Bran smiled, feeling the flash of light as the War Blade was drawn. There was an inhalation as light streamed into it, and the world darkened in the early light around them. Analia moved to his left, and was angling towards a group of heavy infantry. He started to angle with her.

  “No! Go with your men, straight down the pass. I will take this group and join you in the middle. I need one of our kind with the main force,” Analia ordered as she broke off from Bran.

  Bran angled back towards the center of the pass. He could see that if she broke the heavy infantry, it would break the enemy’s position. They would be at an advantage and be able to force their opponents from the pass. He picked up speed, and caught up to his captain just as the front lines smashed together with the enemy.

  There was the crunch of metal and the growls of men trying to gain advantage over their opponents. His sword lashed out, catching an enemy soldier in the throat, and he went down with a gasp and a shudder. Blood sprayed out, catching a bit of Bran’s face. He leaned away, frowning.

  He used the Essence of Earth and added weight to the enemy’s shields in front of him. Gasps and cries of exclamation rang out. His men moved in for the kill. Ten of the enemy dropped quickly, not being able to unentangle themselves from their shields.

  “To me! Form on me!” Bran yelled out. His flag lieutenant raised his flag, signaling the order.

  Bran took a moment to assess the opening moments of the battle. He was about to push forward when he glanced to his left to see how the Lady Tal was doing.

  Analia ran straight into the heavy infantry. She picked up the first row of men and smashed them down upon the rocks of the pass in an explosion of air. Their bodies littered the ground like broken twigs. She picked up the bodies a second time and hurled them into the ranks behind them.

  Analia’s eyes turned luminous silver. She brought her sword up in front of her, which dripped light from its blade, and saluted her enemy. She pulled upon the Fire Essence and sped her body up. She would be moving incredibly fast.

  Then she was among them.

  Analia moved like a tempest that contained every element. The enemy died by the dozens around her. Wind’s Grace arced around in streaks of light, and everything it cut or stabbed, burned to ash. Her armor drew in light and began to glow, feeding her sword. Her movement was so graceful, it appeared that she could move in the rain and not get hit by a single drop.

  She paused for a moment to take stock of the battlefield as a cloud of ash settled around her. Men were fleeing her presence. She smiled to herself, noticing a few new scratches on her armor. Not direct hits, but where she had slightly misjudged the distance of incoming attacks. “I guess I’m a bit out of practice. I’ll just have to remedy that from now on,” she said to herself.

  “I told you, you would need to practice and not be lazy,” Wind’s Grace responded in her mind with a sarcastic tone.

  Analia laughed. “You did, Grace. You did.” She wiped her eyes from the falling ash. It had been a singular moment to hold her blade again. “It is good to have you with me again. It has been too long.”

  “I told you that I was with you until the very end, and it is not the end yet. The Great King is still here, and we must do what we can to get him home. His true home.”

  “What? Azarai is here?” Analia stumbled over her words, trying to listen and follow the battle at the same time.

  “I’m not speaking of Azarai. The enemy is massing again. You need to pay attention to the battle.”

  Analia looked down the pass. What was left of the heavy infantry was trying to link up with the main units in the middle of the pass. She glanced over to see that Bran was about to be involved in some heavy fighting of his own.

  Bran stood in a lull, and his men quickly reformed around him. He had pushed back the main force, and quickly assessed the heavy infantry was in full retreat. They would try to reform with the main force just below him. The heavy infantry with their larger shields and swords, backed up by spears, were a formidable force. He was pleased that most of them were dead, or on the run. If he could put pressure on the remaining front ranks, he might be able to create a route.

  He turned to his flag officer. “Give the orders for archers to fire.” He turned back to his men. “Shields up and wait for my order.” Bran knelt down and placed his left hand in the dirt. He could feel the tide was turning. He could feel the panic in the enemy as their best units were destroyed. He could feel their fear at seeing the golden armor and the light bearing blade of Analia Tal. He knew that time was running out for them, for a dark tide was coming. He could feel it in the earth and rocks; he could sense it in the water that floated in the air, that resided in the ground, and was present in their own bodies.

  Bran had not gotten any farther then Earth and Water in his studies of the Essences, but it had been enough. He had been placed on the front lines because of his abilities, where his brother was up above leading the archers and reserve units. This had unfortunately helped to widen the gap between them. Things had been rocky since the night in the tent with the Emperor and the Heir Prince. It had gotten worse when the Lady Tal had taken over the military command of the entire protectorate.

  He felt a shift in the enemy as they received the first flight of arrows. There was shock, pain, anger, and death. Normally, you did not have archers putting arrows right on top of you, but with their shields up, it was not quite as dangerous.

  Aiden watched the main Marpesian unit turtle up in that damnable shield wall, while arrows from the heights rained down on his men. Their own shields came up, but not before many of them were wounded or killed.

  He turned to his flag officer. “Have the archers focus on the heights. We need to kill as many of those archers as possible. Also, signal for the main force to charge that formation. Have what is left of the heavy infantry link up on their right side and attack the shield wall.”

  The young lieutenant listened intently, and then began signaling with the flag.

