While Devyn hated this army and Bola’s men for taking him from his home, he had to admire their preparedness for any event. They did not know this would happen, but they came prepared with boot spikes and four men carried backpacks filled with fire wood. And he was grateful for the fire with the night slowly creeping over the glacier the ceaseless cold only grew worse. The fires were burned with very little fuel being thrown into it to conserve on the wood but the little warmth it provided was welcomed. Every man had laid out their bed rolls in the small gully they had found to make game in. The valley provided a single entry point for attack and the hills surrounding it would be incredibly difficult to climb. It made a very defensible position in case Rakgar’s men decided to brave another assault. He hoped they would not be so foolish as he lay staring at the night sky, breathing a sigh of relief at being off of his feet. The many colored stars of the Isiir sky twinkled and shined above. Many nights Devyn remembered staring at these unchanging stars while on campaign. Laying upon the ground with his fellow soldiers, staring up at the stars at night, held some of the few good memories he had from his time on campaign. The calm and quiet of the night meant that you had survived one more day and that you would survive the next day as well. That is what every soldier told himself anyway.
A gasp of awe rose up from the men, as they lay staring up at the sky waiting for sleep to take them, green and blue lights flashed above them in the sky. Some of the few superstitious men could be seen rising to their knees and praying to whatever gods they believed in to protect them from the devilry in the sky above. Devyn pitied them, as he knew if the gods were there they were not listening or else none of these men would be where they are today. The lights in the sky seemed to radiate from the glacier itself as he could see the beginning of the light rise off in the horizon and travel far south of their position. He imagined Rana and the girls staring at the lights in awe and amazement. He wished he could be there with them to experience this and wondered how beautiful the blue and greens would look on his wife’s emerald eyes. The yearning for them could be felt in the pit of his stomach as he lay there awaiting sleep to take him.
The sound of the alarm pulled Devyn from his beloved cot. He rose, and pulled on his equipment as quickly as he could. He could hear the sounds of boots stamping the ground outside of his tent as they raced towards the war horn. He quickly strapped his new breast plate and greaves around him that were given to him for becoming the rank of Thane. He caught the beads that were strung through his beard as he pulled on his dark iron horned helmet and strapped his sword to his side tightly. Devyn, while rising in the ranks so high in Lord Malark’s army had no love for his lord. He fought because he had nowhere else to go and his only joy came from victory in battle, and now his cot. He walked from his tent and looked around for some sign of what was going on. His eyes followed the line of men racing into the battle that he could not hear. After following the men for a short time he came to the edge of their camp and found the men lining up.
Devyn yelled out using his best battlefield voice. “Emerald group to me! Emerald group to me!”
Very quickly men began to spill out of the crowd and form a rank behind Devyn. Other lieutenants did the same and Devyn could feel the watchful eye of his Captain and mentor Alviss staring at him. The ten squadrons of Malark’s Brass Division formed up behind the large armored man sitting upon a black war horse. Other divisions were still forming up into their lines to the left and right of them when Devyn heard Alviss call for commanders forward.
“We’ve had sentries killed on the north side of camp. We sent scouts, a large force is moving towards us. While their numbers are great, they are soft warriors from the east. With the power of the western Aelaar on our side we shall strike them down.”
Alviss towered over them on his black destrier, Devyn admired his bravery and his mentor’s strength. As Captain of the Brass Division he commanded ten squadrons of soldiers of which Devyn commanded one. Of all of his lieutenants, Devyn was the only one to last more than a year before being cut down in battle and the only one who managed to be raised to a Thane. Alviss had trained two others along side Devyn, but neither survived the ten trials and so only Devyn remained.
Alviss continued his speech. “I want a basic envelopment maneuver for this defense. Emerald, Gold, Copper squadrons, I want you in the front line. Onyx and Ruby squadrons on the flanks. The line squads will draw them in by giving ground, enough for Onyx and Ruby to surround. The remainder of you I want ready to push up to support any breaks in the line.” He paused to glare at his lieutenants. “There will be no breaks in my line. Understood?”
A unanimous agreement went up among the squadron commanders and and they set off to their squadrons. Devyn walked to his men who he had only known for a matter of weeks. They had seen him in combat, and knew him as a Thane of the land, so they immediately respected him. Devyn looked out onto what would be the field of battle, and saw the skirmisher divisions moving forward. Lord Malark’s army was vast, containing more than eight thousand men. He possessed one of the largest active armies in the land and ruled over thousands of acres of towns and farmlands. Warlords within the great glacier are faced with a tough choice, neither of which promotes peace of any kind. Only two options exist for a warlord in Isiir, they can either live on a constant fear spreading campaign to make their enemies too afraid to attack, or that warlord can consolidate power and risk constant invasion by other warlords. No matter what they decide by taking up arms and calling yourself a commander, that man is cursed to a lifetime of war.
