Chapter 12
The Battle of Atatar
When Perrif led her forces north out of Arpenia a few days later, they were seven hundred warriors stronger. The newly crowned King Valu had insisted that he could provide more men, up to two thousand, but Perrif had dissuaded him after Atkynd had calculated the numbers and explained that there was no way to adequately supply an army that large with only two cities supporting them, even considering that Arpenia was closer and far more eager to assist than Veyond. In the end, Valu had reluctantly agreed to lend just seven hundred more warriors but had insisted that Perrif allow him to equip his men. Perrif had decided that there was no reason to deny his request.
Unfortunately, the beginning of their journey seemed to signal the end of their run of good fortune. Only a few hours after they had left, stormclouds had begun to gather, and by midday, a steady rain was falling. At first, Perrif had insisted the rain was a good omen, that it was a sign that Kyne was watching over them and supplying them with a steady source of fresh water. As the rain continued intermittently over the next few days, however, and the roads became steadily muddier and their progress slower, the army became increasingly disinclined to believe her assertions.
"No, but this is comforting, in a way," Atkynd sardonically remarked to Tari one afternoon as he trudged across the sodden ground, leading Emero by the reins while the girl sat astride the horse. "We had gone far too long without rain. Why, it had been whole days since we last had a storm! I was beginning to fear that Cyrod was about to suffer a drought! By the gods, the Blackwood was almost dry for a moment there!"
Tari snorted as she pushed her wet bangs out of her eyes. "We've endured worse," she pointed out.
"Mm. We have," Atkynd admitted grumpily, glancing up at the sky. While the rain was falling steadily, it was hardly what Atkynd would call a storm. The clouds were a bright grey color and there was no fog, so they could easily see, and while the ground was soggy, it wasn't impassable, though they had already had a bit of trouble dislodging a couple of wagons from the thick mud. "But I think I've had my fill of rain for one lifetime."
"Come now, this isn't that bad," Tari shrugged.
"Says the girl riding the horse," Atkynd pointed out drily as he gingerly led Emero around a puddle in the middle of the road.
Tari flicked a few droplets of water at him, splashing his cheek. Atkynd scowled playfully and held out his hand to collect some rainwater in his palm, which he flung it at her in return. Tari flinched, laughing as the water struck her cheek. "I mean, our pace isn't bad, especially compared to our journey down here. And at least I've had plenty of time to gather herbs," she elaborated as she wiped off her face. "I'm also grateful that I'm no longer the only one assigned that task."
"I'll concur with that," Atkynd nodded, glancing to his left, where a pair of middle-aged women were speaking to one another and comparing clay tablets as they walked alongside the caravan. "While King Valu's warriors are a welcome addition, of course, I'm far more impressed with his aides."
In addition to soldiers, Valu had also provided Perrif with a small corps of skilled laborers. Because Arpenia had relied upon highly-skilled slaves for so long, the city had many humans who could perform jobs beyond simple manual labor, which the army desperately needed. Thus, Valu was able to provide Perrif with a support staff of carpenters, leatherworkers, smiths, healers, and secretaries. The half-dozen healers that had joined the army ensured that Tari was no longer solely responsible for overseeing the health of the entire army, and a secretary had been assigned to each century to help Atkynd keep track of food and equipment. Their aid had been invaluable. While Tari did know alchemy, she had not been properly trained in medicine, and though Atkynd could keep track of numbers, he was more than happy to share that task with secretaries that had been specifically trained to maintain supply records.
"I trust you've been putting your newfound free time to good use?" Atkynd asked, looking up at Tari while shielding his eyes from the falling raindrops.
The girl frowned at him as she held her hand out and glared at it. "Yes… and no. I still wish to learn magic, so whenever I've had the opportunity, I've been trying to create flames," she muttered. "However, I'm still no more successful than when I first began. There are moments when I believe I feel a rush of power or a tingling sensation beneath my skin, but nothing ever comes of it." She sighed with frustration and lowered her hand. "Though perhaps even that is simply false hope."
Atkynd's smile faded as he noticed her crestfallen expression. He reached up and squeezed her knee comfortingly. "In fairness, the environment does affect the difficulty of certain spells," he pointed out. "It is more difficult to conjure a flame in the middle of a storm, for instance. Perhaps it is because we have less faith in our ability to create fire in such wet weather, or perhaps the magic itself is simply weaker under certain conditions. It is logical that flames do not last long in wet weather. You've witnessed my own troubles – when it was particularly stormy, I was unable to conjure more than a small tongue of flame."
"You also claim you have very little talent with flame magic in particular," Tari grumbled.
"Indeed. And it may be that you don't either," Atkynd shrugged. "All mages are different. Perhaps it's simply a matter of finding a different set of spells that you are more proficient with."
"Hm. Or perhaps I should find a master mage who can demonstrate a proper flame spell," Tari remarked. She quickly grinned when Atkynd shot her a dirty look to emphasize that she was teasing him. "Pray, what would a master's spell look like?"
Suddenly, a flash of bright orange light out of the corner of his eye distracted Atkynd. He looked up in time to see a ball of rolling flame streak through the air, arcing lazily over the army before slamming into the trunk of one of the nearby trees. The flames evaporated quickly upon striking the wet surface, leaving a harmless, smoking black mark on the dense wood. However, though no one had been harmed nearly everyone's gaze lingered warily on the spot where the fireball had disintegrated, or else was turned in the opposite direction, seeking out its source.
Atkynd looked back up at Tari and replied in a low, grim tone, "It would look something like that."
