Author's Corner:
If you were wondering, I have intentionally kept most of the details regarding Drake's past in the dark up to this point. You can count on several major plot twists to appear in the near future that will, for good or ill, change your perspective of Drake. And now, I shall unveil the true meaning of the words 'Curse of Caledona' (at the end of the chapter, so don't read ahead). Earlier parts of this chapter will largely focus on explaining things, however much I hate to follow the script. I will be tweaking it as much as possible. I apologize for the tardiness of this update, as I was drumming up a different 'strategy.'
Dude – What makes you think no one identified Drake on Valor? Just because the rank and file Black Fang member didn't point him out doesn't mean everyone missed him. Read on and find out!
Shadow Rave – Yes, unfortunately the power to write and update belongs solely to the discretion of the author. I have also come across various fictions that abruptly stop updating for long periods of time. I'll try not to become one of those.
Mad-man – Err, is that a compliment? If so, thanks.
DotDotDotMan – Now I'm REALLY confused… 'I was bawling my eyes out…' Was the previous chapter that bad? If it was that terrible, I'll definitely step it up and improve.
Dias of All Final – Trust me, you'll be seeing a lot more of Cecilia-in-command in several chapters. Then again, Cecilia's style contrasts significantly with Drake's method. Cecilia likes to tell everyone what's going to happen, but Drake prefers to hold all the cards in his hand.
Paladin2007 – Supports might be more frequent, depending on how much I have to write per chapter. However, there is the underlying problem that if I devote too much time to added in conversations, some of the battles may suffer (like in this chapter). Hopefully not too much.
Missklutzzz – Thank you for your review! You'll be seeing a much, much more twisted tactician. (Cues evil laugh)
Hammer of Terrascars – Chapter 14
Curse of Caledonia
April 23rd, Dragon's Gate,
"Are you certain that it is he?"
"Positive, master," a robed figure bobbed his head, his knees still bent before Nergal.
"And why haven't you kept note of his location over these seven months?" Nergal asked furiously.
The spy trembled in fear, "We lost him at the border of Etruria… M-Master Nergal…"
"Incompetent wretch," Nergal rasped, "He would've made a powerful morph, capable of tearing this world apart piece by piece and laying waste to all who oppose me! With his genius directing the war, I'd have more than enough quintessence at the rate he spills blood!"
"I-I apologize, master," the spy quailed, "F-forgive me! Please!"
"Limstella," the morph appeared at Nergal's summons, "Remove him from my sight."
As the piteous wails of the doomed mortal echoed faintly through the halls, Nergal strode slowly and painfully towards the Dragon's Gate. Stroking the great stone gate gently, he burst into a mad fit of laughter.
"How pitifully you shackle the dread demon that languishes inside of you! Why not unleash that monstrosity upon the weak of this world? You cannot deny your thirst for slaughter much longer!"
Nergal whirled around, his mad eye twitching with glee, "Your pathetic humanity is insufficient to conceal your darkest desires… Become my faithful morph and drown yourself in fresh blood, Cursed One of the West!"
April 24th, at the Leaping Leviathan in Badon,
To say that our campaign ended in complete failure would be an incorrect conjecture. To say that MY campaign ended in dismal defeat would be entirely correct. I had hopes that I would be able to undertake one last journey to repair the harm I caused, and then finally obtain the eternal rest that I so desperately crave. As usual, the gods mock me, the fates toy with me, and we return from Valor with a corpse. Now, with a fresh mission laid before us and several vengeful members in our party quite eager to rend Nergal apart bit by bit, I wager that this journey has just… hit its first intermission. Father Sky, I know you're laughing at me.
"Well?" Cecilia asked, "How is he doing?"
"Terrible," Hector said as he came down the stairs, "Hasn't said a word since he plopped down in that chair. That girl, Ninian, is with him, but so far neither of us has managed to get a response from him."
"He's still probably in a state of shock," Lyn surmised, "I was in a similar state when my tribe was scattered by bandits."
Drake grimaced visibly at that comment, though the rest were not aware of the true reason, "Nevertheless, Lord Eliwood is now the Marquis of Pherae, and those who take on the mantle of responsibility cannot afford to mope around forever. Then again, I'd be inhuman to deny him a few hours of respite."
"Just a few hours?" Hector asked, "Why not several days?"
"I highly doubt that we will be given several days to spend at our leisure," Drake replied dryly, "Though Nergal is incapacitated and Valor is in chaos, the Black Fang's reach will still reach us in Badon. It is unlikely they will leave us alone after the ruckus we've caused at Badon."
