" Release them!" the boy shouted. The voice rang over the field, and Darius felt his heart stop. He knew that voice. But it couldn't be... No. He must have been hearing things.
" Why would I? What will a boy king like you do to me. I have three hundred of my best soldiers in this camp!" Taleth answered, with a sneer. His men cheered behind him, lifting their swords up.
" You will release them, or you will face my soldiers. You see... there are twice as much of us than there of you." Behind the boy, a massive amount of armed men rode onto the hill, their capes flailing in the air. The view silenced Taleth for a moment, before he composed himself again.
" You could have brought three thousand of your best men, Jaron, but you still won't be able to win. "
Darius heard his parents gasp behind him at the name. It felt like someone had just punched him in the gut. Jaron? His little brother? No, it wasn't possible. Jaron was somewhere in the world, far away. How could he suddenly be here? With six hundred soldiers?
" You will adress His Majesty with his proper title, you filth!" The man next to Jaron screamed, but the boy lifted a hand to silence him. They conversed something in a quiet tone, and after a while the man nodded, and led his horse slightly backwards. Even from this distance. Darius could see the small movement he did with his hand, and the men behind him straightened up.
" I'm giving you one more chance, Taleth. Let my family go, and leave." Jaron's voice was calm, but he was clearly furious. Even after five years, Darius could read the signs that he was. The slight bowing of his head. How he sat still, as if waiting to be ambushed. And of course the calm voice. Jaron was almost never calm like this.
" It doesn't work like that dear boy."
" I guess you can run away screaming if that's what you want. I just figured you might want a more graceful retreat."
Taleth snarled at the boy. " Never. "
Jaron shook his head, as if disappointed. Then he looked back at the man who had spoke up, and gave him a nodded. Suddenly the man lifted his hand up, fingers spread wide, and a dozen flaming arrows flew from behind the crest of the hill, aimed at the Avenians.
Only a few men had enough time to scream, before they were put down by an arrow in their chest or neck. While most of the men were focused on the arrows, about a hundred or so men started up the hill, shouting insults at the Carthayans.
Jaron lifted his sword into the air, let out a furious scream, followed by his men, as the urged his horse down hill. Within seconds, the two sides clashed, and blood flew everywhere. Men fell, both Avenians and Carthayans.
In their cell, Darius, Erin and Eckbert backed against the furthest wall, not knowing what to do. That was when a crash sounded behind the door of their cell, and a few grunts. Someone was behind the door.
After a few seconds, the sound of keys jigling filled the air, and the lock started turning. The door opened slowly, and a man stepped inside. Darius recognised him as the one who had been next to Jaron on the hill.
" Who are you?" Eckbert asked shakily, and the man removed his helmet, revealing his dark skinned face, and brown eyes.
" My name is Mott, King Jaron's personal body guard, At least I like to call myself that. But lets get moving. It won't be long before someone notices someone I broke in here. Follow me."
" Jaron's alive? He's the king?" Erin asked, as Mott moved to open the chackles attached to her wrists.
" Indeed he is. He's been the king for nearly a year now, and a very good one at that. " The chains fell off the ex-queen's hands, and Mott moved to Darius. " The people love him."
" That's very hard to believe." Eckbert muttered, and Mott turned around to look at him with a furious glare. " Do you realize what he's been through? He had to face the war you were too afraid to face, when he was sixteen! A war against three countries! He went from an orphan to King in two weeks! And now, he's risking his own life, and the lives of his people to save you! If I were you, I would speak of him with more respect!"
With that Mott busied himself with the chains, ignoring the stunned looks the royals were giving him.
Finally, three pairs of chains were laying on the floor, and the three prisoners and Mott were racing up the stairs to the outside world. The bright sunlight blinded them for a moment, but they kept going forward, letting Mott lead them into te nearby forest.
Darius risked a look behind at the battlefield, and felt a bang of guilt in his gut when he saw the amount of bodies.
Althouhg most belonged to Avenians, there were about thirty men down wearing Carthayan colors. But inside it all, he could see Jaron. His left cheek was bruised, with a long cut, and his right side was drenched in blood. But his face was full of determination, as he cut down another Avenian.
It was him. Darius was sure of it. It had been five years since he had seen his little brother, but the fierce look in his eyes was one of a kind.
Suddenly, a stone hard grip closed around his dirty collar, and Darius found himself being pulled throuhg the forest by Mott, his parents stumbling on the man's right side. Both were breathing heavily, not having had a lot to eat in the past year, and almost no room to really move. They hadn't had this much exercise in months.
