Queen Yavara Ch. 28

For a moment, it seemed as though the endless stream of beasts had disappeared into a depthless volume beneath the sulfuric fog. Then I saw it, a shadow in the haze, becoming darker and darker until it was no longer a shadow, but the front of a horde, suddenly a mere hundred yards away! They rushed up the bowl without losing a step of speed, their voices cutting through the roar of it all, high and manic with wrath. The vanguard broke away from the rest, the largest orcs I'd ever seen, and the largest among them at their front. Brock Terdini was an impossibility of size, power and agility, moving with such ferocity that he tore the earth with each footfall. He screamed past me, his massive hammer raised over his head, and he smashed into the center. I could see the entire line ripple with the impact. The rest of the vanguard charged in after, sounding the sudden clash of metal on metal, the scream of mortal blows, the grinding of boots in earth. The center bowed and stretched, falling back step for step without a hint of slowing, and the orcs kept surging forward. We pivoted with the inverting crescent of our line, stabbing uselessly at the horde that barreled past us, but they didn't pay us any mind. They just added their weight to the tonnage of momentum, and drove relentlessly into the center. Screams of alarm sounded from the rear, cries for help and reinforcement. Oh god, they'd broken through! They'd split the army right in half! But no. The flow of orcs began to slow. The narrow stream clogged, then bunched, then flooded into the ranks of the light infantry at the flanks. All at once, the advance stopped. I looked to the hilltops, and saw the last trickle of the wave crest over it. The elven cavalry had driven the enemy mounts from the field, and were pursuing them doggedly. The tail of the horde surged from the valley bowl, and abruptly crashed into the backs of their own men. Then, the slaughter began.

"Loose!" Came the command, and the snap of ten-thousand bowstrings sounded. They arced into the sky, coalesced into a black cloud at the apex, then fell like rain. The orcs disappeared beneath the hail of arrows, hundreds dying in a second, a diffusion of gaps forming in their ranks. Before they had a chance to regroup, the flanking light-infantry surged forward, and packed the horde atop their own dead, compacting them so tightly they couldn't even raise their shields to defend themselves. What had seemed an endless force before, now seemed a multitude barely fit to fill a stadium.

"Loose!" Came the command again, and a cheer rose from the surrounding ranks. In one massive stride, the light-infantry at the flanks pushed in, and closed the gaps made in the orc ranks.

"Loose!" The commanders shouted, and another cheer erupted from the army. The deadly shower levelled whole pockets of the horde, and the light infantry took three massive strides inward, packing the survivors in. I could see the terror in their black eyes as they squirmed against one another, helpless with no room to swing their weapons, stepping upon the bodies of their dead and dying. The mages closed in then, launching salvos of spells into the mass, burning, acidifying, and disintegrating those unfortunates caught in their path. I didn't know I could feel such euphoria at the sight of so much suffering.

"Kill the bastards! Kill them all!" I laughed, then turned to Deklian, "Holy shit mate, we won!"

"It was never in doubt!" He laughed back.

"Never in doubt? You pissed yourself!"

"Aye, well good thing we wear gold uniforms then! C'mon, we didn't come all this way just to watch the war happen; let's kill some of the fuckers!"

"Stand fast!" An order came behind us. It was hard to hear over all the jubilant commotion. Arrows fell, orcs screamed, the jaws closed, and the men cheered. "Stand fast!" The order came again, Captain Grertian yelling it.

"Captain, we'll miss all the fun!" Deklian protested.

Grertian grabbed him by the shoulders, and turned him around. "Stand fast, soldier! Shields up, poles ready!"

"Captain, their cavalry has been run off the-"

"Hold ranks, face the hill!"

I turned to see a lone figure floating above the hilltops. "What the hell is she going to do, take on the whole army herself?" I laughed.

"Aye, ya dumb slut!" Deklian yelled, "You been eyeing our nice long poles, have ya? Don't worry, they'll be in you soon enough!"

There was a roar of concurrent laughter, followed by another hail of arrows and another chorus of orc screams. The light infantry took five steps inward, and closed around the orc rear. I sighed, and leaned on my pole. Now that the terror was gone, I was upset that the only war stories I'd get to tell my unborn children would be of wading through muck, and watching everyone else fight. Oh, we'd assault the steadings of the Ten and raise Castle Alkandra, but killing orc bitches and pups didn't have the same gravitas as facing down a horde of bulls. I'd have to get some souvenirs off the dead to make up for it. I wondered who would get Brock's head? Boom, boom, boom.