"Centurions! Form ranks!" Perrif shouted over the pattering of the rain. Immediately, the hoarse shouts of the centurions echoed her command, ordering the men to form lines and remain silent. The hours of drill were evidently paying off as the men instinctively began responding to their officers' commands, swiftly quelling the impending panic that threatened to spread through the ranks.
"Report!" a deep voice shouted. Atkynd craned his neck to see a male Nedic scout – Fabo, if he recalled correctly – splashing through the shallow puddles on the ground, racing towards Perrif. "My lady, we must prepare for battle!"
"Explain. Quickly," Perrif ordered. Morihaus and Pelinal took up positions on either side of her to listen to the scout as well, and though Atkynd remained a short distance away, he was also close enough to overhear the man's response.
"Atatar is nearby, but we decided it was too dangerous to approach closer than a few hundred yards of the city. It is under siege, and we do not recognize the army attacking it," Fabo relayed in a low voice.
"Is it under siege by an army of humans? Elves?" Pelinal pressed in a low growl.
"They are… something else…." Fabo replied evasively. Pelinal growled impatiently, and Fabo added quickly, "They are unlike any creature I have ever witnessed in my life! They have red skin, and horns like a goat…."
Pelinal let out a growl and nudged Morihaus, who snorted with displeasure and nodded. "My lady… we must join this battle. Immediately," he said grimly. "The men should prepare themselves for a difficult fight."
"Why? What awaits us?" Perrif asked in a low voice.
"Enemies that are as dangerous as any sorcerer-king, if I am not mistaken. And by Akatosh, I truly hope I am," Pelinal replied with a sigh. He took a few steps closer and leaned in, whispering something in her ear. Perrif's eyes widened with shock, and she snapped her head towards Pelinal, staring at him in disbelief as he pulled away. "As I said, ensure your men are prepared. I shall take the road ahead and cut down as many as I can before you arrive. Perhaps I shall dispatch our most difficult foes before your men need face them at all."
Before Perrif could ask any more questions, Pelinal turned and bounded off into the rain, clutching his mace in one hand and his shield in the other. That alone worried Atkynd – if Pelinal was using his shield rather than dual-wielding his sword and mace, it meant that even he was treating this battle with caution. Perrif bit her bottom lip, watching Pelinal until he disappeared into the trees, then turned to Morihaus.
"I shall accept Pelinal's advice, general," she said. "Take command."
"As you say," Morihaus said. He turned to Fabo and added, "Did you happen to see any favorable terrain while you were scouting?"
"There's a hill not far from the city that's relatively clear of trees," Fabo reported. "It's low, but it should be enough to provide a vantage point from which to stage an attack."
"Very good," Morihaus snorted, and then he turned to the men and bellowed, "Warriors! We march to battle! For some of you, this will be your first taste of war! Do not fear! Obey your centurions and do not break ranks, and we shall emerge victorious! March!"
With that, Morihaus turned and led the army up the road at a trot. Atkynd took a moment to clamber onto Emero behind Tari, ignoring the horse's snort of protest, and he snapped the reins to push the horse into a canter to catch up with the minotaur. Morihaus spotted him out of the corner of his eye and nodded grimly.
"You and Pelinal had an… interesting reaction to the report that our scout brought," Atkynd remarked in a low voice as he rode beside the general. "Would you mind explaining to me at least what has you both so concerned?"
Morihaus hesitated, then shook his head. "If I told you, I fear that it would only demoralize you," he replied in a low voice. "Better that you face what may come with some measure of ignorance. Otherwise, you may lose heart before we even engage them."
Before Atkynd could press the issue, Fabo called out, motioning for Morihaus to follow him to the hill that he had mentioned earlier. The general nodded and charged up the slick slope, his hooves stomping through tall, thin grasses and low ferns. Atkynd slowed his pace as Emero reached the base of the hill, whereupon he let the horse climb it at an easier pace, giving Emero the chance to catch his breath. Even so, they ascended the hill far more quickly than the rest of the army, who were trying to maintain formation while they were climbing. Once they crested the hill and Atkynd looked down into the valley, he and Tari let out short gasps almost simultaneously.
Below them, the usually solid white walls of an Ayleid city glowed a bright, sickly orange, awash with flame. Small, distant figures surrounded the city on three sides, which to Atkynd looked like a colony of ants surrounding the desiccated skeleton of a much larger beast. Tiny figures on the walls were struggling to repel the invaders, who were scaling crude wooden ladders positioned along the battlements. Each assault was repulsed by the defenders, and occasionally a ladder collapsed, either under the weight of the attacking army or because one of the defenders managed to dislodge it. Still, the attackers kept pushing, seemingly buoyed by boundless stamina. Despite their superior position and desperate defense, the assaulting army was slowly wearing down the forces protecting the city.
A flash of light near the rear of the attacking army drew Atkynd's attention, and he glanced towards it in time to see a ring of violet flames appear out of thin air. Out of the ring stepped a tall, dark, imposing figure clutching a wicked blade, though Atkynd couldn't make out any more from where he was standing. He did, however, suddenly understand why the attackers could continue to assault the walls with impunity.
"Summoners," he muttered, though he spoke loud enough for both Morihaus and Tari to hear. "That army is relying upon daedric warriors."
Tari's eyes widened with fear, and Morihaus regarded him with a look of surprise. "You have witnessed this before?" he asked in a low voice.
"Not personally, no. But I have heard tales of conjurers joining certain armies," Atkynd replied. "A few of the kings in Malabal have experimented with them. Still… from what I understand, while it's considered a novel idea, it had little success in the few battles where it was employed. The daedra do not remain in our world for long, and while they may inflict notable damage in the short time they are on this plane, they are ultimately tied to the summoner. Therein lies their limitation. Conjurers have finite stamina – they cannot usually summon hordes of daedra to assist in a battle, as they would quickly exhaust themselves, and battles are lengthy affairs. Thus, they are limited to calling only a few daedra at a time, at most, which is rarely enough to turn the tide of a battle. I don't see why this army would believe this an effective tactic."