" Slow down, please. We can't go this fast." Eckbert pleaded, and Mott, who hadn't broken a sweat, gave him a glance, continuing at his fast pace.
" It's only a matter of time before someone comes to check on you, and notices you're gone. The faster we get away, the better. "
" As your king, I command you to slow down!" Eckbert huffed, and Mott stopped so fast that the slightly older man ran head on into him.
" You're not my king. Jaron is. And he gave me this order. I'm going to follow it."
After that, they traveled in silence, thankfully at a slightly slower pace, wondering what was happening on the battlefield.
Slash. Cut. Jump. Dive. Slash.
The words flew in my mind, as I cut down the enemies, one by one. I was covered in blood, both mine and my opponents. My arms were aching from the bruises, I had gathered in the battle, along with the weight of the sword.
A huge gash on my side burned, but instead of screaming in pain every time I was reminded of it, I cursed the devils.
I lunged forward, and swung my sword in a wide arc, slashing the throats of two Avenians open. I grimaced at the blood, as it splattered on my face; I wasn't very fond of killing men, even if they were my enemies. Everytime a man lost his life, I was reminded of the families that they had left back at some village far away. Not all of them were even volunteers in the army. The Avenian soldiers were so big in numbers because the men were forced to join the army.
So unless the men had a murderous glint in their eye, meaning they clearly wanted to be here, I tried not to kill them. Injure them so that they wouldn't fight, but so that it wouldn't kill them.
Something hit me from behind, sending me sprawled onto the ground, my sword flying form my grasp. As I started to get up, I felt something press me to the ground, and the sharp blade of a knife, appeared on hy throat.
" Get up, slowly." I heard Taleth mutter, and I followed his instructions, not wanting to have my throat slit. Once I was standing, Taleth screamed at everyone to stop, saying he would slit my throat if they didn't. Immediately the battlefield quieted down.
" I told you couldn't win. You should've listened to me." he whispered into my ear, and I smiled.
" And I told you to let my family go and leave. I gave you a chance to leave gracefully. I guess now you need to leave screaming."
I drove my elbow into his stomach with my left arm, and with my other, Igrabbed the knife from his grasp. I twirled around, turned him the other way, locking his arms around his back, and put the knife on his throat. Everything happened so fast, that it took a moment for anyone to understand what had happened.
" Order them to surrender, or I promise they will never get another order from you again. " I said to him, and soon enough the Avenians had all put their weapons down, and were being put into chains some of my soldiers had retrieved from the carriages we had left a few hundred yards away.
I had the Avenins who had been wounded cared for, but only after the healers were ready with my own soldiers, unless the wound was serious. We had won the fight.
I was walking through the neat line of bodies covered in white sheets, feeling my heart being torn to pieces. There were about seventy bodies, seventy of my men laying dead on the ground. Seventy families back at Drylliad, who would live their lives without a family member.
" Jaron?" I turned around to see Tobias, a friend of mine standing only a few paces behind me. "You're wounded. You need to be taken to a healer. "
" Have the men been looked after?" I had ordered the men to be cared for, before me, wanting to make sure there were no more victims in this battle than there had to be. Tobias nodded.
I stared at him for a moment, before shaking my head.
" What would I do without you, Tobias. You and your disobediance to my orders to stay at Drylliad." The last sentence was only half-joking. I had told Tobias to stay at Drylliad, but had he listened? No. He had tried to follow us, but one of my scouts had found him when we were only a few hours ride from Avenia's border.
Tobias gave me a shy smile, and rubbed his neck nervously. I walked over to him, and patted him on the back, before giving one last look at the bodies lying around us, and whispering a silent apology.
Then we headed towards the small tent, which acted as a healing center. Men sat around the interrior of the makeshift camp, drinking coffee from mugs, and eating dried meat that had been warmed by a fire.
When they saw me, a cheer errupted in the air, and the men began chanting my name. It felt good to hear it, but I couldn't help but feel guilty about getting all the glory. So, I stopped, and held out my hands to silence the crowd.
" My fellow soldiers..." A cheer sounded in the air, but quieted down once I began speaking again. " It is not me, that you should be cheering to. You earn as much of this glory, as I do. Many of us have fallen today." The men lowered their gazes, and some glanced at hill where the bodies had been taken for the time being. " These men, have given their lives. But they will not be forgotten!" The men lifted their heads, sensing I had something important to say. " And neither will we! Tomorrow, we will leave to Drylliad, and we will tell their families, how brave they were! And we will tell our own children, how we fought, side by side with our brothers! And a hundred years from now... the children will say: ' Remember Bob? He was there, fighting against the Avenians." I walk over to one of the soldiers; Bob, a red haired middle-aged man, as I speak, and pat his shoulder, earning a smile from the man. " 'Or old pal Nicholas?'"
