Chapter 9- A Harsh Lesson in War
Some hours later, Tarrance's half-company was the last of a long line of weary, emotionally drained soldiers to enter the mercenary fort. Flik shivered; the wind was gusting in chilly spurts, piling up low, dark clouds overhead, causing a premature twilight to descend in the late afternoon. Viktor was nearby, discussing the treatment of the wounded and the disposition of the sentries. Tsai was collecting Fire Spears, examining them with a concerned look on his face. Apple was huddled with Leona and some representatives from the refugees, talking to them in a hurried tone. Nanami sat on the steps of the headquarters building, tightly hugging Pilika, the younger brown haired girl still in her simple pink dress. Nanami's eyes were red-shot and haunted. Jowy stood nearby, watching the two girls, his pale face reflecting battle ardor gone cold. Riou stood aloof, even in the midst of a crowd, closed eyes seemingly fixed on some point in the far distance. Flik, for one, was looking forward to a hot meal and his bed.
Suddenly, his instincts kicked in; something was out of place. He spotted it almost immediately, a young boy running in from the refugee camp. All of the conversations in the fort stopped as the men turned to watch. Apple broke free from her group and walked towards the kid, bending down to hear what he said. Flik started walking in that direction, too, followed by Viktor. Flik's hand strayed towards the pommel of his sword.
"-Highland soldiers, coming this way, a whole lot of them," Flik heard the boy exclaim. Apple jerked upright, as if she'd been struck. Behind, Flik heard the sudden hushed murmuring of hundreds of soldiers. He knew what they were thinking, that they'd already won the battle for today and that they shouldn't have to fight again.
Viktor put his arm on Apple's shoulder. "So, we'd better get ready to go back to battle. Any strategies?"
Tsai trotted over to them. "The Fire Spears will need maintenance before we can use them in another major battle. There's no telling how they will react if they're used again." He frowned.
Apple set her face. "We'll do what we have to do." Then, brushing Tsai aside, she walked towards the steps of the headquarters building. The soldiers, already reforming into companies, turned to attention. "I know that you are tired," she began, "but so are the Highlanders. We beat them once today and we can beat them again." She turned to Flik. "Flik, you will lead your cavalry as the vanguard. Engage the Highlanders, give Viktor time to deploy to your rear, and then slide off to Viktor's left. Viktor, deploy your eight companies as you see fit. Your front will be narrower, so defending should be easier. Riou's company is the rearguard and will be used to move refugees out of the camp. Now go!"
Flik turned to walk towards his men. From behind he heard Viktor talking to Riou. "Are you ready to go?"
Flik did not hear Riou's answer. Instead, he was met by Rossgard and Tarrance, along with the two other senior sergeants, Chester and Simeon. Without a preamble, he laid out the plan. "We will advance in a diamond formation. Tarrance will be the vanguard, with Chester on the right flank, Simeon on the left flank, and Rossgard to the rear. We will advance through the camp and engage the Highlanders at extreme range. We will do two," he held up two fingers, "Fire Spear attacks. Then, Rossgard will lead his half company off to our left, becoming the vanguard of a diamond formation moving in that direction. Simeon will hold the right flank in this formation, Chester the left flank, and Tarrance will become the rearguard. We slide off to the left and anchor Viktor's left flank. Any questions?"
There were no questions, or any useless displays of machismo. They all knew that the odds were bad. Finally, Tarrance said, "We understand, sir."
Flik nodded and then glanced back at Viktor's men assembling into a long marching line. Viktor gave Flik a goofy smile and then nodded. Flik turned back to his men and said, "We move out now."
Outside the fort, Flik's cavalry was besieged almost immediately by a crowd of refugees streaming towards the fort. They wailed in fear, clawing at one another in their desperation to escape the Highlanders, threatening to block Flik's march more completely than any similar body of enemy soldiers might have attempted. There were young mothers with howling children, men supporting their infirm parents, people with little more than the clothes on their backs, and some who were trying to guide carts piled with possessions. Others had already decided that the fort was no refuge, trying instead for the safety of the trees. A few, Flik sighed, were using the confusion for their own gain, looting through the abandoned possessions that littered the camp.
Still, the formation muscled through. Occasionally, Flik had to reach out a gentle hand to push aside a woman or child that came too close. Occasionally, he had to punch, bash, or kick men that came too close. Through it all, he closed his ears to their curses and pleas, and he shut his mind to their faces. Then they were at the far end of the camp, the noise of the crowd now entirely behind them. He hoped that Viktor would be able to navigate his way through.