"That's true," Cecilia agreed, "With Lord Elbert so recently dead and our rescue operation so rebuffed, the army's morale would not be at its highest. Add a lord overwhelmed with grief to the mix and we could face an ugly upcoming battle."
"What I'm curious is," Lyn said, "Why is Nergal so interested in Ninian and Nils?"
"Let me answer that," Nils said as he came out of the adjacent room.
"Let's move to a secured room," Hector suggested, "The walls may have ears around this place."
The group entered a small suite near Eliwood's room and gathered around the table. Outside the window, Matthew and Erk were on watch while the doorway was guarded by Dorcas and Bartre. The remainder of the army had largely retired for the evening, but sleep came to only a few on that restless night.
"I believe a few introductions are in order," Lyn said to Nils, "Drake and I you already know. This is Cecilia, another one of the talented commanders advising us in battle. The gruff-looking man over there is Hector of Ostia. He may look mean and scary, but he's somewhat tolerable underneath."
Hector was about to retort when Cecilia thwacked him with a spell tome in the back of the head. Nils giggled while Drake sighed, "Nils, let's have your story."
"Alright," Nils said, "Shortly after we parted ways with Lyn a year ago, the Black Fang apprehended us and took us to Valor. It was there that we first met Marquis Elbert. I daresay that neither Ninian nor I would've been alive now, so full of despair were we, had not Lord Elbert comforted us with stories of his wife and son. It was through his efforts that we managed to get on board a boat and attempt to leave Valor."
"Why did Nergal need the two of you?" Hector asked, "Is it to call dragons into Elibe?"
"Close," Nils corrected, "He needs us to open the Dragon's Gate. Nergal can call the dragons himself, but that requires tremendous amounts of quintessence. Quintessence is similar to your life energy, and, according to Nergal, the amount varies from person to person depending on the strength of their will. Naturally, if your quintessence is stolen from you, you cannot survive."
"Which is what happened to Lord Elbert," Cecilia murmured.
"Nergal apparently wants to conver a dragon's quintessence to his own use," Nils continued, "However, in order to do that, he'd require vast amounts of quintessence, which would be difficult to come by, since it is quite difficult to find individuals with strong quintessence within them. To solve that problem, Nergal plotted to have Marquis Darin start a war throughout Elibe."
"What for?" Hector asked.
"Elementary deduction," Drake interrupted, "A large scale war would produce many casualties, which translates into a massive amount of quintessence drawn from the innumerable dead on the battlefields. In short, quantity over quality is his chief aim through the war."
"That monster," Hector growled, "I will have him pay for that!"
"He is indeed a monster," Nils said, "Nergal uses quintessence on himself as well, lengthening his lifespan and rendering him nearly immortal. The wound Lord Elbert dealt him will not kill him, though it will take much time to heal."
"So what is our next move?" Hector asked.
Cecilia had a ready answer, "We inform Lord Uther of course." Cecilia had a mischievous grin on her face while Drake merely nodded. Hector scowled at that.
Lyn was confused, "Why is Hector…"
"Angry?" Cecilia laughed, "Because Lord Hector hasn't informed Lord Uther about anything we've done so far."
"Did you think I had the time to tell my brother that there are several madmen out to take over the world?"
"Well, you certainly didn't have the time," Cecilia noted, "But I'm sure Lord Uther would appreciate knowing that someone is out to summon dragons without even a 'as you please.'"
Everyone except Drake and Hector laughed at that.
Drake cleared his throat, "We'll rest in Badon for tonight before heading off to Ostia on the morrow. It'd be best if we could arrange a meeting somewhere outside of Castle Ostia, preferably in a secure fortress of some sort."
"Outside? Why?" Nils asked.
"Ostia is, after all, the head of the Lycian Council," Drake explained, "It would raise fearsome international inquiries as to why Marquis Ostia needed to see three Lycian lords at such short notice, not counting a battered army and a newly dead Marquis Pherae."
"That's true," Cecilia said, "Let's inform Lord Eliwood and turn in for the night."
As they paused before the foot of the stairs, Ninian came out of Eliwood's room and closed the door quietly. Shaking her head, Ninian wiped away a few tears before becoming aware of their presence.
"Ah," Ninian started, "I apologize for disturbing your rest, milady."
"I haven't turned in yet," Lyn replied cheerfully, "How's Eliwood doing?"
That threatened to bring the girl to tears again, "Still no change, and seeing him like that… I just can't…"
"Nils," Drake whispered, "Take your sister to your room," he raised his voice slightly, "Lord Hector, Lyn, and Cecilia, watch and do not interfere with what I'm about to do."