"Perhaps because this is a siege, the conjurers can remain a safe distance from the walls?" Tari suggested, surprising Atkynd. He glanced down at her and noticed that while she had gone pale, she was also staring at the battle below her intently, studying it like she was reading a scroll, hungry to glean any scrap of knowledge she could. "If there are dozens of summoners, they may not necessarily need to continually summon new daedra if their fellow conjurers can bring forth more. Perhaps they are summoning more warriors in shifts."
Atkynd and Morihaus traded looks, both surprised by her sudden insight. "I was unaware you were versed in military arts," Morihaus commented.
"I am not, general," Tari confirmed as she turned towards the winged minotaur. "It simply stands to reason that if one does not possess adequate stamina for a task, others may provide necessary assistance through even distribution of labor."
"Clever," Atkynd praised her. Tari glanced at him and smiled shyly at the praise, shaking her wet hair.
"Do not breathe a word of this to the rest of the men," Morihaus warned them, looking over his shoulder as the rest of the army drew near. "Though they may suspect, if they hear the word 'daedra….'"
"Understood," Atkynd nodded. He saw the general's point. If the army was made aware of the fact that they were fighting daedra, they might consider fleeing before the battle had even been joined. In fact, now that he knew what lay ahead, he believed that avoiding this battle was wise. However, he also knew that they needed to fight. If they didn't, it was very possible that the army attacking Atatar would prevail. They didn't yet know who held Atatar, but unless there was a hitherto hidden sect of Nedes that had been practicing daedra-worship in secret, the assaulting army was almost certainly comprised of hostile Ayleids. At the very least, they couldn't let Atatar fall to the attackers. "I assume we're attacking their rear then?" he added, almost rhetorically.
"That appears to be my uncle's opinion," Morihaus replied. Atkynd blinked at the bull, surprised by his dry tone, but then the general pointed to one spot on the battlefield. Atkynd squinted through the rain and could just make out a shimmering, silver-white figure near the edges of the besieging army. He could see flashes of distant orange light that he assumed was Pelinal's flaming mace, and as the knight tore through their ranks, any bronze-plated figures he drew near fell to the ground shortly afterwards. Atkynd let out a low whistle as he turned back to Morihaus, just as the rest of the army finished forming up along the hill.
"We should assist him then," he remarked.
"We should," Morihaus snorted, then turned to his army. "Archers! You are to remain upon this hill." he announced, raising his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. "You should be within range of the enemy, so loose your arrows freely! Garo, your century will remain upon this hill as well, to protect the archers in case the enemy turns their attention to them! The rest of you will accompany me! Centurions, we will form two lines of six centuries each! We will advance in a phalanx formation and assault the enemy's rear! Even if we are noticed before we reach the enemy lines, do not break formation! Maintain discipline and follow my commands!"
The centurions began shouting commands, quickly maneuvering their units into position, whereupon the bull snorted, seemingly pleased. He began counting and muttering under his breath, and then he trotted over to a red-headed male centurion on the end. They spoke in low voices, and Atkynd noticed that the centurion seemed momentarily confused, then almost disappointed. However, he straightened up and beat his chest once with his fist in a short salute. He then began shouting his own orders to his men, though Atkynd couldn't make them out over the din. Abruptly, the centurion's unit turned and marched back down the hill, much to Atkynd's confusion. Morihaus caught Atkynd's eye and beckoned him and Tari over.
"I am going to position the supply train behind this hill," Morihaus informed them gruffly. "I ordered Barus' century to remain behind to protect it in case the enemy sends scouts this way. While I expect them to focus on our spearmen first and our archers second, should they discover our wagons, I would not be surprised if they attacked those as well, and they are by far our most vulnerable target. I want you two to remain on this hill. It will provide you an excellent vantage point to view the battle. You also have a horse, so if something happens during the battle – say, if the enemy army changes course and attacks the hill or goes after our supplies – then I want you two to seek me out and inform me. Immediately. Do not engage the enemy unless it is unavoidable; flee if you can." He then glanced at Tari and added, "Should you see any stray wounded that are in safe spots on the battlefield, direct Telepe towards them as needed and treat them. Do you understand?"
Atkynd bit the inside of his cheek irritably as Morihaus used the nickname the slaves had given him, but he wasn't going to complain when there were far more dire matters at hand. "As you say, general," he replied simply. Then he paused, suddenly realizing something. "Ah… where is Per- the Paravant?"
Morihaus' brow furrowed for a moment. "With the caravan," he replied gruffly. "Hence why it is imperative that you seek me out immediately should the enemy turn their attention to our wagons. Any other questions?" Atkynd and Tari both shook their heads, and the minotaur snorted. "Good. I am relying upon you two. You are a vital link between our forces during this battle. Remain safe, and trust that the gods are watching over you."
The bull opened his wings and took off, gliding through the air for a few moments before landing in front of his forces. Tari sighed in front of him, lightly running her fingers through Emero's wet mane.
"Disappointed?" Atkynd asked, raising an eyebrow down at the girl.
"Perhaps," Tari admitted, though her tone was uncertain. "It's not as though I wish to join the phalanx, but I dislike being removed from the battle altogether. I joined the rebellion to aid my fellow slaves, yet I feel as though I have not yet fought alongside them."