He paused a few moments to allow the sergeants to dress the formation properly, sending forward a few scouts to survey the situation. It didn't take long for them to report back.
"Sir, Highlanders advancing in a line of battle, with cavalry skirmishers out front and to the sides."
Flik nodded; there seemed little need to change the plan. For a moment he paused. The wind was steady and cold, filled with greater gusts that pulled at his blue cape and shook the new leaves into a roar. The clouds in the sky were low and dark, already filling the air with misty drizzle. The Highlanders were just barely visible, marching towards them out of the gloom of twilight. Their pennants were also rippling with the wind, showing them to be from the Third Highland Army, commanded by Lord Kiba.
"Fire Spears, ready!" Flik yelled, feeling the wind trying to rip away his voice. The cry was echoed up and down the line, followed by motion as the men prepared their spears. Flik drew his own sword, looking at the opposing lines. The infantry seemed to have drawn up, leaving only the cavalry advancing. He could see concern creeping into the eyes of those men closest to him; the cavalry alone out numbered them ten to one.
"Fire Spears! Attack!"
Unprepared for the sudden brightness, Flik had to quickly avert his eyes, trying to focus his vision through blossoming afterimages. The air sizzled with the heat of the flames carrying across the field, towards the advancing enemy.
"Something's not right!" someone down the line shouted. Flik, still blinking tears out of his eyes, looked back up. He immediately cursed at what had happened. The strong wind was carrying the flames from the spears off to the right and short of the Highlanders. Their cavalry, or at least the part of it not hindered by the flames, was now pulling into a canter, clearly intending to bring this battle to a melee.
Thinking quickly, Flik yelled, "Fire Spears, left aim, thirty degrees!" He watched as the men tried to comply with the order. A large number of them, he was sure, would have no idea exactly how much thirty degrees was. Some of them would have difficulty with the left from right bit. He shook those thoughts from his head; there wasn't enough time to worry about pointing all of their spears in the same direction.
"Second time! Fire Spears! Attack!"
Several things happened at once; all of them were bad. For about a third of the men, their spears did little more than sputter tiny little flames into the darkness. One man, down at the end of the line, was suddenly turned into a raging fireball as his spear self-combusted. The remainder of the Fire Spears continued to work as advertised, spewing flames right into the teeth of a cold blast of wind rising right in Flik's face. For one heart stopping moment, he was sure that the gust would pull the towering wave of fire right back down onto his own line.
It did not, though he shuddered away from the fierce heat as a wall of fire mushroomed mere yards from his position. His horse reflexively turned aside, carefully stepping back. In the darkness to the rear, he saw a half-company of cavalry riding down the line. It took Flik a few moments to realize that this was Rossgard, following the orders he was given. The other half-companies were now wheeling into the new formation. He looked beyond Rossgard, to try and gain any information on Viktor's whereabouts.
Even as he looked back, Flik saw the far southern wall of the fort go up in flames. He instinctively knew exactly what those flames portended. Around him, the rearguard was riding by. Tarrance reined up beside him, yelling, "Sir? Your orders?"
Before Flik could even open his mouth to respond, hundreds of Highland cavalry burst out of the forests ahead of Rossgard, crashing into the mercenaries' wavering formation. More cavalrymen were riding in from the left and the right, threatening to overwhelm Flik's two companies.
"Tarrance," he snapped, "we are going to disengage and retreat back to the fort. Take your half-company and go in support of Chester on the left flank. Use your Fire Spears to keep the Highlanders off you. Go!" Tarrance nodded, gathering his half-company to him. Flik spurred his horse, riding into the melee whirling around Rossgard.
He was met by the approaching spear of a blue and white liveried Highlander. Flik braced in his saddle, taking the shaft-snapping impact of the spear off his shield, and then he casually reached out with his sword and pricked his opponent mortally in the neck. Ahead flames leaped up, as Rossgard's men tried to hold the Highlanders off them. Flik found him in the midst of a knot of his men, giving ground gradually behind the cover of flames.
"There you are, sir." Rossgard said, when Flik rode up. Rossgard had cast aside his fire spear, leading his remaining men with his sword. "Can't get any further forward, sir. Too many of them, and more to my right and left. I think Simeon's half-company is completely gone."