Mystified, Nils and Ninian departed after Drake led Lyn, Hector, and Cecilia into Eliwood's room. Hector closed the door while Drake halted not two feet before the sitting Eliwood. Anyone could tell from the horror and grief stricken eyes that the young man was replaying the scene of his father's death over and over again in his eyes, and finding little comfort in memories. His rapier lay carelessly tossed upon the bed, the cloak draped haphazardly over the table, and Eliwood's own bedraggled state all testified that the young lord was quite detached from the world as of this moment.
Drake sighed, took a deep breath…
…And socked Eliwood furiously in the face.
"Kent, my brother of the sword, why is it that you are paired with the beauteous lady and I'm relegated to sentry duty?" Sain complained.
Kent rolled his eyes, "Sain, however much I hate to admit it, allowing you to guide a new female recruit through the layout of our army is not simply trouble. It is more synonymous to inviting disaster to a cup of tea. Tell me with a straight face that you will be utterly civil and courteous and I'll instantly switch places with you." The gods know I'm terrible with those of the opposite gender.
Sain instantly turned around and fixated Kent and Fiora with deadly serious face, "I swear upon my honor that I shall treat the lady with utmost chivalry and respect."
Kent could easily see the laughter dancing in Sain's eyes. Not wishing to spoil his companion's fun yet, Kent turned to Fiora, "Well, Dame Fiora? What do you say?"
Fiora seemed to consider this for a moment, "Hey, is that Florina over there?"
"Huh? Where is she?" Sain turned around frantically, "Alas, how could I have missed such a goddess of perfection and grace? Woe is me!"
Kent slapped himself in the forehead, Gullible, thy name is Sain.
"I think I will be declining your offer, Sir Sain," Fiora remarked.
Sain seemed at a loss until Matthew chanced to drop by laughing, "She totally broadsided you there, Sain! Thanks for relieving me, by the way. Serra would have my head if her 'handsome and courageous escort' was late by a few minutes. I can agree with the handsome and courageous part, but I'll never agree to being an escort."
After Matthew took off with a biffed Sain in tow, Fiora said, "Those of opposite genders mix quite easily in this army, don't they?"
"That they do," Kent said, "I despair at how Drake keeps everyone in fighting order without having emotions get in the way. I understand that Ilia's flying fleet would never encounter this problem?"
"Naturally," Fiora replied as they continued towards the stables, "Since we're all women. Emotions are a liability on the battlefield."
"True, it tends to cloud reason and a soldier becomes unable to make calm, rational decisions." Kent said as he pointed at and identified several of the sentries, then stopped short at the shrill whistle that shattered the silence of the night, "We're under attack! Get word to the lords!"
Typically, when words do little to awaken someone from their stupor, pain will usually suffice. That was certainly the case as Eliwood fell out of his chair from the blow, staring up in surprise at Drake while completely ignoring his split lip. Said tactician strode forward and hauled the stunned lord upright by the collar.
"Get up," Drake hissed, "Stand up, Eliwood!"
Bewildered, everyone could only gape in shock at the sudden change in Drake's demeanor.
"You are Pherae incarnate," Drake thundered, "In your father's place, you must become Marquis Pherae, lord of your lands and the leader of your people. This duty has been thrust into your hands and whether you will or no, it is your responsibility to lead! You can mourn Lord Elbert after you have finished the charge he laid upon you. Now is the time to act!"
"But, I… Father…"
"Cease your miserable excuses!" Drake growled, "When I first met you, I believed you to be an idealistic individual capable of great feats. If the fall of a loved one is such a staggering blow such that you are blinded from your path, then I have sorely misjudged you!"
"Drake!" Bartre knocked on the door, "We have visitors this evening!"
Taking a brief moment to calm himself, Drake adopted a neutral expression in exchange for his previous raging personality, much to the surprise of everyone in the room. Drake casually dropped Eliwood, "How many and from which direction?"
"We can't count their numbers in the darkness of the night, but they're swarming in from the east."
"Rouse the army and prepare to sortie," Drake commanded, "I'll meet them in the town square outside the Leaping Leviathan."
Rapid, pounding footsteps signaling that his orders were being carried out, Drake turned back to Lyn, Hector and Cecilia. "Come, arm yourselves and prepare for battle."
"What about Eliwood?" Hector demanded.
Drake barely glanced at him, "Let him vegetate here if he so wishes or perhaps he'll join us to give battle. It matters not."
