Chapter 16
Battle of the Panther
"So, are you going to explain how you convinced your father to assist us?" Atkynd asked as he rode beside Prince Dynar along the narrow road winding south from Nenalata. Tari sat in front of him, loosely holding the reins, while Pasare walked beside the horses, her bow slung over her shoulder. Though she had been invited to ride with them, she said that she didn't trust beasts that were so easily frightened, and she would rather remain on foot if she needed to flee into the jungle.
"I simply explained that it was in his best interests to ensure the future of the kingdom," Prince Dynar replied airily, watching a bright pink bird as it flew over their heads. "Unless you were requesting my advice about how to conduct negotiations? Surely a skilled emissary such as yourself does not require my assistance," he added, smirking at Atkynd.
"Oh, far be it from me to request lessons from of a prince," Atkynd retorted with a smirk and a mocking bow. "After all, as royalty, your natural charisma far outstrips any training I might have received. Any advice you could impart would be wasted on me, as I could not hope to match your gods-given talent."
"So long as you understand your place, peasant," Dynar laughed, though his smile faded slightly as he glanced over his shoulder. "Though I do regret that I could not convince him to allow more warriors to accompany us."
"I understand his concerns," Atkynd replied easily, holding up his hand. "Nenalata's position remains tenuous, and should our enemies catch wind of your army marching to the south, I have little doubt that Anutwyll and Bawn would eagerly take advantage of your weakened garrison. Besides, eight hundred warriors should prove more than sufficient, especially if all goes according to plan."
"Which again brings me to the question of coordination," Dynar added, leaning forward with an uncertain frown. "Are you certain that the rebel army is aware of our intention to attack Morahame from the rear?"
"I sent the falcon before we departed," Atkynd assured him. "It should have reached the Paravant by now, and she has secretaries who can relay the contents of the message to her. Now it simply falls to Morihaus to ensure that his forces are in position when we arrive."
"I certainly hope so," Dynar murmured, gazing down at the stoic faces of the men marching beside him. "While we can certainly provide a distraction, if we had to contend with Morahame alone, I fear that we do not have the men necessary to break them by ourselves. Especially considering that their summoners are far superior to our mages."
Atkynd tapped his fingers on his horse's flank. "But you do have a contingent of magic-users, correct?"
"We do. All Ayleid kingdoms do," Dynar nodded. "However, unlike Morahame, our sorcerers are not specialized conjurers. Three are practitioners of natural modification and physical alteration – an Ayleid specialty – one studied with the Psijics of Artaeum, one is a student of elemental magic, and one has mastered spells that influence one's senses." He grinned faintly and added, "The same sort of magic I understand that you have something of a talent for as well, come to think of it."
Tari perked up slightly and looked over at Dynar. "If I may, Your Highness? Once the battle concludes… might I request that your mages train me?"
Dynar tilted his head back slightly, smiling down at her. "In truth, I believe it would be a travesty if they didn't. I'm quite curious to see what a human mage can accomplish. And while I know two of the transfigurers are rather conservative in their beliefs, I am certain that both their third colleague and the elementalist are quite curious about the abilities of a human mage, especially when compared to an elven practitioner. It's a question they've been debating for decades, and they will revel in the opportunity to put their argument to rest."
Tari frowned slightly. "I do not wish to be treated as an experiment…."
"Not at all!" Dynar retracted quickly. "No, they're curious about the limits of magic itself. The question of whether non-elven races could wield magic is one that they have pondered for decades. Now that their question has been definitively answered, they will no doubt wish to aid you in discovering your own abilities, for your sake as much as theirs."
"So long as you're certain…." Tari said uncomfortably.
Dynar smiled warmly at her. "You have my word," he replied. "I know that you hail from one of the harshest kingdoms in Cyrod, but rest assured, Nenalata has never treated our human population cruelly."
"Yet you still kept them as slaves," Pasare muttered. When both Atkynd and Dynar turned to stare at her, she suddenly realized that she had spoken her thoughts out loud, and she added quickly, "Your Highness."
Dynar let out a soft, strained chuckle. "Well… you are not incorrect," he admitted uneasily. "However, thanks to our alliance, that is no longer an issue, yes?"
"…Perhaps," Pasare muttered, though she didn't meet the prince's eyes. An awkward tension hung in the air, and Atkynd noticed several Ayleid warriors eyeing Pasare with looks of disapproval at best, and mild hostility at worst.
"So, you shall be personally commanding your men, Your Highness?" Atkynd asked, trying to change the subject.
"I shall," Dynar nodded, smiling pleasantly once again. "This will not be the first time that I have led our men, though I confess, I have never done so in a true pitched battle. Typically, kingdoms prefer to skirmish with each other. Even the war between Bawn and Anutwyll has had few real battles. The majority of the fighting has consisted of raiding and blockading rather than open combat between ships. That was why I was surprised by the battle we stumbled across during our voyage down the Niben a few weeks ago. I certainly didn't expect the two navies to engage each other on such a large scale, though I suppose the blockade must have forced both sides' hands."
"So, the rebellion's victories were unusual, then?" Atkynd asked.
"Quite," Dynar confirmed. "I imagine the kingdoms only committed to open battle against the rebellion because they were overwhelmingly confident of their chances of victory. A commander must be. If a pitched battle is fought, both sides risk severely weakening themselves, particularly if victory is uncertain from the start. In an era of rapidly shifting alliances, a king cannot afford to commit all of his forces to a single battle, no matter how decisive the outcome might be. It is far safer and more prudent to wear down one's rivals through raiding and harassment. No matter how glorious a battle is, if one loses their kingdom afterwards, their victory does little more than serve as the basis for a memorable song." He looked down at his warriors, adding, "And I have little desire to lose my men if I can avoid it as well."
"Your care for them is admirable," Atkynd praised him. "I was always told by my king that a good ruler must serve his people, and that poor rulers believe their people serve him."
"Well… I do care for them, indeed," Dynar agreed. "But I also do not wish to lose them out of a sense of pragmatism. After all, the death of even one warrior is not only a tragedy, but expensive as well."
