Winds of Despair

As far as Laurenar could see, his soldiers, the soldiers of Lauredor, were arrayed in an almost perfect line over the flats of the Great Desert. He was sure, standing on the outcrop of black rock, that the coming battle, the war would be Lauredor's. As he looked to his captains, standing on either side of him, unsaddled, their young faces showed reluctance. A disinclination to go into battle, to give up their lives to a foe that was numerically superior, for in the distance, just below the horizon, was a solid black mass of man and beast, an unbreakable wall set to defy them. They too stretched beyond sight, and farther, Laurenar knew: The scouts and spies of Lauredor had told them of many of the enemy's secrets. Yet he knew there was much they did not know. He looked to the sun as high noon approached, rising higher into the sky, making time run away to the next day and the moment of truth. He sighed, knowing of the atrocities to be committed in the battle. He turned back to his tent, putting in a word to his Chief Marshall.

"Tell the watchers to increase vigilance on our flank. The east wind brings an air of deception."

The Marshall acknowledged the order, moving away swiftly to spread it.

Some of the captains started to leave, while others stayed behind to survey the lands, plotting strategies in their minds to strengthen their chances in the coming fight, whenever that might be.

Laurenar entered his tent, a sanctuary from his impending doom. The triangular enclosure was a deep red color, with yellow posts at each corner and one in the center. Facing the entrance in one corner was his bed, an elaborate wooden one with gold sheets, standard for Generals in the army. Laurenar grinned as he remembered how enraged he was as a soldier that Generals lived in such luxury. Yet he could not change that then, or now for that matter. The other Generals, although loyal and faithful, were too busy to think about the soldiers, or so they said. He shook his head. Beside it lay an intricately patterned oval shield and his grandfather's long sword in its featureless sheath. At the left of the entrance lay a chest, in which were kept his personal belongings and on top of it was the Book of the Eldar as taught by the Ancients. Laurenar retreated to the right, where a desk was set up. It was a very traditional affair, yet strong and strewn with letters from the Red Tower in the Capital City. He picked up his quill before even sitting down and immediately got to write his umpteenth letter since he had got there. It was simple really; "we need more reinforcements."  High General Jordaias had told him to say nothing aside from that topic.

Yet the process was harder than the theory. The Grand Jury was too paranoid when it came to the safety of the Red Tower. Ten thousand troops were stationed in the city itself, an act of ignorance in Laurenar's eyes, for the city remained safe only if the enemy was kept away from it. Those troops were the elite of the army, the ones that could make the difference between defeat and victory. He tried to write the request as calmly as he could, for anxiety and anticipation was creeping over him like an oncoming storm. He ended it quite abruptly by saying that the City would be wiped off the face of the Eastern Reaches if they did not respond with reinforcements. Putting his head in his hands, he thought ahead, trying to see the battle, trying to order his troops in the most effective way, trying to figure its consequences, its repercussions. He could see nothing.

So he tried to ease his mind, taking it off his troubles for a precious few moments, moments his mind told him were vital to victory; his heart arguing his sanity was more important. He thought back to the furthest reaches of his memory, remembering all he could. He could see himself roaming the forests near his home in the highlands, by the banks of the Lake of Life. He could remember his parents, though only vaguely; leaving for the voyage they would never come home from, one to seek the fabled Middle Earth, from whence had come the Forsaken Ancients and given his people the most wonderful gifts of Knowledge and Craft. He remembered his uncles Ramioh and Rehnaus and his grandfather Gilhofian, his lifeline after his parents left. His grandfather had told him amazing stories passed down from generations, of the ancients and their exploits in the Western Reaches, and his uncles had helped him grow to the man he was today. He remembered shooting his first arrow at ten after being taught by his uncle Ramioh, a master hunter, through the heart of a mother doe, her children fleeing, scared. He had later captured them and raised those to full grown stags, aided by Rehnaus, the wisest of men Laurenar had ever known, and had released them into the wild again. He remembered crafting his own small sword and bows at the age of thirteen; looked over but unassisted by his uncles and grandfather.

Then his thoughts turned dark, as the memories of the First Wars came to him. The Shadow People, a numerically superior race of barbarians, had advanced in numbers and technology, isolated in their mountain homes to the East. And now they were rising to conquer the Golden Land and destroy its people, greedy for the knowledge and wealth of Lauredor. Both his uncles and grandfather had died in the First Wars, and nearly all of his close friends had died since. The rumors that the barbarians had been aided by others was something Laurenar could not admit to as being true, but could not forsake either, for the wind had changed over the course of the war, as it had never done. All the Elders in the Grand Jury were afraid, yet they themselves did not know what the reason for their fear was.

"Shiruan!" he called to his guard "Have one of the errand runners deliver this letter. Choose the swiftest. Go now." The guard took off from the tent at a run, running to the cave under the cliff where the messengers housed.

Then Laurenar turned his attention to other matters. On the desk in a corner lay a letter, and a red flower in the shape of a star, one that the Ancients said did not even grow in the West. It had been sent to him by his wife, the Uryaner Vanessë, the Burning Beauty as she was named, like himself, in the Ancient tongue. Her letter was smudged with teardrops, and Laurenar loathed having to be away from her in this time. Yet he knew if he was not here, she would never see another day of peace. His hand felt light, powerless, as he picked up his quill again and began writing to his wife, whom he had no hope of seeing ever again. He stopped for a moment before writing, realizing that this might be his last letter to his beloved, his only family left. So he started, a formality creeping into his words that he tried desperately to vanquish;

Dearest Vanessë

Thirty cycles of the sun have passed since I last saw the shine of your face in the gardens of the City. Only words I am left with to cherish your memory and remember you, my most beloved. I can give you no songs of comfort, save this that whatever follows, you shall have peace, at least for enough time as it takes to take our daughter and sail away from these troubles. Our army is formidable, yet their numbers are far larger than were previously thought. We have advantage in arms and training and I, at least, am optimistic. Yet the other generals are not, and I am now beginning to think rightly so. Let this not worry you, for it is for you that I am here, for your safety. Nothing I can say will bring us closer at this point in time, for time is running fast and is not giving us the chance to prepare. I shall say no more, for no more words I can find to say to you. Yet I hope to see you again soon, and say all that I have locked up in my heart. I love you and always will, no matter where tomorrow takes us. Remember me always, as I shall you.