As the four of them stepped out into the hallway, pandemonium was raging as members of the army, distraught at the sudden assault, allowed confusion to run amok through the halls. Shaking his head again, Drake took a deep breath and bellowed, "Silence fools!"
Dozens of pair of eyes turned to regard their tactician as a gentle placidity descended upon the once heated hallway.
"The enemy has already engaged the sentries and is almost upon us," Drake said evenly, "Now quit your squabbling, arm yourselves, and assemble outside the inn post haste. Now go now!"
"I've never seen this happen to you before," Lyn remarked as the army scrambled to obey, "Rarely do you lose your temper, Drake."
"Sometimes," Drake leveled a look at Cecilia and Lyn, "It requires the force of personality to galvanize an army into action. Same could be said of what I just did in the previous room."
"I'll keep that in mind," Cecilia replied.
"Milady, danger approaches," Ninian warned as she appeared with Nils.
"I understand," Lyn said, "Ninian, Nils, stay inside the inn. We'll move out and deal with the attackers."
"I-I'll go see to Lord Eliwood," Ninian said.
"I'll help you in battle," Nils volunteered, "I can play…"
Cecilia cut him off gently, "Nils, shouldn't you be with your sister right now?"
"Oh, yeah," Nils said sheepishly, "I guess you're right."
Hector, Lyn, Cecilia and Drake hurried down to lobby of the inn where they found Oswin waiting for them.
"The army is assembled and awaits your command," Oswin reported.
"Any update on the intruders?" Cecilia asked.
"They claim to be the Black Fang," Oswin said.
As soon as the five of them exited the Leaping Leviathan, a wyvern rider, perched on the roof and hidden in the darkness of the night, leapt out of cover and pounced upon his unsuspecting prey.
"Lord Eliwood?" Ninian asked as she entered the room.
"Hm? What is it?"
Ninian stopped and stared at a reinvigorated Eliwood adjusting his cloak and buckling on his rapier, fully intent on taking the fight to the enemy.
"Yes, Ninian?" Eliwood's words shook Ninian from her reverie, "Is there something on my face?" She blushed at being caught staring.
"L-Lord Eliwood," Ninian stammered, "Are you doing into battle?"
"Yes," there was no hesitation in his voice, only a steely determination, "Drake was right. I have made an absolute fool of myself and dishonored my father's memory by moping around here like a lost puppy. I daresay he should smack me more often, certainly it didn't do me any harm."
"Lord Eliwood, your cheek…"
Eliwood smiled, "It'll be fine. I deserve to be flattened again by Drake if I complain about such a paltry injury!"
"T-then at least let me help you," Ninian said desperately, "I wish to help, in any manner whatsoever!"
Eliwood thought for a moment, and then grinned, "I know! When this battle is done and over with, show me one of your dances. I'm sure you can come up with something special for me, right?"
"A… special… dance?"
"Uh…" Eliwood blushed, "I didn't mean for it to sound that way. Please, forgive me for sounding too forward."
"No, no," Ninian replied, "I'd be glad to dance for you."
"Dancing," Eliwood's eyes took on a faraway look, "My mother loved to dance. Every year at the festival, she would find the strength to dance the entire night away. Father never really approved, but always danced with her throughout the entire time."
"Lord Elbert…"
"Ah, forgive me," Eliwood said, "You must think of my father enough already. But remember, Ninian, Father's death was not your fault. Nergal was the only one responsible, and Nergal shall be the only one to pay for his crimes."
"But, Lord Eliwood," Ninian protested, trying to hold back her tears in vain, "You're wrong, because I have been de-"
Eliwood silenced her by putting a finger gently on her lips and grinned, "As Drake would say, 'no excuses.' I'll see you after the battle, so take care until I return."
As the young lord quitted the room, Eliwood never heard the young girl behind him ask despairingly, "Why? Why do you shower us with compassion and faith?"
"Lyn!"
Florina, though hesitant towards men, was never slow to defend her friends. Urging Huey on, knight and pegasus converged upon the diving wyvern in a torrent of wings. The wyvern rider, hesitating for a brief moment, jerked on his steed and tried to stop his attack. Unfortunately, he underestimated the speed that a pegasus was capable of. As luck would have it, Florina speared the ambusher straight off his mount while the wyvern flew away in fright.
"Lyn, are you alright?" Florina asked as Huey remained gracefully in the air.
"Yes, I'm…" Lyn started, but was interrupted by Drake.
"Get down, Florina! Ballista!"
