Ambushed
It is instant chaos.
The rebels turn around at the warning call to see all the snow kicked up by the approaching soldiers and things begin happening in rapid succession after that. Some of the quick thinkers immediately begin repeating the call so that people further ahead in the caravan will get the same warning as them and have some time to prepare before the soldiers are upon them, while others are readying themselves for battle.
Panic spreads just as quickly as the yelling, and fearful screaming joins in with the calls of warning. Some people have already started to scatter into the forest, leaving behind most of their belongings and the weapons just to get away the only way they can. The rest are frantically looking for a way to defend themselves with what they have available, axes, knives or frying pans while they are not able to reach the weapons carts.
The roads they have traveled for the last few days are in a state that makes a quick escape impossible. It is narrow, covered in ice and full of loose rocks mixed in with the deep tracks from the large number of heavy carts that have passed over them and the forest does not make for an easy escape either. If they run, then the soldiers can easily track them down in the snow later unless the rebels can stop them right here.
"Our people have nowhere to flee!" Matthias yells through the roaring wind and stomping of hooves, hoping that Tino can hear him as they force their horses forward. "They're gonna have to fight if they want to survive!"
An uncontrollable flight among the rebels will surely lead to more death. The rebel army's main strength is their large number of people as they can swarm the soldiers who have far better training, but scattered they are weak. The carts can offer them some shelter if they stand their ground and if they flee through the forest on foot, the enemy can shoot them down one after the other or run them down on horseback.
The soldiers' horses are far more rested and manage to ride past Matthias and Tino who are pushing their horses to the absolute limits. They ride up parallel with the caravan, and then they slow down. Those who have not yet armed themselves pull out bows and aims them towards the largest clusters of people by one of the carts where most of the weapons are stores, hindering the rebel's access to weapons.
A panicked scream is cut short as the first rebel falls off the cart with an arrow sticking out of their back. Immediately another one falls and then the arrow truly begins raining down on them all, hitting carts, animals and people alike. The snow is quickly turning red around them.
Matthias realizes that a defensive stance is not going to be enough against this group of soldiers. With the downpour of arrows, the rebels are incapable of reaching their weapons and fight back. They have the numbers, but the soldiers have the upper hand and even if they win against this group, they might lose to many people to keep going afterwards.
On impulse, not even thinking, Matthias pulls sharply on the reigns, turning directly for the soldiers, continuing ahead at the breakneck speed, narrowly dodging an arrow. Only faintly does he hear Tino yelling in panic at him and ignores it.
Several of the soldiers turn on him, and he finds himself facing several bows aimed at him. Only then does he realize how stupid his rash decision is. He is one lone idiot galloping straight towards dozens of trained soldiers. If he is lucky, he might distract a some of them for a few seconds, enough for maybe a few rebels to take a chance and get to their weapons without being slaughtered, but beyond that he is most likely facing certain death.
At least one, if not more of the soldiers are drawing back their bows, aiming carefully, and Matthias realizes there is no way they will all miss him. He ducks down, clinging close to the horse's back and neck to make himself as small as possible as the arrow whistles past close by.
One whistle past just above him, where his head was just a second ago, and another grazes by his leg, tearing a hole in the fabric of his pants. The next one, however, hits his horse, and the poor animal topples over, taking Matthias down with it. The rest of the arrows fly far over his head as he tumbles over in the snow, barely avoiding being crushed by his own horse.
Matthias heaves himself up from the ground and makes a grab for his sword which is most accessible. He only has a few moments before the archers will have more arrows notched, and this time he does not have a horse as a cover.
With his heart beating madly, he acts on instinct and charges towards the closest soldier, plowing his way through the snow. He swings his sword with all his might towards the horse's front legs rather than at the rider and hears the sickening crunch of bone breaking underneath the force of his swing.
The animal makes a horrifying sound of agony and takes a dive into the snow, tossing its rider off.