I point at a man at the opposite side of the fire. Then I turn around to the hill with the bodies. " 'And Thomas! Clayton! Ralen! They were all great soliers!' That is what the children will say a hundred years form now. We have seen larger battles, but not even the smallest will be forgotten! And we will not be forgotten! Our sacrifices will not be forgotten! We will not forget the brothers we lost today!" The men rose onto their feet and threw their arms into the air, shouting the names of people who had lost their lives, but the shouts soon changed to chanting my name.
" Long live the King! Long live the King!"
A smile spread across my face, and I un-sheathed my sword, and pointed it at the sky. The men followd suit, and soon five-hundred-and-thirty swodrs were being held in the air. Finally, afer a few urges from Tobias, I made my way through the men, and entered the healing tent.
As I stepped inside, I just barely avoided crashing into Mott, as he was heading outside.
" Mott, where have you been? " I asked once I steady myself.
But before he had a chance to answer, a voice from behind him made my heart stop for a moment.
" Jaron?" It was my father's.
Mott stepped aside, revealing my family sitting on pillows at the far end of the tent. My mother covered her mouth with a hand when she saw me, and Darius' mouth was hanging open. My father was looking at me, disbelief in his eyes, his mouth moving, with no words coming out.
There they were. The people I hadn't seen in five years. My family. But something didn't feel right. I didn't want to meet them. No, I was afraid to meet them. But there was some anger mixed in it too. Anger at my father for never accepting me. Anger at them all for sending me away.
" Is that really you?"
I glare at my father for a moment, just barely controling the fury gathering inside me. Then, I shift my gaze to look at Mott.
" I'll be outside if you need me."
And without a second look, I turn around, and walk out of the tent.
The journey back to Drylliad took two days, due to the injured. There had been only five sirious ones, but we had about one hundred Avenians in the carriages, meaning the horses pulling them moved slower than usual.
The Avenians were being brought to court at Drylliad, after being charged with the kidnapping of the royal family.
I hadn't spoke with them, not interacted with them in any way since the encounter in the healing tent. After I had left, Tobias had sent a few medics to tend to my wounds. The gash on my right side had been a lot worse than I had thought. Curse the Avenian who had given it to me. The wound had been infected, and cleaning it had been torture. Now, I could barely breathe due to the tight bandage around my mid-section.
We entered Drylliad through its massive gates. Immediately we were swarmed by citizens, happy to see their king and husbands and fathers were still alive. But I knew, that somewhere in the crowd were the families of seventy fallen soldiers.
It felt good to be back at the castle. Jaron had sent the rest of his family to Drylliad immdeiately after they had been treated for, and fed. They were led by Tobias, one of Jaron's regents, through a passage in the sewers, something that would have made Darius uncomfortable, if he hadn't smelled worse than the odor there.
Jaron didn't want to reveal that the royal family had been found, at least not before they were healthy again. After they made their way through the seweres and the kitchens, they were immdiately brought to the royal wing, where they were sent to the baths. It had taken hours for all the dirt to be scrubbed off their bodies, and another two for them to start smelling decsent.
New clothes were brought to them, and Darius had gratefully slipped the soft shirt and jeans on, relieved to be freed from the rags he had been wearing for the last year.
They had arrived in the middle of the night, so everyone, except some maids and the guard wre asleep, giving them a chance to be lead to a guest room by Tobias relatively quietly, without a big fuss.
Each of them had fallen on their beds without further encouraging, and fallen asleep within seconds. Sleep hadn't been possible in the carriage they were trasported in, due to its wooden floor, with splinters sticking out every inch.
They were woken up the next day, by a horn sounding; the sign that the troops were returning. Within half an hour, they were standing on a balcony facing out to the city. There, a hundred or so meters away, the army was splitting up, returning to their families. But Darius' eyes weren't on the people. They were on his brother.
Jaron was wading through the people, nodding at them at times, and occationally stoping in front of a woman, and talking to her. Every time he finished speaking, she would have tears streaming down her face. The fact clearly saddened Jaron.
Darius knew what he was doing. He was telling them about the death of their husband, son or brother. But instead of giving him nasty looks, and blaming him for leading their loved ones to heir deaths, the people bowed their heads to him, or embraced him when he gave them the chance, and this made Darius curious. It took a very special person to earn this kind of a respect from the people. At least now he was sure of one thing.
Jaron had changed.