Turning around, Florina beheld a ballista bolt flying straight towards her. Fear consumed her and Florina remained stiffly in the saddle, staring wide-eyed at the incoming bolt. Huey, however, was made of firmer stuff, and gave a quick twist to shift his rider. The catch was that Florina was completely unsynchronized with her pegasus due to her fear of arrows. With a shriek of surprise, Florina found herself falling from her pegasus and the cold, hard cobblestones racing to meet her.
"Got you!"
When Florina re-opened her eyes, she noticed that she wasn't dashed to pieces on the ground. Instead, a certain blue-haired lord had managed to cushion her fall again.
"Hey, are you all right?" Hector asked.
Florina blushed and stammered something unintelligible.
"Err… Lord Hector," Cecilia said, "You might want to put her down and prepare for the next batch."
"Oh right," Hector set Florina down before looking skywards, "Oh crap…"
A certain flustered pegasus floored Hector face first into the unyielding ground below. Glancing around anxiously, Huey pranced off a prone Hector and merrily made his way to Florina's side. Hector slowly got up, dusting himself off and trying to deal with a bloody nose.
"Damn you, Cecilia," Hector growled, "I swear by the gods, the two of you will be the death of me. Not counting that flying horse over there, of course."
They were sharing a good laugh when Hector felt someone tug his sleeve. Turning around, he found a very, very nervous Florina staring at him.
"L-Lor… Lord… Hec…"
"Come on, out with it," Hector asked, "What is it?"
"I… I… Than…"
Grabbing the young girl by the shoulders, Hector shook Florina, "What do you want?"
"THANK YOU, LORD HECTOR!" Florina screamed in fright.
Said lord covered his ears as he tried to recover his hearing while Florina gaped in disbelief, "I did it! I managed to say thank you!"
Hector growled, "That's it, you're not leaving my side, you and your Elimine-forsaken horse! I have to keep the two of you out of trouble, even if it shortens my lifespan even more than that infernal Cecilia does."
"Hey, I resent that!"
"So don't leave my side in battle, you hear me?" Hector said.
"Yes… Lord Hector," Florina said meekly.
"Did I miss something?" Eliwood asked as he emerged from the inn.
"No, nothing," Hector lied.
Eliwood frowned, "Then what's with those black hoof prints on the back of your armor?"
"What? I just polished that yesterday!"
Drake slapped himself in the forehead and murmured, "Sometimes, I don't believe I know them."
"Let the children play, Drake," Lyn said, "By the way, are you ready to deal with the intruders?"
"Maybe."
Oleg frowned at the utter silence that surrounded Badon. Given that this was Badon after all, the villagers were quite used to rowdy pirate or bandit crews lustily singing raucous drinking ditties and regular mobs. An invasion force intent on assassinating visitors was something else entirely. Hence why the majority of the inhabitants barred their doors and hid shuddering in their beds. Oleg's forces had secured nearly half the city, but his targets had betrayed no sign that they were aware of his approach.
Surely an army that had penetrated to the depths of Valor in less than a week would be competent enough to see him coming. Surely an army capable of injuring Lord Nergal possessed the strength to give him a challenge. Unless, of course, they already knew of his presence, but were merely baiting him into thinking they weren't prepared.
"Oleg?" Le Raston asked, "What are we waiting for?"
Le Raston had once been the favored son of a noble house in Bern. The minor technicality was that he was the second son of the said noble house. Bern, like other nations in Elibe, utilized a principle of primogeniture, which caused the eldest son to inherit everything from their noble father, be they lands, titles, riches, etc. Naturally, this left the other sons, like Le Raston, out of the loop. His older brother, worried that their father's favoritism would make Le Raston the heir despite the common practice, took advantage of their father's illness to oust Le Raston from the family home. Left with nothing but his skills as a wyvern rider, Le Raston drifted from city to city before finding a new home in the Black Fang.
"We are waiting for a sign of certain victory before proceeding," Oleg replied.
Le Raston frowned, "Why don't we just charge them? They have nothing that could possibly stop a charge of wyverns."
"If you are too confident of a victory beforehand," Oleg cautioned, "You will miss a pitfall that you easily could've avoided had you exercised discretion."
Oleg hailed from the Western Isles, starting his career as a bandit before later joining the Black Fang. As a bandit, he had fought in the Subjugation Wars ten years ago on the isles of Caledonia and Fibernia. Etrurian armies had fiercely fought the resident pirates and bandits for control of the fabulously wealthy mines that lay across the Western Isles. Untold acts of brutality, cruelty, and treacheryhad taught Oleg that strength is always needed, but if caution did not follow quickly, strength is doomed to defeat. Le Raston, pampered son of a noble that he was, evidently never learned that.