"Mm… I do understand your complaint," Atkynd admitted slowly. "However, I do not believe that Morihaus is claiming that you are unfit for battle. In fact, he sees you as something more than just another warrior. Not only are you a skilled healer, but you have proven yourself more than clever enough to carry out a task that requires more perception and judgment than simply standing in a line and attacking any foe fool enough to draw near. Consider this – he asked both of us to act as messengers. As such, if one of us falls, the other must carry out the assignment of relaying information to him should the tide of battle turn, and we must be the ones to make that decision. He's placing equal trust in both of us to carry out a vital task. As he said, we're the link that connects the two armies." Then, another thought struck him, and he added, "And if you believe that you are being removed from the battle, you are mistaken. Should we need to deliver a message, we may well be expected to ride through dozens, perhaps hundreds of enemy soldiers to complete that task. It is not unreasonable to say that we may well be in the thickest parts of the fighting before the battle ends." Personally, he fervently hoped that wouldn't come to pass, but it was a possibility.
Tari quirked her mouth at him in a reluctant, lopsided smile. "I suppose… but I do still feel this task is less important than actually fighting in the battle."
"Truly?" Atkynd asked, glancing behind him towards the caravan. "You have overlooked one other detail: Morihaus has implicitly asked us to look after Perrif, to protect her. I have no doubt that he wishes that he could remain by her side throughout the battle, but he understands that as one of the mightiest warriors in the rebellion, he must serve on the front lines beside his men. Should the wagons be attacked, however, he is trusting us to seek him out, even in the midst of battle, so that he might return to her side. I have no doubt that in his mind, there is no assignment more important than this."
Tari sighed, holding her hands up in defeat. "Very well, very well. You've convinced me." Then she grinned at him cheekily. "By the Divines, I can see now how you were able to swindle an entire fortress."
"It wasn't swindling. It was a trade," Atkynd insisted in a playfully huffy tone. "Now, enough talk. We must focus."
"Archers!" Morihaus bellowed, his voice echoing across the hill. Atkynd looked up and quickly wheeled Emero around, directing him to the top of the hill where they had the best vantage point to look out over the battle.
The archers took up a position near the apex of the hill, with Atkynd and Tari near their left flank. With the reinforcements from Veyond and especially Arpenia, there were now enough bowmen to form a full century of their own. Atkynd noticed Pasare standing in the second row, and when she caught his eye, she grinned wildly at him and winked. Then she turned back around, her grin dropping immediately, and grimly faced the battle raging beneath them.
"Draw!" Morihaus roared, and the archers all drew arrows and tilted their bows back, aiming them at a high angle. "Loose!" he shouted a moment later. The archers complied instantly, and the sound of sinew snapping against wood resounded rapidly across the hill. A cloud of arrows rose into the air, hovering above the enemy army for a few moments, and then the bolts descended. The sharp bronze points dug themselves deep into the flesh of the Ayleids and daedra below, and the pained, furious shouts of the victims echoed loud enough for Morihaus' army on the hill to hear it. Many in the back ranks spun around, and Atkynd could see a few Ayleid officers with feathers on their helmets pointing towards the human army. Several warriors broke off and began charging towards the hill.
"Loose!" Morihaus shouted again, and another wave of arrows cut through the enemy ranks. By now, several warriors of the elven army – perhaps a few hundred, Atkynd guessed – had turned to face the new threat. Ayleid archers hurried to get within range of the human army, and in piecemeal fashion began firing arrows back up the hill at them. The men and women in the phalanx quickly raised their shields, deflecting the bolts harmlessly off their bronze faces. Morihaus, however, decided not to allow the Ayleids to continue harassing them.
"Hoplites, forward!" he roared. The centurions echoed the order, and as one, twelve centuries of hoplites raised their shields, lowered their spears, and began marching slowly down the hill. The human archers continued firing from the top of the hill as the spearmen descended, providing covering fire as the phalanx slowly made its way towards the enemy.
As Atkynd watched, the Ayleid swordsmen and spearmen began forming their own rough lines, though they lacked the cohesion and discipline of the phalanx. Even the new human recruits showed better discipline than the elves, though it was clear that only a few days' drill was not enough to train them to do more than remain in a more or less straight line. Nevertheless, it was an impressive sight, and Atkynd smiled to himself as he saw the elves hesitate, seeming both confused and intimidated by the inexorable advance of the spearmen. At last, one of the Ayleid warlords blew a short horn, and the hastily assembled mob of elves charged at the humans, screaming furiously.
"Hold!" Morihaus shouted, holding up hand. The centuries stopped immediately, and the more experienced units immediately dropped their spears, bracing themselves for the oncoming charge. The greener units followed suit soon after when the centurions gave the order, and they held their position partway up the hill, waiting for the wave of elves to crash into them. The smarter Ayleids hesitated, while the more reckless ones all but threw themselves at the wall of spears, holding their shields up and trying to push their way past the bronze spearheads. In response, the hoplites jabbed furiously at the foolhardy attackers, and their short strikes almost instantly found gaps in the Ayleids' armor. Even if the short, thrusting attacks didn't strike anything vital, when they tore into the unprotected upper arms and legs of the elves, the attackers soon fell back, screaming and clutching their bloody wounds.
The Ayleids regrouped after their initial assault failed, and Morihaus once again ordered the men to advance. The elves paused, eyeing the edges of the phalanx, and a few words were exchanged. A hundred or so elves near the edges of the left flank took off at a run, intent on maneuvering around the end of the formation. Atkynd grimaced as he noticed the movement, and his heart began to pound. During the battle in the Blackwood, their flanks had been protected both by thick tree cover and by Morihaus and Pelinal working in tandem to ensure that no one could slip around the sides. On an open hill, however, they didn't have that same protection.
