Strange Bedfellows Ch. 04

Chapter 4: When you wish upon Illuminar

Kalus reached down to draw his sword, but the grizzled hand of Titus stopped him.

"Commander, you have two wives now and cannot be careless with your life." The war veteran said. "Let the men fight and you direct the fight; they need guidance more than they need another sword."

Kalus bristled, but had to admit the most senior member of his council was right. He turned to his herald. "Kyselius, make tones for forming a circular defensive line; hopefully the men will understand."

His herald nodded and blew two long trumpet blasts, paused, then three short ones.

Instantly, Kalus's men sprang into action. Even with the partial moon, he could see his men -- all in full armor -- running to the outskirts of his camp and forming a proper defensive line. Nearly all of them had grabbed their pole weapons, which were their primary battlefield weapons. Most had swords too, but those were more for backup or self-defense outside of battle.

His men forming into a defensive circle around their camp happened quickly, just as he'd drilled into them. His men were ready for action and they'd arrived in the nick of time. Kalus assumed that the alarm being raised was the signal for the rest of the enemy to attack, because the main body was only now coming out of the forest.

"Kalus, your horse." One of the centurions said, doing his best to lead the large warhorse to him. Tornado was only cooperating because he was being led in Kalus's direction. If he had been led in any other, whoever tried to lead him would've been in for a rude awakening. He had a halter, but no saddle.

Damn.

"Shalavo!" Kalus said loudly to Tornado and the horse calmed down somewhat. He seized the bridle and with some difficulty managed to mount him without the saddle. He threw his cloak off so his surcoat would show and surveyed the situation from his higher vantage point.

Things were looking good for his men.

Not so much elsewhere.

The enemy force was estimated to be about four thousand, but it seemed that not only was the estimate quite low, but probably every single enemy soldier was attacking in the ambush.

"Kyselius, I'll tell the men to anchor the lines. Give me three minutes, then signal the advance." He ordered.

His herald looked extremely confused, but nodded.

Kalus took off as fast as he could through the forest to their right side.

"Only advance to the front and rear when you hear the order to advance!" He called as he rode behind his men. "Do NOT go into the forest when you hear the order to advance!" He called loudly as he rode along the line.

Fortunately, the enemy had hesitated to attack the strong defensive line and appeared to be trying to travel along the lines to find weaker, sleepier prey. Thus, his men acknowledged his orders without being distracted by fighting for life and limb.

It took Kalus a whole minute riding along one side of his line, then another minute to reach the other side, where he gave the same orders. Right on time, He heard his herald sound the order to advance.

His men did him proud.

They had never been given orders like this before, but he had drilled it deeply into their heads never to break the line anywhere for any reason. They moved a bit awkwardly, the lines slowly stretching as the battle line simultaneously advanced rearward to rescue the rearguard, and forward towards the king's tent.

Unsurprisingly, the king had a multitude of torches lit up around his opulent tent and thus it made for a very obvious target. A large portion of the enemy force was attacking from two opposite trying to get at it. He dearly wished his morals would allow the king to suffer the consequences of his stupidity and also his behavior toward Katia, and Lyra, but he could never live with himself if he didn't try to intervene.

Besides, most of the king's guard was made up of men he'd personally trained, their greater discipline and training giving them a much larger share of the king's guard than men from the other commanders.

He had to act.

Kalus made a beeline for the section of his men heading in that direction, noting that beyond his camp's area sleepy and half-naked men were stumbling from their tents. Their sleepy, disorganized stumbling would pose little threat to the enemy.

"Halithrof, Drubien, Galivard, Blessie; to me!" He called out to four of his centurions he could see just ahead. Four centurions only commanded four hundred men, but he dared not weaken the line any further for fear the enemy would get inside his men's line and they would be flanked from the inside.

"Full charge to the king's tent and form ranks; protect the king!" He ordered, drawing his sword and leading the charge.

Thankfully, the men around the king's tent hadn't been as lax as the rest of the army. While they were mostly putting up token resistance, they did manage to slow the enemy charge enough to give Kalus and his men time to reach the tent.

"Halithrof and Drubien take the right flank, Galivard and Blessie take the left." He commanded as they arrived.

He felt a small note of pride as the centurions began to issue orders to their men, and all four centuries of troops wheeled and maneuvered into position perfectly.

Then the enemy arrived.

His men were greatly outnumbered and fought like devils. They were holding, and he had never been prouder...

...but they were greatly outnumbered.

While the enemy couldn't break through Kalus's men and they were taking far greater casualties, they could outmaneuver the defenders owing to the greater numbers. It was less than a minute before a large section of them broke off and headed towards the gap between the two lines.

"FOLD TO FLANK!" Kalus bellowed to his men. "DEFENSIVE ENCIRCLE!"