"Oleg!"
"What is it?"
A bloody, red-haired mercenary limped up, still holding his left arm, "We've lost contact with the crew on 4th Street."
Oleg raised an eyebrow while Le Raston cursed, "How, may I ask? The 4th Street detachment had a ballista as well, along with nearly a dozen guards. Not counting there were three patrol groups that could easily lend aid to an attacked station."
The mercenary twitched, "I'm all that remains of the group, Oleg."
Oleg turned around at that while Le Raston grabbed the man's injured shoulder. "You're lying!" Le Raston roared, "There were fully thirty men down there, and you're telling me that they are all dead except you?"
"Charlie," Oleg warned, addressing Le Raston by his first name, "He's going to pass out at the rate you're gripping his shoulder."
Le Rason let go of the struggling soldier, who grunted in pain, "I told you never to call me that, Oleg."
"True, but it gets your attention really quickly," Oleg said, "Now, tell me how they finished off our comrades."
"They ambushed us," the mercenary gasped out, "The cavaliers charged into our group, but left after only slaying the archer managing the ballista, and then baited us into the 5th Street intersection. There, we were set upon by a three-sided ambush, archers and mages on one side, cavaliers turning to give battle, and a knight approaching from the other. I managed to flee, the others were cut down almost instantly."
"Idiots," Oleg mumbled, "I told them not to leave their post at all costs!"
"Then what about the infernal patrols?" Le Raston frothed.
"They were apparently attacked at the same time," the mercenary continued, "I came upon two of three patrols lying dead, with a combination of sword and ax wounds all over them. Just as I reached the final patrol, they were set upon by two pegasi riders diving down on them through the clouds. Caught unawares, they fell before I could warn them. I doubled back here as quickly as my legs could carry me afterwards."
Le Raston was dumbfounded, "That's impossible, how could they have possibly known about the patrols too? And struck them precisely when all forms of reinforcements have been conveniently removed?"
"They know where we are located," Oleg growled, "There must be a position in Badon that commands the view of the entire surrounding area. They can't chance using pegasi to scout with your wyverns and the ballista platform that still remains to us."
"There is," the mercenary elaborated painfully, "The Leaping Leviathan is the tallest building in all of Badon."
"That is also where the children are," Le Raston said, "We can kill two birds with one stone if we strike swiftly."
"Except they'll be prepared for our coming," Oleg thought aloud, "That's why they took the 4th Street ballista, as an added deterent against our direct assault on the inn. Very well, I shall personally attack the ballista platform there. Le Raston, after I begin the attack, take your wyverns and ransack the inn if necessary. Find the children at all costs!"
"Permission to slaughter all who resist?"
"Granted."
No one remarked on the mercenary's departure, deducing that the man evidently left in search of a healer.
Oleg and his personal guard crept forward, each a skilled murderer or assassin well trained in their art. Using the shadows, Oleg and his two dozen warriors hid in the alcoves not twenty yards from the ballista platform located in the middle of the 4th Street. Ahead of them, roughly a dozen men were guarding the platform in complete darkness. To the casual observer, the fact that there were no torches lit in the area may have been a deadly mistake, but to those seasoned in war, there was a definite method to the madness. Torches readily gave away your numbers to the enemy, hence why these frontline 'fire bases' were rarely well lit, as torches could betray their location as well as paint a big red target sign for any approaching sniper. Only a well fortified base camp would be illuminated with fire.
A hand ax came whistling through the air and splattered messily into one of Oleg's guards, who fell heavily into the street. The guards became instantly aware and charged Oleg's men, who in turn charged with weapons bared. A fearsome battle erupted, but Oleg and his battle-hardened men had the mastery. Man after man fell before Oleg's great ax, until only the enemy leader still stood. Stout and clad in armor, the knight was forced to his knees by two of Oleg's bodyguards.
"Hmph," Oleg panted, which indirectly masked his voice as he gasped, "You gave us a fight. We outnumbered you two to one, and you still managed to nearly give us a one for one casualty rate. Unhelm him and bring me a torch, let me see what he looks like."
This was speedily done, but when Oleg and his prisoner saw one another, the effect was quite similar to a deadly blow to the gut.
"Dorf Clawson?"
Oleg's prisoner and captain of the 4th Street squad asked in disbelief, "Master Oleg?"
"What the hell are you doing here?" Oleg rasped, "I received a report saying your crew was wiped out to the last man! I thought your group was the enemy!"
"What?" Dorf said incredulously, "Our patrols were killed, along with a daring charge that took our archer, but otherwise we were untouched. I did send a man back to report our losses and request reinforcements."