Flik peered out past the dying flames, watching the Highlanders milling behind them. "Never mind that," he began, "the fort is in trouble. I'm leading the companies back to see what we can do. Tarrance and Chester are to your left and rear."
"Sir," Rossgard affirmed. After a few shouted commands, the battered remnants of his half-company were riding off at a careful trot, flames covering their retreat. They were met just inside the edge of the refugee camp by Chester and Tarrance. Altogether, the remaining men would've accounted for an understrength company. A very badly understrength company.
There was another powerful blast of cold wind, fanning the flames at Flik's back towards the outer tents of the camp. For the moment, the Highlanders were obscured behind the fire and smoke. The last pale light of the day was leeching out the clouds overhead, casting everything not illuminated by fire into utter black.
He led his men back towards the fort. Refugees, who before had sought the safety of that fort, were now madly fleeing in the opposite direction. Spooked, they recoiled away from both the encroaching flames and Flik's men, scattering into the doubtful safety of the darkness. They were less of an impediment this time, and he soon navigated his way back to the fort entrance.
Inside was a confused and swirling battle; mercenaries, refugees, and Highlanders fighting and fleeing in little clusters, or gathered behind overturned carts seeking respite. Flik could take in no more, for suddenly his men were caught up in an eddy of one of those melees. He wrenched his sword down through the white plume and helmet of an approaching enemy infantryman, kicking the corpse away to free his sword afterwards. More soldiers rushed towards him, prodding with long spears. Spurring his horse forward, Flik blocked one with his shield and parried two others with his sword, thrusting that blade into the face of an enemy who came too close. The other two were cut down by his men, riding in support of their leader.
The fighting around Flik abated as the Highlanders fell back, rather than be caught between the cavalry and mercenary infantry. Viktor, his clothes stained with sweat and a little bit of blood, jogged over as Flik dismounted. Out of the corner of his eye, Flik also saw Riou and Jowy nearby.
"We're in serious trouble here," Viktor said, gesturing towards the fighting with a sweep of his hand.
Flik sighed. "We'll have to retreat then. There's no way we'll be able to hold the fort when their other units arrive."
Viktor nodded. "That's what Apple thought, too. She, Leona, and the others have already evacuated to the west."
"Right." Flik motioned for his three remaining senior sergeants, who rode up. "We've decided to abandon the fort. Our job is to go to the west gate and secure the escape route." He turned to look at Riou and Jowy, who were listening intently. "You need to get out of here," Flik commanded. "If you get separated, try to make your way to Muse City."
He turned to mount his horse, but Viktor reached out a hand to stop him. "I don't want this fort to fall into enemy hands," he said in a diminished voice.
Flik understood. "You have some sort of plan?"
Viktor smiled broadly in response. "Of course I do, but I'll need some help."
"Let's get this over with, then," Flik responded and turned to speak with his men. "I'm going with Viktor. Ride to the west gate, secure it, and wait for my return."
His men rode off. Viktor and Flik sprinted through the carnage for the main building in the fort. The doors were already ajar, and as they entered the semi-darkness within they were met by a group of Highland soldiers. These were members of the White Wolves, as the large white plumes on their helmets and the white two-headed wolves on their shields signified. They hesitated momentarily at the sudden arrival of Viktor and Flik.
Flik did not. He brought up his right hand and, power crackling in his fist, sent several bolts of lightning from his lightning rune scything through the enemy. Those bolts impacted with deafening booms and lifted the White Wolf soldiers into the air, smashing them into tables, walls, and wooden pillars. In the aftermath, he surveyed his handiwork; none of those soldiers would be conscious, let alone a threat, for some time.
Viktor, rubbing at his ears, shouted, "You know, when you get down to it, you really know how to party."
Flik shook his head. "Let's just hurry up and do what you want to do, okay?"
Viktor led them down into the basement, towards the blacksmith's area. "You get that fire going again, and then I'll dump some of the Fire Spears in there, and we'll bring this building down." Flik nodded and grabbed the giant bellows, pumping for all he was worth. After about the fourth pump, with his arms aching, he realized why Viktor had given him this job. Still, he had the fire going by the time Viktor returned with a double armful of Fire Spears, which he proceeded to toss into the flames, almost smothering them out. Then he said, "Time to get the heck out of here, I think."