Morihaus must have noticed the shift in the enemy line as well, as he shouted an order that was unintelligible to Atkynd. The centurion on the end, however, must have heard it, as she immediately responded, and her century broke into a jog, wheeling as they did. Before the elves could turn the flank, they were met by her unit's spearmen. The hoplites began jabbing at the elves furiously, pushing them back towards the bulk of Morihaus' advancing forces. The elves skirted away from her men, ineffectually firing arrows as they retreated, which generally bounced off the heavy bronze shields and armor the men wore, though here and there an unlucky arrow unfortunately found a gap in their armor. One or two warriors fell, but the phalanx advanced undeterred, and the elves were quickly pushed back towards the center of the formation.
Atkynd exhaled slowly, his heart rate returning to normal. He suddenly realized that Morihaus had positioned the four centuries that had fought in the Blackwood on either flank. As they were the most experienced units, they had likely been drilled in more advanced maneuvers specifically to prevent such problems. Nevertheless, Atkynd thought to himself, they would need a better solution. If the Ayleids devised a way to out-maneuver the phalanx, the rear of the formation was woefully unprotected, even if they advanced in a double row like they were during this battle.
"Atkynd," Tari said softly, snapping Atkynd out of his thoughts. "Are those the conjurers you mentioned?" He noticed that she was pointing, and he followed her gesture towards the right flank of the Ayleid army. Skulking on the edges were a collection of figures in grey linen robes.
"Well spotted. Yes," Atkynd confirmed, leaning forward on Emero. Though he wasn't familiar with Ayleid magical traditions, mages in Malabal typically wore long, loose robes that he was told were similar to those worn by the Altmer Psijics of Artaeum, the first true magical order. He was willing to bet that the Ayleids, as cousins of the Altmer, likely followed a similar practice. From this distance, he could see the mages' hands glowing a dark violet color as they wove their magic. One of them suddenly held out his hand and opened it, and a burst of bright purple light erupted from his fingertips. A dark figure appeared out of a plume of violet flame, clutching a longsword that seemed to be forged of volcanic stone. It let out a bloodthirsty cry, then charged towards the walls of Atatar.
"That magic…." Tari murmured, looking back up at him. "Is that something you could teach me, perhaps?"
"No. I've never met a conjurer, much less studied their magic… though I have heard of them," Atkynd replied, grimly following the furious charge of the daedroth as it tore towards the city. "It is said that they make pacts with Daedric Lords, who grant them the ability to summon their servants for a short while. If I recall correctly, those daedra that you see are called dremora. They are servants of Mehrunes Dagon, the Daedric Prince of Destruction." He shuddered slightly, adding in a low voice, "Which I presume means that the Ayleids attacking Atatar are among the most sinister of daedra worshippers, even by Cyrod's standards. This is another battle we cannot afford to lose. I don't wish to even consider what they'd do to the survivors if we're defeated."
"Yet… they are continuing to assault the walls?" Tari asked, frowning at him in confusion. "Why are they not facing General Morihaus?"
Atkynd tilted his head. "A fair question. Perhaps because they have not yet realized that they are under attack from another army? They are quite a ways from where Morihaus is assaulting, and it's not as though they can see the entire battlefield like we can. Or perhaps they believe that if they breach the walls, they can occupy the city themselves and place themselves in a more advantageous position. Our men are advancing rather slowly, so perhaps they believe they still have time to capture the city," he added. The phalanx was still marching towards the enemy forces at a steady but slow walk. He shrugged, adding, "In truth, I am unsure."
Tari leaned over Emero's neck, squinting at the battle, her frown deepening. "Those daedra… they're using fire spells despite the rain," she mentioned. Atkynd followed her line of sight and focused on the dremora she seemed to be watching. The horned figure opened its mouth in a furious roar, channeling a ball of fire into its palm, which it pitched at the stone walls above it. The ball exploded against the ramparts, throwing a few of the defenders backwards. "They seems so… furious while they're casting," she remarked. Looking over her shoulder at Atkynd, she asked, "Does anger perhaps make spellcasting easier?"
"Not to my knowledge," Atkynd replied slowly, shaking his head. "My master always insisted that a calm state of mind was required if one wanted to use magic. He maintained that concentration and focus were the most important components to forming a spell."
Tari tilted her head at him, then looked down at her palm again, narrowing her eyes at it. In a low hiss, she snarled, "Molag!" Atkynd watched as she stared at her hand for a few seconds, then sighed in disappointment when nothing happened. "Perhaps not," she muttered irritably.
"Telepe!" the centurion commanding the archers shouted suddenly, snapping Atkynd out of his thoughts. He looked down at the dark-skinned, middle-aged man and turned Emero towards him, giving the commander his full attention. "We are running low on arrows. Would you please relay a message to the wagons and request that they send a few runners with more quivers for us?"
Atkynd hesitated, glancing back and forth between the centurion and the wagons over the hill. Morihaus had ordered him to remain alert in case the flow of battle shifted… but they were the fastest messengers there, and he could probably deliver the request and return in mere minutes. It was unlikely the tide of battle would shift while they were gone. "Mm… very well," he agreed, ignoring the feeling of trepidation welling up inside of him. He wheeled Emero around and nudged his flanks with his heels, encouraging the horse to charge back down the hill towards the supply train.
As they descended to the south, Atkynd swiveled his head back and forth, taking the opportunity to get a better sense of their position. The hill the archers had been positioned on offered a good view of not only Atatar, but also of the jungle behind them. The wagons had been pulled near the trees and positioned in a defensive ring. They were half-hidden by the foliage, and the way they were circled gave those within some measure of protection. He spotted guards posted along the edges of the wagon circle, and realized that the centurion Morihaus had placed in charge had foregone a phalanx formation to instead maximize the angles they could guard. A wise decision, he reasoned.
