Cid was thoughtful. ‘Why did he do it? Lidayel, I mean.’
‘I would think it was his way of saying: “I give you this weapon… so that you may save Yarea.”
Cid was a little surprised.
‘You think he really meant me to go after Yarea?’ asked Cid.
‘It was all he had; even though not his wife like he thought, his love for her was real. If he could have used his last power to save her you know what he would do… rather the only thing he could do was give the one man who would be inclined to take up the charge a great weapon,’ said Vanapha.
Cid kept his eyes on Mindevhier, Lidayel’s face flashing continuously in his mind’s eye. The Summoner’s plight had been relevant to Cid and somehow now he could not let it go, not when he was fighting for the exact same thing.
‘Maybe I’ll do it. If we can win this war...’ said Cid.
‘You’re a bit predictable,’ said Vanapha in amusement.
‘Brunick seems to think so too and Stelinger already exploited me on it more times than I can count.’
‘Don’t change though, even though I’m Valkyrie I’ve met many men from the world around and I trust no man more than I do you,’ said Vanapha.
She suddenly appeared embarrassed by her statement and turned away to head back inside without a further word.
Cid looked steadily at Mindevhier. This time it was for real, there was truly hidden strength now contained in the spear.
I will not fail then, I won’t betray your trust, thought Cid.
‘That was beautiful what Vanapha said, about the heavens, right?’ said Elmira, hugging Cid, her eyes full of starlight. Cid looked down on Elmira, her arms wrapped around his waist, her head pressed against his chest and her gaze transfixed on the moons.
Cid wanted to kiss her then, but let the notion go. She was so beautiful, just looking up and marvelling, so beautiful that he did not want to interfere, simply watch her and admire, seeing the same heaven on her face that she saw in the stars. He could believe through her; Brunick’s God, Vanapha’s living cosmos. With Elmira in his arms, looking the way she did, the world made a rare kind of sense.
He kissed her lightly on the forehead and she reached up, refolding her arms around his neck. Dropping the spear he pulled her close, so that he could faintly feel her quickening heartbeat as he kissed her passionately. They soared, the mountain falling away, whatever beasts hiding in its shadow left unimportant and forgotten.
Chapter 48
Dawn of War
Morning at Oldeloft came with a set of grim determined faces. They all made a show of getting in some breakfast, but everyone’s nerves were shot , and it was as though the onset of battle would only be sated if it fed from their apprehension. They ate but very little.
A silent consensus made them decide to take to the air and get it over with. The Rangers saddled up the Volje and Cid confronted Elmira, holding her by the arms.
‘You’re staying right here, okay? It’ll be safe. You don’t leave this area for anything!’
This time Elmira wasn’t going to argue, she had no place on the battlefield, understanding she was as likely to endanger everyone else as much as herself.
‘I love you soldier, be careful down there,’ she urged.
‘I will,’ said Cid, first kissing her on the head and she lifted her lips to meet his. They kissed but briefly and he held her tight for a few seconds. He then disengaged decisively, turning to help Olexion saddle the Volj.
The others as well were preoccupied with preparing for take-off when Elmira approached Vanapha.
‘Valkyrie?’
Vanapha showed her that she was listening.
‘I’ve seen you shoot a few times and I don’t think skills of archery get much better than yours. Watch out for Cid will you?’ said Elmira.
Vanapha cast a faint smile. ‘I will.’
‘Thank you.’
Behind them Brunick was finally kicking; he had kept a brave face until it became time to mount. He insisted on remaining on the ground and refused even when his partnered Ranger offered to take it easy.
‘You’ll just have to miss the fight then,’ said Alex mockingly.
It was enough to set Brunick off and make him bear it, mumbling as he mounted.
They each paired and mounted with a Ranger, except for one man who remained solitary on his Volj. Olexion sounded his horn and the Volje took to the sky, bounding from the shoulder to catch a draft, climbing quickly to leave Elmira far behind.