Flik couldn't have agreed more, but as he ran up the stairs out of the basement, he had a sudden premonition and, ignoring Viktor's shocked oath, continued up the stairs towards the second level. He smashed the door to his room open and dove for the lowest level of his bookcase. Pulling out a book strap, he feverishly stacked a certain set of books.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Viktor yelled, from the doorway. "They're just books, leave 'em."
Flik pulled the strap around them. "My whole life is bound up in these," he yelled back.
"What good is your diary if you die here? You can always write it again, anyway."
Flik snapped the strap tight, pulling the books up as he stood. "There, I've got them. Now we can go."
"Hell of way to die," Viktor muttered, but was suddenly cut off by the sound of a sudden blood choked scream. He looked back over his shoulder, down the hallway as a little girl began to wail. He swore and dashed from the room. Flik, books tucked under his arm, followed him, heading towards the meeting room. Just as he reached the open door, the fort shook violently, almost wrenching him off his feet. The power contained in those burning Fire Spears was obviously being released. Using the door handle for leverage, Flik propelled himself into the meeting room.
Inside stood a man who looked more like a nightmare given flesh, the Prince of Highland, Luca Blight. A towering, puissant hulk, he was in the middle of the room, his gaze fixed on the blood slowly running down his long silver sword. Gore streaked the white of his gold trimmed plate mail and the long blue cape that hung down his back. Off to one side lay the corpse of a senior sergeant, Pohl, whose chest had been ripped open from clavicle to abdomen by one powerful sword stroke. At his feet were Riou, Jowy, and Pilika, the little girl screaming in abject fear, the two boys hastily trying to scramble back to their feet.
"Get out of here!" Flik yelled, rushing towards the three children. "We're going to blow the whole fort using Fire Spears." The sound of Flik's voice drew Luca Blight's gaze, the large, sharp chin and beady, wild eyes turning towards him. Even his thick, black hair was splattered with blood. Flik quashed a spasm of fear and quickly scooped Pilika into his free hand. Riou and Jowy had recovered their feet.
Luca Blight took a step forward. "Die pigs!" he shouted, his voice shrill with manic energy. The fort shook again, more violently, and the room began to fill with smoke and the reddish glare of fire. Luca stumbled slightly and Viktor lunged towards the monster, sword raised for a killing blow.
"Go! Go!" Flik shouted at Riou and Jowy, nudging them with his forearms to get them started. Over Pilika's screams, he heard Viktor's blow ring powerfully on Luca's breastplate. Then he was back in the corridor. Riou and Jowy, ahead, were little more than indistinct forms in the smoky haze. Still, they made their way down the stairs and out of the doors, even as Leona's tavern began to fill with flames.
Outside, they paused to gather their breath. Pilika had gone ominously quiet in Flik's arms, and Jowy, eyes imploring, came forward to see to her. Carefully, Flik handed her over, and Jowy cradled her, whispering to her gently. Smoke poured from all the windows of the building and out the front door.
Viktor suddenly burst from the veiled portal, almost as if the fort had spat him out, yelling, "Keep running, you fools! He's right behind me!"
There was no better motivation than that. Tired as he was, Flik found himself sprinting towards the west gate of the fort. In between huge gasps of air, he heard Viktor, in an awed tone, say, "That blow should've incapacitated him, broken his collarbone, something. I dented his armor, and he shook it off like I'd done nothing more than tap him."
The ground lurched and the main building of the fort burst apart in a fountain of flames. Flik was propelled face first into the turf, but quickly recovered and, gathering his books again, continued towards the gate. Something burning and wooden, possibly his own bed, cartwheeled through the air about twenty yards to the left, shattering into splinters when it hit the ground. As if that had been some sort of signal, the wind gusted into Flik's face and a fat, cold drop of rain hit him in the left eye.
The intensity of the rain was steadily increasing by the time Flik and the others made it to the west gate and the group of his horsemen who stood guard over it. He and Viktor turned back to look at the fort one more time. Despite the rain, the pyre of the main building continued burn fiercely. The Highland soldiers had wisely retreated and were no longer visible on the battlefield. He turned back to the waiting soldiers. Ahead lay the western forest, which years ago had been tended and logged regularly, but now had grown wild and thick.