However, because they were on low ground and in the trees, the guards protecting the wagons had limited visibility, especially compared to those on the hill. Thus, it was Tari who first realized something was amiss. "Atkynd, look!" she exclaimed, pointing at the treeline.
Atkynd leaned forward a bit, then inhaled sharply. Between the trees, he noticed several figures in leather armor darting through the jungle. They carried bronze-capped bows and wore short handaxes at their sides – Ayleid scouts, Atkynd grimly realized. Likely sent to get a better sense of Morihaus' army and probe its rear for defenses, just as the general had feared. While a large formation wouldn't go unnoticed, even in the middle of a battle, a few squads of skirmishers could easily be overlooked. Worse, when Atkynd peered closer, he also noticed an elf dressed in dour grey summoner's robes.
"Barus! Look to the east!" Atkynd bellowed to the centurion guarding the wagon train, his voice echoing through the jungle. The Ayleid scouts swore, and a couple of them nocked arrows when they spotted Atkynd and Tari. Swearing under his breath, he pulled Emero up short, just as the elves released their bolts. His quick reflexes saved them, as the bolts impacted the hill below them harmlessly. However, the abrupt yanking of his reins combined with the sudden attack was too much for Emero to handle. With a terrified, pained whinny, the palfrey reared back on its hind legs. Caught off-guard, Atkynd didn't have time to steady the horse. He and Tari slid off the beast's back, landing heavily on the fern-covered slope beneath them.
Atkynd grunted as the wind was knocked out of him, and he was momentarily left stunned as he tried to suck in another breath of air. Eventually, he managed to regain his composure enough to straighten up, and he turned towards Tari, who had already managed to climb into a kneeling position. Atkynd furtively glanced around, his heart pounding. To their left, Barus was hastily assembling his men into a loose formation, while to their right, the Ayleids were charging out of the woods towards them. One of the elves loosed another arrow in their direction, and Atkynd immediately scrambled backward. The bolt harmlessly struck the soft mud near his feet, spraying his legs with muck, but Atkynd considered that a small price to pay to avoid being shot.
Grunting, he pushed himself to his feet and drew his shortsword, though he continued to skirt towards the centurion's forces, as he had no intention of engaging the scouts if he could avoid it. Tari did the same, pulling her bronze dagger from her belt and flipping it around to hold it in a reverse grip. She crouched low in an almost feral stance while she retreated, keeping her eyes on the advancing scouts. Atkynd counted perhaps twenty or thirty archers in total, hardly enough to pose a threat to a century. Come to think of it, why aren't they retreating, considering how outnumbered they are? Atkynd wondered. If they were just trying to gather information, there was no reason for them to continue to press their attack now that they had been spotted.
"Excellent work," the Ayleid mage announced suddenly from behind the scouts. He lowered his hooded robes to smirk condescendingly at the humans as they finally assembled their century. Five ranks of twenty men stood, spears bristling, their bronze shields raised to deflect the inevitable arrow fire from the scouts. Atkynd and Tari turned and sprinted towards them, skirting around behind the formation, while the mage continued to advance calmly. "You did well to get me this far. I shall complete our task. You need only protect me and give me time to cast."
"Advance!" Barus shouted. The century immediately responded, marching towards the scouts, who sneered and began to back off, occasionally loosing an arrow or two, which was deflected harmlessly off the heavy bronze shields of the hoplites. The mage, however, remained in place over a hundred feet away, muttering to himself. His hands began glowing with purple flame, his eyes closed as he chanted a mantra to himself. Atkynd suddenly felt a thrill of fear rising within him, a ringing sense of trepidation warning him of impending danger.
"Move faster!" Atkynd shouted. At the head of the formation, the centurion shot him a frown. Atkynd understood his confusion – the men had been specifically drilled to keep to the nigh-impenetrable phalanx formation, advancing at a steady march towards their opponent. However…. "You cannot allow him to finish that spell! You must move faster!" Atkynd insisted.
Barus' eyes widened as he realized what Atkynd meant, and he began to order a charge. Before he could, however, the mage hissed in Ayleidoon, "Shanta, mora!"
The mage held up both hands, and a flat, oval-shaped disk of purple flame erupted before him. The black center swirled rapidly as a dark figure emerged from its depths. Its sneering red face appeared first, followed by a massive body. It was tall enough to look Atkynd in the eye and as brawny as the largest Nords he had ever met. The monster clutched a volcanic axe in one hand, which it raised and rested on the charred black pauldron of its full-body armor. Its burning yellow eyes disdainfully swept over the advancing human formation, and then it almost lazily raised its free left hand.
"Molag!" it shouted hoarsely, its voice echoing slightly. A swirling torrent of flame coalesced into a spinning ball in front of its hand, and with another sharp shout, it released the spell. The ball hurtled towards the men, who instinctively raised their shields. The flames slammed into one of the men's shields and exploded, knocking the warriors backwards. Their heavy armor surprisingly did much to mitigate the damage, but their screams of pain still filled the air as the flames licked their bodies and the shockwave left a few of them stunned – or worse – in the mud.
Atkynd and Tari were thankfully several feet away from the formation, so they were unharmed, but Atkynd was left paralyzed with shock. A single spell had dented the impenetrable phalanx. He counted only about nine men who were incapacitated, but the psychological effect was far more profound. Some of the men began screaming in terror, and a few even threw down their shields and began sprinting for the trees before the centurion had time to order them to regroup. Though they hadn't yet retreated, the other warriors were clearly wavering, on the verge of fleeing as well. Even their leader was eyeing the dremora warily, weighing his options.