It was like someone had poured cold water down my back. The fear prickled from my flesh, and took an icy grip on my chest. Boom, boom, boom. The sound echoed across the valley, muting the murderous revelry. All eyes turned to the hilltop. The Dark Queen raised her arms, and even from this great distance, I swore I could see her merciless smile. Boom, boom, boom. Roar. They crested the hill like a tidal wave once more, tens of thousands charging at full tilt. Frantic orders were screamed from every corner of the army. Turn around! Where is the cavalry?! Keep pressing the center! The orcs we surrounded surged once more, charging over mountains of their own dead into the chaos of reforming regiments, fighting with a savagery too great to contend with. No longer were they the cattle herded for slaughter, but the anvil for the coming hammer, the chopping block for the coming axe, and we, the doomed rooster who had so arrogantly called the morning song of victory, but the dawn had not yet risen. It was all so clear now. The Highland army was going to be massacred, and the only men in position to stop it, was the first light infantry regiment. We would hold this line to save the army, and we were all going to die doing it.

"Freytian," Deklian laughed, his voice manic with terror, "I think I just shit myself!"

"All that fucking talk, and in your first battle you fill your trousers."

"Aye, I guess I'll have to requisition brown pants after this is done!"

I clapped him on the shoulder. "You know, I think I'll get a pair myself."

The horde disappeared into the sulfuric fog, then burst from it a hundred yards away, charging headlong across the short expanse. I gripped my pole, dug my heels into the dirt, pressed my shoulder against Deklian's shield, and screamed. The horde crashed into us. The impact nearly sent us sprawling, and the momentum carried us skidding on our feet for ten yards. I skewered three orcs just by holding my pole steady, and struggled to keep my weapon in hand. Deklian frantically stabbed over his shield with his short sword as he pressed his weight against the shield, screaming at the top of his lungs. The pole was wrenched from my hands, and I was nearly carried with it over the shield-wall. My head smacked against the edge of the shield, and I barely stopped myself from toppling before the relentless momentum that carried us backward. A snarling face appeared between the gap in the wall, eyes full of fury, tusk bared and spittle flying. I drew my sword and hacked at it, shouldering the shield and pushing with failing legs. I thrusted over my head again and again, each blind stab meeting its mark, impossible to miss against the wall of bodies. We slid back further and further. The men on my left side were grabbed and thrown screaming backward. The men on my right were flattened and trampled. Orcs poured through the gaps like water through a failing dam, surging past us and behind us.

"Hold!" I screamed uselessly, "Fucking hold!"

Deklian and I were nearly parallel in our effort to push against the ocean of bodies. He suddenly buckled with a cry, and I took him by the arm to hold him fast against the shield. His foot caught, he folded backward, and he was dragged screeching beneath the shield. I lurched to the side, spun, and was sent sprawling into the dirt. A sharp pain in my back. Another in my ribs. I tasted iron. I couldn't breathe. Thud. A crushing pain in my ankle. Thud. Another on my hand. I couldn't see! I couldn't breathe! Just blackness, just suffocating dark and heat! I coughed flame from my chest. I couldn't suck in air. I needed to see something! Where was the light? Thud, thud, thud. Pounding into my back. It was numb now. I felt the bones crack and cave. They felt like someone else's. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. If only I could take in air! If only I could see! I planted my ruined hand into wet soil, and pushed with the last of my strength. I rolled over just in time to see a heavy iron boot come down on my face.

GENERAL SHORDIAN

"Get to the front!" I yelled, physically dragging soldiers from their flanking positions.

The line my men were holding on column one was breaking fast, and the line on column four had already been overrun. Our cavalry was still tied up with the centaurs and wargs, and our only hope of keeping column one from collapsing was to get as many light-infantry regiments to the front as possible. The replacement generals were fumbling around, issuing contradictory orders and frantically waving their swords. The veteran generals were all thinking what I was thinking: if columns one and four collapse, it would be over. When we'd amassed enough men, I screamed, and led the charge.