They plunged inside, into the damp darkness. Flik could hear the rainfall pattering off the canopy, sudden showers of collected water spilling down onto the undergrowth and the occasional unlucky soldier. He shrugged, they'd likely all be soaked and chilled to the bone before this night was done. They were not alone in the forest, all around them refugees crashed through the brush and trees, and the Highland army was surely nearby, harrying them as they fled.
They were retreating down an old logging road, pitted with ancient ruts and now obstructed by fallen trees, covered in slimy moss. Flik, soaked hair plastered against his forehead, had just scrambled over one such tree when the slope just to the north suddenly lit up with torchlight from Highland soldiers. More soldiers appeared, blocking the path forward.
"Surrender!" a voice yelled. Flik looked up the slope; a red haired Highland general, with a white and red tunic over his armor, had appeared at the top of the ridge. "You have nowhere left to run, mercenary dogs!" The top of the ridge was crawling with Highland infantry.
"What now?" Viktor asked, under his breath. "Things are looking pretty bad."
"Organize the men and clear the road ahead," Flik responded, calmly. "I'll deal with this Highland whelp."
He turned and walked towards the foot of the slope, leaving Viktor to his task. The Highland general, of a height with Flik if slightly thinner, had taken a few steps down from the top and was casually leaning against a tree. His dark eyes were fixed, hawk like, on Flik as he approached. His triangular face was twisted into a sneer of contempt as he tapped his thin blade against his mailed boot.
"I've set the snare and look what rabbits I've caught," he said, the sneer bleeding into his voice. "In all that blue you're wearing, who else could you be but the famous Flik of the Blue Thunder, who fought in the Liberation Army during the Toran Liberation War?"
Why, Flik found himself wondering, had he ever let himself be talked into accepting that conceit? And wasn't it "Blue Lightning?"
The Highland general continued. "With your head as a gift, Prince Luca Blight will surely reward me with lands and a noble title. Ha! Seed of Sajah, born a peasant's son, will soon be Lord Seed." He stepped away from the tree, carefully picking his way down the slope, sword pointed directly at Flik, clearly intending to take Flik's head with his own hand.
Flik had no intention of letting that happen, or even of fighting fairly. He sent Seed flying back up the slope, propelled by a bright bolt of lightning, until the Highland general crashed back first into a tree. He slumped over, unconscious, as smoke and steam poured from his clothing. The Highland soldiers on the top of the ridge suddenly disappeared.
Viktor called out a charge and, with the few remaining Fire Spears that worked, managed to scatter the Highland soldiers blocking their path. The retreat continued, pressing through the forest until they reached a large clearing, where once the logging camp had stood. A curious collection of several hundred mercenary infantry and refugees had gathered there and in their midst was Apple, Barbara, and Leona, hard at work organizing them into some semblance of a marching order.
Leona, with a brown mantle thrown over her normal attire, spoke up when she saw them. "Viktor, Flik, thank goodness you're safe. We weren't sure who survived after Luca Blight attacked."
Apple, supported on one shoulder by Barbara, approached, coughing violently as she did so. She was completely soaked and shivering in the rain, looking very wan. "Have you seen Riou and Jowy?" she asked, her voice thin and hoarse.
Flik looked over his men, realizing that he didn't see them. "They were with us when we left the fort, but they seem to have gotten separated from us in the confusion."
She nodded. "Nanami was worried about them and decided to go looking for them. I sent Kinnison, Shiro, and Zamza with her." She shook her head sadly. "We can only hope, now."
Viktor frowned. "Can we wait for them?"
Everyone was silent for a moment, not wanting to be the one who would have to make the decision to leave them behind. Finally, Flik spoke up. "No, we have to go. There are too many Highland soldiers in the forest for us to wait here."
He looked over at Apple for confirmation. She nodded, then shook with a fit of coughing before answering, "Yes, we must go. If they make it, they'll catch up to us in Muse."
Wearily, the soldiers and refugees marched on towards the west. Flik, finally regaining his mount, led the sorry remnant of his cavalry in the van, while Viktor organized those infantry that still had some spirit left into a rearguard. The forest was alive with horrific screams and pleas for mercy as Highland soldiers overtook scattered groups of mercenaries or refugees and slaughtered them all, but no soldiers appeared to impede Flik's progress. Eventually the sounds receded, softened and finally muted by the rising downpour of rain.
Finally, after many hours of riding through the darkness, Flik let his aching muscles relax, but his mind was still tightly wound, absorbing a harsh lesson in war.