Devyn pulled his men into line and stood at the front of them, marching them into the middle of the three squadrons. As Thane, his squadron was given a place of honor as the middle vanguard of the battle. Alviss rode before the three great lines with the two flanking lines far off to the side. With a booming command from Alviss, the march forward began. Devyn loved the smell and energy of a battlefield before the fighting, it seemed fresh and alive. His men walked in a solid if not perfect rhythm as they marched into position. Devyn gave the order for the men to draw their swords which could be heard echoed by many other commanders. The sound of swords, axes, and shields being made ready made every man’s blood race faster. Devyn turned to inspect his line as he knew Alviss would ride by very soon.
The battlefield was a very large field, with expanses of trees on either side of it that enveloped two large hills. The army was nestled between the hills and the forest. The thick forest was dark, the realm of the sylvan kind and not a place for men. He eyed the woods suspiciously, and for a moment he thought he saw movement in the trees. It might have been his imagination, but dark shapes seemed to dance between the small amount of light that shined through. The padding of the heavy hooves of Alviss’s war horse broke his focus on the trees and he snapped to attention.
“Trouble?” Alviss’s deep voice asked able to sense his student’s concern.
“In the trees. I thought I saw movement.”
Alviss turned his attention to the trees and whispered something to a messenger horseman at his side. He had a half dozen of such men surrounding him to assist him in carrying out whatever orders he deemed necessary. “I’ll send someone to check it out. Your line is strong?”
“As iron, sir.”
Alviss nodded as the rider next to him galloped off to carry his message and he moved onto the next line of his front. Alviss was a good commander, a fantastic warrior, and a mentor that legends would be written of. It was a shame Devyn, although successful, was not a better student. Devyn had no wish to be a warrior or a thane, it just came naturally to him. And if this was to be his lot in life, he would endure it, making the most of it.
War drums began to sound in the distance. The skirmishers could be seen readying their bows and the lines tensed in anticipation. Devyn could see a small detachment moving off into the distance towards the forest edge that he had mentioned. Battle cries and screams went up far in front of them from the army that threatened
the peace of the camp. Devyn could hear their numbers and knew it to be a large force, perhaps as large as Lord Malark’s. With the skirmishers only a hundred yards in front of them, Devyn could see the men take aim and pull their bow strings back taut. The sound of hundreds of bows being fired was the beginning of the battle. The skirmisher divisions fired many more volleys before pulling back and running through the lines of Devyn and the other commanders who closed the gap immediately.
The size of the force they were facing became apparent immediately when the skirmishers passed them by. A raging tidal wave of men came pouring towards them. Devyn was unafraid and roared a battle cry, which his men took up with him. The roar was deafening and the charge began. Before long, the two armies collided in a horrible clash of steel and screams. The battle was a blur, armored men charging and falling before Devyn with ease. His men at his sides and behind him fighting in the turmoil all around. The ground quickly became covered in dead and dying men and walking became difficult. With the line pushing past him, Devyn took a moment to assess the damages so far and called for the planned feinting retreats.
“To me Emerald! To me!”
The line slowly fell back, all the while giving the men they were battling confidence to drive further forward. As Emerald Squadron fell back, the attacking army pursued, Alviss’s plan was working perfectly. Devyn turned to gauge the distance between him and Onyx squadron and his heart sank. The sentries that Alviss had sent out lay dead near the trees, and Onyx squad was being riddled with hundreds upon hundreds of arrows. The attack caught the men unprepared, but the arrows that were flying were unlike anything Devyn had ever encountered before. They looked crude but were fired with amazingly, deadly precision. Devyn raised his arms at the support squadrons behind to call them forth to find that a massive cavalry charge had crashed into their back lines. The support squadrons were in pitched combat and unable to come to support them. Onyx squad merged with the main line trying to avoid the deadly rain of arrows and the flanks folded as the charging army began to wrap around their line. Devyn looked around for Alviss before he entered the fray once again. He found his mentor fighting high on his horse far in front of him. If he had entered combat already, the battle had shifted far from their favor. Devyn moved his way through the battle striking out when an enemy approached, but remained focused on his goal to work his way to his commander. He peered beyond the rear of their line and saw the support lines being decimated by the cavalry charge, the camp behind them crushed under the war horse’s massive hooves. The slaughter behind them would buy the forward squads only a short amount of time before the charge continued its deadly march towards them. It mattered little how much they prepared for the charge, Malark’s forces were being assaulted from all sides. He had just reached Alviss on his horse, who slashed, stabbed, and barked out orders to the men in the line. His flaring eyes caught Devyn.
“Why are you not with your line boy!”
“Sir, the flanks are fallen, support is engaged!”
Alviss’s eyes fell behind. Devyn knew that he was aware of the dire circumstances. How could he not, he was Alviss Throm one of the greatest Thanes to ever live, of course he knew.
The shrill cry from the trees came from an unknown enemy. No army that Devyn had ever faced made such a war cry. He watched as tall, slim beings, who wore little more than tanned leathers, and were slathered in red and white war paint charged the lines with crude looking spears. Their bowmen took aim from behind the charge. Elves.
“Devilry.” Alviss said solemnly, his words were not meant for anyone.