The best men in war are always the dead ones. My entire regiment held the line for the precious few seconds we needed to launch a counterattack, then fell before the onslaught. I was the general of no one now; I was just an old man with a sword, and a sea of death before me. I would add a few drops of my own. I sliced through an orc neck, ducked a decapitating axe, struck my assailant in the nose, and plunged my blade into his eye. My men rushed behind me and pushed the line forward, pinning my body against the chest of an orc. He raised his arm to bring his hammer down, and I bit into his throat and rent backwards. Black blood spurted onto my face and armor, and the orc fell into the advancing wall of beasts behind him.

A bolt of lightning blasted from behind the orcs and struck an elf in the chest. The electricity bounced from man to man until twenty were fried. Zander Fredeon appeared from the crowd, shooting spells wildly from his fingers and staff, cutting down scores of elves at a time. I fought my way through the mass of orc bodies, dodging attacks and carving my path through their flesh. I was covered in black blood by the time I'd made it to the wizard. I bull-rushed his blind side, and was promptly blown onto my back. The Dark Queen shot above me, her propulsion knocking over the entire elven line. The orcs advanced and killed the dazed soldiers where they lay. I scrambled to my feet just as she turned in the air and came swooping back. The elven line was blown back again, and hundreds of men were cut down. I dropped to my knees and covered my head before the air hit me, then stood up just in time to block a sword and stick my own in the assailant's belly. The Dark Queen arced in the air for another pass, and a hundred fireballs consumed her. She emerged from the inferno unscathed, the ethereal orb surrounding her fractured and dim. She rocketed to the safety of the sky, and circled overhead.

FIELD MARSHAL DELTIAN

"Glordias and Crytian," I said to my messengers, "tell the cavalry to break off their attack and hit the orc light infantry on the flanks. Dwandian, tell the heavy-infantry generals to pull back, and leave three sacrificial regiments to cover the retreat. Erisian, Karlian; tell the light infantry divisions to perform a tactical retreat to the bog, and the ranged divisions to cover them. Tell the mages to hold off the enemy advance for as long as possible; make sure they stay intact, they're too valuable to lose."

The messengers rode off. We'd lose at least seven regiments in the retreat, but it was better than the whole army. It would've been the whole army were it not for the first light infantry. They would be immortalized in song and poems, but I doubted it mattered much to them. I watched as a makeshift line formed across the front, and those behind began to trickle back to the bog, passing the wreckage of siege engines before running across the wooden pathways. I waited for as many men as possible to get across, then ordered the ropes cut. The sacrificial regiments hadn't been informed of their purpose. They knew it now. I watched in grim silence as they were driven backward, then disappeared beneath the wave of black bodies. I nodded, and stepped back into my tent.

"Corporal Jinaris, you are dismissed." I said to my guard. He saluted solemnly, then marched from the tent. I sat at my table, and briskly wrote my letter of recommendation for General Shordian. Stowing it neatly in an envelope, I sighed, and unstrapped the stifling leather of my breastplate. The cool air caressed my skin, and I enjoyed the simple pleasure for a moment. It felt strange to know I had just orchestrated the single greatest military failure in history. With nothing more than pride, I had all but destroyed my nation's chance at victory. There would be tribunals, convictions, and disgraces of the highest order, but I wouldn't have to face them. I took a shot of whisky, then plunged the dagger into my chest.

PRIVATE FREYTIAN

"This one's a front-line man; see the patch on his shoulder?" A voice from somewhere said. Was that what God sounded like? It was gravely and low, not at all divine, but I supposed mortal expectations didn't count for much in the afterlife. I was floating in a sea of black, feeling nothing but the gentle abyss surrounding me, the strange warmth that suffused my numb form.

"The balls on these boys." Said another gruff voice, almost exactly like the other, but a little higher, "They nearly stopped my whole charge. If they had another regiment like them, I don't think I would've gotten to you in time."

"Give your old man some credit, Trenok; I could've held out for another minute at least."

"You look like a fucking cactus with all those arrows in you."

"Us Terdini have thick skin."

"You look like a retarded porcupine."

"Us Terdini may have thick skin, but that still hurt my feelings."

"Did you see that? He moved!"

"Death twitches."

"No, look at his chest! He's breathing!'

