Some content might be a bit much, but I have not put anything detailed in her, just inferences… so I'll stick to PG-13… if anyone has any issues with my rating, please tell me- I have no idea how to judge on rating. But don't be disconcerted and not read. This chapter has taken a lot of effort to write… by the way, thanks for the continuing support! Updates should come more regularly now, as I am getting to the dramatic parts of the story. ~G
Chapter Twenty Eight: Trap
North of Imnescar, 1 Tarsakh, 1370 DR
It was safe to say that Nalia's campaign in the south had reached a complete stalemate. Based in Imnescar, the Amnian army, with twenty thousand knights and forty thousand infantry men, made regular attacks against the hill giants and ogres, but the enemy, who outnumbered the humans by far, were proving diligent indeed in repelling the legions.
Yet it was a sign of the Amnian legions' superior training that the war had reached a stalemate at all, and a sign of Nalia and her advisors' ability with strategy. Not for the first time, Lady de'Arnise reflected that had this army been formed from the legions of Athkatla, and led by the bumbling men of that capitol, then this war would have been lost long ago.
Nearly three months had passed since Nalia had left Nashkel, and the ice and snow of winter were starting to melt with the onset of spring- and with the thawing of ice, she and her generals expected further, more concentrated attacks… and at the moment, Murann was their weakest point.
It was a massive trap, and a trap that Nalia knew they could not avoid.
At any moment, the Sythillisian Empire could gather their hordes and lay siege to the jewel of the south… and the city would fall before Nalia could reinforce it. But if she moved to reinforce it before the empire moved, then her forces would be trapped within the city, unable to protect the south.
Not for the first time, she cursed the Council. They had sent her to deal with the massive threat in the south, but with hardly any serious desire to deal with it. Putting her in command had been a relatively easy way to eliminate a threat to their superiority, and the Council of Six would sacrifice anything, perhaps even the southern part of their nation, to keep their power over the masses.
Walking through the town of Imnescar, which was nestled on the edge of the moorland that separated the north from the south, Nalia could not help a sense of defeat entering her heart. There was not a warrior she walked past, who did not have some crack or dent in his armour. Many of the fighters had wounds as well, though they were dealt with as quickly as possible by the various clerics who supported the army.
In that, at least, Anomen had been successful.
His first, and last, message had been to tell her that he was stationed in Athkatla, with Keldorn and the Order, to protect the city against any possible reprisals. He was trying to get the Council to send more men, but it must have only just sunk in to the rulers of Amn that they were in danger, and so they were keeping all armed forces- which amounted to another one hundred thousand fighters, in the north…
While her soldiers fought tooth and fist to survive.
She had ceased to think of this army as the Council's. After three months of solid fighting and skirmishing, an attachment had been formed between Nalia and the soldiers. They were hers. They had seen her unleash spells while standing at the front line, her staff a blazing beacon of hope in a tide of slaughter.
They had seen her lead a desperate charge with her household knights against the flank of an ogre detachment, in which she had nearly lost her life to one of the ogre magi. In every major battle, her fire was turned upon the enemy; her powers pushed the army to greater heights… Nalia de'Arnise was the true leader of this army, not six men and women in the north who were too cowardly to reveal themselves.
She walked through the charred streets that were blasted with rubble and broken slabs of stone. The town had not escaped harm. Three times now, armies of hobgoblins, kobolds and goblins, in thrall to the ogre magi, had tried to destroy the town where the Amnish army was stationed- and thrice had they failed.
But the last time had been too close.
After so long fighting in the cold winter weather, Nalia's force was greatly depleted. Ten thousand warriors had been lost, leaving a little under fifty thousand in fighting fitness. Ten thousand. That many lives, sent to the gods by the Council's inability to just act. They resisted the words of the Prelate, who was exhorting the leaders to summon the warriors of the powerful merchant families to aid Nalia. But they wouldn't.
After all, how much would that endeavour cost?
They were so stupid.
Hopefully, Anomen would give up soon, and march south to help her. The knights of Amn were skilled, but the knights under her companion's command were powerful indeed, and the ability of the paladins to detect evil would make this campaign a lot easier.