Devyn raised his gaze to his mentor just in time to see the arrow take him in the throat. A spray of red mist burst forth, Alviss wavered in his saddle. Amazingly, he let out a muffled cry and charged the elves who attacked. Devyn charged behind him as arrows began peppering him and his horse. The elven line hit their line quickly and the men moved with a barbaric grace. Their weapons were weak and shattered against the men’s steel swords but they danced around the men’s parries and struck where their armor was weak.
Devyn struck out at the elves who approached him, leaving both the weapons and their previous owners broken and shattered on the ground. Many fell before him as he approached Alviss on his horse. Alviss struck down at the elves who were surrounding him, Devyn surged forward cutting a bloody swath of carnage towards his mentor, but it was too late. Despite the bloody massacre that surrounded Alviss and Devyn’s tireless efforts to support his mentor, Devyn could hear a dozen thuds slamming into him and his steed. Devyn raised his gaze just in time to watch as Alviss and the giant war horse, who had carried Alviss into battle for many years, collapsed on top of him. The weight was unbearable, his armor was the only factor between life and death, as it did not allow the full weight of the mount and his mentor to crush the breath from his lungs.
He could not move and he lost grip of his weapon. He remained helplessly trapped under the weight of the horse as he watched the enemy lines converge onto his own. From that point, the devastation began, and Devyn could do nothing to help support his comrades and those men who called him “Sir.” Devyn could just make out the shape of Alviss who had fallen away from the horse riddled with at least thirty arrows throughout his body. It pained him to see the one man who meant anything to him, the one man that kept him with this army, slain.
Malark’s army had reigned supreme over the south lands for so long, now, they were finally destroyed by an unknown foe, who had employed savages to do so. Men ruled the plains and the hills, but the thick dark forest were no domain of man. They were the domain of the savage sylvan races, elves and other dirty creatures with their primitive ways. Devyn hated them at that moment for their dishonorable attack.
Devyn lay there for many hours, trapped under the weight of the armored war horse hearing the cries of men screaming as the elves danced from body to body claiming their trophies. His last memory, before blacking out, was the army of men who had worked so in tune with the elves, betray them and turn their swords on the allies which helped them achieve victory.
A swift kick to the ribs woke Devyn immediately.
“Dead?” a gruff familiar voice called.
“What? No, I’m not dead!” Devyn snapped angrily.
Devyn opened his eyes to see the sun just beginning to brighten the sky. He looked around at a few men on watch, but most of the camp was still sleeping. Hrodny stood above him, wearing a smug smile that was barely visible behind his thick beard.
“We lost three other men to the cold. Just thought… Walk with me, Devyn.”
Devyn rose with a shiver at the cold, he hugged his arms tightly around himself as he walked beside Hrodny.
“Beautiful times ‘eh?” Hrodny asked.
“If you say so.”
Hrodny looked offended. “Men like us aren’t meant to sit in a town and rot Devyn. Men like us, we’re bred for war. You are a thane, are you not?” Hrodny did not wait for his response. “As I thought. A thane’s wife shall be his weapon and a thane’s children shall be bastards!” He laughed heartily at his own joke.
Devyn saw no reason to lie about his past to this man, he had already ascertained the truth. Him being a thane was a truth he had told no one, not even Rana, since he left the ruined armies of Malark. “I gave up that path a long time ago.”
“One does not simply give up the path! You are the path, as am I. As I can see as you battle, the joy and the glory of it. The screams of the men you cut down.” Devyn could see the euphoric state that took over Hrodny, as he imagined the battles he had fought. He pitied him at that moment. Devyn did not know how to respond to his comments. Once upon a time, Devyn understood. He remembered understanding, but once he escaped that life and was married it went away. Until now. He spent many years fighting off the urges that yearned to be released from within him. But as all things do, they faded.
Hrodny sensing he had nothing to say continued. “Embrace those feelings now brother. For I feel you will need them before the
end.”
Devyn nodded. “Do you think we’ll find anything here.”
Hrodny’s easy laugh bellowed out again. “No, I think Bola is a fool for sending us here. But who am I to question the orders of my lord. We follow legends and myths. We follow a dream of someone who died a hundred years before us. We will walk on the ice, men will die, and we will return with nothing to show for it.”
Hrodny clapped him on the back, sulking off wrapping his arms around him to protect against the chill in the air. His speech did not inspire Devyn, as he knew if they returned empty handed it was unlikely to inspire Bola from allowing him to return home. Devyn was impressed by Hrodny, he at first thought of him as a mindless barbarian and while he was still a ruthless killer, he reminded him much of himself when he was younger.
The men of the camp began to rise, Devyn nudged Dorm awake, who only responded with unenthusiastic grunts about waking up into the bitter cold of the morning. Laying in a bed roll for so long gave you the impression that you were warm. As you lay there, you were not warm, you only forgot how cold it was and you would freeze to the ground all the while believing you were comfortable. Dorm sat up miserably, his joints stiff from a night of sleeping huddled in a ball. Devyn laughed as he watched his friends eyes lift to the brightening sun with a grimace.
Within the Ice Page 10
