The Army arrived half a week later, a small detachment of troops cautiously approaching the valley. Seeing the ice river splitting it into two, they attached steel spikes to the soles of their feet, before walking on – keeping tight formation, crossbows loaded and ready.
Frostnova sucked in a sharp breath from her hiding place in a low-hanging cave, hidden behind a face of rock. "Andrey? Recognize them?"
"A second…" Andrey paused for a long moment, Frostnova tensely peeking out at the Army troops as they walked further into the valley, spiked soles piercing the ice and allowing them to march on unimpeded. "Nine, ten… They have eighty troops, and ten scouts in this group."
Frostnova hid back behind the rock – peeking out too much could get her spotted, and she had the information she needed. "Eighty?"
"These are… hopefully Ursus Suppressor detachments, judging by the lack of Casters; their doctrine is to send approximately half of their troops on scouting. If their general is competent – and he likely is – he would be sending one group to each cardinal direction."
"How certain?" Frostnova peeked out again – the Army soliders had moved almost halfway to the first group of Yetis now.
"It's at least fifty. At most two hundred. Suppressor detachments vary."
Two hundred? If there were two hundred… Frostnova would much rather run then face that, and even Patriot would retreat in face of that many. They were a mere few hundred in total, after all.
"Strength?"
"Double that of Infected Patrol, half that of veteran divisions. Equipped with light infantry weapons."
"Accuracy of that information?" Frostnova was dead serious now – she needed every tidbit of knowledge when they were outnumbered and outgunned like this.
"Rough estimate. It's in the book. I don't know how accurate that is."
"Accurate enough." The soldiers were close now. Just a few more steps…
And suddenly, the leading soldier snapped to the right, bolt striking a Yeti square in the face, the sickening sound of bone breaking echoing through the valley.
No screams, no shouts; just a snap.
Immediately, the other soldiers split up, crossbows firing a first volley. Another pair of unfortunate Yetis were hit, defenseless and unprepared; armor simply insufficient to protect them from hardened metal bolts. The remaining bolts broke against the stone, sending dust and rock flying everywhere.
Above, Frostnova almost jerked back in shock.
How? Just a first volley, and the scouts had eliminated three of the originally ten-man ambush.
But the Yetis didn't take long to get over their shock, leaping out of the shadows with fury as they swung their swords towards the Army troops.
Unsheathing their own shortswords, the scouts countered the blows, easily deflecting the first wave of Yetis – not a single cut on any of them.
Their formation remained unscathed, even as three Yetis lay dead on the ground.
But they were outmatched; the Yetis forcing them back with their sheer ferocity. Blow after blow was traded, the Yetis and scouts dueling each other on the ice.
On the right flank, a Yeti held his ground against two scouts; attacked from the side, he stepped out of the way, blocking another sword just barely – before one of the scouts slipped, crashing into his compatriot and landing in a heap.
Steel came down on flesh.
A Yeti rushed at a scout, the scout turning just in time to twirl out of the way; sword thrusting out in defense. The steel simply bounced off the Yeti's armor, and the scout staggered back only to catch a sword to the chest.
"Retreat!" The leader called, fending off two Yetis with his sword as he stepped back step by step.
And soon, the scouts did, running to the distance, weapons kept at the ready as the Yetis hounded them. But the Army was not easy prey, and they escaped unscathed, the Yetis simply giving up and retreating after a fruitless chase.
"Remain in position. Stay visible." Frostnova called to the Yetis, getting only looks of resignation. But the Yetis stayed in place, weapons limply held to the sides.
Three for three. They would need the plan to go perfectly to even survive.
"Did Patriot send you here to die?" Andrey asked, taking in a breath.
"He underestimated our opponents. But we can win this."
"Not like this."
"Focus." Leaning on the stone, Frostnova looked out at the snowy ground below her. "Focus."
A grey dot slowly appeared on the horizon, growing and growing. Its soldiers marched forwards, even row upon even row, swords held at the ready, scouts flanking its sides as it walked.
"Count." Frostnova ordered. There was no wasting time now.
"Seventy-two."
"Three to two. First wave of Arts can even the numbers at best."
The soldiers marched forwards. Already, their longswords were drawn, held at ready, while their crossbowmen aimed their crossbows at the ragtag group of Yetis left standing on the ice.
Red had already stained the pristine white, the blood of Infected and their oppressors mixing together on the snowy ground – all the same, in the end.
The army advanced.
"Thirty crossbowmen. Forty swordsmen." Andrey counted.
Their crossbowmen aimed up, pulling their triggers, and the sky filled with bolts. Yet all they did was harmlessly impact on stone, the Yetis hiding under the caves and alcoves as the bolts flew by.
Seeing their attacks were useless, the soldiers picked up the pace.
Another wave of bolts harmlessly struck the stone as they advanced. Just a dozen steps now.
And then they collided, a sea of grey against mere specks of white.
The Yetis ran. Weapons hastily held in their hands, the Yetis ran, another wave of bolts coming down and narrowly missing them as they escaped the battlefield.
