9. Casualties of war.

Lord Stanza danced away from a blow that would have, if it had hit its mark killed him instantly, as it was he only received a minor jolt as his enemies weapons glanced off his shield and fell away. Not wanting to give the man another opportunity Stanza swung his sword upwards, and then turning it at the last minute severed his enemies arm.

He turned away, he hated to see a man die, however much it was for a good cause, the man he had just killed might have a wife, children, siblings, parents. And he had just killed me for he would surely die in this battle. Someone else might deal the fatal blow that would kill him.

It was a nightmare. Masses of struggling bodies, weapons hitting shields or other weapons. The sounds of injured or dying men. Then the birds above as they waited for their meal. It was a person's worst nightmare, and he wished that his, that Lady Merelda didn't have to witness it. He wished that she was still in the camp, and away from such things. But she had been determined to fight, and who was he to deny her that. She wanted to help in bringing about a separate country from that mad evil king. And he would not deny her that, how could he, when he understood everything she felt, everything she wanted. And he would give to her without a moment's hesitation.

Another man fell beneath his sword followed closely by another ten men all of them were worthy opponents, all wanting to kill him. But he would not fall; he had to stay alive for Merelda, for his Lady, for everyone in Alagaesia he needed to stay alive.

He paused catching his breath, what would it take to finish this war, would he have to kill thousands of people for it all to end? It was six hours into the battle and they were all exhausted, each and every one of them. Arrows rained down on them as Lord Stanza ran to the aid of one of his comrades who was surrounded by ten of the enemy's men. He trusted his sword through one mans back feeling as it exited his front. The man dropped as soon as the sword had been drawn back out of him. He spun on the spot and swinging his sword cut off another man's head, he was instantly sprayed with blood.

Two more men joined him, then another and another, and slowly they were abler top drive the enemy back, hacking and slashing at them as they went. They had to succeed. They just had to!

"To me!" he called, "to me!"

Men answered his call and came to stand with him as the enemy rushed at them with all the fury of an angry beast, of an angry dragon. Minutes later and they were reengaged in a life and death battles of steel each fighting to suppress the other. They would win, they would.

At some point during the battle he felt pain course through him, whether he was bruised more had more serious injuries he did not care. They would not give in. they would not allow the empire to throw them down. They would win this battle, they had to.

More hours past and finally the battle was over, they had won, they had actually won the battle and even though they were all tired, many of them wanted to celebrate.

Lord Stanza picked his way through the battlefield, exhausted and bloodstained the shaft of an arrow sticking out of his arm; blood ran down his fingers and dripped onto the already red ground. The vultures, crows and other birds descended while wild dogs walked through the battlefield feasting on the dead.

All Stanza could think about was Merelda, was she alright? Was she still alive? What had happened to her?

He walked back into their camp, his sword hanging limply from his side and his shield torn and battered hanging from his injured arm.

"Stanza!" a voice shouted ahead of him and suddenly he felt arms wrap around him holding him tightly. He dropped his sword and dimly aware of what he was doing he wrapped his uninjured arm her. It was Merelda, she was safe! And that was all that mattered to him.

Heldra sat calmly on a stool with her cell, thinking. How could her beloved son do this to her again? Why would he torment her like this? Bringing her back to her husband's castle, back to her castle, that the usurper now lived. When she had entered it with her children she noticed immediately the changes that had been made. It was a lot darker and colder here, and the servants did not linger.

But it was not for herself she worried, it was for her children, she feared that the traitor would kill them, or worse keep them close by him and poison their good hearts. That he would make them all suffer for simply being born. Yet she knew that some of them would die. Her son, Alda would have to be killed, as a rival he could prove to be dangerous if kept alive. So he would die, it was a good thing that she had done leaving her little Riase behind. No one would ever know who he was and he would grow and prosper. He didn't look much like his father. So that, she supposed was a blessing. But it hurt her to know that she would never see her young son ever again.

But it had torn her heart apart to leave him behind; no matter how much she hated doing it she knew that it was for the best.

That left her daughters. What would become of them? She wondered, what would happen to them? What would that man do to them?

In a way, her death meant nothing to her. She would be back with her Angrenost. Her beloved husband who had been killed so that a mad man could take the throne. Who had been a casualty of war, just as they would too become casualties of this war that raged throughout her beloved country.

"Mother," A gentle hand took her icy cold one, and she looked up to see Alda, her beautiful boy standing in front of her. "are you well?" she nodded, she didn't' want to tell him how much she was suffering. He didn't need to know how much she longed for the old days.

"Yes, my son, I am well." She said,

He knelt in front of her and with her free hand she stroked his hair. That man had decided that those who where to die would be kept together if only to make it easier to guard them. She and Alda weren't the only ones in here, there were others too; even some of her daughters, several of her younger children, and even her grandchildren were in here. They too must be condemned to die.

"Are you going to die lady mother?" he asked, he was a grown man now, but he would always be here little boy, her precious sweet little boy. But she knew she had to be honest with him.

"Yes, my son, I am. Everyone here will die, but fear will only make the pain of death grow, accept your fate as it is deemed to be and be content in the knowledge that whatever will be done to rid this land of that man will happen in time." She felt her throat tighten and had to fight back the urge to cry.

Suddenly the door open and in walk several guards.

"You're coming with us." They said, marching up to her and grabbing her arms, Alda held on tightly unwilling to let her go.

2mother, don't leave us!" he begged, tears rolling down his cheeks. A lord followed the guards and stood watching.

"May we have a moment?" she asked the lord, who nodded reluctantly. The guards released her for a moment.

"All will be well my son." She cupped his cheek with her hand and wiped away a tear with her thumb. "Death cannot separate us. We will see each other again, in the land of eternal peace. Do not fear what is to come."

"I need you lady mother." It was one of her daughters, Heldra felt sadness course through her body, such a waste, she thought, such a shame that these children must die for who they are.

"You have the strength; you have the courage, use it wisely, and do not let your enemy see your fear." She spoke to everyone within the room now. "That will be their greatest triumph."

"Enough! Come."

The guards fell into line in front of her and behind. The lord went before them and Heldra felt as if she were gliding, as if she weren't really in her body. She was numb; an execution without trial, without crime, without justice, the madman had surely lost his touch. She would die this day but she would not go quietly, she would say her piece and she would be heard. The people would know the injustice of it.