Chapter II
The smell of fire carried all too well on the wind, and ash was coming from the sky like rain. All remnants of what used to be a large and beautiful forest, the Northern Mirkilains, was now in ruin and littering the flatlands. The mountains to the north were crested with sporadic wildfires that, at night, cast a crimson glow across the peaks, and smoke choked the sun during the day. The sounds of the enemy digging in, fortifying their position, was a constant demoralizer for the meager army entrenched in the glades below.
Jim VonBurace, a General in the Order of the Dragons of Light, was hunkered down in one of the trenches that made up his army's little defensive network. He was nothing impressive at a glance, standing at an overall average height, blue eyes, and brown hair. Still, his poise set him apart in a crowd. Even in the midst of the mud, ash, and impending doom, the armor he wore was still as clean as the day it was given to him. A standard light-weight plate that bore the insignia of a spread-winged dragon on its breast, coupled with a sign of his rank in the fashion of gold inset within the dragon's eyes.
His army, the twenty-third regiment, was currently busy shoring up defenses and building a small fort with nothing more than dirt and shovels. It was a hastily drawn together plan, one that would hopefully work long enough for other objectives to be accomplished, but nothing permanent by any means at all. To the north lay, in waiting, a force that could easily annihilate the five-hundred knights under his command, while to his south were the retreating elves and dwarves that had once claimed the woodland mountains as their homes.
The plan had been born on the spur of the moment. A scout had noticed the retreating and beleaguered refugees fleeing, and after an initial report of the forces he would walk into, Jim had decided it best to dig in and provide a buffer to buy the refugees time. A few of the elves had offered to help, as did a surprising number of the dwarves, but Jim was inclined to dismiss them, telling them it would be for the better if they stayed with their families and friends to offer defense if, and when, the buffer fell under the weight of the inevitable onslaught.
So, now he was here. A General, with five hundred of his most trusted, capable mounted knights, all stuck within the confines of a small scattering of trenches. Siege equipment had rained on them once, but they were still fairly out of range and, other than a few scrapes, no casualties were reported.
"Alan!" Jim turned away from the mountain and dropped into the 'walkway' which was dug deeper into the trench. "Alan, where the blazes are you?"
"Down here, Sir!"
Jim sighed softly. Some of the more skilled of the knights had actually dug rooms into the trenches, places to sleep, eat, get out of the constant raining ash and smoke, and even to get some gambling in. This was almost always the case with his second-in-command. Alan could, and had proven such, that he could even gamble his way out of a beheading.
"Alan," Jim paused and glanced about the room to see who else was present. Three of the four were some of the junior officers, company commanders and the sorts, the eyes set in their dragons were all red. The fourth person in the room, though, had silver as his designator. Taller, and a bit more of a 'legend' looking man with blonde hair and green eyes, but he always looked as though he were about to start up some bit of mischief.
"Alan, I need you to find a proper relief for Curtiss on the western line, as well as Nicholas and Ryan. I'm calling all of my battalion leaders in for a conference. I want a good report of our situation, morale and otherwise."
Alan nodded and glanced down, tossing a pair of dice onto the ground. "Evens, gentlemen. I expect you'll pay me when I get back, hmm?" He chuckled, giving the others present a slight, sympathetic shrug before grabbing his helm and stepping out.
Jim chuckled softly, glancing back to the others. "So…how much did he get from you?"
"More than enough." One of the juniors stood, offered a smart salute, and stepped out. The rest followed behind.
Under normal circumstances, Jim would have frowned on gambling within his regiment, but all things said and done, he was glad that they had something to help keep their mind off things. In a time of war, any escape from reality was always a welcome one.
Stepping back out into the main trenches, he picked his way up and onto the lip that allowed the watchmen and bowmen to see without being overly exposed, looking back over at the mountain range in front of him. Somewhere up there was someone standing and looking down, doing the same thing he was. Studying, watching, trying to find flaws or weaknesses that might offer an advantage, plotting, waiting for just the right time to strike, or for the warning that a withdraw might be the better of the options available.
Only, it was the one option not open for debate. There were lives on the line, far more than just the five-hundred located within the trenches. There were cities, towns, villages, and somewhere to their rear, a group of refugees who were depending on a wall to hold its own against a flood.
He caught the smirk forming and chuckled softly to himself. He saw the weakness, the door at the end of a hallway, cracked just enough to get a foot into. It might not open fully, but there was the chance that the gamble, which was the best word for it, might just work. Besides, he had the best person to be gambling with by his side, so there was a small bit of comfort to be found there.
Glancing towards the watchman nearby, he offered a salute and grin. "Keep up the good work. We'll be finished with this soon, and then I'll buy the regiment a round at the 'Pony' when we get back."