Yours Forever,

General Laurenar

He read it over once more amazed at how foreign he sounded. Yet try as he might he could not find anything else to write. He shook his head and called his guard in again, giving him the letter, telling him again to have it delivered swiftly. When the guard went away Laurenar sat again in silence, thinking of nothing. There was cheering in the desert outside, the soldiers trying to lift their spirits, acting as a breaker for the harsh winds of the East. In the darkening sky he could see dancing lights and songs of mirth and happiness that had no right to be sung in that place and time, Laurenar thought. He realized that he was among war veterans, soldiers who had been fighting for close to five and even ten years! A small laugh erupted from him, sounding more like a croak, causing his guard to rush in, dagger unsheathed. He smiled and waved him away, realizing how parched his throat had become. He got up, amazed at how hard it was to do so, and had a drink of water. It soothed him unlike ever before. Water seemed like an Elixir for Life preceding each battle, which it was, Laurenar told himself. He was about to lie down to sleep when Shiruan came in again.

"Sire, the Generals request your presence at the war meeting." He said, standing erect in spite of the fatigue Laurenar knew he must be feeling.

Laurenar hung his head. He had forgotten the meeting. They were supposed to discuss the final tactics for defensive offensive maneuvers. Immediate friskiness came over Laurenar. He would have to face the High General in circumstances where he had made a mistake. He did not want to do that.

"Tell them I am coming. Prepare the horse.  I shall be out momentarily". He sat on his bed for a moment watching the light from the fire signal going off and on as a message was relayed to the far hill where all the generals had met each day for the past thirty days. He knew what was to be discussed. The same thing they had talked of yesterday, and the day before, and before that. He saw no sense in it at first, repeating the same things over and over again. But he realized they needed as much finesse as they could get because it was the only way they could ensure victory, or more realistically, hinder the enemy, keep him at a standstill. Standing up he grabbed his cloak from a hook on the centre post, turning back again to pick up his sword and helmet from beside his bed. As he got out a breeze of warm air hit his face, turning his thoughts dark. The air was sooty, as if the enemy was trying to blind them before the battle, and sure enough Laurenar could only see the light of the fire signal on the far hill to the right. He comforted himself in his sudden alarm by blaming it on the approaching night. His horse was standing in front of the tent, his two guards standing erect beside the tent flap. He mounted the animal and went down the path to the right of the tent leading to the desert floor.As soon as he got down a trio of Horse Archers followed him, guarding him, something Laurenar saw as unnecessary. They took off at a trot, Laurenar surveying as much of the camp grounds as he could see in the black evening air. He could see different banners of the Generals, with soldiers of those hosts moving here and there within    the different enclosures allotted to each house. He was glad to see that there was no segregation today as there had been in minor battles before. The different companies were intermingling, sharing stories, talking, laughing, singing, dancing, in full battle armor, with one hand on their swords, archers holding their bows in their hands, pikemen moving around with their pike held ready in their hands, each separate company moving in unison in the vast campgrounds. Yet none were drinking, and Laurenar knew they hadn't been for the High General had told his Generals, who had in turn told their captains, to give them full reports on the soldiers' behavior. Laurenar's heart swelled with pride for his people and he smiled, sitting upright on his horse, emboldened by this show of strength and readiness. In the distance were other fires, colored blue, and ones he knew marked the positions of the front guard of General Yalanwe. Soldiers saluted him as he went past, he saluted back, smiling. They then passed the enclosures where the horses for the knights were kept. All his Knights and those of the High General and General Polark were stationed here. Laurenar was astonished to see that the literally thousands of knights had set up an impromptu camp on three sides of the enclosure, spreading their bedding onto the ground and sleeping there in full gear, distinguishable as which General's they were only by the color of their armor, laid out in close to a hundred rows in the huge area where their tents should have been. And they were organized in a system where the front formation was sleeping nearest to the enclosure. The mile long end facing Laurenar and the battlegrounds was left free as the gates were situated there. The horses were also organized, with those of the front formation of the High General nearest to the gates. He decreased to a slow pace, shutting his mouth after realizing it was open. Some of the knights unable to go to sleep from where he was passing stood up to salute but he waved them down, surveying the huge enclosure, threatening to be overcome by emotion as he saw the commitment of his soldiers.

"Sire, we should be going to the meeting now" one of his guards spoke out, bringing him back to reality. They were at the base of the hill, and he didn't even know it, it being at the centre of the host.

"Yes," he said looking up the winding path, suddenly realizing his destination "Yes let's go." The guard who had spoken led the way, Laurenar behind him, followed by the other guards. The lead guard turned aside to the left as the reached the upper clearing. Laurenar proceeded to the front of the tent, some tenders coming to help him off and take his horse. In the light of the surrounding fire stands he could see the five-sided light blue tent, glittering with its silver lace edges, gems glittering on the flap. The guards stood erect by the opening here too. He walked past them into the tent, the gems clinking with his metal armor.