Oleg's blood seemed to grow cold for a moment as fear lanced through him, "You didn't happen to give him the passkey, did you?"
"Of course I gave him the black glove," Dorf said, "How else could he have made it through your guards without it?"
"Then what was his hair color?" Oleg asked trembling.
"Hair?" Dorf said, "I sent my son Jancront! And you know as well as I do that he's bald!"
A deep booming laughter from the rooftop chilled the heart of every Black Fang member.
Meanwhile, Le Raston was having difficulties of his own. A normal flyby over the houses of Badon and a lightning strike against the inn's defenders had been compounded by harassing pegasi riders and sniping archers. Oh, don't forget those pesky spell casters that shot two of his men out of the sky. All in all, he made it to the Leaping Leviathan with a mere three wyvern riders behind him. Le Raston could only lament on his foolish decision of not bringing more fighters with him to sack the enemy's headquarters.
Greed and a lust for fame, however, propelled Le Raston forward. Ordering his men to dismount, Le Raston led his followers and charged into the inn. They were met by a furious innkeeper and her retinue of bouncers.
"All right, my measly landlubbers," the innkeeper said, "What do you want in my establishment?"
Le Raston swallowed nervously, "You have a pair of children with teal hair and red eyes. Where are they?"
The innkeeper huffed and placed her hands on her waist, "How dare you! No one, not even Jake or Fargus himself, comes into Anna's Leaping Leviathan and tries to take someone away by force! Ain't that right?" The group behind her roared their approval.
"You don't know who you're messing with," Le Raston said shakily, "We are the Black…"
"Black Fang, I know," Anna said derisively, "And certainly a cowardly lot to send armed soldiers to kidnap children. If any of you miserable scum come here again, I'll have Fargus and his crew give you a warm welcome. Now scram!"
Seeing he was outnumbered nearly five to one, there was little Le Raston could do except back out of the inn accompanied by the parting jeers of Anna's bouncers. The moment he stepped outside, he was greeted by the sight of four dead wyvern carcasses lying in front of him. Next to the pin cushioned wyverns, two archers, three spell casters and two pegasi riders were admiring their handiwork. The shaman, appearing to be the leader of this group, turned and looked at Le Raston.
"Last time I was here, someone from Badon asked me an interesting question," Canas sniffed, "I will repeat it for your benefit."
He took several long moments to polish his monocle before popping it back where it belonged and readying a spell tome.
"Medium rare or well done?"
As arrows, javelins and spells sped towards him, Le Raston cursed himself for not choosing a peaceful career.
If Oleg had any doubts concerning the reputed strength and legendary cunning of this battalion, he no longer harbored such thoughts. During their trek back to the base camp that Oleg had set up during the early phases of the battle, fully a dozen of his men fell behind him. Time and time again, he would round the street corner only to find a pair of cavaliers charging directly for them. The first time this had happened, Oleg had foolishly led his scant dozen or so men in a counterattack. The foolish chase had landed them straight into the teeth of enemy swords and axes. Half a dozen men fell around him as Oleg desperately tried to bring his troops out of the killing ring, with cavaliers hot on his heels. The enemy possessed a perfect command of the city, knowledgeable of every shortcut that would yield the advantage to him.
Abruptly, another two cavaliers cut Oleg off from the ragged remnants of his command, sandwiching the hapless fighters between the heavy horses. As the slaughter raged behind him, Oleg tore his gaze away before sprinting as fast as he could for the walls of Badon. Not that fleeing would do him any good.
As he stumbled out of Badon's gates, the creaking gates informed Oleg that his night was not over. Whirling around, the gates closed with a bang, signaling that retreat was no longer an option.
"Greetings, Black Fang," a familiar voice drawled out.
Oleg turned around to find a certain red-haired mercenary looking at him, "You! You lied to me!"
The man shrugged, "Who said I was part of your army in the first place?"
"He was stupid enough to fall for it, right Raven?" A thief asked from the shadows, "Drake, Badon's secure!"
"Now all we have to deal with is the leader," said an armored knight that stepped out of the trees.
Exhausted that he was, Oleg put up quite a fight for his life against the combined might of Matthew, Raven, and Oswin. Swing his ax wildly, he bought himself a brief respite from Matthew and Raven's swords before bulling forward into Oswin. The armored knight stood his ground and gave as good as he got, lance and ax clashing furiously.
Biting back a scream of pain, Oleg felt a sharp sword bite deeply into his right leg. Backhanding Matthew with a furious punch, he knocked the thief out cold before plucking out the offending blade. However, the damage was done, and his mobility seriously reduced.