"Expensive?" Tari repeated, tilting her head.
"Yes. Much of an Ayleid army is comprised of common citizens supplied with what arms we can provide. However, every Ayleid kingdom has a separate class of warriors who have been raised from birth to fight," Dynar explained. "Their training is arduous and requires a great deal of investment from their king, as maintaining a caste whose sole purpose is to fight – while contributing little else to the kingdom – is quite costly. While they serve an important purpose, the loss of even one represents not only a tragic loss of life, but also a loss of coin, time, and effort spent raising that one warrior. Hence why the city guard is often quite small, and why levies comprise much of our army."
"And also why you agree upon duels as a method of resolving conflicts?" Atkynd asked.
"Well… yes, though that carries its own risks," Dynar admitted. "If one commits to a duel, they must be confident that their champion will emerge victorious. Especially if the duel is to the death, the defeated kingdom loses their best warrior, and thus often cannot rely upon dueling as a method to resolve future disputes. Thus, duels are only agreed upon by kingdoms that either are especially confident in their champions or have more to lose by committing their forces to a pitched battle."
"So how does one arrange a duel?" Atkynd asked. "Is there a formal process…?"
"It typically falls to an emissary to arrange such an affair," Dynar explained. "First representatives will approach a kingdom-"
"Such as them?" Tari interrupted, pointing to something in the middle of the road.
Atkynd and Dynar both looked up to see a pair of robed Ayleid mages striding towards them from a branching path, accompanied by a pair of dremora. The prince's eyes narrowed as he spurred his horse forward, replying in a low voice, "No… not like them at all, Tari."
Atkynd swallowed as the figures came to a stop in the middle of the road and stood with their hands folded in front of them, their daedric guards flanking them. He recognized their robes as the same ones worn by Morahame's conjurers, which he had first seen when they had relieved the siege of Atatar. Their interference with the army's march was a rather brazen display of confidence, and it worried him. Nudging his horse forward, he spotted the white walls of an Ayleid city at the end of a winding branch path that had been carved through the trees. Atkynd wondered if that was Morahame. Even from here, he could see a few guards lingering on the walls, watching Dynar's army warily, though no one else was challenging them. Was the city more heavily defended than they had thought? Were the Paravant's scouts wrong in their assessment that most of Morahame's army was defending the bridge across the Panther River? Why else would these mages dare confront Nenalata's army?
Dynar called for the army to halt, and he motioned for his bodyguards to accompany him. After a pause, he nodded to Atkynd and Tari as well, whereupon Atkynd nudged the horse forward to keep pace with the prince as he approached the mages. The mer lowered their hoods, revealing a middle-aged man and woman, who both smiled mirthlessly at the prince as he approached.
"Hail and good day, Prince of Nenalata," the woman greeted him. She glanced past him at the army trailing him and added, "Quite the entourage you have accompanying you. I admire your sense of caution, as the jungle can prove quite dangerous, though I question if a simple walk through the forest requires such extensive protection."
"Well, there are more dangerous things in the jungle than beasts these days," Dynar retorted, casting a wary glance at the dremora hovering behind the pair. "You have approached us for a reason, I presume?"
"You presume correctly," the man answered, bowing his head. "Forgive our impertinence at approaching you like this, but we require your aid. You see, a slave revolt has been stirring to the south, and we have been tasked with capturing any that have managed to escape across the river." He shot a cold look at Atkynd and Tari, then added, "I see that you have already encountered a few. It gladdens me to know that you are taking this rebellion seriously. So, if you'll simply return them to our custody, we'll-"
"Ah… you claim that you're looking for slaves?" Dynar responded tartly. "Then I'm afraid that you must look elsewhere. This is Atkynd, an emissary of Malabal and a guest of Nenalata, and his companion Tari, whom he personally freed. I assure you, you'll find no slaves in my army." Out of the corner of his eye, Atkynd saw Pasare melt into the ranks of the Ayleid warriors, though he knew that of course Dynar had no intention of turning her over to the mages either.
The woman's smile shifted subtly. She no longer had a mocking smirk on her face; in fact, she almost appeared to be baring her teeth. "Our scouts have already confirmed their identity," she stated sharply. "Even if you claim they are not slaves, they are rebels, and as such must be recaptured or slain for daring to rise against their Ayleid masters. Now… we understand that you are young, prince," she continued, her tone turning condescending. "As such, we are willing to overlook your impertinence and lack of wisdom in these matters. Perhaps you feel some misguided compassion for their plight. Make no mistake, however – by aiding these humans, you are committing treason against your race, and the other kingdoms will not stand for it. Therefore, we… respectfully request that you surrender these rebels into our custody, and in exchange, we will pardon your transgression and speak of it no more."
Dynar raised an eyebrow down at the woman, giving her a thoroughly unimpressed look, and then he lowered his spear. Immediately, the dremora stepped in front of the mages, snarling up at the Ayleid prince. Behind the daedra, the two mages' expressions turned apoplectic.
"You dare?!" the male Ayleid hissed.
"I do," Dynar answered coldly. "Begone. You'll not lay a hand on them."
The two mages traded looks, and then the female snarled up at him. "So be it. In truth, we were not asking."
The woman suddenly raised her hand and snapped her fingers, then pointed at the prince. Immediately, one of the daedra charged Dynar with a roar, lifting his volcanic longsword above his head with both hands. The other fell back, growling and raising his shield to protect the mages. Safely hidden behind the dremora, the woman cried something incomprehensible and released the magic.
Atkynd was startled by the sudden attack, and he reflexively yanked the reins of the horse around to avoid the daedra's sudden assault. Dynar brought his spear up in time to deflect the daedra's initial strike, but the force of the blow left a deep gash in the hard wood of the spear shaft. Fortunately, it didn't break, and by the time the daedra had managed to yank his sword free, Dynar's guards had converged around the prince. Four or five spears jabbed at the dremora, and though its thick armor protected it from the first few blows, a lucky strike caught it in the throat. The daedra let out a gurgling hiss as its body disintegrated into fiery orange ash.