The soldier lays disoriented on the ground in front of his fallen animal, groaning in pain. His armor is askew and there is snow on his face as he struggles to get up and find his weapons.
Matthias leaps forward again and brings his blade down quickly before the soldier has the chance to recover. It is not a noble move, but in war and a fight for his life, nobility is not a luxury he can afford. The sword strikes in a gap between shoulder and helmet, and blood gushes forward and onto the snow like a river.
The soldier makes a desperate attempt to stop the blood with his hands, but it is too much, and he only manages a few gurling breaths before he slumps down and stops moving.
As Matthias pulls back on the blade it catches on the soldier's armor and he lets the weapon go. Instead, he reaches for the battleaxe strapped to his back. Its weight feels much more comfortable in his hands anyways even though it might be slower.
He hears the sound of galloping and turns slightly to see a soldier coming straight towards him, sword raised high and ready to strike him down. Matthias raises his own axe, ready to make an attempt to defend himself, but then the soldier groans in pain and falls sideways off his horse.
The body rolls over on the ground and there is an arrow sticking out of his back.
Matthias whirls around to spot Tino riding towards, with a bow ready in his hands and a group of rebels hot on his heels, urging their own horses forward towards the company of soldiers, ready to defend the caravan.
The soldiers quickly move their attention from Matthias' suicidal one-man-assault towards the approaching group of rebels. They release a fresh volley of arrows in rapid succession, and several rebels fall off their horses, dead before they even hit the ground.
Tino ducks nimbly out of the way and fires off a second arrow. Another soldier falls off his horse, this one only wounded though. So, Matthias rushes forward and swings his axe down to keep him from getting back up.
The smaller group of rebels finally catch up with the company of soldiers and they come together in the crash of metal against metal, wood shattering and screaming from horses and people alike.
Matthias feels small among the sudden maze of horses that he has to navigate through.
Dodging several swinging swords and stray arrows, he moves forwards. It is difficult to tell friend from foe when he stands at and height with their legs as they are on horseback. But whenever a rebel manages to knock a soldier off their horse, he sees the flash of armor and moves in to finish them off before they can get back up. If he sees a rebel fall, then he helps them up or stands guard to fight off soldiers until they can manage on their own.
There is one soldier moving across the ground, weaving between the masses and heading straight for Matthias, who just barely manages to lift his axe in time to parry a massive blow. The power behind the soldier's swing is enough to make Matthias' arms shake as he fights to keep the soldier at bay.
A quick step back gives him just enough room to swing his axe in a wide arc below the soldiers' raised sword in an attempt to sweep his legs out from under him.
The soldier manages to make a jump out of reach, but Matthias whirls again to make another higher sweep immediately after the first, and this time the soldier does not manage to make it. The axe hits home and the soldier's chest plate caves int under the brute force of the axe, and the man falls over with a gurgle as his lungs fills with blood.
Matthias keeps on going, swinging his axe left and right, focusing on one target at a time.
The soldiers have far better training than any of the rebels, and none of them go down easy. Many of them take down a number of rebels before they die.
Then the tide of battle turns.
Matthias caused the first distraction with his direct assault, giving the horsed rebels a chance to join the fight, and now the foot soldiers has managed to make they way through the snow as well. With the added numbers they finally manage to overwhelm the soldiers, taking down every single one of them, and leaving no one the chance to escape and report back to the Capital.
Later, Matthias takes a walk across the battlefield, weaving between the fallen people and wandering horses, feeling at a loss of what to do. The cries of pain that pierce the air send shivers down his spine and makes his skin break out in gooseflesh. The blood on his clothes has dried by now and is beginning to freeze and stiffen, making him hyper aware of its presence, and making every movement uncomfortable.
The rebels are carefully working their way through the fallen around him, and Matthias helps where he can.