"I'll have to take all of you with me to hell!" Oleg screamed as he tackled Oswin off his feet.
Caught by surprise, Oswin fell flat on his back while Oleg jumped nimbly to his feet and raised his ax with both hands for the killing blow. Then Oleg had the misfortune to take his eyes off his target for one second and look forward. He never looked back down as fear lanced through him and Oleg found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the face that stood not a dozen feet away from him.
"C-C-Curse… o-of… Caledonia-a…" Oleg stammered in terror. Oswin's eyes widened at those words.
"Strike," the face said emotionlessly half a second before Raven's sword smote Oleg down.
"Hey, knight of Ostia," Raven barked, "Get up! I know you're not injured!"
Oswin's mind was far away from Badon as he thought back to the time ten years ago when he first heard the Cursed One of the West.
"Marquis!" A messenger that Oswin admitted gasped out.
"What is it?" Marquis Ostia commanded, "Speak!"
"The Subjugation War is over!" The man said in a hurry, "Etruria has won the Battle of Idina and the surviving pirate bands have been scattered to the four winds!"
"The war is not over if Draclaw, King of the Seas, is not taken or dead," Oswin noted, "If alive, he could rally the bandits again."
"It's just that! Draclaw has been slain!"
"What?" Marquis Ostia asked.
"How?" Oswin asked, "Draclaw commanded three thousand pirates, not counting his bandit shock troops! He couldn't have been lured out to fight!"
"But he did! An Etrurian general uncovered Draclaw's family and held his sister hostage, sending word that she would be slain if Draclaw did not give battle."
"Foolish man," the marquis murmured, "The King of the Seas never exercised enough caution when his blood was aroused. Give me the details of the battle at once."
"Yes, milord," the man continued after taking a deep breath, "Draclaw led his entire army to Castle Idina, as the Etrurian general demanded. There, they found an Etrurian army waiting for them, with the general and the hostage awaiting their arrival."
"They would've had no chance," the marquis murmured, "To fight a battle on grounds not of their choosing and against superior forces. At least the fool managed to free his family."
"That's not exactly what happened, marquis," the messenger said, "Draclaw demanded that Etruria leave the Western Isles in peace, but the general merely shook his head and said, 'I hold your sister in my hand.' Draclaw paled and demanded her return as well, but the general let out a terrible laugh."
Oswin was struck by a terrible thought, "Surely, he didn't…"
The man sorrowfully replied, "You guessed correctly, Sir Oswin. 'I have no more need of her now that you have been lured into the open,' were the general's exact words. He speared her down with his lance right in front of Draclaw, who howled in grief. Maddened by the loss of his kin, Draclaw led a furious charge against the Etrurian host. Blinded by the wanton murder, the pirate bands followed, though the bandit vanguard hesitated briefly."
"A trap," the marquis muttered.
"Yes, two Etrurian cavalry detachments broke cover and took the pirates in the rear, and…" the messenger gulped, "The slaughter began…"
"And what of that bastard, the general?" Marquis Ostia asked, "Surely such an dastardly man hid while his men did the dirty work for him!"
"Actually, I daresay otherwise, milord," the messenger said, "That inhuman monster's lance work was unrivaled, probably far superior to even yours, Sir Oswin. He hacked his way through the pirate lines,slew Draclaw in single combat, mounted Draclaw's head on a pike and placed it beside his standard. The pirate bands broke easily after that. No quarter, no surrender, the pirates were slain wherever they were found. For every five sea scum that entered the battle, I doubt even one is still alive. I suppose the bandits fared better, though the Etrurian cavalry is still after them."
"The general, does he have a name?" Oswin asked.
The messenger gave Oswin a dark look, "Before the battle, maybe. Afterwards, pirate and peasant alike called him the Curse of Caledonia."
"Oswin!" Matthew shouted as loud as he could next to Oswin's head.
"Huh?" Oswin came around, blinking upwards at Serra and Matthew, "What is it?"
"What is it?" Serra screeched, "You've been walking around like a zombie every since Oleg fell. It took Bartre and Dorcas three tries to get you back on your feet. What happened to you?"
"Yeah, what happened after I was conked out?" Matthew asked, "I asked Drake and Raven, but they said nothing out of the ordinary."
"Nothing happened," Oswin affirmed, I just never thought I would see that man with my own two eyes, trust him, and even fight alongside of him.
If you hate me now, I will accept the flying tomato of protest. I will no accept flames, however. (lol) Thank you for being patient and reading, review if you have the time!