Atkynd chewed on the inside of his cheek, then shot a glance at Tari, worried that perhaps she had likewise been demoralized by the daedra's show of power. To his surprise, however, she was staring fiercely at the dremora. Her eyes were burning intensely as she stared at the humanoid, and under her breath, Atkynd heard her whisper, "Is that how it's done?" Her tone was almost hungry, he realized, and it nearly terrified him more than the dremora itself.
"Stand, warriors!" Barus shouted, his clear voice ringing out across the hill. "Do not falter! We cannot let it claim more of us! We must stand firm!"
The men tightened their ranks, but it was clear that they were still terrified of the daedra. Behind them, the conjurer burst out laughing.
"I'll commend your courage, but you are fools," the Ayleid taunted them. "I command Oblivion itself! You ignorant apes cannot hope to fathom the magicks I wield!"
"Indeed? What about your magic is so impressive?!" Tari shouted back suddenly. Atkynd's eyes widened as she began walking forward, her face twisted with anger. "Is that the only spell you've mastered?"
"It's the only spell I needed to master," the mage retorted, smirking. Atkynd glanced between the two, then suddenly realized that every eye was on them. He was struck with an idea, and dropped down into the foliage. No one seemed to notice, as their attention remained on Tari and the Ayleid mage.
"Then you're no mage!" Tari snapped back. "You're a coward who calls on the might of others to do what you cannot! This daedra causes destruction, not you! Your victories are not even your own!"
The mage's sneer faded, his eyes narrowing with fury. "And what would you know of magic, slave?" he snarled. "No human can cast a spell."
"Has not," Tari corrected him, raising her hand. "No human has yet cast a spell. But that does not mean we're unable to. Before now, no human army had won a true battle against an Ayleid army. No human ruled a city. But times are changing, and though something had not been done did not mean it could not. And I believe the same about magic."
The mage's look of fury suddenly turned into apprehension, and then worry, as Tari narrowed her eyes. A snarl crossed her face, and then she shouted, "Molag!"
The Ayleids eyeing her flinched from the sudden, certain resolve in her voice. Both sides watched as her palm glowed orange, and a spark briefly flashed in the center of her hand. A moment later, however, the flash of magic sputtered out, leaving a faint trail of smoke curling up from her hand, and the Ayleids watching her warily were left completely unharmed.
The sudden fear that had seized the Ayleids vanished almost immediately, and their mocking laughter rang out across the battlefield. Tari's hand began to shake, tears welling up in her eyes, while the human warriors traded uncomfortable looks. Then, a moment later, Atkynd suddenly rose from the foliage.
With everyone focused on Tari, he'd managed to sneak, unnoticed, within a few feet of the dremora. Gripping his sword tightly, he slashed it in a short arc at the dremora's neck. The daedra's eyes widened, and it swayed backwards, but Atkynd's sword still clipped its unprotected face. The blade cut deep into its cheek, opening a fiery orange gash across it, deep enough that Atkynd felt the tip of the bronze blade connect with bone. The daedra stumbled backwards, clutching its face, as it roared with pain. The Ayleids abruptly stopped laughing, and the conjurer's face twisted into a snarl.
Atkynd looked over his shoulder at the warriors, shouting to them, "It can be harmed! Advance, now, before it can recover!"
"…Yes. Yes! Charge!" Barus shouted in agreement. His men, galvanized by Atkynd's daring attack, let out shouts of renewed fury. As one, they began sprinting towards the Ayleids, who quickly raised their bows and resumed firing.
Atkynd grinned to himself, but his triumphant expression quickly faded when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Reflexively, he ducked, just in time to narrowly avoid being decapitated by the furious dremora as its axe cleaved the air above his head. He stumbled backwards as the dremora pursued him, a look of utter hatred burning in its eyes as it clutched its wounded face with one hand. A fiery orange liquid seeped between its fingers, seeming more like magma than blood.
It took Atkynd a moment to regain his footing, but once he did, he dropped into a one-handed stance with his body turned to the side, minimizing the amount of his body that he was exposing to the dremora. It was the basic opening stance that he'd been taught during his intermittent swordplay lessons growing up. While he had never been the best fighter, he had been told that he was a fair swordsman, and eventually his master declared that if he was ever pressed into a fight, he had a good chance of surviving. He had good form, and so long as he kept his head, he did well enough.
However, it was another matter entirely to keep calm and out-think his opponent when said opponent was an enraged dremora relentlessly hacking at him with a massive axe. Atkynd continued to retreat backwards up the hill, jumping backwards to avoid a swipe at his legs, then swaying to the left to dodge the vertical follow-up strike. The daedra let out a furious hiss as it reached out with one hand to grab him instead. Reflexively, Atkynd brought his blade up in a short arc, slashing the daedra across its palm. It let out another pained roar and snatched its hand back, then snarled and lowered its shoulder, ramming into him. Atkynd was caught by surprise as its heavy body slammed into him, knocking him backwards onto the ground.
Thankfully, Atkynd was able to brace himself before he hit the earth this time, so the wind wasn't knocked out of him. However, before he could push himself back up, the dremora stomped down on his left leg with its heavy boot. Atkynd let out a short yell of pain, and when it dissipated, he suddenly realized that he was pinned. Panicking, he tried to struggle out from under the dremora's foot as the daedra sneered sadistically down at him, raising its axe above its head.