Hopping back into the walkway, he picked his way down through the maze and towards the small dugout he called his own. Maps, all covered with scrawled notes and depictions that estimated the enemy location, were tacked to the walls with daggers for reference. One was a detail of the trench network that had been dug by his own troops. Tugging it down, he glanced over the design.
When Alan and the others showed up, Jim had a few select maps on the floor near where he was seated, all of them wearing new markings, drawings, notes, and otherwise.
Curtiss was the first to follow after Alan. A seasoned veteran of wars that, really, had no desire to rise further in rank for personal reasons. He loathed the politics involved and was known to decline honorary promotions without a second thought. It was a trait gained him quite a few enemies within the political circles.
Nicholas was the youngest of the battalion leaders. His experience in a leadership role was limited to war games and simulated situations in the training grounds. Still, he had promise, and someone saw it fit that he be assigned to the twenty-third.
For as long as Jim had served in the military, Ryan had always been under him. The two were never close friends, but they knew how to work well together, and whenever Jim had been reassigned, Ryan followed suit not too far after.
"Come in, have a seat." Jim motioned towards the ground, ignoring the few chuckles that came from the others. "Alright, firstly…how's the overall morale of the troops?"
"Tired, Sir. Not a one is thinking of running, mind you, but they're growing weary, and it doesn't take much to see what it is that's about to fall on our heads," Curtiss offered, leaning back against a wall and crossing his arms. "They need something hopeful to boost spirits."
Jim glanced up and nodded. "I see." He reached down and handed a map to each of them. "Here, look this over and tell me what you think. This…system here, that we've set up is our way out of this mess. Alan, I took a page from your books for this one."
"A gamble?"
"Precisely." Jim chuckled and stood. "Have a seat, all of you, and hear me out. We have a fair bit of supplies from the convoy we took with us, which includes lamp oil by the gallons. I want barrels of the oil spread out across the network of trenches, to every station, bend, corner, turn, room…everywhere. No one is to use it, though. Not a drop. I even want what lamps are being used doused, the oil turned back into the stores, and nothing but torches to be used for perimeter watches tonight."
Nicholas furrowed his brow. "Won't that put us at risk of being attacked?"
"Yes, but…I don't believe they will. They're biding their time and waiting for something to happen that they can see. Our position here is a strong one, even though it is not the best between ours and theirs. At night, when the light is dim and limited, I want Ryan to lead his battalion out and down to the south. You'll have to move quick, but quietly. Move around and prepare to charge in on horseback in true cavalry style when you hear the signal of three sharp blasts from the horn.
"Nicholas, at dawn, I will give them a reason to charge in and swarm our position. Your battalion will, as soon as they see the charge, fall back into a mock retreat. Have your most skilled archers prepare to fire at the signal of two long blasts, and two short blasts. We'll need fire-bearing arrows to litter this trench.
"Curtiss, I'll need you to take that lamp oil and prepare this place well. When those arrows hit, I want to see a fire like none other. Line the walkways with tinder, soak them as best you can with the oil we have. Then, shortly after Nicholas retreats, follow suit. Stagger it, though, make it look as natural as you can. I want their focus to be on the prize.
"Which leaves myself and Alan. Alan, I need you to go with Nicholas. I'll stay here and take my men, made up of volunteers, to meet the hordes head on and offer resistance, hold them in place, and make sure they're swarming this place when it burns. If all goes well, we'll have a small victory today, and weaken their numbers."
Alan had been shaking his head ever since being told to go with Nicholas, and finally cleared his throat to speak. "All due respect, General, but I'm not about to stand back in the shadows while you sit here and get yourself killed. I'll stay behind and lead the fight from here, you fall back and stay clear of the danger."
"Alan," Jim smirked faintly. "I have a strict policy that states things very clear, and very simple. I'll not ask a soul to do anything I would not. This is not a matter that is up for debate. If we can lure them in, start the charge, and let them fall into the trenches for cover, then they'll be trapped well enough for the fire to do them in while mounted cavalry keeps them penned up from the high ground. Tactical and strategic moves over brute strength and numbers."
"And if this fails," Ryan started in, "what then?"
"Alan will take all surviving elements southward to the stronghold Fort Et Gloriam and prepare to meet the oncoming war from there. If I fall, those are my final orders before passing command on to him."
There was silence in the small room for a few good long minutes as everyone contemplated the risks, benefits, and overall chance that things would work. Grasping at straw as a hay-bale fell from a wagon was more likely to come out on top, but what was the alternative they had?
"I know that it is not much, but I assure you that what is done will impact the current direction of this war. We're the twenty-third, dammit, and we know how to make the enemy hurt, even if we fall doing it." Jim stood and, hearing no objections, started for the walkways outside. "Spread the word to the men, let them know what will happen. Tell any man that if he wishes to run, he may join Nicholas' group and carry on as far as his feet may go, but that if he does run, he will leave his gear behind. In like, I'll be needing seventy volunteers to hold the ground here with me. This operation begins at nightfall."