"Lady Nalia!"
Sighing, she turned, and saw Captain Cernick riding towards her on his stallion. Her own horse rode, ready for battle, beside him. Used to being prepared for battle at a moments notice, Nalia mounted the horse, grasping hold of the reins, and resting her staff underneath her arm.
"Where is the enemy, Cernick?"
For the first time since the start of this damned and cursed campaign, she saw her captain smile. He looked her straight in the eye, and grinned madly. "Lady, they march on the Hillforts! They have committed their full strength to the fight, and are moving through the Valley of Depran. The scouts are already in position. If the army moves quickly, we can ambush the ogres' main force, and end this war."
Despite her upbringing, Nalia could not hide her relief. The final battle was to be fought. She smiled at Cernick, and then turned to look at the warriors standing on the street. Calling out to them, Nalia shouted, "Make ready for battle! Today, the war will be decided- and in our favour!"
The shouts of the few soldiers on the street was loud, and Nalia heard the rest of the soldiers throughout the town take up the cry, as they were given orders by their superiors to advance east… towards the Hillforts… towards the end of the war…
*
The army moved forward, a solid mass of goblins, kobolds and orcs. Every so often, surrounded by a mass of smaller warriors, lumbered a hill giant, or a troll. They were the juggernauts of the advance, just as the captains were the juggernauts of the human army. Take those massive beasts out, and the army of goblins would lost heart, becoming easy prey for the Amnian army.
Nalia knelt in the undergrowth, aware that her mage robes were becoming muddy and damp- but there was not time for vanity before a battle. She was no longer the spoiled child of years ago. She was a warleader, an archmage, and soon to be the hero of Amn… again.
"Lady, the rest of the captains are in position. The knights are ready to sweep down. The archers are positioned, ready to begin firing. Shall I give the order to attack?"
She nodded. "Yes. But make it clear that the knights are not to attack until I give the command. And only I. They will hear me, have no fear."
Cernick nodded. "Aye."
He scrambled off, and Nalia heard him whisper the precise commands to a runner, and then heard him repeat them again. There could be no room for error now. Precision, discipline, all the skills a soldier required, were called for now, or Amn would be doomed.
For the first time, Nalia was glad Anomen remained in Athkatla. At least if she fell, there would be someone to lead the defence. Someone backed up by the power of Kathryn and Helm…
Moments passed, and then a roared shout commenced the attack.
Arrows sped into the marching horde, and, long used to the ways of the ogres, the Amnish bowmen aimed for the hill giants. Screams and bellows of pain sounded as the mountains of strength tumbled to the floor. But there were many of them- perhaps a hundred, who were out of range. Nalia shouted to her archers, "Aim for the orcs now, quickly! The giants are too far away! Do not pick targets, just aim into the clump! Aim into the clump!"
It was a relatively new tactic for the archers. When facing armies of this size, precision was not required. All that was needed was bowmen with enough strength to shoot an arrow that could kill. Aimed into the vast milling tide of enemies, an arrow could not help but to hit something.
Nalia watched the army below them in the valley mill about, as they were attacked from all sides by the army of Amn. Horn calls sounded, crude and blasting, as the ogres desperately tried to restore a semblance of discipline. But it failed.
The mismatch of creatures, each with their own language and instincts, went against the ogre horde. The goblins went one way, and were trampled by teeming kobolds fleeing the archers in another way. Ogres driven berserk by the arrows thudding around them, and desperate to attack something, lashed out at the tiny beasts below them. Infighting broke out amongst the creatures, and chaos reigned. As of yet, there had been no action from the enemies in the valley to lead an attack up the sides of the valley.
The archers continued to fire, their steel-tipped arrows a rain of metal death. The screams of thousands of dying humanoids raised to the sky, and it filled Nalia with a strange revulsion… slaughter on such a scale shook her to the core, and it pained her that she was commanding it. Even if they were only evil beasts, it made her shudder to see so much death in one place.
Kelemvor's realm would be crowded tonight.
