by Ryan Kirk
Akira had cautioned the commander of the fort prior to the battle. He emphasized that it was better to retreat and save lives than remain and save their honor. He was grateful when the gates to the fortress opened and men came streaming out. Once the hunters were inside, the men didn’t have a chance. Akira’s orders had been to abandon the fort when it happened. He hadn’t been sure up until this point the commander would follow orders, as it was strongly against tradition to retreat when you outnumbered the enemy. But the commander had swallowed his pride and called the retreat.
The men joined ranks with their fellow soldiers. Akira glanced to the east and saw the sun was just halfway over the horizon. He had hoped they would hold the fort a while longer, but he wasn’t surprised. This battle would be decided on the open field. They had always known that.
For a while, an ominous silence fell upon the battlefield. Akira guessed the hunters would be opening the doors of the fortress, allowing the Azarians to pack in. It felt as though the world took a deep breath, the last calm before the storm broke upon their ranks. Soon they would be opening all the gates on the north side of the fortress. If all went according to plan, they would charge straight down the center, where Akira stood with his men.
The sun had just finished rising when the doors opened again and the Azarians came flying out of the fortress. It was the most disorganized mess Akira had ever seen. There was no orderly advance here, just men, women, and children running from the fort in all directions. Akira’s eyes narrowed. Although their movement seemed random, groups would form and head in specific directions. It wasn’t organized, but there was a purpose to what was happening. Mashiro, standing next to Akira, noticed it too. “They are splitting into three prongs.”
Akira nodded. “I agree.”
Mashiro was the commander in charge. He and Makoto were equal in rank, but Mashiro was the better strategist, and it was his mind they relied on. Akira had learned long ago to trust his general. Mashiro sent messages to the armies waiting in the valleys to the west and east. “If the Azarians take the ridgelines, we won’t have a chance. Attack now and hold the ridge.” Messengers sprinted away to deliver Mashiro’s commands. Akira approved.
The battle was met in front of them. The silence had been replaced by the war-cries of both sides, and those had been replaced by the ringing sound of steel on steel. It seemed there was no end to the numbers of Azarians pouring out through the Three Sisters. Akira watched with fascination as they funneled through the fortress and spread out again on the other side. The valley before him was full of them, but when he looked up, he saw the pass was still packed with Azarians, waiting eagerly to join the battle. Archers from the Kingdom loosed flight after flight of arrows into the advancing lines, and it seemed that everywhere Akira looked Azarians were falling. But still they kept coming, fearless in the face of the strength of Akira’s armies.
For a time it seemed like a massacre. Akira’s armies were prepared and orderly, and the sky was thick with arrows, the ground slick with the blood of the Azarians. Akira wondered if the Azarians would break and run back to their own people, but they kept pressing forward, a relentless pressure against Akira’s troops. Akira had never seen so many people on a battlefield before.
Step by bloody step, the Azarians progressed, their ranks continually reinforced by the endless sea of humanity behind them. Akira could see areas of commotion in his ranks, and he feared a hunter was at the center of each. Arrows still flew through the air, but they weren’t as thick as they once were. More and more archers were switching to their swords in order to defend themselves. Everywhere Akira looked the battle was joined in earnest, and he thought that even if he survived, the sound of steel would ring in his ears until the day he died.
In the midst of it all, Akira saw him. There was no way of being certain, but there was no denying the man fit the description Akira had received from Moriko. The man stood a head taller than anyone on the field, and he left a wake of effortless death behind him. He seemed to leap from point to point, always rescuing his people just as they were about to fall. Everywhere he went the Azarians redoubled their efforts, and he was making his way towards Akira.
Akira tried to follow Nameless, but the battle was too chaotic and he moved too fast. All Akira knew for sure was that their present location wouldn’t be safe for much longer. He ordered his honor guard to switch to a different position to buy them some more time.
As they retreated, a hunter broke through their ranks. It was a woman, and she left a trail of bodies in her wake. Akira’s honor guard jumped into action, spears at the ready. He watched with fascination. His honor guard had been training exclusively in tactics against nightblades, and Akira wondered how they would function against a hunter in the real world.
The biggest change they had made was that his honor guard had drilled extensively in the use of the spear for the past few cycles. The longer reach protected them from the speed of the hunters. If a single guard went up against them this way, a nightblade or a hunter would easily get inside the reach of the spear, rendering it worse than useless. But when they fought as a unit, the stories said spears were most successful at killing nightblades. Akira hoped the stories hadn’t been lying, and that the same strategies would work against hunters.
The hunter saw Akira and leapt for him. Akira drew his own sword and deflected two cuts. He couldn’t have stopped the third, but the hunter was stopped short by the spears of Akira’s honor guard. Akira was proud, if just for a moment. He had crossed swords with a hunter and lived to tell about it, even if it was only because he had a hundred men backing him up.
The hunter backed up, and Akira’s honor guard fell into a circle around her two rows deep. At first they kept their distance, ensuring their formation was set before advancing. The hunter saw what was happening, a trace of fear in her eyes. She darted towards one edge, trying to find a weak part of the circle. But even if she could knock aside a spear or three, there were always more spears there to protect their friends in the front of the line. Try as she might, she couldn’t figure a way out.
