the first. They’ll need the additional fighting strength of the Crucifers. Air support may not be enough.”
“I understand that, Commander. But keep in mind that we’ll be fighting an unorthodox enemy. Therefore, an unorthodox strategy is needed.”
Khroy waited for further explanation, but Maebus remained silent.
Captain Derwun continued. “Sire, Commander. Every soldier has been given specific orders per your instructions. All have been accounted for and are prepared to fulfill their duty. The battle will commence on your word.”
Maebus nodded with satisfaction.
“Outstanding, Captain. Return to your position and await engagement,” Khroy saluted.
“Aye, sir.” The officer saluted in kind, remounted his horse and galloped away.
Maebus and Khroy watched him disappear before continuing their discussion of strategy.
“The distance between our current position and the castle should provide a sufficient buffer,” Khroy noted.
“I have the utmost trust in you, Commander. But I hope I have not put you at a disadvantage regarding our plans, by keeping you in the dark for too long.” Maebus kept his voice low as he spoke to prevent unwanted ears overhearing.
“What do you mean?”
Maebus briefly scanned the perimeter before answering. “As you know, prior to this day, I sent individual messages to all Council members and the Joint Officers Corps. For the protection of our people and this operation, I cannot share with you their orders, just as I’ve not shared your orders with them. Beneath our military strategy is a hidden agenda. You are trained to fight and win battles, yet I need you to understand that this battle will not unfold as you expect it to. Regardless, you must follow your instructions to the letter!”
Deep creases appeared across Khroy’s weathered face. He hesitated before speaking. Lips tight, he said, “Before all, I’m a soldier who knows his responsibilities and who faithfully performs his duties. That being said, I read your instructions to me, over and over again. I swear to you, your Highness, what you ask of me ... I don’t think I can do. And I—”
“I know, Khroy,” Maebus interrupted before he could argue further. “I know I’ve asked what may seem impossible of you, and perhaps of everyone on this battle field. But no matter what your inner feelings tell you, I’m telling you to fight against it. Do as you’ve been instructed. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Khroy’s heavy brows knitted above his eyes. Tiny vertical lines whitened around his mouth as though he struggled to restrain his words. He’s angry, thought Maebus. He waited to see how his Commander would respond. It was a test of his training but, more than that, it was a test of his loyalty.
“Maebus ... my dear friend,” Khroy began, momentarily dropping all formality, “I’ll perform as duty demands of me. However,” he paused, “you don’t have to be here. We’ll follow your word as given. You don’t have to put yourself at risk.”
Like Khroy, Maebus was well versed in military st
rategy, but what he lacked was combat experience, at least on a large scale. Maebus knew this was why Khroy tried to dissuade him now.
“When no one believed the threat of Damian to be real, it was you who tried to persuade King Theodo,” Khroy said. “And when King Theodo and all others fled in fear of facing Damian, you stepped forward to lead the Realm. Therefore, you have nothing to prove to anyone. The future of our home is much too important for you to risk your life in battle. Even if you resided atop the castle’s command tower, we’d still fight for you.”
Maebus nodded as he reached over to reassuringly squeeze the Commander on his arm. “Khroy, I understand your concerns and those of Kelm, who intercepted me before I left the castle. But this battle is perhaps the most dire any of us will fight in our lifetimes. I couldn’t live with myself watching its outcome from the command tower, standing by as others sacrificed so much, knowing I was able-bodied and willing to help influence this battle’s result.”
Maebus paused, clenching his jaw. Anger flared deep in his belly. “Also, for myself, I want to see the face of this Warlord Damian.”
A disturbance in the distance drew their attention to the western horizon. Barely noticeable at first, it grew within seconds to a steady vibration, intensifying to a tremor. Khroy’s and Maebus’ horses were startled, pawing the ground and whickering. The ranks of soldiers wobbled as the ground shook beneath their feet.
“Hold your positions!” Khroy shouted.
Maebus strapped on his war helmet and unsheathed his battle sword. An image of Landi flashed in his mind; her kind eyes and tender smile. He realized that during the previous night’s preparations, he’d not had a chance to say good-bye. He now may never.
Breathing deeply to steady his nerves, Maebus gripped his sword tightly. There was no doubt in his mind. The storm he’d witness brewing in the distant lands of the Realm was now here.
Several miles out, a dark mass appeared across the land. It slowly spread over the distant hills, blanketing them. Likewise, the tremors transitioned into a solid quake. As the enormous mass approached, it engulfed the land like black lava flowing from an eruption, consuming everything within its reach.
“What magic is this?” Khroy asked, barely maintaining control of his horse.
“This isn’t magic!” Maebus replied. He pointed towards the shadowy mass, growing larger, coming closer.