The soldiers they come across still breathing, they finish off quickly, with the little mercy they can muster to end their suffering. Torleif attempted talking to a few of them in the beginning, pushing for information, but after receiving nothing but praises for the King, insults and manic laughing, he ordered the rebels to give up on them and kill them quick rather than listen to their filth. They search the dead ones for anything that might be of use to the rebels later. Money, weapons, armor, and even the clothing that were too badly ruined in the fight. They leave nothing to waste, except the bodies. Those are left to rot without any further care.
The injured and fallen rebels are treated with far more care. Those that can be helped are being carried or supported to a cart and a healer, or just a person with bandages to save as many as they can. In the cases where the injuries are too bad, there is always one person to sit down and keep the person company for their last moments, however long that may be. They are talking in soft voices, trying to bring them some comfort, and a few are even singing.
They gather the bodies and line them up on undisturbed ground outside the battleground, far away from the enemy soldiers. They take the more useful items, like the weapons and heavier winter coats, but none have the hearts to strip their fallen friends of their clothes and dignity when they lack the time and resources to bury them properly or even just burn the bodies to prevent animals from getting to them.
Matthias is busy helping a few others carrying the body of a young man. Though he can barely be called a man, more a boy really, a few years younger than Matthias maybe but he looks even younger, skinny and pale. They are carefully laying him down in the snow when Torleif approaches them.
Torleif waits patiently until they are done and offers a short prayer of his own as a final sign of respect for the fallen. Then he gestures for Matthias to join him a few steps away, just outside the most trafficked paths as the rebels continue their work.
He drags a hand through his tangled and blood-spattered beard, apparently struggling to find the right words. "I haven't gotten the correct count yet, but we must have lost close to eighty of our own, if not more." He flinches as he realizes there is blood on his hand from his beard, and desperately attempts to dry it off on his sleeves. He does not have to mention how devastating that loss is to them. Against the far superior royal army, every man counts.
"We are in some serious trouble if things continue like they are now," Torleif continues in a quiet tone so only Matthias can hear him. "The past two weeks we have lost more people than we have gained. We're a long way from the Capital, where I thought we should be safe, and now we've been assaulted by an ambush team. Who knows how many more soldiers might be out there searching for us. We have many more fights like that we won't have any people left for a rebellion." His voice steadily rises in volume, and the people closer to them are beginning to send them some curious glances, taking notice of their leaders heightened emotional state.
Matthias rests a hand on Torleif's shoulder in an offer of quiet support. The usually composed and confident veteran is seeming to lose his grip, struggling to keep up a strong front for his people. The dark circles underneath his eyes show just how poorly he has been sleeping lately, and the lines on his face are deep with constant worry. It looks like he has aged years in only a few months, and Matthias knows he is not the only one who has noticed. He has heard whispers from other people around camp who are getting worried.
Torleif sighs again and takes a few long breaths to calm down. "I know people are beginning to doubt in this rebellion and in me," he says quietly. "They are running scared, and I don't blame them. So many of us have lost our homes, our families, everything we used to have. All we have left is what we carry on our backs and pull along in these carts. Even if we were to give up the rebellion and try returning to our normal lives as farmers and hunters, those recognized as rebels will face executions. The rest of our lives in Feawen will be lived on the run, never being able to settle down again."
He clears his throat harshly, fighting off his emotions before taking a long breath to keep going. "There is no turning back now, and so I have to force these terrified people to keep on going after this disaster of a fight. I know it is the right thing to do, but it feels like I'm lying to myself and to them every time I tell them we have a real chance of winning."
Matthias is at a loss of words. He worries that anything he might say will be the one thing to push Torleif over the edge and make him give up hope in the rebellion for himself. Just as he is about to stutter out what is most likely going to be a weak attempt at encouragement, he sees Tino approaching them with determined steps, not caring that they have stepped away to talk in private. He only hesitates when he has two steps left and catches Torleif's eyes. Then he steels himself and turns towards Matthias instead.
"The plan you mentioned earlier Matt, I'm in!"
Toleif looks confused for a second, and then he lifts an eyebrow at Matthias, clearly expecting an explanation.