At once, his men began to give ground, retreating in an orderly fashion with the wings folding more than the center. This stretched his men's lines and eventually closed them, forming a ring around the king's tent as the attackers hammered the thinned lines. He knew that his men -- well-trained and disciplined as they were -- wouldn't be able to hold much longer with the enemy's greater numbers. The smallest slip-up would create a breach in their lines, and they would be done.

Then the tide turned.

The army of sleepy rabble that had been slow to respond started attacking the invaders from behind. The rest of King Tyso's army was now awake and they were out for blood. All of the attackers were killed in a matter of minutes. While his own men were under orders to give quarter to surrendering troops, apparently the rest of the army had been given no such orders.

They were slaughtered to a man.

The entire battle had taken ten minutes, perhaps fifteen.

The moment that the all clear had been sounded, the King emerged from his tent wearing his fancy gilded chainmail and wielding his sword. He looked around, scrutinizing what could be seen by torchlight and moonlight. His eyes finally lighted on Kalus up on his warhorse and the men who had surrounded his tent.

He knew whose men they were.

Kalus gave the king as deep a bow as possible while still mounted. "Your majesty."

The king said nothing.

Nothing needed to be said.

Without Kalus, Tyso would be dead. However, the commander wasn't foolish enough to think that fact would endear him to the king. Quite the contrary in fact. The king would be outraged that Kalus had accidentally made him look like a fool for dismissing the concerns of an ambush. Very little mattered more to the king than his image and Kalus had committed the unforgivable sin of making him look bad.

Fortunately, his popularity with the men and skill with the army would probably protect him until the war was over. The king was cruel, but he wasn't foolhardy and certainly wasn't foolish enough to kill his most able commander before the war was finished.

But afterwards?

Hmm.

Somehow Kalus doubted that he would be allowed to return to his homeland and live in peace. He was concerned for himself of course, but he was more concerned for his wives. Katia was an amazing woman, if prickly now because of the war and the way they'd been thrown together. Further, she was carrying their child. Lyra was just as delightful and might be carrying soon as well. She certainly wished to practice making a child often enough.

The king looked at him and set his jaw. "Return to your tent Kalus; that's an order."

"My king." Kalus gave him a respectful bow from Tornado, then turned and rode back to the horse pens. He put Tornado away and walked to his tent.

Kyselius was waiting at the entrance and the look on his face was grim.

"You have a report?" Kalus asked his herald.

"We won't have a death toll until the morning, but it's grim."

The commander took a deep breath and let out slowly. "Let me know in the morning; the king ordered me back to my tent, so make sure Titus and the rest coordinate the cleanup of our legion."

"Commander." Kyselius saluted, then turned to carry out the orders.

Kalus sighed, then walked into his tent.

Lyra and Katia were there, both looking apprehensive but short of scared. They were certainly smart enough to recognize that the fighting was over and his presence meant that there was no further danger.

"What happened?" Lyra whispered fearfully.

He told them the broad strokes and was somewhat gratified to see Katia looking a bit worried when he mentioned himself riding close to the enemy lines to instruct his men, and again when he mentioned riding towards the force attacking the king's tent.

Maybe she did care.

He started stripping off his chainmail armor as he spoke and laid down on the bed on his back when he had finished. Lyra immediately molded herself to his side and kissed him gently. Barely had he covered himself with the blanket when he felt the ash-blonde's slender hand touching the front of his pants.

He raised his eye at her.

"What?" She asked almost sheepishly. "I like that my big, strong husband is a warrior."

"Not tonight." He said, knowing he needed his sleep and not feeling remotely in the mood. His young wife wouldn't either if she had just seen what he had seen, but hearing and seeing were two very different things.

"Yes husband." Lyra looked a bit disappointed, but she snuggled up closer to him.

Katia was different.

She didn't curl up against him, but she didn't quite shy away from him either. He could almost feel her nervousness though.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

She turned and looked at him, her eye filled with anxiety. "I..." She swallowed. "I'm worried about more than just me now." She put her hand on her stomach, directly over her womb.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I understand. I promise that I will protect you, and our child, and Lyra to my dying breath; nothing shall harm you while I draw breath and have strength in my limbs."

She gave him a pained-half smile. "I appreciate that, but I wouldn't want my baby to grow up without a father either."

She cocked her head to one side, as if she'd just realized something, then she frowned and turned away. He didn't get the sense that she was avoiding him though, more like she wanted privacy to think.

"Thank you." Lyra whispered as she kissed him on the cheek. "But please don't die. I've gotten rather fond of you in the last day and a half."

"And I of you." He smiled back, then relaxed his head so he was looking straight up. A week ago his life was simple and uncomplicated. Now... now he was trying to figure out a way that his new family could survive what was to come.

