Circle of Reign (54 page)

The enemy being camped just outside the edge of the forest made it easier for the scouts to watch them without actually revealing themselves or getting too close to the border of the trees. Without question, however, Banner thought he would happily give up that advantage in favor of the Realm’s forces not being so close to their lands.

The portion of his forces that he accompanied along the northeast run of their border numbered around fifteen thousand. They were nestled among the trees roughly a quarter league behind the edge of the trees that had assumed the role as an imaginary
skirmish line. If either party crossed it, the other side would no doubt interpret that action as the beginning of an assault. Banner’s scouts, however, were much closer to the tree line, though still out of view from the enemy’s scouts. Watching, listening, feeling. Lord Therrium surmised that similar preparations and plans were coming together at the other two fronts along their border. It made sense that the enemy would launch a simultaneous attack all along their border, from the south to the north.
It’s what I would do
, Banner thought.

When first moon arose, the ground started to tremble as more than eighty thousand soldiers let out a battle cry and rushed into the borders of Arlethia.

“My Lord, we must see you away from here!” Alrikk said, concern threading through his words. The Senthary were only a few hundred paces off.

“Hold,” Therrium said. “Wait, be silent. Let the plan develop.” Banner Therrium drew his sword.

I am a sturdy bough rooted deep in fertile soil. I am iron and steel, molded from the fires of adversity. I am life to those behind me, death to those in front. I am Arlethia, and she is me. I am her silent shield, her impenetrable armor, her terrible sword. She is my strength and my all. Those who stand against her stand against me, and shall swiftly fall
.

General Antious Roan was roughly seventy-five feet high anchored to a tree, repeating in his mind the Arlethian Warrior’s Creed. He held an unearthly silence, his breathing slow and steady.

He looked across his position and on either side, seeing thousands of his soldiers who held the same silence. The glint of their light armor in the rising moonlight was the only detectable sign of their presence to the untrained eye, but that was dulled greatly by the layers of mud with which they had swathed themselves. They were spread out over what must be a quarter-league. Some were at
his same height, others higher. None lower. He would be the first into the fight. It was the way of Arlethian officers.

They were coming, the Senthary. Many of these attacking soldiers he and his army had no doubt trained over the years in various exercises and simulated battles. Back when they were still countrymen.

Roan looked down and saw below him two thousand Arlethian soldiers positioned on the ground with shields and long spears, each with a sword sheathed at his side. The ground detachment was one hundred paces west of his position, just barely deeper into their borders. The enemy approached from the east. He prayed Colonel Bohdin would execute his orders flawlessly. Any hope of victory depended on this initial feint. The man was competent and loyal, but had never served in battle. Very few here actually had, not since the Runic Islands. Most in the ranks were not old enough to have served in that short war. Roan himself was but a lieutenant at the time, serving under Lord Thannuel Kerr, newly appointed as Provincial Lord of the West.

Trust yourself
, he heard Thannuel’s words play in his head. A memory of coarse black sand came to his mind. Enemies on all sides, Thannuel barely conscious on his back. Roan’s confidence had faltered on those dark shores and his will to fight had fled. He had given up, and somehow Thannuel, gravely injured, could feel it.

I trust you, Antious. Trust yourself. You will find a way
. He did find a way; he and Thannuel miraculously survived and the Orsarian Dark Marauders were defeated. But his friend was not with him now as he was then. Roan was less certain he would find a way through this time, but the military discipline within him kept him focused.

It seems that was an entirely different age
, General Roan thought.

The invading army yelled their battle cry and he heard their charge. They came at full sprint toward the Arlethian camp. The general knew High Lord Marshal Tulley. The man was not an ignoramus, but this move seemed folly to him. Perhaps Banner was
right, that patience would unnerve the enemy into a foolish move that would give them the advantage. He prayed this was true.

It was not long before Senthary soldiers flooded the area below him, running past his position directly for Colonel Bohdin and his men. To the enemy, especially in the dark, it would be nearly impossible to tell the number of Arlethian soldiers that faced them. They would likely assume that the whole of their army in this area would be present as a unified body. Roan was right.

Another loud cry echoed through the forest as the Senthary were given orders to focus their attack on the force that stood in front of them. Colonel Bohdin’s men answered the battle cry with one of their own, challenging the invaders. This seemed to draw in the Senthary infantry even more forcefully. The two sides collided.