Matthias still cannot speak. He had not expected Tino to have a change of heart, and certainly did not expect him to announce it openly, rather discuss it later in private first.
Tino is panicking at the sudden silence and draws a sharp breath of air. "I know you haven't come up with all the details just yet, but I want to come with you." He leans in closer, grabbing Matthias by the shoulder. "I have spent most of my life being I hunter, being the one in control of the situation, but right now I feel like I am the prey, and I don't like it! I want to strike the soldiers where they least expect and take them out before they know what hit them. His eyes are burning with determination and Matthias can feel Tino's fingers digging into his shoulder.
The moment is somewhat broken by Torleif clearing his throat loudly. "So, what is this plan and why have I heard nothing about it?" He crosses his arms as if he is unimpressed and demanding an explanation, but the tinies quirk at the corner of his lips reveal his amusement.
It is good to see the shadow over Torleif's face lessen, even if only just for a short moment. "It was just an idea I had," Matthias mutters, feeling none too confident about sharing with Torleif the plan that did not impress his friends last night. "Probably just a really bad one, which is why I only told Berwald and Tino. I wanted their thoughts before I brought it to you."
Torleif huffs out a breath of air. "If you had brought me a stupid plan yesterday, then I probably would have turned you down without a second thought, but after the days' event, I find myself willing to listen to any idea, be they foolish or not. What we have been doing so far is not enough, I realize that we need some fresh ideas."
Matthias considers is words for a little while, still a little hesitant, but quickly decides it is worth the chance of Torleif turning him down. Tino changed his mind, so there is a chance he can convince more. "I want to find a way into the Capital for a smaller group, maybe by pretending to be refugees or looking for work. If we have people on the inside, then we can learn their weaknesses, report to the outside, maybe even sabotage them somehow. I want to strike at the soldiers from within their own safe haven. They will never expect that."
Complete silence follows as Torleif blinks at him in surprise and disbelief. "You be damned right they would never expect that," he says sharply. "Because it is madness!" He drags a hand through his hair. "It is suicide, they'll shoot you on sight!"
"It is not crazy," Tino interrupts. "You said yourself that we cannot afford to ignore any ideas, and this is no more suicidal than anything else we have done. A small group might not immediately be recognized as rebels."
Torleif curses quietly and Matthias does not know how to interpret the expression on his face. "What should I even tell people? I have to say something so that they don't think you're deserting if I let you go, and they see you riding off into the sunset with a group and don't return for supper." Torleif's poor beard has to suffer some major losses from the amount of pulling he does as he thinks. "It is not like infiltration is anything new in war, but it's the Capital you're planning to sneak into!"
"You tell them exactly what the plan is," Mattias says, suddenly feeling quite confident in himself after realizing Torleif is actually considering his options rather than turning it down immediately. "It's as simple as that. The rest of the group is heading for the Capital eventually. Wouldn't it be good for them to know that they have people on the inside, feeding them information and causing problems for the soldiers. It might give them hope."
"This is crazy," Torleif mutters. "I can't believe I'm even considering this." He turns quiet for a time, his gaze distant as he thinks deeply. Apparently, he cannot think of anything better, because eventually he grumbles angrily to himself and looks back up, pointing a finger at Matthias. "If I am going to let you go ahead with this mission, and that is a big if, then I have a few conditions you will need to follow, is that clear?"
Matthias nods eagerly, but quickly realizes that is not enough for Torleif and he straightens up and takes a deep breath of air. "Yes sir!" he says with all the determination he can muster.
Torleif leans in closer and raises one finger at a time as he counts off the conditions. "One. You will need to come with a way to communicate with the rest of us." He pauses for a second. "If we are to coordinate an attack on the Capital or even just one of the smaller cities close to her, then we need every piece of information you can give us. Two. Considering how dangerous this mission is, I will allow you to recruit volunteers only. They have to believe in the mission, or they might back out on you at the last second and it will all be for nothing. Three." He takes a deep breath. "You're going to be fucking careful out there boy!"
