Chapter Seventy One

Thirty Thousand Soldiers

ELSA

Elsa gripped the hem of her coat, watching as the exchange between the two artillery factions from both sides grew more heated. Just when she thought that her ears had grown accustomed to the sound of the ear-damaging eruptions from the thumping cannons, a louder belch rattled her ears and left her feeling slightly disoriented again.

It was hard to imagine that more than a year ago in this very location, her biggest concern had been about uncovering the myths of the League of Sorcerers and stopping Janus from stealing the Augbine Herbs. At the time, it had seemed that the fate of her world depended on her success, but now it all seemed very insignificant and minuscule compared to what she and her kingdom were facing now.

This is insane, she thought as the thick grey smoke from the cannons began to envelope the air, hanging heavy in the ridge right below her and effectively obscuring the gunners and their pieces from view. The smoke was briefly broken by another enormous ball from the opposite side whining through the air, smashing just below the ridge and narrowly missing one of the nine pounder guns that the Arendellian artillerists were operating. The impact sent bits of rock and dirt flying into the air and mixing with the smoke that was already present. Balls from both sides began slamming out of their barrels at an increasingly regular pace, kicking up fountains of dirt, grass and blood. Slugging it out with the Imperial Horde's artillery? They're outgunning us and not to mention getting more accurate too.

Anxiously, Elsa glanced at Frederick who still wore an expressionless demeanour as though the past ten minutes hadn't changed anything. He was staring out at the valley below with his spyglass, to the opposite side of the open field where the numerous columns of the Imperial Horde were aligned neatly and professionally. That's what his own gunners were trying to hit after all, apart from the enemy cannons on the opposite hill which continued to relentlessly belch fire and smoke.

Upon noticing the princess looking at him, Frederick lowered the spyglass from his eye and turned to her.

"Yes, Your Highness?" He said stolidly, as unflappable as ever even in the face of something as dire as war.

"They're getting more accurate." Elsa said uncomfortably. "We should do something."

"Not to worry, Your Highness. It's all part of the plan."

As much as she hated to admit it, it was. Frederick had anticipated this in his explanation of their defence tactics, and it had been thoroughly sound and intelligent. However, she was realising belatedly that although his words had been entirely convincing the day before, his well-laid plan of his defence tactics against the intelligent mind of the enemy commander had seemed to evaporate in her mind at least, leaving behind little more than a vague memory of something brilliant that would actually win them the battle.

Now, Elsa found herself wondering what it was about his plan that made her agree with it in the first place. Putting the Northuldra in the front line as a skirmishing battalion? Having Janus, Deirdre, Vonco and the others go along with them with every risk of getting shot through by a musket ball at any given moment? The plan now seemed flimsy and thin to her, a desperate man's attempt at putting together a defence strategy with what little resources he had.

But when she looked at Frederick, she saw no sign of that same doubt, but only confidence and composure on his face. Then again, he was an experienced officer who had seen battles before, and she hadn't. Elsa glanced around at the other senior officers around, and the runners that would bring the general's orders to the battalions waiting below. Was it possible that anyone else among the combatants felt the same way as her?

However, in her defence, seeing the balls arc and zing through the air and hearing the thunderous bass of the discharges changed the way she judged things. She winced as a round shot found its mark right at the base of one of the nine pounder guns, barreling right into the weapon and tossing screaming soldiers out of its path like tin toys. Their nine pounder was thrown off its base, landing on its side as the damned ball came to rest on the ridge after having done its damage, leaving carnage in its wake with smears of crimson against the soil. That was one of their guns incapacitated.

Elsa turned back to the steadfast general. "Frederick." She said tightly.

"Steady." He held up a hand, still peering through his spyglass. "Almost."

Elsa held her breath again and waited.

"Ah." Frederick said impassively, though Elsa thought she heard a slight bit of satisfaction in his voice, as if he had just won the lottery.

"Is it time?"

"General Kane has made his second move." Frederick lowered the spyglass and turned to her. "His infantry has begun their advance."

Amid the erratic roars of the cannons, Elsa could faintly hear with strained ears yelling from across the field, and the rhythm of the regimental drums being beaten to pace the soldiers' advance.

"They're moving." Elsa said. "Which means…"

Frederick nodded and turned to one of the eager runners nearby. "Tell the captains on the ground it's time to mobilise."

"Yes Sir." The runner saluted crisply, and scrambled off at the double down the steep hill towards the infantry which were now waiting just beyond the farmers' village.

Finally we're doing something. Elsa felt a knot in her stomach loosen slightly at the prospect that they would finally be doing something to directly engage the enemy forces. Every moment they spent waiting for the Exonian artillery to bombard them meant that the enemy was one step closer to winning the battle. But that meant putting her friends and loved ones in the crossfire. There's no way around this, is there?

Through the smoke, Elsa watched as the Arendellian battalions, with the Northuldra skirmishers and the sorcerers in front, inched towards the open field slowly at the beat of their own regimental drums. The Arendellian soldiers moved in column while the skirmishing battalion advanced in a slightly less organised formation, but effective all the same.