Akira’s honor guard didn’t give her a chance. They advanced in unison, spears closing in. Akira forced himself to watch as she eventually fell under more than a dozen spear thrusts. He had always preferred the sword, but his men needed every weapon they had to fight back. War was no place for honor.
The sun was high in the sky and still the battle raged on. The sheer number of people in front of Akira was staggering, and he was impressed Makoto and Mashiro could keep any semblance of order in the combat. It was a day that would define their history. He had no doubt many legends would be born today.
Akira looked to the pass itself. He was further away than he had been this morning, but still, it seemed to him that fewer Azarians were streaming through it. Perhaps they were almost all through. Akira scanned the battlefield. If so, he thought his troops would hold. They would save the Kingdom.
Akira caught Makoto as he was giving orders to Akira’s troops on the left flank. The giant was covered in blood and had a grim look on his face.
“How goes the battle? It looks like our lines are holding.”
Makoto nodded, but he didn’t smile. “They are for now, but I don’t know for how much longer. Already our reinforcements are committed.”
“Unless my eyes deceive me, there aren’t as many Azarians coming through the pass.”
Makoto nodded again, but Akira still couldn’t see any relief in the general’s face. Makoto turned to the pass and studied it. “Their hunters have killed and scattered almost all of our scouts and outriders. We don’t know much of anything beyond what Mashiro and I can see right now, and that frightens both of us.”
“Why?”
Makoto looked at his king as though he was missing the most obvious fact in the world. “We haven’t yet seen any of their cavalry. The report from that nightblade said they were stellar horsemen, and we have yet to see a single horse come through that pass. It means the
ir main blow hasn’t fallen yet, and already we are close to breaking. Mashiro is considering ordering the northern cavalries to charge now.”
Akira couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It had been obvious, but he had missed it. But even he could see Mashiro’s plan had flaws. “If we order the northern troops in now, we won’t have anybody to flank the Azarian cavalry, if your guess is correct.”
Makoto nodded. “You’re right, but if we don’t get help soon our lines will break, and once they do, we won’t have any chance of winning this battle. Mashiro thinks the Azarians knew where all our troops were located before the battle began. Their attacks seem chaotic, but there is an order to them, and their movements have been too well placed to be coincidence.”
Akira had to ask the tough question. “Have we lost?”
Makoto thought for a moment. He never spoke until he was sure of his answer. “Not yet, but it won’t take much to push us past a point where we can’t win anymore.”
Akira let Makoto return to his duties, considering the words the giant had said. If they were going to lose, the smartest decision would be to retreat, but Akira wasn’t sure he could give that order yet. The consequences of that decision were severe, and although it would save the lives of his men on the battlefield, it might cost far more lives in his kingdom.
The battle seemed to take forever and no time at all. The next time Akira noticed the sun, it was well on its way to setting. Still the lines held, but only through acts of valor that someday would become legends told to their descendants. Even Akira could see his men were close to breaking. They should have already, but they kept fighting and pushing harder than they ever had. Every man on the field knew what was at stake. All their plans had failed them, but still they fought. He was proud.
They still hadn’t seen a single horse. Akira kept an eye out for them, as well as the one Moriko called Nameless. But neither appeared.
Makoto and Mashiro found Akira, and their look was grim. Akira could guess what they were going to say.
“We need to decide whether to call the northern armies down or not.”
Akira looked at them. “I trust your decisions. Why come to me?”
“Because this is bigger than this battle, and it affects the whole kingdom. Our lines will shatter soon, and when they do the battle will be over. With the cavalry, we can break their advance. However, if our suspicions are right, and they are holding a large force in reserve, it could all be for naught. If we retreat now we’ll have many more men to resist an occupation, but we’ll have lost the battle. It needs to be your decision. Try to win here or win later.”
Akira wished for a moment that leadership had never passed to him. He envied the life of a farmer, responsible only for his family and his own land.
“Even if you won’t make the decision, what do you recommend?”
The two generals shared a look and grinned. They had been friends for a long time, although sometimes Akira forgot it. Mashiro spoke first, as he always did. “Fight.”
Makoto spoke next. “Retreat.”
Akira looked from general to general, unbelieving. For them to argue at such a time was beyond comprehension. It forced him to laugh. It wasn’t a hearty laugh, but Makoto and Mashiro joined him in it, a brief moment of release from the fear and tension they all felt.
Perhaps it was wisest to retreat, but Akira couldn’t swallow the idea. He didn’t want his land invaded by the Azarians. It meant more death and suffering than he wanted on his soul. They had to try.
“Send the order. Charge.”
The two men nodded and went to their work. They said nothing in judgment. Akira knew Mashiro would be pleased. He was more willing to take chances, but Makoto would be disappointed. He hated to see his men at risk.
Akira took a moment to look around. It was in the light of the dying sun that the fate of his kingdom would be decided. He saw the flags wave, relaying a message to the northern armies to charge. He saw his men in the valley were struggling valiantly, but they couldn’t possibly last much longer.