Standing, Nalia raised her staff into the air, and a chorus of cheers sounded around her. The shouts of adoration from her troops made her blood tingle, and it dispelled the nausea that she felt because of the death. Shouting at the top of her voice, and summoning a contingency, she bellowed, her clear voice echoing throughout the valley, "Knights, charge! Charge, for the empire and the Council!"
But the cry that reached her ears was not a cry for the Council. "Nalia!" the legions cried as they charged into the valley of death. "Nalia!" The pounding surrounded her. "Nalia!" Chanting spells, she unleashed fireballs, death spells, explosions of gas, sending the enemy into fits of terror as they strove to escape the rain of death from the powerful archmage who had killed so many of their number.
"Nalia!"
A multitude of warriors crying out a single name! Nalia moved out of the undergrowth, mounted her horse, and rode with the knights and charging infantry, into the chaotic din of battle and clashing beasts.
"For Amn!"
Her voice, augmented still her spell, split through the air once again, and cheers rang again, as hooves pounded the earth into dust, riding the winds of slaughter, the warriors of the Coinland drawing closer and closer to battle, lances gleaming with foreboding, swords raised to catch the sunlight, armour glimmering dully.
And with a crash like a splitting thunderclap, the warriors of Amn struck the shuddering lines of the ogre magi's army, voices still uplifted to the sky, voices crying out for vengeance, for the final fulfilment of the war which had slaughtered thousands of their comrades, and countless peasants… innocents caught by the throes of war.
Nalia staff shone a brilliant blue and yellow, the swans on the illithium gliding upwards and upwards, streaks of magical light. On her brow, the Circlet of Netheril started to glow gold, and her mage robes shone with a blinding blue light. The strength of her magic surrounded her, and Nalia urged her horse forward.
A shouted spell and the enemy were blasted from her path by a concussive blast of air. Another spell and a lightning bolt tore through a rank of orcs. Fire plunged from her fingertips, clearing a path for the knights behind her. Blasts of pure magic turned blood into unyielding ice, and orcs shrieked in pain.
Gripping her staff in both hands, and trusting her mount to guide her true, Nalia stood up in the stirrups, and pulled from within her all her strength. She flung her hand forward, freeing it from the staff, and multiple blasts of purple light span forward, striking a hill giant repeatedly. Gesturing again, she sent shards of ice, fire and lightning, a lethal combination, towards the beast again, and watched it plummet to the ground.
Something grazed against her arm, but the magical protections of her mage robes turned the blow aside, and, barely pausing, she hit the small kobold who had dared attack her with her staff. Magical energy flashed, and it burned into ash within a few seconds.
Looking around, she saw the forces under her command fighting nearly everywhere within the valley. Fighting- and winning! She grasped her reins, and turned her horse to the right, aiming for the centre, where she knew the two ogre magi, Sythillis and Cyrvisnea would be, protected by their steel legion of ogres, the best of all the tribes.
But she paused, dumbfounded.
They were not there.
Their banner, the bloody skull gripped by an iron hand, was not there. Her face paled, as her intelligent mind grasped what had just occurred… what she had led the army into. Here in the valley, her army was as vulnerable to attack as the enemy had been… and they could easily afford to spend a hundred thousand men… she could not.
"By Mystra and Kathryn, no."
It was a trap. A deadly, lethal trap.
Shrieking, for her spell to augment her voice had failed ages ago, she cried, "Soldiers, to me! To me! It is a trap! A trap! To me! To me! Fall back! By the gods, listen! To me! To me!" Her voice degenerated into pitiful sobs. If the army did not escape in time, they would all be killed.
"To me, warriors of the Coinland, to me!"
But the fighters continued in their butchering of the army, the captains too busy directing the troops to notice that the leaders of this evil empire were not present on the battlefield… to notice that above them, in the undergrowth they had used for cover, a second army led by ogres were standing… that they were nocking arrows to their bows, that they were drawing their bows back… sighting… and loosing.
A sigh of arrows whipping through the air, and then ear-splitting screams as Nalia's warriors fell. Swallowing, lost, not knowing what to do, Nalia summoned an immunity to weapons around her form, and sent a magic missile spell into the air. A few knights noticed the magic, and turned to see Nalia.
"To me!"