The warriors charged the pair of mages, but as they were safely hidden behind the daedra, the male had time to begin chanting under his breath. His hand began crackling with brilliant white electricity, and just as the first few warriors closed in on him, he released the magic. Lightning forked from his fingertips, striking the lead three Ayleid soldiers in the chest and throwing them to the ground. Atkynd almost retched as the smell of ozone mixed with burnt flesh and metal, creating a sickeningly tangy odor that drifted into his nostrils.
The other warriors hesitated for a half-step, and that was enough time for the mages to begin fleeing back towards Morahame. As they ran, the woman screamed, "You'll regret your decision, prince! You have declared war not just on Morahame, but all of Cyrod! You are a traitor to your race, and you'll suffer more than any slave once this pointless rebellion ends!"
A couple of Dynar's cavalry took off after them, but Dynar shouted, "Hold!" His men brought their horses up short, giving the prince a look of confusion. "Do not pursue them. They mean to distract us and prevent us from meeting the rebel army. We must press on."
"Morahame may already know of our approach, Highness, if they anticipated our approach," one of Dynar's nobles – arpena, he had called them – noted. "And we may wish to reconsider our strategy. Morahame is within sight. If it is indeed lightly defended, we may be able to lay siege to it here and now."
"Perhaps. But we hardly have the forces necessary to properly besiege a fortified city," Dynar countered, shaking his head. "We know nothing of their garrison. There may be a hundred warriors remaining, or five thousand. We do, however, know that there is a vast army of our allies awaiting our arrival. If Morahame is still heavily defended, we would be wasting time besieging them. If it is lightly defended and their army is indeed at the bridge, then we have a better chance of defeating them in the open than behind city walls. So… let the mages go. We must continue our march."
"They attempted to assassinate you, my prince," another arpen chimed in. "And they injured our men. You cannot allow this insult to stand."
"It will be answered in due time. But not now," Dynar said with a tone of finality. He looked down at the men lying on the road and added, "Healers! Tend to these men. If they've been slain, we'll provide them a proper burial once our business with Morahame is concluded, but until then, do all you can to save them. The rest of us shall continue to march."
With that, Dynar spurred his horse into a walk, and the column of warriors immediately followed suit, keeping pace with his horse. Atkynd nudged his horse forward a bit more, riding alongside the prince as he stared stonily ahead.
"Are you alright?" he asked in a low voice.
Dynar shot him a sidelong glance, then returned his attention to the road. "I am… unharmed," he replied evasively.
"Mm…." Atkynd grunted noncommittally, unconvinced. He glanced over his shoulder at the fallen soldiers who were being tended to by the Ayleid healers with a combination of herbs and potions, and then he returned his attention to Dynar. "I confess, I'm surprised," he added. "What sort of fools stage an attack on an entire army?"
"That wasn't a serious attack," Dynar explained shortly. "Had it been a true ambush, we would have been forced to contend with archers and skirmishers hiding in the jungle. No… as I said, they were sent to distract us. And to deliver their message."
"Which is?" Atkynd pressed, frowning.
Dynar once again glanced at him, then shook his head. "You heard what they said," he replied in a clipped tone. He spurred his horse a bit harder, pulling ahead and putting an abrupt end to the conversation. However, Atkynd suddenly realized why Dynar was ashen-faced and shaken. The realization that the other Ayleids considered him a traitor to their entire race must have finally truly struck him. It was one thing to assert that he was willing to side with humanity against his own kind, but now that he was forced to face the reality of that decision….
Atkynd exhaled and decided to linger behind the prince for a while, allowing Dynar time to himself. He was certain Dynar was a man of his word and would not forsake their alliance, but he suspected that the prince needed some time alone to prepare himself to fight his fellow elves for the sake of humanity. In truth, Atkynd wasn't certain he would have the courage to do the same.
Around midday, a scout came riding back to the column, her horse panting and covered with sweat. "The Panther River is just around this bend in the road, Highness," she announced, patting the horse's flank.
"Excellent," Dynar replied grimly. He turned to where Atkynd was riding near the front of the column and beckoned the emissary forward. Atkynd immediately complied with the order, and Dynar asked in a low voice, "You are certain that the rebel army is prepared to join our assault once it begins?"
"I am certain that I have sent them a message imploring them to have their army arrayed on the opposite bank at midday," Atkynd answered truthfully, but evasively. "I am uncertain as to whether they received it, as we departed before I received a reply."
Dynar glared at Atkynd, but as he angrily opened his mouth, the scout quickly interjected, "We also spotted an army assembled on the opposite side of the bridge leading across the Panther River. It seems that they are idling, but alert."
"Ah. Excellent," Dynar said, scowling at Atkynd for a moment longer before turning back to the scout. "Is Morahame's army aware of our presence?"
"I am… uncertain, Highness," the scout confessed. "The enemy appears distracted by the army on the far bank, but they did have skirmishers protecting the rear of their formation. It appears that they are at least wary of an attack from behind."
"Wise of them," Dynar remarked drily. "Very well. Telepe, what was the signal to begin the assault?"
"I relayed that we would commence the attack at the sound of two short horn blasts, followed by one long," Atkynd answered.
"Very well," Dynar nodded. Then he turned his attention to his troops. "Arpena! Assemble your men. I wish to speak with them before we begin."
The elven commanders immediately set about shouting orders to their men. Dynar turned back to Atkynd and Tari, adding, "You two will ride with me. Telepe, I know that you have some experience with the blade. Have you ever fought from horseback before?"
"I… have not," Atkynd admitted uneasily. "And my blade is hardly useful for that sort of combat," he added, shifting his hip slightly to show his shortsword.
"Are you skilled with a spear?" Dynar asked.
"I have used a spear only once before in battle," Atkynd said. "And never from horseback."
The corner of Dynar's mouth twitched slightly in a brief smile, then he nodded. "Very well. Then you and Tari should simply do your utmost to avoid combat, if possible," he said.
"What a shame," Atkynd remarked drily. Dynar let out a short chuckle as he nudged his horse past them. He stopped in front of his men, who had been assembled into loose squares, and he raised his voice to address them.