There was a shout and a cry of alarm, and Akira ran to where Makoto and Mashiro were huddled with their commanders. Several of them were pointing towards the mountains. Akira followed their gaze but couldn’t see what they were pointing at. But he heard snippets of their conversation and realized what was happening.
“No flags.”
“. . . been overrun.”
He understood. The relays which were being used to send orders to the cavalry had been run over by the Azarians. Sen’s First Army was in that direction, his best troops. Without them, it would be difficult to break the Azarian advance.
Makoto didn’t hesitate. “Give me a set of northern flags.”
The commanders protested. “Sir, allow one of us to go instead.”
Makoto shook his head. “Do any of you know the flags for the Northern Kingdom?”
There was silence around the group and Akira cursed their lack of foresight. They had talked about having a single set of flags for all armies, but by the time the idea had come around, Makoto and Mashiro had been nervous about adopting a new system. Communication was vital. Instead, they had arranged for the flags to be operated by pairs of people, each trained in the flags of their own kingdom. They could translate messages back and forth, minimizing the possibility of mistakes.
Makoto prepared to leave, but Mashiro grabbed his arm. “Be careful.”
“I will. But you always were the better strategist. Win this war.”
They looked at each other for a moment, and Akira couldn’t guess what was passing unspoken between them. It was Makoto who nodded and pried Mashiro’s fingers from his arm. “Be seeing you.”
With that the giant was on his horse, riding as far behind the lines as he could to get the message to Sen’s First in time. Akira looked at the path he’d most likely take. It should be safe. He had already lost Toro. He couldn’t afford to lose Makoto as well. It would be almost impossible to bear.
Shortly after Makoto left, Sen’s second army charged over the eastern ridge of the pass, bearing down on the Azarians. Akira watched them, amazed by their skill in the saddle. Even though they were only at the edge of the pass, the mountain trails were still steep and treacherous, and few men dared them even on foot. But Sen’s cavalry charged down the slopes, seemingly without concern. A cheer went up from the men in the valley, and all pushed forward as one.
Akira dared to hope again. Perhaps there was another reason why they hadn’t seen the Azarian cavalry yet. Perhaps there was none. Maybe Moriko’s information had been wrong.
The Azarians seemed to panic as they were crushed between Akira’s infantry and Sen’s cavalry. The appearance of Sen’s horsemen had changed the course of the battle. Akira glanced over at Mashiro, and even he seemed cautiously hopeful. It was enough to send Akira’s spirits soaring.
There was a cry, and Akira looked to where the soldier was pointing. On top of the western ridge was a large man on a horse. Akira grinned from ear to ear. There was no mistaking Makoto, even at this distance. Not only had he delivered the message, he looked like he was ready to charge down with Sen’s First. It was a bit foolish, but Akira could forgive him. It would be the killing blow. The Kingdom would be saved.
Makoto held flags in his hand. Suddenly, he started waving them vigorously. They were too far away for Akira to see what Makoto was trying to say. Mashiro rushed to a table and found a looking glass. His look was stern.
Akira couldn’t bear the suspense. “What is he saying?”
Mashiro shook his head. “It’s tough to tell without a relay. He’s still a very long way away, but I think he’s ordering a general retreat.”
Akira’s heart sank. From his vantage point high in the pass, Makoto would have a better view of both the pass and the battle below. If Mashiro was right, if Makoto was ordering a general retreat, it meant he was seeing something they couldn’t down below.
Then Makoto was off, down the other side of the moun
tain, out of view. Akira was surprised until two other horses could be seen chasing him. Mashiro and Akira shared a glance. There was only one inescapable conclusion.
Mashiro’s gaze was a question, and Akira nodded. Mashiro gave the orders. “Sound the retreat. As orderly as possible. Men should know what to do. Everyone, keep your swords sharp.”
There was a look of dismay among the commanders, and Akira realized they hadn’t figured out what was happening yet. To their eyes, they were winning.
The illusion didn’t last long. Over the rise in the pass came horsemen. First just a few, but then more and more, until they numbered into the hundreds and into the thousands. They came charging down the pass, and the Azarians still in the valley raised a battle cry and redoubled their efforts. The men of the Kingdom saw the Azarian cavalry and all courage fled their hearts. Lines started to break.
Mashiro looked at Akira. “You must leave now. It won’t be long. We’ll need your leadership in the days to come.”
Akira fixed Mashiro with a steely gaze. “We’ll need you too. Don’t you dare try to die on me. We’ll meet in the arranged place, but don’t you dare die. Save as many as you can.”
Mashiro nodded and turned his back on his king.
Akira gave one last glance at the battlefield, but the outcome was no longer in question. He assembled his honor guard and they began their retreat from the valley.
Akira fought the urge to break down. He had just lost the battle for the Kingdom.
Chapter 14
The morning sun rose on Nameless as he stood on top of one of the peaks overlooking the Three Sisters and the land below. The land that would be theirs.
He had to give the warriors of the Three Kingdoms credit. They had fought well. Much better than he expected, in fact. The outcome had never been in question, but the People had paid dearly for this new land. Even when Nameless thought the lines had completely broken, they still maintained an orderly retreat.