"Let me see him!" A female voice said. Yes, that could definitely be the voice of god; commanding, yet sweet. I opened my eyes. Light. Agonizing light blazing into my pupils, overpowering my vision with a glare that seemed to consume the world. Then it faded, revealing silhouettes, which in turn, faded to the features of a massive orc with a body full of tattoos, and a dark-skinned elf woman with orange eyes.

"You're okay." She said gently, "I'm not much of a healer yet, but I'll do my best."

I blinked, my head beating with confusion, my thoughts like molasses. I was a child. No, I was a man. A stone mason's apprentice? No, that was what I was before. I was a soldier now. A private in the Highland army, and I'd just been in a battle. A battle against the terrible Dark Queen, who was kneeling at my side, shooting golden light from her hand to heal a gaping wound in my belly. My legs were gone. My hands were broken to pieces. Every breath was agony, but I was alive.

'What happened?' I mouthed, unable to give voice to it.

"You lost, Sweetie." The Dark Queen smiled sympathetically. There was a sound like wood being chopped, then a scream. I turned to see an elven hand flopping before a shorn arm, the blood pumping from the stump. Brock Terdini kicked the screeching elf to the side, and another terrified elf was brought to the chopping block, his arm forced outward. I felt a surge of panic, and kicked with my stumps to free myself and crawl away. The Dark Queen held me down with just her hand.

"No need to fear. Brock's just dealing with some uncooperative prisoners. You're not one of them, are you?" She winked.

I shook my head.

"I didn't think so." She chuckled, "No, you're going to be very cooperative, aren't you?"

I nodded fervently, and she giggled girlishly.

"You're a very brave man to have stood before that whole charge. I would've won the war today if you hadn't done that."

'I'm sorry!' I mouthed.

"Don't be. I have use for brave men. Men who are willing to do what must be done. What's your name?"

"Private Donald Freytian, Ma'am." I finally managed to croak.

"You mean Captain Donald Freytian." The Dark Queen corrected as she slowly began re-growing my leg.

"I'm no captain."

"Of course you are." She smiled in such a way that broached no argument, and I slowly nodded. She giggled once more, and tended to me like a doting mother to her hurt child, humming sweet lullabies as she slowly regrew my limbs and closed the holes in my flesh. It was odd, but I swore I caught her stealing glances at my crotch, and licking her lips.

LEVERIA

"...we're retreating across the marshlands, and pulling up our bog-bridges along the way. We'll be at North Fort in two days, and from there, I will send contingents to Mid Fort and South Fort. We'll have the entire rift entrenched in a fortnight." General Shordian paused, "I think it would also be wise to retake Castle Thorum as soon as possible, Your Highness. If Brock deems the Highland Rift unassailable, he might decide to move his army south."

"It will be done." I said numbly, "Thank you, general. The praise your peers and superiors have heaped upon you is not unwarranted. I hereby promote you to acting field marshal of the Highland army, and charge you with the defense of our nation." I pressed my hand to the mirror before he could reply, and buried my face in my hands.

Elena pulled me into a gentle embrace, resting her chin atop my head. "Shitty day, huh?"

"The shittiest of days," I mumbled, "but it's going to be the best day of the rest of my shitty life. I'm finished."

"A wartime leader is rarely deposed. No one wants to inherit that mess."

"Ternias would be king of shit-mountain if it meant he would be king. I've lost the Noble Court for the rest of my reign. I'll spend every fucking day clawing my way through the shit just to keep what little I have." I smashed my fists against the vanity. "Goddamn my stupid whore-slut sister! Goddamn her, goddamn her, GODDAMN HER!"

"You only have yourself to blame."

I whirled on Elena with a closed fist. She caught it easily, opened my guard with her foot, and pressed against me. I tried to hit her with my other hand, and she caught that one too. I thought about biting her fucking throat out and spitting her goddamn voice box in her eye just to see the expression on her face, when there was a knock at the door.

"My queen," a guard called, "King Reagent Tiadoa is here to see you."

"Should I... hide?" Elena whispered.

"No, just sit down and keep it formal. I've delayed this for too long." I turned to the door, "Tell my father he may enter."

Elena sat in the chair across from me and crossed her legs to conceal her gift. When the door opened, I didn't recognize the man that walked through it. Wisps of hair splayed wildly from his liver-spotted pate, his flesh hung like film from his bones, thin enough to cut with the bare graze. Even his eyes, those steely-blue orbs that had captivated me in my youth, were murky and dull.