And this time, some obeyed. They hacked through the surviving enemy, and gathered around her, desperate and looking at her for a miracle. But this was one trap which Nalia could not get them out of… not unless…
Not unless she was willing to sacrifice all to save them.
She turned, looking for Cernick, and, as if responding to her desperate need, he appeared beside her. Offering silent thanks to the gods, she urged, "Cernick, gather those troops that survive. Use shields, protect against these arrows. Is that understood? When you see an opening at the end of the valley, charge. Get out. Do not stop, no matter what happens."
Cernick shook his head. "No, my lady."
Nalia glared at him, her eyes flashing in anger. "It was not a request, captain. You are in command. Take the army back to Murann. Imnescar will be lost, no doubt. Tell Imoen that she must begin evacuating the city. Ask her to send messengers to the Council, begging for aid… tell her…"
And here she stopped.
There was too much to tell… there was too much that needed to be done… and she would not be around to do it. She bowed her head, and said, "Tell her I will miss her…"
Cernick nodded. "Aye… my lady."
"Nalia… my name is Nalia."
Her captain nodded. "Good luck… Nalia."
She smiled. "It won't be so bad… it will be like a new adventure… death," but her voice made it clear that she did not believe what she was saying. "Goodbye, Cernick… lead my army well."
"I will."
There was nothing else to say. Still the whispering arrows sped towards the small force of Amnish warriors left, but the fighters were the disciplined ones, and they raised their shields to defend. No more fell… but no more needed to fall. The pride of Amn had been decimated this day…
Tears obscuring her vision, Nalia held her staff with shaking hands, trying to grasp her courage. Raising her eyes to the sky, she called out, "Kathryn, aid me now. Mystra, bless me with your strength… Helm, give me the courage to do my duty… Tempus… stand with me now. Give my arm the power of your commitment."
Arrows whipped towards her now, but Nalia contemptuously gestured, and a wall of protection sprang up around her. Another one. Bowing her head, Nalia then fixed her eyes on the massive force of enemies guarding the end of the valley.
"FOR AMN!"
Her voice cut across the whispering of arrows, and she sped towards the end of the valley. Behind her, she heard the soldiers she had fought with crying out; urging her to stop, but the lady de'Arnise had gone beyond that. All she had now was duty. To her; the enemy seeking to bring about her death were nothing. They were just another duty, another obstacle… they were nothing. They were hapless creatures manipulated by those stronger than them… they were pawns.
She shouted as she rode, and all rational thought became lost as she became one with the cadence of her horses hooves. She roared a spell, and a fireball singed forward. Pointing her staff forward like a lance, she sent bolts of lightning winging towards the blockade of hobgoblins, ogres and giants. Flinging dust of crumbled diamond forward, she sent a force of primal death shattering through the front ranks.
There was not much space between them now.
A quick incantation and her skin became as hard as stone. Another incantation and she surrounded herself and her horse with a wall of pure flame, blue and orange. With a pinching gesture, she called a finger of death, and snuffed out the life of a giant.
It toppled, and the shockwaves rattled her teeth.
She next targeted an ogre wearing solid illithium armour. Priceless. Whoever he was, this ogre was important. Globules of acid melted towards him, searing grass, burning through hobgoblins, until it surrounded him.
But his armour ignored the acid.
Narrowing her eyes, and trying to block out the weariness, Nalia clenched her fist, uttering a vile spell, and she watched as he started writhing, his windpipe crushed by the force of her necromantic magic, the magic she hated using the most.
Another death spell and she felt the taint it left in her bloodstream, as the grunting groans of the dying reached her ears. And then- crash –she was in the fray! Swinging swords! Bared teeth! Claws! Clubs! Maces! Daggers, knives, cloven feet! The braying and bellowing! The blood!
Her staff swung again and again, its flames striking and flinging any enemy away from her. She tried to move her horse forward, but it could not get past, so great was the press of the enemy. A spear went through its chest, and she felt its buckles as its life drained away. With a cry, Nalia leapt from the horse, and into the dark, dim, shadowy press of battle.