Cid, partnered behind Olexion, could not imagine a better experience to have just before going into battle. The tug of flight away from this land and into the air a temporary realization of escaping Alparack, a taste of triumph before fighting the most wretched fight of their lives. He noted how the Rangers now looked complete, going into battle with their flying beasts, billowing red cloaks and their dark leather armour. Cid looked to the land below, unable to rest his eyes on anything in particular.
There was this thing about war where you started to feel wary of your own bodily restraints, where you wished you could see the end of it, to perceive yourself in relation to the entirety that was your allies, your enemies, and the fated battleground. This was it, flying gave that answer and it spurred on Cid’s feeling for the battle, the sights forming plans in his already busy mind. The whole of the Basin laid open exposed to him and he could even peek into the narrows, yet did not see Lanston at the time.
Cid smiled as the wind whipped and breathed into his vest, he looked to Brunick and his partnered Ranger to the right, and was surprised to find the big man looking rather comfortable.
The bliss of flying was to be ruined. They gained incredible height; so much so that Elmira back at Oldeloft could only track the small dots in the sky. Olexion led them all to Jacanta point.
Cid had seen the Fallen army before, yet then it had only been a hazy mental representation. The real thing made a lump in his throat that he could not swallow down.
In a single pass they saw it: They were mobilizing, and it was a gargantuan march of black armours, their movement toward the Basin a grotesque sight.
‘By the King’s crown! How many do you think are there?’ asked Olexion.
‘More than I first thought, ten-thousand and counting, we are more than doubly outnumbered.’
They did another sweep, scouting to the west of the Fallen march.
‘Reavers, Priest, siege engines… we are going to have our hands full,’ said Olexion.
Cid grunted. ‘We better turn back, looking at them isn’t going to make this any easier.’
‘To the Lanston camp?’ asked Olexion.
‘Yes, the sooner we can mobilize Lanston the better,’ said Cid.
Olexion signalled for the other Rangers to follow. The Volje banked in a single wedge formation and turned for the narrows. Now, having seen the Fallen host, the experience of flying was suddenly lost on Cid and company.
On their way south he could not help but notice the one Ranger who flew alone, Lidayel supposed to sit behind him. Cid wondered on how much the Summoner would have meant in this fight if he was still alive. Yet even if Lidayel was to be confused and powerless, Cid sincerely wished he could go back and save a man from himself who deserved much better than what was given.
Stelinger’s scouts had told him the story: They had kept their distance, looking on transfixed the day before as they felt and saw the Summoner.
Well, everyone felt the Summoner…
They told Stelinger how Cid and his company were still alive, and how he killed the Summoner who suddenly turned against them. Stelinger should have been elated at the news of the Summoner’s passing, but hearing about the presence of the Rangers placed a pit in his stomach. There were too many loose ends and Piatil’s concerned ramblings was tormenting.
Right now he was riding out with his men. He had given the army the order to march and then quietly detached from them like he planned. Parting ways, he knew it was only a matter of
time before they would walk into the Fallen onslaught.
Victory was close.
It was strange casting off the power of Commander, for he had come to revel in the position, especially after craving it for so many years. Yet he knew the reward that awaited him was far better than any mantle the Kingdom could offer.
They slipped away into the pass, the way to the city-state of Durandal, diverging wholly with Lanston’s course. One of Stelinger’s men then pointed at the sky, ‘the Rangers!’
Stelinger looked up, seeing two Volje taking flight, following their already aerial companions from somewhere on mount Hashur. They were too far away to see any detail, but the roar of the Volje were made to be heard by all. At least they would not spot Stelinger, not with Reighler at his side. Even the Valkyrie couldn’t get past that one.
During the battle he would keep to his patience, satisfied with staying aside and keeping his blade clean, more than pleased to be able to trudge onto flesh and bone and steel afterwards, and see the remains of Rogana dead among all that had been Lanston.