"Warriors of Nenalata!" he called. "For too long we have suffered insults and indignities from our neighbors! We have been forced to weather pirates to our north and raiders to our south! We have suffered silently, patiently, waiting for the day when our chance for retribution would come! At last, that day has dawned! The rebel army to our south has come to us, extending a hand of friendship and swearing to aid us in restoring our kingdom to its rightful place as the preeminent power of the Niben River!
"Now, some of you may have reservations about fighting alongside former slaves. Your concerns are understandable. However, in my experience, humans are some of the most courageous beings in Cyrod… and the fiercest, most loyal friends," he added, glancing at Tari and Atkynd with a quick smile. "What's more, you are not only fighting for their sake! You are fighting for the future of Nenalata! With our victory today, we will exact vengeance on Morahame! We will no longer fear the shadows, dreading that a mage will sacrifice us in their foul rituals to Mehrunes Dagon! The righteous anger you've kept in check for so long… unleash it now on our enemies! Obey your arpena! Shield your brothers and sisters! And let us rend the dark army of Morahame!"
A fierce shout erupted from the throats of the Ayleid warriors, echoing through the jungle. However, as Atkynd's gaze swept across the crowd, he did notice a few of the elves still seemed anxious, though whether it was the prospect of facing Morahame's army or the thought of allying with humans, he wasn't sure. Either way, it was clear that while Dynar's speech was fairly effective at rallying the men, it didn't have the same magnetic quality that a speech delivered by the Paravant or Morihaus had. Dynar seemed to notice as well, and he nudged his horse over to Atkynd with a slight, sheepish smile.
"Hopefully that'll do," he muttered as the din died down.
"You did well," Atkynd assured him with a quick smile. "Now the task falls to them."
"Are we prepared to give the signal?" Tari piped up.
"I believe so," Dynar confirmed, reaching to his belt. He unhooked a curved ram's horn, motioning for Atkynd and Tari to join him as he rode a short distance down the road. After a bit, he turned and led them to the southeast, until they emerged from beneath the thick jungle canopy and onto the bank of the Panther River.
From their position on the river, they could see Morahame's army assembled on their side of the bridge, with archers in the front rank warily eyeing the bridge and several platoons of armored infantry arrayed behind them. On the opposite side of the bridge, just out of range of the archers, stood the Paravant's army, assembled in a phalanx formation divided into centuries and supported by a smaller number of archers behind them. Even from this distance, Atkynd could make out the massive, winged form of Morihaus standing beside Pelinal, clad in his gleaming silver armor. The latter seemed particularly impatient, pacing back and forth while glaring furiously at the Ayleid army on the opposite bank. Atkynd smiled to himself, somehow perversely pleased that he was the one who decided when the mad knight would have his wish to slaughter the elves granted.
"Whenever you're prepared," Atkynd muttered to Dynar. The prince nodded to him, then brought the horn to his lips. He hesitated for a moment, then inhaled and blew two short bursts, followed by one long one.
The deep notes of the horn echoed across the river, and both armies turned towards the sound. Atkynd saw one of the commanders from Morahame point and shout something at them, while on the opposite bank, Morihaus began shouting orders, and the first rank of the phalanx began advancing towards the bridge. Morahame's archers immediately raised their bows and began shooting, but before Atkynd could witness the results of the first volley, Dynar whistled sharply, motioning for Atkynd to quickly follow him back to the rest of the army. He then noticed a dozen Morahame soldiers running at them, shouting. Though they were several hundred yards away, Atkynd thought it wise to immediately turn his horse around and follow Dynar back through the jungle.
The pair hurried back to the road, and Dynar rode once again to the front of the formation, giving his horn another quick blow. "Warriors, forward!" he shouted. The arpena echoed the order, and the formation began jogging through the swampy jungle for the last several hundred yards until they finally emerged from the woods. The bridge spanning the Panther River had been mostly cleared of trees on both sides for about a hundred yards, though a few ferns and low shrubs still dotted the landscape on either side. Dynar held up his hand, motioning for his forces to halt.
Atkynd's heart started to pound heavily as he realized just how close they were to the rear of Morahame's army. A few of the scouts that had been guarding the back of the enemy army shouted warnings to the rest of the formation, and immediately the warriors in the last two rows wheeled around to face the attackers, forming a new line to hold off the invaders. A strangely familiar figure in golden armor sitting astride a white horse eyed them uneasily and shied back towards the center of the formation, barking orders for the men to advance as he did.
"Archers!" Dynar shouted. Two hundred Ayleid bowmen clad in leather armor surged forward, arrows already on their bowstrings. Atkynd spotted Pasare standing with them, her pale skin and short black hair standing out among the bronze-skinned, golden-haired elves.
"Draw!" Dynar yelled as Morahame's warriors began charging them. The archers pulled back their bowstrings, and as soon as most were aiming down their shafts, he bellowed, "Loose!" A cloud of arrows streaked through the air, slamming into the rear ranks of Morahame's army. Atkynd winced as the pained cries of the warriors echoed in his ears. Although he resisted the urge to turn away, he suspected that he would never become truly comfortable with warfare. Though perhaps that wasn't a bad thing, he mused.
"Warriors!" Dynar yelled, snapping Atkynd out of his thoughts. The archers quickly fell back as the infantry stepped forward, armed with an assortment of bronze-tipped spears, axes, and short blades. By this point, about two hundred of Morahame's warriors were within fifty yards of the army – too close for Atkynd's liking. Dynar waited only as long as it took for the men to form three loose lines, and then he roared, "Charge!"
The footsoldiers answered his command with a bloodthirsty roar, and they immediately took off at a run across the open field. Atkynd watched, fascinated, as they poured as much energy as they could into their initial charge, their ferocity matched only by Morahame's own warriors. Then, with a sickening crash of metal on metal, the two sides collided.