Roan saw Bohdin’s detachment turn into a blur of metal, flesh and blood as they responded with inhuman speed to their attackers. The wails of men began to sound forth as the Senthary began to be cut down. The speed of the wood-dwellers and their agility among the trees aided them greatly. As the vibrations of the battle swelled, they became too confusing for Roan to take in. He broke the connection with the tree he was anchored to, taking his palm away from the bark. The horde of Senthary kept piling in below him, pushing against their own forward forces and anxiously seeking an opportunity to find the foe. He estimated between seven and eight thousand were now below him. Suddenly, he saw Colonel Bohdin and his men retreat, crying out in fear as if in a rout. The Senthary army responded with increased vigor and let out a cry to pursue. General Roan smiled. After a few more moments, he judged the total count of enemies below to have swelled to more than twenty thousand.

The tumult below them covered the sound of thirteen thousand Arlethian warriors unsheathing their blades in their elevated positions. With no audible command, Roan silently dropped from his perch onto an unsuspecting target below. The man died instantly as Roan’s sword pierced him behind his collarbone and continued down into his torso. His men followed. Each struck an
enemy combatant, killed him, and then just as quickly and stealthily, retreated back up the trees. In less time than it took for most men to tie their boots, their enemy’s numbers were reduced by thirteen thousand.

“The trees!” came a shout from a Senthary soldier. Others quickly took up the shout and looked upward just as a second aerial attack was launched. The Senthary, this time slightly better prepared, raised shields and spears straight up to block their assailants. A few managed to impale some of the downward attacking Arlethians, but again the Senthary lost many thousands before Roan and his men retreated up the trees. Most of the Senthary forces broke off from pursuing Bohdin after finding nearly a thousand score of their fellow soldiers now dead or dying within moments. They began to form a defensive posture against the aerial Arlethians when a new sound came from their forward-most soldiers. Safely out of reach from the Senthary, Roan again smiled. Bohdin ceased his feigned retreat and pressed into the fray, calling the enemy’s attention back to the ground assault. The soldiers below him were confused, not knowing where to defend or where to attack. They were vacillating from upward defending stances to facing west where the cries of death and agony were coming from. Confusion was taking its hold upon the Sentharian soldiers. General Roan again released himself and sailed downward.

Removed from the epicenter of the battle, Lord Therrium sat with Alrikk, tense. He wondered aloud if he should join the battle, here on the outskirts of the fighting, but Alrikk forbade it. Though the Prime Lord of the West was a wood-dweller and therefore faster and more nimble than the army of Senthary below, his best weapon was his mind, not his skill with steel. He knew it, and knew that Alrikk knew it. The young warrior went into immediate defense mode when the battle broke out, his training taking over. He was a hold guard, the only surviving one from the attack that had started
this conflict in which they were now engaged, aside from Aiden. But the former master of the hold guard had begged his leave for some purpose that remained unknown. How Lord Therrium wished Aiden were here now. When danger presented itself, a hold guard’s first priority was the Prime Lord’s protection, not the battle itself. A soldier, on the other hand, would advance into the fight and engage the enemy.

Banner held his sword in his left hand while his right hand was flush against the light brown bark of the Triarch upon which he sat. Alrikk gripped a small Triarch leafling against the hilt of his sword as he held it firmly. Both were listening intently through the forest for details and reports that could not be gained by auditory efforts alone. The sheer concentration it took to filter the immense amount of vibrations surging through the forest was extremely taxing. Lord Therrium rotated his focus on different areas of the conflict in order not to become overwhelmed.

“Our ground forces have re-engaged,” he announced.

“I feel it as well,” Alrikk said. “A new surge of soldiers is approaching from the east, reinforcements.” Beads of sweat broke out on the back of Alrikk’s neck as he concentrated. Therrium looked down as the reinforcements passed under them, sprinting in loose formation to the battle. The initial forces that were sent in parted and made way for this new squad of a thousand or so.

“Short archers,” Therrium whispered. “A little earlier than anticipated but relatively on schedule.”

“On schedule?” Alrikk asked. No sooner had he said this than the archers notched arrows to their bows, two on each string. They loosed them into the air nearly straight up. Much of the moonlight was blocked from reaching below the canopy of foliage, but the density of the trees and the wood-dwellers plunging from them made the probability of scoring a hit much greater despite lack of clear vision in the night.

Alrikk gasped in frustration as he felt hundreds of his people cry out in pain and fall to the ground from above. Still, the casualties were relatively light in comparison to the enemy’s. Most of
the arrows hit harmlessly against the trees and either skidded off or embedded themselves in the bark. The Arlethian forces would have sensed the arrows and reacted quickly to move out of harm’s way, but losses were nonetheless inevitable. The aerial plunges by General Roan’s men continued, cutting down fewer enemies than before, but the lethality of these stealth attacks still proved extremely effective. The smell of so much blood in the night air began to add a metallic scent that mingled with the smell of greenery.

“The battle is going well enough our way. They will be forced to elevate their attacks with a different approach. Prepare yourself, young Alrikk,” Lord Therrium said.

“For what, my Lord?”

“Smoke and ashes.”