The cavalry squadrons waited in the wings, the light cavalry armed with carbines and nothing more, while the cuirassiers were adorned in their thick armoured breastplates, backplates and helmets, each similarly armed with a carbine in hand and an intimidating demeanour to go along.

All in all, Elsa had to admit that the Arendellians did cut an imposing figure as a composite whole, but when compared to the Imperial Horde, they were literally a third of their enemy's size. Thirty thousand soldiers whose sole purpose was to destroy everything in sight. She swallowed as she felt her throat grow thick.

"Are you alright, Your Highness?" Frederick asked. He had somehow found time to be aware of his princess' well being as well as oversee the battle at the same time.

Elsa nodded, though feeling unsure. There was something about war that made her feel numb. It wasn't fear for her own well being, but for her loved ones. Anna, Kristoff, Janus, Deirdre, Jade and the rest…would they make it out of the battle alive? She shook her head, refusing to entertain the dreadful thoughts again.

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Elsa blurted out anxiously.

"Fairly certain, Your Highness."

Elsa felt her heart skip a beat and inclined her head towards him. "Fairly certain?"

"War isn't a precise science, Your Highness." He said regrettably. "We have to do the best with what we have."

What we have, Elsa gritted her teeth. What we have are my friends and people walking directly into Exonian fire.

As she watched the Arendellian line move forward at an ever so steady pace, she fingered her loosely drawn ponytail, the urge to untie it and leap into action getting stronger with every passing second. Not yet, she managed to restrain herself for what must have been the seventeenth time within the span of ten minutes. Not yet.

JANUS

"Skirmish line, forward!"

Fully geared up with his freshly restocked weaponry and full mercenary garb, Janus stole a glance behind him as the Northuldra and the few sorcerers spread among them began to move out in the loose order that skirmishers commonly adapted in battle. From behind his mask, his eyes flicked up to the crest of the hill, past the ridge where the guns were stationed, to where the general was overlooking the battlefield with Elsa.

It made him feel a little better knowing that she was out of harm's way…for now at least. He knew that she would join the fray sooner or later, but that bit he couldn't help. It wasn't like he could stop her anyway, not in the chaos that they would be plunged into in a few minutes time.

"So," The Northuldra girl Elsa had introduced as Honeymaren appeared beside him as they all began to inch forward to screen the Imperial Horde's attack. "You and Elsa, huh?"

"I hardly think now is the right time." Janus tried to sound impassive.

"I mean we might die out there today, so best to get it off your chest." Her brother, Ryder, squeezed past another skirmisher to join the conversation.

Honeymaren stared at Ryder, and then back at Janus. "She didn't mention how you two met."

"It's complicated."

"Haven't I heard that a thousand times before."

Janus sighed. "Can we focus on the battle at hand?"

""Look, I just want to say this." Honeymaren said, gripping the musket in her hand a little tighter. She seemed to be a natural with it, for someone who had never really handled a firearm before. "Elsa's an amazing girl, but she's never been in love before. She deserves the best."

"And you're going to tell me I don't fit the bill?"

Honeymaren shook her head. "No. If you make it out of this alive, you better treat her like the princess she is."

"Of course." Janus gripped his longbow a little tighter.

"Good." She said mildly and then they all felt silent again. As silent as a battlefield could be anyway.

Janus blinked from behind his mask and turned back to the field before them. The skirmishers had advanced out in loose order, far enough from the main columns of the Arendellian infantry, but not too far that they could not retreat to the safety of their friendly forces.

He glanced briefly to the right to see Deirdre, Vonco, Cornelius and Rikhard spread out among the screen of skirmishers, surrounded by the Northuldra in pairs who were armed with muskets and their traditional staffs slung across their backs for good measure. Privately, he wondered how effective the peaceful Northuldra tribe were going to be at fighting the ruthless Imperial Horde soldiers. But the general, who seemed rather intelligent, wouldn't have put the Northuldra in the front line as skirmishers if he didn't think they could fight. Janus supposed that he would find out for himself soon enough.

He himself was armed with a full quiver of arrows, and had quite a few miscellaneous weapons with him to last throughout the battle. Hopefully. Accompanying them were his new longsword on his hip and the unfamiliar longbow in his hand which was a lot lighter than his trusty old Martin Panther recurve bow. He made a mental note to get a new one when this was all over. Then, from somewhere among the Northuldra came a blood curdling scream of warning.

"They're coming!"

True enough, figures in the ominously muddy red uniforms spread out in loose order were advancing quickly towards them. Enemy skirmishers, by their formation, who were attempting to heckle and weaken the Arendellian line. Thankfully, the Arendellian general had been wise enough to send out his own skirmishers to screen the enemy's attack before they got anywhere close.

Janus nocked his first arrow - the first of many to be drawn for the battle - and pulled back the bowstring. Fingers steady on the taut bowstring, he narrowed his eyes and waited for the enemy skirmishers to close the distance.

The enemy skirmishers' approach was accompanied by the rain of a few round shots plowing the field just behind them, missing the Northuldra narrowly. The Exonian artillery was trying to hit them, but Kane obviously knew that hitting skirmishers was a waste of time. He was trying for the Arendellian infantry formed in thick columns.