Giving chase, the soldiers cut at the Yetis as they rushed forwards – yet they were too slow. The Yetis were far more experienced in the terrain, and as they expertly navigated the rocks, the Army found themselves lacking.
Yet still they rushed forwards, spurred on by their commander as he led the charge.
The crossbowmen followed suit, catching up to their compatriots.
"Three… two… one…"
"Attack!" The Yetis turned around with a renewed vigor, rushing back at the soldiers with equal ferocity.
In that moment, the stone shook with their voices. "ATTACK!"
A dozen orbs of Arts flew towards the crossbowmen, followed by twenty bolts.
Skin teared like paper, the unarmored crossbowmen unable to react in time – or at all. The Yetis fell on the crossbowmen, ten Yetis breaking through their lines as they advanced.
"Arts, five. Bolts, ten. Light infantry, five." Andrey reported. "Ten crossbowmen, forty swordsmen remaining."
But once they got over their shock, the Army was still a formidable force; the remaining crossbowmen raising their crossbows towards the Yetis' Casters; five Yetis felled by a wave of hardened steel.
Sensing their momentum waning, Frostnova leaped down, shield of ice simply crushing a crossbowman as she fell.
Raising her wand, the snow responded to her call, two spikes of ice impaling crossbowmen with monstrous force.
Frostnova turned, facing the two remaining crossbowmen to her left. They raised their crossbows, fingers moments away from firing bolts at her; a flick, and ice consumed them.
Stepping across the corpse of the crossbowman she had crushed, she stepped forwards. Ice gathered around her wand once more as she advanced towards the swordsmen.
They were on guard now, many of the swordsmen readying shields against the Yetis' crossbows Many of the Casters had fallen, and the remaining Casters were still reeling from the shock; the sparse bolts the Yetis could fire simply not enough to break the shield formation.
Frostnova raised her wand, and two ice spikes struck the swordsmen in the back; Yetis rushing forwards, colliding with the swordsmen.
"Ten crossbowmen descending to assist armored troops." Andrey emotionlessly commented as the Yetis jumped down to support their compatriots. "Thirty-five swordsmen remaining. Seven light infantry on your side of the valley, a dozen armored and crossbowmen on the other side."
"Crossbowmen firing?" Another ice spike shot out. Surrounded on all sides, the swordsmen had no place to dodge to – the spike hitting home and eliciting a cry of pain, then a gurgle as a Yeti stepped over their fallen body.
"Ten. Five Casters firing." Another wave of icy Arts descended, another four swordsmen falling.
Casters were their lifeline in this battle; without the ranged support, the Army soliders had no choice but to fall one by one.
And their leader had apparently noticed that too; a dozen soldiers clothed in red splitting off from the main group and climbing up to the Casters.
Rocks rolled down the stone, knocking down two and crushing them; undeterred, the elite soldiers continued their advance.
But without their support, the swordsmen on the ground struggled; another four falling in the pitched melee as the Yetis squeezed them into a corner.
Ice coalesced in the air above them, and a spear of ice struck down another – Frostnova able to cast her Arts undeterred, protected by the Yetis ahead of her.
"Fifteen swordsmen remaining, fifteen melee Yetis."
It was a fight to the death. Nowhere to run and nowhere to hide, surrounded and cornered, the Army soldiers could do nothing but fight to the end, swords swinging out in increasingly desperate and sloppy arcs.
Casting another wave of Arts, Frostnova killed another swordsman with a sharpened spike of ice.
Giving her a nod, the Yeti stood back up, rushing back to combat. A moment later, a longsword ran him through, his body collapsing to the ground.
Frostnova glared at the swordsman responsible as he revealed himself – a blast of icy Arts breaking through his defenses and avenging the fallen Yeti.
To the right flank, Petrova had cornered two swordsmen, dodging one of their blows and jabbing his sword through their chest. The other rushed towards him, only to be sliced to pieces by his blade as he rushed towards them.
"Ten swordsmen, fourteen Yetis."
A wave of Arts, and another four swordsmen fell. There were so few alive that Frostnova could readily count them now. She was sure Andrey was doing just that; tallying numbers, feeding her any and all information that she could need.
Another wave of Arts and steel, and there were none.
"Ten Yetis."
And then the screams started. Looking up, Frostnova saw the Yetis being massacred by the final ten elites of the Army, wood crossbows offering them little protection against cold steel.
A final sword across the neck, and the last struggling Yeti fell, crossbow falling from dead hands and pitifully landing on the ground.
The ten Yetis looked up at the ten soldiers, and they looked back down at them.
Their leader picked up a crossbow, slowly loading it with a bolt. For a moment, she could see his bearded face, scar across his left cheek contorted in anger – and then he fired.
AN: Fast chapter! Had some extra time, so finished this early. As always, leave a review if you've got something to say!
P.S. Looking at her art, Frostnova apparently wears half high heels. Or am I just dumb?