Before it could cleave his head from his shoulders, Atkynd heard the sound of metal ringing off of metal, and abruptly the daedra let out another agonized shout. The leg pinning him buckled, and it dropped to one knee. Atkynd managed to pry his leg free and scamper backwards just enough to push himself to his feet. He was momentarily confused until he saw Tari crouching behind the daedra, clutching her bloody knife tightly in her right hand. He realized that while the dremora had him pinned down, she must have snuck around behind it and sliced it across the back of the leg. Her knife was probably coated with some sort of poison as well, so the daedra was likely in even more pain than when it had suffered Atkynd's first strike.
Atkynd gripped his sword tightly as he stood over the lamed dremora, who stared up at him with a look of utter hatred. Its blazing yellow eyes almost seemed to be challenging him, daring him to come closer. Now, however, Atkynd was in a much calmer state of mind, and he had at least a split-second to plan his next move. The two stared at each other for another second, and then Atkynd took a half-step forward. The dremora let out a shout and swung its axe around in a short arc, just as Atkynd pulled his leg back. He'd expected the daedra to lash out at him, hoping to at least harm him, which was why he had feinted. The dremora's fury suddenly melted into horror as it realized it had been tricked, and with its guard open, Atkynd stepped in fully. He plunged his sword into its throat just as Tari sank her blade into its unprotected neck from behind.
The dremora's eyes widened as violet flames erupted from inside its body, which quickly consumed the daedra. It could no longer scream, but its fiery eyes held Atkynd's as its body began to disintegrate. In a matter of moments that felt like eons, the daedra was swallowed by the flames and disappeared. Only when the last wisp of flame had dissipated did Atkynd allow himself to relax… for a split second. Then he remembered that a battle was still raging around them.
Tari hurried over to him as Atkynd stepped back and warily glanced around the area, trying to gauge what was happening. Thankfully, the century guarding the wagon train had managed to chase off the remaining Ayleid scouts and Barus was hurrying back over to them. The centurion nodded to the pair, then eyed the circular, black scorches marking where the dremora had vanished.
"The scouts are on the run, but we shall remain on guard for their return," he announced. He then looked up, his gaze flitting between Atkynd and Tari. "Did… you manage to defeat that… abomination?" he asked.
"We did," Atkynd confirmed, winking down at Tari. "Thank you for your aid. I would not have survived were it not for you."
"You… think nothing of it," Tari murmured. However, despite his praise, Atkynd noticed that she still seemed crestfallen. His smile faded, and his expression became curious, even probing, but she simply waved him off, shaking her head. He frowned at her briefly, but decided not to push her any further. She would speak with him when she was ready.
Atkynd sheathed his sword and turned his attention back to Barus, folding his hands behind his back. "I'm pleased that we were able to protect the wagons. Your men should be praised. I'll be sure to inform Morihaus when the battle is over," he said. Then he suddenly remembered what he had come for. "So! We actually came here for a specific purpose." A slight chuckle escaped his lips as he realized how inconsequential his request suddenly seemed compared to the disaster they had just averted. "The archers request more arrows."
Barus gave him an amused look. "Indeed?" he asked, apparently struck by the same humor that Atkynd was. "How fortunate for us that they were running low, then. Certainly, I'll send some runners up shortly. Please, return with that message."
"As you say!" Atkynd replied cheerfully before turning and walking away. He began chuckling at the absurdity of it, and behind him, he could hear the centurion doing the same. Tari was waiting for him a short distance away, eyeing the wounded men.
"I shall remain here and treat the wounded," she said quietly. "Go and deliver your message."
"…Very well," Atkynd nodded. "If there are any further orders, I shall relay them to you." Tari nodded mutely and abruptly turned away, which only made Atkynd's frown deepen. Still, though he wanted to make sure she was alright, they both had more pressing concerns. Reluctantly, he walked over to Emero, who was pawing the ground nervously a short distance away. The horse tossed his head, but otherwise didn't protest as Atkynd grabbed his reins and swung himself onto Emero's back, and then with a short yell, he turned the horse around and galloped back up the hill.
In less than a minute, he had crested the hill and was hurrying back towards the archers, who were standing idly in formation, no longer shooting at the city below them. The centurion turned upon hearing Emero's hoofbeats behind him, and he turned to give Atkynd an unimpressed look.
"Ah, good," he remarked sarcastically. "I was beginning to wonder if the fact that you possess elven blood meant you marked the passage of time differently than us humans. It would explain why your definition of haste differs from ours."
"My apologies," Atkynd replied, resisting the urge to snap at the centurion in return. "A scout force attacked the wagons, so our return was delayed." When he saw the centurion's eyes widen with apprehension, he added quickly, "Nothing was damaged, though there were a few casualties. They are being treated, so do not be concerned. Your arrows will arrive shortly."
"There's no need," the centurion shrugged, turning back to the battlefield sprawled out below them. Atkynd nudged Emero a little closer as he explained, "General Morihaus has already routed the enemy forces. They are retreating back across the river."
"And what of Atatar itself? Or, more specifically, who holds it?" Atkynd asked slowly.
The centurion glanced at him, then shook his head. "We don't know," he admitted. "We drove off the attacking army, but we don't know why it was under attack."
"I have a theory," Atkynd murmured. The centurion raised an eyebrow at him, but he shook his head, adding, "Just a theory, however, and I'm more interested in the truth of the matter. For now, I'll seek out General Morihaus and see if he has any further orders for you."
"As you say. And do try to be swifter about it this time," the centurion added, smirking as he needled Atkynd. "It's a shame you missed the battle, as it turned into a glorious rout shortly after you departed. Though if what you said is true, you had your own share of the fun."
"Hm. Your definition of 'fun' is vastly different than mine," Atkynd muttered. He ignored the raised eyebrow the centurion shot him as he turned Emero towards the city and charged down the slope of the hill, having already spotted the distinct form of the man-bull standing amidst his celebrating warriors.