***
Drissil stopped the march entirely and the Lanston force was in complete disarray. For now though he didn’t allow anyone to question his authority, as he entrenched himself at the pavilion, quickly silencing down anyone who dared to back up Stelinger. He wasn’t even allowing as much as a tent peg to be removed.
Drissil’s motive was simple; Stelinger was nowhere to be found. There was a brief meeting this morning when the Commander gave orders to march into the Basin and mentioned the possibility of contact today. Just by the mention of it Drissil’s skin was sent crawling.
Now, on the eve of breaking into the Basin Stelinger was missing. Drissil’s suspicions were confirmed moments later when Welce approached him in an urgent run.
‘Sir! I saw Commander Stelinger and his champions take leave, they mounted and slipped into a branch some hundred yards back.’
‘Damn it!’ bellowed Drissil, realizing that whatever was happening it was decisively not in Lanston’s favour.
It was thereafter that Drissil took command and brought it all to a halt. He wasn’t going to march Lanston into the unfamiliar when Stelinger was acting like a jester. Paranoia wasn’t a quality of Drissil, but sound instincts were, and it was this that drove him to send out scouts of his own. Up till now Stelinger used men whose loyalty Drissil had come to question. Drissil did not want any of it before, and he sure wasn’t going to allow Stelinger’s favouritism to cost the army their safety.
Then of course there was that little matter of the tremors that hit the canyon yesterday. Everyone had been rather sure that the Fallen were trying to bury Lanston in a landslide with their magic. Stelinger had dismissed the notion and revealed a bit more of himself to Drissil.
It was as if he just doesn’t care anymore.
For now 4100 men waited in frustration, the heat of the day and the pressure of the situation making all concerned tense and irritated.
Then it got worse…
‘Archers! Targets in the sky!’ shouted a Captain.
Drissil cursed in immediate aggravation as he cast his eyes to above, wondering what in hell’s name they’d done wrong to invite a flight of winged enemies. He squinted into the sky…circling above them were… Volje!’
To the men around him Drissil cried for a halt, praying silently that those beyond earshot would not shoot.
Rangers! The Rangers are here!
Drissil’s thoughts were echoed by his men’s voices, tensed bowstrings slowly forgotten as the wings came in close. The five Volje landed gracefully in the field before the pavilion and Drissil was awed to see nine warriors dismounting.
Cid, Brunick, Alex, a Valkyrie and no one less than Olexion the First Ranger himself along with four other Rangers.
The last few moments for Drissil felt like fever dreams.
The Rangers were looking well groomed and armed as always, and the Valkyrie at a glance was the same beautiful woman Drissil had seen that night in the pavilion. Cid, Brunick and Alex though looked pretty battered as they stood together, the eyes of the camp on them despite the company they kept. They had no armour anymore, dressed only in their casuals and their weapons, each carrying some freshly healed scarring.
Drissil watched Cid stepping forward. His vest and leggings were tattered and torn, his hair and beard as messy as it could ever be. He even seemed a bit malnourished.
But he carried the spear at least, and with it looking peculiarly more the upright man than Drissil had ever seen him before. He appeared like Lanston’s lost shepherd and Drissil was sure that for first time since Bennam’s departure, Lanston finally had a Commander again.
He approached the group, feeling as though he could hug the fool from Rogana.
‘I don’t think I have ever been more happy to see you,’ said Drissil in genuine relieve.
Cid chuckled. ‘Thank you for not shooting at us. Last we heard we were traitors of some kind.’
‘How could I? I have a missing Commander and you come arriving here on Volje like some kind of godsend,’ said Drissil airily.
‘We had hoped the Rangers’ presence will protect us till we can explain ourselves,’ confessed Cid.
‘I hope it’s a short story,’ said Drissil.
‘No, it’s not, but do not worry Colonel, right now I know even better than you the need for haste.’
They were inside the pavilion and Cid explained everything.