Atkynd quickly realized that Ayleid tactics differed wildly from the stoic, disciplined phalanx formation that Morihaus had drilled into the rebel army. At first, the two sides tried to maintain some sort of cohesion, but the fighting quickly devolved into individual duels of perhaps two to four combatants facing off with little regard for overall strategy. Swordsmen broke ranks with their comrades to answer challenges from their enemies, and pockets of space opened up as the warriors gave each other space to circle and fight as needed. There seemed to be a sense of honor to the fights, Atkynd noticed. If a pair of fighters were engaged, the other warriors refrained from interfering, even when their enemy's back was exposed to them. When one opponent was dispatched, the victor let out a roar of triumph loud enough to carry over the clashing of metal on metal, then plunged back into the fray to find his or her next opponent.
From his position on top of his horse, Atkynd was just able see how the battle on the bridge was progressing. The humans' phalanx had managed to push its way past the halfway mark of the bridge, but they were being stymied by Morahame's warriors. The bridge provided an ideal environment for the phalanx, as there was no way for enemy warriors to flank the vulnerable sides of the shield wall. Thus, the bronze-plated rebels were slowly but steadily pushing their way forward, inexorably advancing through the elven ranks. Above the deafening noise of the battle, Atkynd heard wild laughter, and through a gap in the fight, he could just make out the gleaming silver armor of Pelinal at the front of the formation. He kept his blood-red shield raised and was stabbing around the edge of it with his blazing longsword. The blade continuously found weak spots in the Ayleids' armor, sliding into the exposed throats, eyes, and groins of the elves. Their screams filled the air as Pelinal gleefully led the advance into Morahame's army.
As Atkynd continued to watch, however, his gaze wandered to the flanks of Morihame's forces. While half of the infantry was occupied with keeping Nenalata's army at bay, the archers were wholly committed to raining arrows down on the soldiers trying to cross the bridge. As they were positioned at the flanks of the army, they had a good angle on the phalanx, and were able to shoot with little concern about accidentally hitting their own men. The rebel warriors near the sides of the phalanx were keeping their shields angled to deflect as many of the missiles as they could, but occasionally a bolt did find its mark in the lightly-protected arms of the men – or worse, one of their throats.
Atkynd grimaced as he looked back at Dynar's own army. From what he could tell, Nenalata's archers had been pulled out of range of the enemy bowmen, and the prince seemed to have little desire to bring them closer, perhaps out of fear that Morahame's own forces would break through his lines and attack his archers. However, the prince was also keeping his contingent of one hundred or so cavalrymen in reserve as well, which confused Atkynd. If Morahame's archers were unprotected, why did Dynar not order his horsemen to ride them down? What's more, if the archers broke, he suspected that the cavalry could then turn and attack Morahame's infantry as well from one or both sides.
Atkynd nudged his horse forward a little, stopping next to the prince, who was watching the battle intently with his left hand gripping the reins tightly. He didn't turn his head towards Atkynd at his approach, but he did address him in a tight voice. "What is it?"
Atkynd hesitated, but since the prince had spoken to him directly, he relayed his question about why Dynar had kept his cavalry in reserve. Dynar shook his head slightly, still watching the battle intently.
"I'm not yet committing my best warriors for one reason," Dynar said shortly, though his tone wasn't unkind – he seemed to realize that Atkynd was simply curious, rather than questioning the prince's strategy. "While the archers are indeed a bother for the rebel forces, there is a far more dire threat still lurking in Morahame's army. And as the tide swells against them, I expect they shall eventually use their most powerful asset against us."
Atkynd tilted his head, and then his eyes widened briefly as he realized that Morahame had indeed not yet committed all of their forces to the battle. Dynar glanced at him and smiled slightly at the look of comprehension dawning on Atkynd's face.
"You two do catch on swiftly," he remarked. Atkynd looked down to see Tari wearing a similar expression of sudden understanding, mirroring his own. "The battle is quickly turning in our favor. I doubt we shall have to wait much longer…."
Several long moments later, a loud horn echoed across the battlefield, this one much deeper than the one Dynar used. On cue, about twenty portals of black and violet flame appeared around the edges of the Nenalatan forces, forming a semicircle around their rear. Dremora, clannfear, and squat, goblin-like beings with tan skin stepped out of the portals, claws extended, weapons raised, and voices bellowing bloodthirsty war-cries. The daedra then charged at the unprotected rear of Dynar's army.
Dynar immediately raised his own horn to his lips and blew into it, drawing his cavalry's attention. Over the noise of the battle, he bellowed, "Morahame's mages are likely hidden in the jungle! Felaril, take your men and hunt them down! Civenor, with me!" A female Ayleid arpen shouted for the men to follow her, while a male elf rode up beside Dynar. The prince glanced at Tari and Atkynd, adding in a tight voice, "Remain here, and only engage the enemy if you must." Then he turned and bellowed to his horsemen, "Charge!"
The cavalry took off at a gallop, with thirty of the horses running towards the jungle, where Atkynd could just make out the shapes of hooded figures scampering into the underbrush, trying to flee the furious pursuit of the horsemen. The remaining warriors ran straight for the exposed backs of the daedra, their bronze spearpoints gleaming in the midday sun. As the heavy hoofbeats of the horses reached their ears, the daedra turned to face the new attackers. The dremora raised their shields and blades, while the reptilian monsters hissed challenges at the advancing cavalry, their maws open and their wicked claws extended.
At the last moment, the horsemen peeled off, turning their steeds sharply. Some jabbed at the lines of daedra with their spears, while others brought their horses up short and lobbed javelins over the sides of their horses' flanks into the rows of daedra. Most of the strikes missed their marks, and the dremora suffered no casualties, as they patiently kept their guards raised and were able to defend against the initial assault. A few of the reptilian beasts fell, however, crumbling into mounds of fiery ash before disappearing into small portals of purple-black flame.