  Aiden watched his archers rush to reposition themselves. This was going to be difficult, but if he could draw the enemy’s attention away from his infantry, he might be able to gain some ground, or at the very least, get his troops out before they were all dead.

  This last week had been very costly. More troops had been arriving daily from Imperial City, but he was going to run out, and they were reaching a critical moment when he would no longer be able to defend Imperial City and his throne. Well, the room his throne was supposed to be in. Conscriptions had gone out, but it would be some time before they were ready for war.

  Dusan ducked down and signaled back to Micheil, men dropping around him, arrows raining down on them. “Move back, move back!” he screamed out, more arrows slashing down, and more of his men getting hit. It was a long shot for the enemy, but he had opened himself up to it by moving too far into range to support his brother.

  He looked back to see why only a few of his men were following the order, and he noticed that his flag lieutenant was dead, shot through the top of the head. He raced over and picked up the flag, ordering the men to fall back. His men began to respond, when two arrows struck him. One in the leg, and the other in the chest. He went down in a haze of pain and shock.

  Rough hands grabbed him, pulling him back. Dusan looked up to see Micheil above him. Bow strings hummed, sending a volley back at the enemy.

  “We need to only pull back to here. The lip of the heights will help protect us,” Micheil said to his flag officer. “Order me up a healer! Get this man some help!”

  Dusan laid back and looked up at the Heir Prince. Micheil leaned down with an easy smile. “You’ll be fine. Just scratches really, but you stay here. I’ll make sure that your brother has the support that he needs.”

  Dusan nodded, and then Micheil was gone. He laid his head back and stared up at the sky. His whole life moved through his mind in an instant. His decisions, his manner, his wants, and desires. He grimaced as hands moved him and rolled him. He thought of the time he wasted on things that were not important.

  “Colonel, take this. It will help deaden the pain as we prepare to move you to the hospital.”

  He opened his mouth and chewed on a wad of leaves. He could feel the effects pretty quickly. He was aware that he was being moved, but his thoughts remained on what he would do when this was all over.

  Bran took a deep breath and waited. The battlefield was changing around him, and he was trying to wait for the perfect time. Arrows were now falling on them from below, so something must have happened to his brother. The enemy must have moved up a unit of their own. This was going to be costly. The enemy was trying to create a pocket in the center of the pass to move more men in, or to move them out.

  In the shield wall, with shields covering the sides and above, there was only shadowed light. Bran could see the fatigue and weariness in the faces of his men. He also knew they would not stop. Bran turned left and right, giving his orders. “When I say, we shall break the shield wall and form a square. We are in danger of being hit from two sides. The heavy infantry is coming our way, having fled the Lady Tal. They will hit us on the left side. We will need some cover on the right if the center force tries to curve around the open right side. Gods willing, the archers will be able to cover that side. I will, of course, be going to the left to help support against the heavies.” Bran nodded as individual unit lieutenants volunteered for specific placement. He never just ordered his men into positions; he wanted them to go where they thought they could do the best for the unit.

  Once everything was quickly decided, he asked, “Are you with me?” He had learned the old Tracian oath in the rehara where he trained with his sword master, and taught to his men.

  “Until the very end, Major.” They all responded in unison.

  Bran only waited for a moment more when he gave the order. The shield wall broke, and they quickly moved into position, just as the heavy infantry broke into a charge. They came with heavy shields facing towards them. Many of their spears were either broken, or the men who carried them were dead. Their armor was smudged with ash, and there was a desperation to their charge.

  Bran was really tired. His ability to use the light was waning. Analia had told him that he must be careful to not burn himself out and overuse the light in his well, but his men needed him. He stood behind the front row of his men and expelled what light he had left. A small ridge formed in the earth and rock in the path of the charging enemy infantry. He brought a ridge of rock and earth up, that was about a foot high just in front of them. He did this completely around his entire unit.

  Micheil rained arrows down upon the enemy, pushing them back. Bodies littered the heights and the lowers as they were now calling where the enemy was shooting from. It had been costly on both sides. He turned half of his men to the pass itself, while the other half continued to trade shots with the enemy archers below. He saw the charging enemy heavy infantry. He watched as the shield wall broke and took up position to cover its left side and front.

  He was nervous about firing into his own forces.

  “Sir, should we fire?”

  “No! We would hit our own men.” He grimaced, that was probably the plan of the enemy in the first place.

  The ground shuddered beneath his feet, and he watched in stunned shock as the entire charging force faltered, many of them falling as if their feet caught on something. “Shoot the light infantry! Shoot the light infantry!” he screamed out, pulling his own bow string back and releasing an arrow. He watched in relief as Bran’s forces pulled back into a tighter group, so as to not be in the way of their own archers. He could not pass up this opportunity, even with some risk still of hitting his own men; it would mean fewer of the enemy attacking.

  The signal flag waved behind him, and arrows began to shoot down on the lighter infantry trying to push their way up the pass.

  Bran was dizzy, and he puked. Wiping his mouth, he waited for the arrows to fall. Three volleys fell onto the enemy while they regained their feet and continued to close the distance with Bran’s group.