"Hold fire!" Honeymaren raised her voice, and her command was echoed across the loose skirmish line. Somehow, the skirmishers held their fire with great discipline, to Janus' surprise.

It was nerve wrecking to watch the enemy fire without retaliating out of indignation, anger or fear, and he admired the Northuldra's discipline and restraint. He knew that at a range of more than a hundred yards, both sides wouldn't be able to hit each other very effectively, hence the command to hold fire.

But the moment the enemy skirmishers got within the fifty yards range, the Northuldra lieutenants up and down the skirmish screen all screamed the same command.

"Open fire!"

The sound that bombarded Janus' ears was not one of a unified volley, but that of erratic musket fire that was triggered by the skirmishers in their own time. Smoke rose from the muzzles of the weapon all through the width of the field, and as one skirmisher of a pair fired, the other loaded behind the cover of his partner.

And like clockwork, the enemy skirmishers began to do the same, zig-zagging across the field while firing at the Northuldra. The Exonians' numbers were evidently greater than theirs, and since they were already spread out thinly, every fallen and wounded skirmisher meant that the screen was in danger of being seriously weakened.

Janus fired arrow after arrow, though through the smoke which was growing thicker by the minute, it was hard to sight his enemies. Of course, they weren't expecting a mercenary armed with a bow and arrow to be part of the attack, and neither were they expecting sorcerers in the mix.

Deirdre, Jordan, Vonco and the others were all going at it with no holds barred, using every ounce of their magic to even the playing field, but then of course the numbers game started to take its toll.

More and more Northuldra skirmishers were beginning to fall under the pressure from the enemy's fire, and Janus watched as a musket ball bore through the skull of a skirmisher beside him, and the man's head snapped back before he slumped bonelessly to the ground.

"Damn it." Janus hissed, another ball whining just past his ear. He dove for cover behind a large rock, joining two other skirmishers, one of which had been wounded in the leg. The injured skirmisher was groaning in pain while his friend was strapping a part of his cloak tightly to his leg in a bid to stop the bleeding.

Janus got up from behind his cover and nocked another arrow, squinting hard through the smoke which was now hanging heavily over the battlefield. When he caught a glimpse of a red uniform emerging from the smoke, he let fly. The arrow thocked into his chest, and he went down in a heap, two skirmishers behind him tripping and sprawling over the fallen obstacle.

Another boom sounded off to his right. Dirt, grass and soil sprayed everywhere as his ears throbbed with the sound of the impact accompanied by the shouts of the Northuldra scurrying out of the cannonball's path. To his right, another Northuldra down the line pulled the trigger, and almost immediately had his head yanked back by an enemy's musket ball.

Eyes flicking round to survey the skirmish screen through the smoke, he could see that the Northuldra had sustained some losses thus far, though not as many as he had initially expected. They were doing decently well, but if it was going to be a long, drawn out battle, then it was obvious who would win in the end. General Frederick had rightly anticipated that Kane would attempt to make this battle one of attrition. To wear down the opposition without the need for a swift or sharp victory.

Beside him, the Northuldra whose skirmishing partner had been wounded gave an urk as blood splattered from his chest, and he spun away from the rock where he was aiming at an enemy obscured by smoke. Dropping his bow, Janus snatched up the man's loaded musket before it could hit the ground, sighted at where the enemy had shot from, and pulled the trigger.

The kick to the shoulder by the musket's butt brought back familiar memories of his other battles, all streaming back to him as the enemy's head was jerked back by the impact from the lead ball. But the problem was, one could only fire a single shot at a time and then take a minute to reload. He didn't have the time for that. Now he wished he had his trusty multi-barrelled revolver with him.

Janus tossed aside the spent musket, and drew another arrow from his quiver, picking up his longbow from the ground. Nocking it, he pulled back. Another red uniform reared its head from the smoke, and Janus released the bowstring.

This can go on all day, Janus drew another one and waited. But sooner or later they're going to wear us all down.

"Cavalry incoming!" Ryder hollered somewhere to his right.

Janus squinted hard to see beyond the smoke. Ryder was right. He could see the formation of figures on horses riding in their direction.

"Fall back!" Another Northuldra lieutenant screamed. "Fall back to the line!"

The command was echoed by the other commanders, and no one needed a second coaxing. The Northuldra fired one last ragged volley at whatever they could see through the smoke, and turned on their heels and sprinted for the Arendellian line.

"Help-" The Northuldra with the wounded leg reached out to Janus, his leg still bleeding profusely through the hastily tied cloaked.

But there was no way to help him, and Janus knew that. The man wouldn't be able to make it ten feet with his help, and Janus knew for a fact that he would probably end up dead together with the man.

"I'm…I'm sorry." Janus hastily turned and sprinted as fast as his legs could carry him away from the smoke. Deep down in what remained of his marred conscience, he felt horrible, but he knew that he had no choice. Not everyone would come out of this alive, and sometimes sacrifices had to be made. This was war.