Atkynd watched, fascinated, as the cavalrymen wheeled their horses around and quickly reassembled in a long line for another charge. By this point, the rear rank of the Nenalatan army was aware of the daedra behind them, and the back line of Dynar's warriors was daring their daedric attackers to face them in even combat. The dremora were all too happy to answer those challenges, and in short order, three had paired off against Dynar's mer. Atkynd watched as one hacked at a dremora with a short bronze axe, which the dremora caught on its shield and deflected to the side effortlessly before bringing its own mace over its head to slam it down on the warrior. The Ayleid managed to raise his shield in time, but though the dremora had time to check its swing, it instead followed through with the blow. The thick bronze face of the shield dented inwards, and Atkynd winced as he heard a sickening crack followed by a scream of pain from the warrior. The shield hung limply from his arm as the dremora slammed its weapon down again, this time connecting with the cheek of the warrior, who crumpled, lifeless, to the ground.
With the daedra distracted by the infantry, Dynar had managed to reorganize his horsemen and he blew once more into the horn. The cavalry once again charged across the open field, lowering their spears. The dremora hissed and barked orders to the reptilian beasts, dragging them into a loose line in front of them, forming a small, impromptu wall of flesh to protect them from the second cavalry charge.
"Valirel!" Dynar shouted over his shoulder at one of his riders. A young elven man spurred his horse a bit faster to catch up with his prince, and he held up his hand, staring past his fingers at the lines of daedra before him.
"Hecamora!" Valirel shouted. His palm briefly glowed with a bluish-purple light, and a moment later, a violet bolt of magic streaked through the air towards the lines of daedra. The light washed over the reptiles, and three of the beasts were briefly consumed by the shimmering light before vanishing. The dremora stared, stunned, at the spots where their fellow daedra had been standing a moment before, and that brief distraction allowed Dynar's riders to exploit the hole in their ranks and charge in. Spears flashed and horses screamed as the cavalry furiously jabbed their spears at the dremora, then fell back again several seconds later once they had a chance to retreat from the chaos of the melee.
As the cavalry pulled back again, Atkynd noticed two dremora vanish in flickers of violet flame, along with three more of the reptilian beasts. He let out a low whistle of approval as the horsemen began riding back to their lines. As the warriors pulled away, however, Tari suddenly pointed, her eyes wide with alarm.
"Atkynd, look!" she cried, half-leaning over the horse as she fixated on a spot in the middle of the dremora's lines. It took Atkynd a second to follow where she was pointing, but when he did, his heart stopped. The dremora had not allowed Dynar's men to escape unscathed, and a few of the Ayleid warriors lay dead, their horses slain beneath them. Worse, in the chaos, Prince Dynar's horse had been cut out from under him, and he lay motionless on the ground at the daedras' feet. One of the nearby dremora spotted him and grinned savagely, stomping over to him as the prince groaned and began blearily pushing himself up.
Atkynd furtively glanced over at the rest of the cavalry, but they had their backs turned to the prince and had not yet realized he was not among them, though a few were glancing around, wondering where their leader was. Atkynd looked back as the dremora continued to stalk towards the fallen prince, clearly savoring the moment.
Fear gripped Atkynd as he grabbed the reins and snapped them, urging the horse into a gallop. He knew what he was doing was utter foolishness. He didn't know how to fight from horseback, and even if he did, he wasn't armed with a spear, and his sword was too short to be of any use. Yet he still rode towards Dynar, who was pushing himself to his knees and looking up in horror as the daedra stood over him, grinning viciously.
As they neared the daedra, Atkynd drew his sword, but he still didn't have any idea how he was going to attack the daedra if their initial charge didn't distract the dremora long enough for the prince to escape. Fortunately for him, when they were within a few dozen feet of the red-skinned warrior, Tari acted before he could decide what to do.
"Molag!" she exclaimed as the dremora paused to face them. She held her hand out, and a gout of flame erupted from her palm. The spell washed over the daedra, and though it did little damage, it was enough to make the dremora cry out in startled pain and back away. Unfortunately, the sudden spell also frightened the horse, and it reared back, catching Atkynd off-guard. Tari, who was nearer to the reins, managed to cling to the beast's back, but Atkynd slipped off the horse and landed heavily on the ground. Fortunately, the ground was soft enough that his fall was painless, and a moment later he had managed to scramble to his feet. Unfortunately, he was now practically alone and staring down a furious dremora.
Atkynd felt his mouth go dry as he dropped into a one-handed dueling stance in front of Dynar. The dremora sneered at him, and Atkynd immediately realized that he had no chance against the far more powerful warrior. Though they were roughly the same height, the dremora was far more heavily built, and its thick, soot-black armor protected everything but its head. His bronze shortsword suddenly seemed little better than a dull cooking knife.
As the daedra advanced, without taking his eyes off his opponent, Atkynd shouted to Dynar, "Fall back to the men!" The dremora sneered and muttered something in an echoing, infernal language, then brought its heavy longsword over its shoulder and cleaved downwards. The attack was much faster than Atkynd had anticipated – he hadn't realized the monster could swing something so large, so quickly. Thankfully, he was at the very limits of the dremora's reach, and he was able to skirt backwards to avoid the initial blow. The dremora pulled its weapon back and slashed at him again, horizontally sweeping its weapon across its body.
Once again, Atkynd shifted backwards to avoid the attack, and then just as the blade cleared his body, he suddenly darted in. Gripping his sword tightly, he jabbed at the dremora's unprotected face. The dremora, however, simply grabbed his arm with its free hand and roughly twisted. Atkynd let out a sharp cry as pain lanced through his wrist and his sword fell from his grasp and landed in the grass. The daedra sneered and used its grip on his arm to pull him closer, and then it released his arm, only to grab him by the throat.
Atkynd's eyes bulged as the daedra lifted him off the ground by his neck, his feet dangling an inch or two off the ground. He gripped the dremora's arm tightly as its grin widened, revealing a mouth full of jagged, triangular teeth. As he struggled for breath, he watched the dremora pull its sword back, preparing to impale him. He furtively looked around and realized that no one was around to help him, and his sword still lay useless on the ground beneath his feet.