  “Forward!” he ordered. He was having a hard time focusing on the battle. His eyesight blurred, but he did not have time to worry about it. The enemy was upon them. Heavy swords swung down onto shields; some missed entirely, but others hit.

  Bran tried to draw some energy from the earth below his feet and the rocks on the walls around him. Nothing would enter his well. He puked again into his mouth, and he spit it out. Then he was amidst enemy soldiers and there was the crunch of metal as shields and weapons met. He felt heavy and lethargic. He moved against the first of the attackers, avoiding a sword thrust and stabbing in with his own sword to the front of the man’s neck.

  Bran stumbled, seeing another soldier bearing down on him with a spear, but one of his men covered him with his shield, protecting him. He moved against the spearman, grasping the weapon; the man tried to backpedal and stumbled into one of his comrades, before being stabbed from the side by one of Bran’s men.

  Bran’s men formed around him. They recognized something was wrong with their commander.

  Analia moved quickly and with purpose. Her armor was glowing on its own now; a sheen of golden light surrounded her. Once, long ago, she had been dubbed the Golden General during the second Darkening. It was a name she never really liked, but it had stuck.

  Tendrils of light in the form of mist hung about her sword, and silver runes burned along the blade in a brillance that hurt the eyes to look upon. She ran incredibly fast, trying to catch the enemy before they smashed through the middle of her forces. She slowed, feeling a massive release of the Essences. Earth, to be precise. She reached out in concentration, trying to find the source. There was not anyone in the army who could release that much. Then it dawned on her.

  “No! He will kill himself.” Analia drew in more light to move faster.

  Bran fell to his knees. He brought his hand up to his nose and mouth. He brought it away to find that he was bleeding profusely through his nose. He spit a wad out that was welling in his mouth. He could hardly see now. He felt the ground hit him as he collapsed. He could dimly hear the battle around him. The clash of metal, cries of pain, the sighing breath of the dying.

  “The Major is down,” Lieutenant Narcis called out. He pulled back and quickly knelt down.

  “Major, can you hear me? Are you hit?” he asked.

  “I can hear you. Although, you sound like you are far away.” The words did not sound clear as Bran spoke them, spitting blood out. He tried to wipe his mouth, but he was so weak, he could not lift his arm to do it. “Follow the plan. Follow my sister when she gets here. She will need your help in leading the army.” He spit up blood again. “Find my….”

  Lieutenant Vincent Narcis rolled his Major onto his side to keep him from drowning on his own blood. He could see no outward signs of a wound. Bran was trying to speak, but his words were garbled and hard to understand.

  “Did he take a hit?” A soldier called out from nearby, still fighting.

  “Not that I can tell. I have no idea what the hell is wrong with him. Either way, we will protect him for as long as we can. Until the very end.” He stood, rejoining the battle.

  The rest of the Marpesian men called out. “Until the very end!”

  Analia was racing towards the backside of the enemy line when she heard the old call. It brought back many memories. She hit the back row of troops without stopping as two bodies cascaded into ash behind her. Bodies fell around her, her blade moving with precision. Men closed on her, trying to overwhelm her, but she was just never quite where they thought she would be.

  Analia looked to her right, seeing a spearman stabbing in. She slipped the thrust, cutting his spear in half from underneath, then turning her blade, she moved forward, cutting him through the neck. As his body sagged into ash, she just moved out of the way from a sword cut from behind, and turning her blade again, she cut across the soldier’s chest, through his armor and into him.

  Ash drifted around her thighs and feet. She was standing in a hole where men had once been. The enemy backed off, not knowing what to do. They were being pushed against the shields of the Marpesian’s and the War Blade of Analia Tal.

  “Lay down your swords! Surrender now, and you shall live.” Analia’s voice reverberated through the pass.

  The enemy turned to see her standing in the middle of them. Her eyes were luminous silver, her armor glowed golden, and her sword dripped light from leaking silver runes. She stood tall and imposing. There was brief pause as the enemy looked about for the order to attack, or to lay down their arms.

  A young man, a boy really, with barely any facial hair came forward. He carried the rank of captain. “You give me your word that you will spare my men?” he asked. His armor was dented and covered in blood and gore. He had a small cut under one eye, and he was favoring his left leg.

  “I do,” Analia answered.

  He knelt down and held his sword up with both hands. “We surrender. The pass is yours.”

  “Thank you, Captain. Thank you for saving not only your men, but mine as well.” She turned to Bran’s men. “Round up their weapons and move these men up the pass.” She quickly moved through the milling soldiers and found several of Bran’s troops kneeling around him.

  “He just collapsed. We have no idea what is wrong with him,” Lieutenant Narcis said as Analia knelt down next to Bran. She looked at the boy, irritated.

  “I will take care of him. I would like for you to oversee the collection of the enemy weapons. I need a runner to report to the Emperor. Also, get the healers in here to help all of the wounded.” Analia ordered, laying her hand on Bran’s forehead, sending light into him. She used the five Essences of healing to slowly leak light into him, but not enough to harm him further. He was very weak.

 

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