She fell to the floor, and immediately the enemy leapt on her, weapons shattering against her stone skin, but that stone skin was starting to crumble… and as it started to crumble, and Nalia tried to utter a replacement, her words muddled…
How much easier would it be just to let them kill her… to go on to paradise with Kathryn, to leave Imoen and the rest to deal with this… to let the Council deal with their lives… to let this scourge of evil claim the Coinland. For none of those in power cared. They had sent sixty thousand of their best fighters into a campaign, just to remove one troublesome wizardess…
Yes… she would just lie here… just… lie… here…
A vision blocked out the image of the battlefield, and she saw a woman clutching a babe to her chest, as orcs smashed into her house. It smiled, a feral smile, and it pulled the baby from her, dashing its brains out on a bedstead. The woman screamed, but next minute, the orc was on her again, mounting her like an animal, roaring and spasming… the woman screamed, and tried to fight, but she could not. The orc was too powerful, too strong… the orc stood, leaving the woman a huddled wreck. And, having finished with her, he broke her neck…
Another vision- a boy, trembling, holding a toy bow, loosing a shaky arrow towards a giant that had just crushed the body of his father, sending bones and blood across the farm. He could have run, but he chose to stand and fight… the arrow bounced off the giant's thick skin, and, enraged the giant raised his club to strike at the impudent midget that had dared raise a weapon against him…
Another- a wizard, cowled and robed in black, sent magic leaping from man to woman, to woman to man… chain lightning, tearing through the crowds of Athkatla, the capitol of the Coinland… pikemen in the imperial colours stood against ogre hordes, but died as magic tore them into pieces…
And faced by that, Nalia found her duty once again, and screamed!
Her magic didn't even take the form of a spell, so strong was her sense of fury. A blast of energy from around her knocked the enemy away from her, sending them flying into the air. Standing to her feet, holding her staff, she summoned another stone skin, and hobbled, her leg limp and unresponsive, forward.
She had little energy, but that energy would have to do. All she had to do was weaken them a little further, and then the army could escape… the army could send word to Imoen that it had been decimated… the Council could send another army… the war could still be won… the baby did not have to die… the boy did not have to stand alone, the wizard would not be allowed to kill hundreds…
Whips of pure magic span from her hand, sending enemies into the air, bursting into flames. They shrieked and shrieked, but not one came within two metres of her. Although she had little energy, Nalia found that she didn't care. She was gripped by something beyond power… she was gripped by duty.
Her eyes shone golden, and the enemy fled from her in terror, as they were seized by her mad, uncontrollable magic. It tore into them, ravenously, like a beast unleashed from control. A gesture and beads of energy flung from her eyes. Another gesture and massive claws of steel replaced her nails. She tore the head of an ogre with her bare hands.
A massive blast of air knocked the last few ogres out of her way… and she fell to her knees. She was through. She had blasted through the lines! Her vision was darkening, for such was her tiredness. She shot into the air a set of magic missiles, and she heard the remnants of her army charging…
And across her vision, stood a massive ogre, carrying an immense two-handed sword. It touched her cheek with the cold steel, softly, like a lover's caress, and Nalia shook her head… gods, no! Not this… not… this… not… now…
A slap sent her to the floor, and she winked into blackness… but pain pulled her out. The ogre was tearing at her robes, pulling them off roughly, leaving her lying naked on the floor, groaning and shuddering. And just as she thought he would succeed in his dark desires, another massive shape ploughed into him.
She would have laughed, if she had the strength.
They were fighting over her… her weak knees tried to get her to stand… but they would not. Somebody must have noticed her feeble attempt, for in a few seconds, she felt hot, sticky pain surge in her back… she groaned… she didn't have the energy to scream, though the pain wasn't anything less.
Another stab, this time in her stomach, and this time she did scream, as the acid poured into the muscle of her abdomen… she watched, pitifully and helplessly, as blood leaked through her fingers. She started to cry.
Pain flashed again, though now she was half out of the world anyway, so she didn't care. By the time the fourth, and fifth, and sixth stab came… Nalia was already on her way to the realm of Kelemvor… by the time her head was chopped from her body, she had lost all sense of the mortal plains… forever…