Terror gripped him, and he acted on instinct. His mind flashed to the flame spell that Tari had cast, and without consciously thinking about it, he flexed his fingers. A small flame erupted in his palm, and just before the dremora could bring its sword forward, he thrust his hand forward into the daedra's face. The dremora yelled and flinched backwards as Atkynd's burning hand clawed its face. The daedra immediately released him, clutching its singed face with both hands and hissing with pain. Atkynd gasped as he hit the ground and began coughing, blindly groping around for his fallen sword with one hand while massaging his neck with the other.
The dremora recovered just as Atkynd's fingers closed around the pommel of his sword, and as he looked up, the daedra loomed over him, its face a mask of unbridled fury. Atkynd flinched as the infernal warrior raised its blade above its head with an enraged cry, but before it could bring it down, it suddenly vanished in a flash of black and purple flame. Atkynd was left staring at the spot where the dremora had vanished, wondering what had happened.
"Excellent! My horsemen have done their work well!" Dynar crowed from behind him. Atkynd glanced over his shoulder, momentarily perplexed by the elf's statement, but then he realized that one of Dynar's cavalrymen must have cut down the mage that had summoned the daedra at just the right time.
His relief at his fortune was very brief, however, as he suddenly realized there were still about a dozen other daedra in front of them, and all were now converging on them. Atkynd felt a strong hand on his shoulder pulling him back, and he allowed Dynar to guide him away for a few steps before he found his footing again and raised his sword. Out of the corner of his eye, he also Dynar gripping his spear tightly in both hands, bracing for the daedric assault.
Before the infernal beasts could close in on them, a large figure bolted from their right, cutting across their path in front of the horde of daedra. It took Atkynd a moment to realize that it was Tari, still sitting astride the horse, boldly riding in front of the beasts with her right hand extended. "Molag!" she shouted, and flame erupted from her palm. She swept her arm across her body, and the wave of flame erupted in a low wall, cutting the daedra off from their prey. Then she shouted to Dynar and Atkynd, "Go!"
The two men turned and sprinted back to their lines. By now the rest of the cavalry had wheeled around and were charging furiously towards the daedric minions, seeking revenge for nearly killing their prince. One of the men paused in front of Dynar and offered his prince his hand, while Tari tugged her own horse to a halt in front of Atkynd, wearing an exhausted grin.
"Well, you've certainly become an excellent rider," Atkynd remarked as he scrambled onto the horse behind her.
"Did you think I wouldn't learn after spending weeks riding across Cyrod?" Tari pointed out.
"A fair point. Are you alright?" Atkynd added.
"Fatigued," Tari admitted, and Atkynd did notice a faint sheen of sweat on her forehead. "I do not believe I can cast another spell like that for some time."
"There's no need," Atkynd assured her, squeezing her shoulder with a smile. "You did well. Rest for now."
Tari nodded and leaned back, resting her head against Atkynd's chest, though she kept her eyes open. Atkynd smiled tightly down at her, then nudged the horse forward to catch up with Dynar, who was being ridden back to his lines. As they approached, Dynar gave them both a weary smile.
"Thank you both," he exhaled. "I owe you my life."
"Come now, you've saved us twice already," Atkynd pointed out with a cheeky grin. "Now we only need return the favor once more to be even, mm?"
Dynar stared at him, then suddenly burst out laughing. "Ah, we're keeping count, then?" he chuckled. "Very well! I shall make certain to keep a record from now on. Should we consider these debts to have interest…?"
"How does one collect interest in a life debt?" Atkynd wondered idly. "Do we demand compensation when one of us falls ill, or…?"
Dynar grinned and shook his head, then turned back to the battle. One of his arpena had taken command of the cavalry and was riding down the remaining daedra. Only two dremora and a handful of reptilian daedra remained, barely harassing the back rank of Nenalata's army, which allowed the infantry to commit fully to attacking the rear of Morahame's army.
"Excellent. The battle is progressing well," Dynar commented. "If we continue like this, Morahame's army will soon break."
Atkynd thought the prince seemed a bit pale, but that was hardly surprising, considering their near brush with death. Tactfully avoiding asking him how he was, he instead asked, "Can we expect another wave of daedra to assist Morahame?"
"Unlikely," Dynar shook his head. "My men are still in pursuit of the mages, and as you well know, spells require a great deal of concentration to maintain. With my warriors chasing them down, it's unlikely they'll be able to stage another ambush. No, I expect this battle will end shortly."
Atkynd turned his attention back to the fight, peering over the heads of the bronze figures swarming at the mouth of the bridge. There did indeed seem to be a bulge forming near the center of the enemy formation. He suspected that it was the phalanx pushing the front lines of Morahame's army back, shoving them into the waiting blades of Dynar's men. The battle indeed seemed to be going very well for them, despite the near loss of the prince. When a new sound reached his ears, however, his optimism abruptly turned to dread.
"Push harder!" a harsh, gravelly voice cried over the din of battle. "Break these elven dogs! Put every last one of them to the sword! Every spear should have an Ayleid head adorning it when this battle ends!"
"Your Highness, pull your men back. Immediately," Atkynd said sharply.
Dynar glanced at him, frowning in confusion. "Pull back? Morahame is on the verge of a rout. We must continue to pressure them," he protested.
Atkynd shook his head. "Did you hear that voice? That is Pelinal Whitestrake, the Paravant's champion. He is a madman who bears an undying hatred for all things elven. I was nearly slain by him, and my blood is only half elven. Mark my words – he will break through Morahame's lines, and if he reaches your men, he will slaughter them. He will not care if they're allied or not. If you wish to spare your men, I implore you, call them back now."
Dynar hesitated, but when he noticed the insistent look on Atkynd's face, he reluctantly sighed and nodded. "Very well. Pull back, men!" he called to his forces.
Nenalata's warriors glanced over their shoulders, hesitating, but when Dynar repeated the order, they obeyed and began to fall back, albeit slowly and with some confusion. As they withdrew, a deep horn sounded and a new voice reached Atkynd's ears.
"Retreat!" a panicked voice cried. "Fall back to Morahame!" Atkynd's watched the golden figure he had noticed earlier fleeing madly through the ranks of his own men in a desperate effort to get to safety. It took him a few moments to recognize the figure as King Glinferen, the former King of Atatar. Somehow, the mer had managed to remain atop his horse throughout the battle, and was now putting his steed to good use as the first one to quit the battlefield. Morahame's army tore after him, retreating in a blind panic through the gaps Dynar's army had opened.