Matthias cannot stop his lips from quirking up in a smile. He feels warm inside, seeing how much Torleif cares. He does not want them to head out into danger without backup and would prefer them to stay with the main group where he can keep an eye on them. But he does realize it is time to let them go. "Come back to me when you have your volunteers, and we'll make the final arrangements." He turns his back on them, finished with the conversation.
Tino gives Matthias an encouraging smile. "That went well," he says lightly. "You have your work cut out for you now. I'll talk to Berwald later, I'm sure I can convince him to join, and I might spread the word around a little, create some interest maybe." With that, he pats Matthias on the back and leaves, probably trying to think of people he thinks might suit the mission.
Matthias simply nods in response, still not believing entirely what he just heard from Torleif, and his mind already buzzing, trying to come up with more steps for his plan and improve it. He needs to figure out some other options for getting into the castle, and maybe even a few more backup ideas just in case. Then he needs to find more volunteers, and he figures it is not going to be easy to convince anybody to head into that much danger in a small group.
His thoughts are interrupted by a group of rebels waiving at him and that way asking for help now that he is no longer busy talking to Torleif. His plans will apparaently have to wait for a few more hours.
It takes them most of the afternoon to finish up collecting all of the useful equipment and loading it up on the carts. It is going to be close to night before they are able to begin moving on, and Torleif has ordered that they will have to march for at least a few hours before he will allow them to set up a proper camp for some rest.
It is going to be a long night for them all, but nobody wants to sleep in a place that has seen so much death and where their loved ones have their final resting place in the snow.
Matthias wipes a few drops of sweat off his forehead as he loads the last armful of blades onto one of the weapons carts. When he turns around to make sure he has gotten everything, he is almost frightened out of his mind as he sees Eir has somehow snuck up right beside him without a single sound, and she is leaning against the cart, smirking at him as he curses quietly from the shock.
"I've heard some interesting rumors this evening," she says mirthfully. "Young Tino has been quite busy it would seem. From what I heard he is convincing people to join un some mission to sneak into the Capital." She gives him a sharp stare. "Now, I wonder where he might have gotten that idea from, especially when its only a day ago that the two of us discussed he possibility of doing just that."
Matthias laughs nervously under Eir's stare. He drags a hand through his hair that is becoming a lot longer than he normally keeps it. "I didn't expect the rumor to spread that quickly before I could do it myself."
"He is a determined young man and won't hesitate to act when he does what he thinks is right," Eir replies. She grasps his arm firmly and her expression turns serious. "If you want to succeed then you will have to find that same determination. When that mission begins, you will be its leader, and everyone will look to you for guidance and courage. You cannot afford to doubt yourself, because they will notice."
Matthias shrugs out of Eir's grasp, uncomfortable under her sharp attention. "I know that" he mutters.
"Well, then show it," Eir says firmly. "Stow away all that self-doubt of yours and step up for the job you never wanted but now have. The job of a proper leader." She pauses to let Matthias recover. "You have one hell of a job ahead of you now, so I will let you get to it." With those words she leaves him alone again.
As usual Eir has the uncanny ability to leave Matthias speechless.
He glances around to see if anyone has witnessed the conversation and catches the eyes of Berwald standing a few carts over. It looks like he has waited for the two of them to finish speaking.
Berwald holds his gaze for a second or two and then lowers his head in a slow nod before he turns back to his work with packing. Apparently Tino had the time to talk with him and even managed to convince him.
Matthias sucks in a breath of air, his heart beating just a little faster than before. There is no backing out now. He knows he has Berwald and Tino in his team and that makes him feel a lot better, but he still has a lot of work to do to convince more.
He makes a decision that he will take the evening to think before he starts talking to people. It will give them all some time to process the day and him some time to find his courage.
It is time for him to put on a mask of bravery and pretend he is not as scared as he feels.