Within it, he recognized the outline of a face and then another. Through the dust cloud heading towards them, he began seeing full bodily figures. Maebus couldn’t believe his eyes. This flood was comprised of humans!
Thousands upon thousands of warriors were sprinting full speed towards them. The force of their footfalls shook the earth. Damian’s Legion was here. Their presence darkened the kingdom like the shadowy blanket of night.
The warmth of the sunlight slowly dissolved from Maebus’ face as the mass plumed heavy dust clouds into the sky. His heart rate accelerated in time to a rising fear. The kingdom would surely drown in the vastness of this marauding army. For years he’d studied combat, had mastered weapons and had known the experiences of many soldiers. But nothing prepared him for this moment—the timelessness before war.
Maebus gathered his nerves. “No matter what happens, Khroy, I need you to trust me,” he said.
Despite the trembling ground, the Realmsic Army stood strong. Each soldier maintained his stance, fearless and ever ready for inevitable blood. As the distance between the Realmsic Army and the Legion diminished, Maebus realized it was now or never. He raised his sword high into the sky. The blade glinted in the little remaining sunlight.
“Commander,” he shouted. “Give the order.”
The word bellowed from Khroy, “Attack!”
Like lightning, the Realmsic Army’s infantry and cavalry sprinted and galloped from their positions, weapons drawn. Man and horse ran at top speed. Maebus squeezed his thighs against Nightly, galloping as fast as the steed would carry him. He felt the heat of the mighty stallion beneath him. The wind whistled through his helmet as the clanging of metal and the stomping of hooves filled his ears. The wall of Legionaries drew closer.
Kicking the sides of his horse, he leapt into the air, hurdling the heads of the first Legionarie rank. Briefly, while airborne, he saw the entirety of their force. Their numbers, he feared, were endless. Landing within their midst, he immediately swung wildly with his sword. He felt the percussion of the first Realmsic soldiers crashing into Damian’s Legion.
Chaos ensued as both sides shouted, shrieked, and fought. Sparks pulsed from clanging Legionarie swords and flickered in every direction. The sparking seemed otherworldly and fearsome. Maebus could only imagine that they had doused their weapons in a flammable substance that ignited when slammed against metal. Maebus realized he was in trouble, and he’d already lost Khroy in the confusion.
• • • • •
Commander Khroy was barely able to keep up with Maebus during the battle’s commencement. But through the mayhem, he managed to keep him in sight. He tried desperately to fight his way towards the King. There was no way he’d let anything happen to him. But the battlefield was ablaze. The tiniest flicker from a Legionarie’s sword set fire to everything around it. Khroy’s previous experience could never have prepared him for this.
Suddenly a flash of fire screeched across the sky.
“Whoooaah!” Khroy shouted, scrambling to get away.
BOOOOM!!!
He and several others soldiers were blown off their feet.
Hitting the ground hard, it took Khroy a moment to regain his awareness. Watching the blurry form of his horse galloping away, the hair on his neck stood erect as he felt the powerful vibrations of another fireball over his head. The Crucifers were raining fire from the sky, and it smashed into the earth, creating craters upon impact.
Where is he?
Where’s Maebus?
A thunderous boom reverberated above the tumult.
Another fireball exploded near Khroy amidst a sea of Legionaries. Within the confusion, he swung his broadsword savagely until no enemies remained near him. Spinning in a full circle, he saw that he’d lost track of Maebus. His men were scattered and being pushed back. His split-battalion perimeters were not holding. They were literally drowning in Legionaries. How could they have been so unprepared?
The world around Khroy became silent. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. The temperature of his body rose as a heated pressure bubbled just beneath the surface of his being. He tried to contain it, but it shot through his body. Instinctively, Khroy leapt forward, slipping, dodging, and maneuvering around the attacks of his enemies. He saw not their faces. He felt only the force of his swings; the impact of his weapon thrashing through all within its path. His sword hungered. He fed it with blood.
At that moment, throughout the field, several whistles blew at once. Before Khroy could comprehend what was happening, the Realmsic Army dispersed into every direction. He couldn’t believe his eyes. His men were fleeing the battlefield.
“Stop!” he shouted. “What are you doing? Turn around! Hold your ground!”
“No they will not, Commander,” a voice yelled.
Relief brightened Khroy’s craggy features when Maebus galloped towards him.
“Maebus!”
“Khroy, the first battalion line has already broken, and I’ve asked of our men the impossible … to abandon their positions. Now, come quickly to the castle, we’ve not a moment to lose.”
“You what?” Khroy exclaimed, falling to his knees.
“I’ve asked you to trust me, Commander,” Maebus replied, extending his hand.
Khroy reached for it. After being pulled up, he mounted the King’s horse and the two galloped full speed towards the second battalion.
Chapter Eight