"Pursue them!" Dynar shouted to his men. "Capture as many as you can before they return to Morahame!" He shot a furtive glance at Atkynd, who nodded in agreement. So long as Pelinal didn't decide to follow them, he figured Dynar's forces would be safer remaining as far away from Whitestrake as possible.
"Cowards!" Whitestrake roared in frustration. Atkynd's heart leapt into his throat as the silver-clad warrior slashed through the back of an Ayleid warrior and turned his helmeted head towards the fleeing forms of Morahame's army. "Stand and die like you should! Warriors of the Paravant, pursue them!" Then his eyes fell on Nenalata's army reassembling several yards away and he began chuckling darkly. "Ah, good! More elves to put to the sword-!"
"Hold, Pelinal!" a second voice rang out from behind the human army. Though it was smoother and higher-pitched, the command was delivered in a tone that permitted no disobedience. Whitestrake growled in frustration, but reluctantly lowered his sword and bowed his head. Dynar quickly ordered his arpena to arrange his remaining warriors into a loose formation as the rebels finished crossing the bridge and began fanning out, reforming into their centuries. A small figure walked through a gap in their lines, her brown robes flowing around her and her face half-hidden by her hood. Behind her walked the massive, winged figure of Morihaus, holding his club loosely in his right hand.
Dynar glanced at Atkynd questioningly, and Atkynd nodded at him. "That's the Paravant," he confirmed. The prince nodded and dismounted from his horse – whereupon Atkynd and Tari followed suit – and immediately strode up to Perrif. Atkynd saw Pelinal's sword arm twitch, but a look from Perrif stopped him short. Dynar came to a halt a few feet from her and took off his helmet, then inclined his head to her in polite greeting.
"Well met, my lady," Dynar said smoothly as Perrif lowered her hood. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Dynar, Prince of Nenalata. I trust you are the leader of this rebellion?"
"I am. My followers call me the Paravant," Perrif replied, returning his greeting with a warm smile. "Well met indeed. You have my thanks for lending us your aid. Without your forces, victory would not have been claimed so easily."
Atkynd glanced past her, eyeing the hundreds of elven bodies littering the ground. Though a few were Dynar's men, and a few dozen human warriors lay fallen on the bridge, the vast majority were Morihame's. It had indeed been an easy victory – glancing at the sun, Atkynd guessed that barely an hour had passed. Surrounded by two armies and attacked from all sides, it was more surprising that Morihame had managed to last so long against them.
"We are pleased that we could be of assistance," Dynar replied politely. "My father, the King of Nenalata, sends his regards, and wishes to inform you that we have decided to accept your offer of alliance. From this day forward, we shall join you in your goal to liberate Cyrod. In exchange, we request that you respect our sovereignty and pledge to contribute to the safety and prosperity of our people."
"You have my word," Perrif replied with another warm smile. "I foresee that ours shall be a long and prosperous friendship, Prince Dynar."
"I certainly hope so," Dynar replied. "Typically, this would call for a celebration, but I suggest we postpone the revelry until our enemy has been fully vanquished. My men are pursuing the remnants of Morahame's army, but I suspect that the kingdom will not capitulate until we capture their city."
"Then we shall see to it immediately," Perrif agreed. "My men shall accompany yours. Before that, however, I would like to speak with my emissaries."
"Certainly," Dynar said, bowing again with a warm smile as he turned back to his horse and pulled his helmet back on. "Treasure these gems you've found, Paravant," he added, his smile broadening into a grin as he nodded to Atkynd and Tari, then spurred his horse after his men.
Perrif watched him depart as Pasare wandered over, led by the centurion in charge of the scouts. She turned her attention to the trio, her eyes shining with delight.
"I owe you all my deepest thanks," she said quietly.
"You should thank these two especially," Atkynd said, glancing at his companions. "Were it not for Pasare's guidance, I would have been slain as soon as I entered the jungle. She is unparalleled as a scout and a tracker, and she should be commended. And Tari continues to amaze me… though you may wish to speak with her about it yourself later."
"Truly? I'm rather curious now," Perrif admitted. Tari shot Atkynd a glare, which he returned with an unrepentant grin. "And you, Atkynd… yet again, when a terrible foe loomed on the horizon, you once again found us a new ally to turn the tide. I can scarcely believe the miracles you work."
"We were fortunate," Atkynd replied modestly. "Had Tari and I not encountered Prince Dynar earlier in our travels, we would not have had the opportunity to negotiate with Nenalata."
"I shall be sure to thank the gods for their favor, yes. However, if you recall, I've said before that the gods gift us opportunity, but we must seize it," Perrif reminded him. "And you three seized this opportunity brilliantly. You all are to be commended for your efforts, and you have my sincere gratitude for undertaking such a dangerous quest, much less succeeding. Mark my words, when the opportunity arises, I shall see to it that you are properly rewarded."
Her smile faded as she looked past them at the road beyond. "For now, however… I'm afraid that our task is not yet done. Morihaus?" She turned to look over her shoulder at the man-bull, who stood a bit straighter. "Kindly take command of the men. We march to Morahame. Pelinal, I would like you to lead the vanguard," she added, glancing at her silver knight. "Remain alert for a counterattack." Her voice turned severe, and she concluded, "And refrain from attacking our new allies."
"As my lady commands," Pelinal grunted, sheathing his sword before drawing his mace instead. He nodded approvingly to both Tari and Pasare, then stared at Atkynd for a long moment before turning and trudging off ahead of the army. Morihaus, meanwhile, bowed to Perrif, then turned and began bellowing orders to his centurions.
Perrif smiled faintly as the two ada departed, and then she motioned for the trio to accompany her. "Come. We have some time before we arrive at Morahame," she said. "Walk with me. I'd very much like to hear about this adventure you three had. Tari, can you elaborate on what Atkynd was saying…?"