‘Stelinger’s a turncoat,’ said Drissil to himself as though testing the idea aloud.
‘Given our plight, I’m not even surprised. If I could get my hands on him now…’ he boasted, roaming the tent confines and massaging his hands together.
‘You have done every man here a great favour by rousing your suspicions and stopping the march. Had you gone oblivious into the Basin the army would have met a force it is not prepared for,’ said Cid.
‘Don’t get too fond of me just yet, we still have to escape these bastards and that will need a solid plan of retreat,’ said Drissil.
Cid shook his head. ‘Any attempt at escape will see us cut down, the Fallen already control the surrounding valley and we will not be able outmanoeuvre them, even if we do engage in hit-and-run,’ said Cid. ‘Imagine trying to flee through the narrows with four-thousand men, haunted by strike parties and Reavers attacking from higher ground.’
Drissil did not seem ready for this piece of information. ‘But you said there are more than ten-thousand of them ready to fill the Basin, come on man, we cannot go toe-to-toe with that!’ said Drissil.
‘We have little choice Colonel,’ said Olexion, ‘we all saw the Fallen’s position, we have to act soon if we wish to entrench ourselves in the Basin.’
Drissil sighed, doing some quick thinking.
‘Well then, Cid, I suggest you take point as the Commander, as is your right, I’ll back you up,’ said Drissil.
‘Are you sure that’s wise?’ asked Cid, more out of courtesy than anything else.
‘When my scouts return to the camp with word of the Fallen force they will follow you blindly if they must Cid, they will trust you.’
‘Good!’ exclaimed Olexion, ‘do you have a plan yet Cid?’
Cid realized everyone was looking expectantly at him. He in turn looked at Stelinger’s map tables. Like always he ran the numbers through his head, visualizing the Basin; its entryways, its slopes and its potential pitfalls.
‘Yes I do. Drissil, get the officers in here, and the magi as well, above all else we’ll need precision and therefore understanding in all our faculties.’
Drissil left the tent.
‘Everyone gather around the table,’ said Cid to his party, ‘and look lively, we need to play an outfit capable of winning.’
The first part of any plan Cid could fathom today would always involve isolating command, baiting those Shadow Priests in close enough so that Olexion’s Rangers could take them out. At least that way the Fallen on the surrounding
highlands would not attack unless provoked. After that it might all become a straight brawl and Cid was worried that even his best preparation would not break the strangle hold the Fallen would have on them.
Cid instructed vehemently, moving the figurines on the maps in presentation, the pavilion squared full with men of rank.
He stood there looking like a vagrant, yet now every single officer’s attention was vested on him. The situation called for decisiveness and even the most hot-headed of soldiers wasn’t going to question his authority. At the moment Cid’s ability made him the undisputed Commander for this battle, official entitlements could wait.
In his mind he was back in that room, sitting across Bennam, calculating, fingers testing the weight of his chess piece on the precipice of making his move. Bennam as an opponent would often play like one assuming defeat, testing Cid’s logic with unexpected and costly moves. Till now he did not realized how much this was to prepare for him for days spent warring the Fallen. For there was no courtesy or calculus that would take in consideration human life; if the Fallen had to win by using every last drone they would still consider it a victory. On their part there would be no surrender and no retreat, no threshold Lanston could reach by taking a few quick kills, and it limited his plans to nothing outside absolute victory over a greater force.
Some clever stratagems came to mind, as Cid pictured allotted men finding themselves on places where the Fallen would be hard pressed; the stage, the mesas, the pinnacle, the plateaus encircling the premises…
Knowing the land, measuring the numbers, calculating the outcome. And still he doubted greatly. He was not going to allow himself right now to worry about Bennam’s intentions, or about how much of this he was responsible for. Nonetheless Cid would have welcomed the Bennam he knew at his side now, the one that would put fire in the men’s eyes and then take one of Cid’s plans and make it even better.
Remnant Pages Spearhead Page 38