He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer to the great God Illuminar, asking that his wives and unborn child would come out of this alive and well. He asked that he would as well, but above all that they would survive what was to come.

* * *

Shara woke, somehow feeling odd about thinking of herself as 'Shara'. She'd been pretending to be Katia for long enough now that it was starting to grow on her and her own name was feeling a bit... foreign. That wasn't the only thing that was on her mind though.

She reached down and put her hand over her womb, thinking about the tiny new life that was within. The baby would be the heir to her father's kingdom if it was a boy since Shara was an only child. Shara's mother Hylea was her father's second wife, and his first wife had been barren until she died. Hylea had been Shara's age when she'd married her much older father, but even so, it was a few years before Shara had been born.

Still, her parents were happily married despite the age difference. She adored him and he doted on her, and both did both to her. She'd had a good childhood and she wanted to give the same to her child. She just didn't know how that was possible. Her father's castle was about to be conquered and the conquering king had a vendetta against her husband.

She rolled this around in her head for several minutes before she realized that she was laying across Kalus's chest using it as a pillow and he had his arm around her. She hesitated for a moment, then realized that he was still asleep.

He wouldn't know.

It was comfortable, and he wouldn't know.

She could stay like that, right?

It was comfortable and the air was cold while he was warm. He was her child's father even if he was the enemy, so it was okay, right? The enemy's baby was in her womb, but she couldn't imagine thinking of any child of hers as an enemy. Besides Kalus was a good man and almost certainly would be a good father. Not for the first time, she wished that he wasn't her own father's enemy. He was a good man despite everything that had happened. If only he wasn't the enemy, then she could be happy with him.

If only.

Round and round her brain went until the other two started to stir. She pretended to be asleep until Kalus gave her a gentle shake. She acted startled, and then hastily rolled away from him. She immediately missed the contact and warmth, but of course she wouldn't admit it. Kalus got up and dressed fully at once. Not knowing what else to do, she followed his lead. It was still barely light outside and she knew from experience that the camp wouldn't break until after breakfast.

Lyra followed their lead and he led them out of the tent into the bleak morning air. It was a dreary morning with overcast clouds and the vague feeling of rain in the air. It wasn't actually raining, but it felt like it had drizzled recently. Kyselius was sitting close to the tent with the six other members of Kalus's council.

They all looked grim.

"What's the butcher's bill?" Kalus asked.

His herald swallowed. "Total for the whole army, almost six thousand dead."

Lyra gasped.

Shara felt her jaw drop.

"A whole legion." Kalus closed his eyes, hung his head slightly, and shook it slowly. "How?"

"We estimate that they had five thousand men in their main force, or thereabouts." Kyselius replied. "They hit the vanguard and rearguard first, using coordinated archers to take out the sentries on duty. We think they might've used a mage or two to help keep things stealthy, but we aren't sure. Then they went tent-to-tent slitting throats. The other legions didn't have our security and were losing men fast before anyone realized what was going on. Once the alarm was raised, they started slaughtering in earnest."

"And how about our men?"

"About fifty all told." Titus replied. "Almost all from the four centuries that helped you defend the king's tent. One of our men sounded the alarm before they reached our legion, and the men were sleeping lightly so they were roused almost at once."

"What does that mean for the army?" Lyra asked.

"We started with an army of thirty thousand." Kalus replied. "Five commanders each in charge of one legion of six thousand men. That number has been slowly whittled down over the long campaign, but we still had approximately eighteen thousand men until last night."

"Most of the early losses were from before Kalus started planning battles." The scoutmaster added. "Our legion has taken the fewest losses by far thanks to the commander's rigorous training regimen and tactical acumen; we're still five thousand strong."

"That's forty percent of the remaining army." Shara breathed.

"After last night, yes." Kalus nodded heavily.

"We lost a third of the army last night for nothing, and the morale is showing it." Kyselius said. "The men are either despairing or livid."

"They have a right to be; I should've pushed harder with the king." Her husband swallowed hard and sat down. He had his fist and jaw clenched as he looked out over the camp. He swallowed hard again and seemed to be blinking a bit more than usual. He looked up to heaven and Shara could see his lips moving, but couldn't hear any words.

It looked like he was praying.

"So, what happens now?" Lyra asked.

"We bury the dead, eat, and march out of the forest before dark." Kalus replied.

The other members of his council all exchanged significant glances.

"What?" Kalus asked.

"Last night, the king ordered the dead stripped of their gear and then the bodies left behind." Kyselius said with rage in his eyes. "Our dead aren't to be buried; he wants us to leave them to rot and be out of the forest before lunch."

"That--" Kalus stopped, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath before continuing. "Tell me our men at least were buried."

"Most of them were before the king ordered the burials stopped." Kyselius replied. There's still a few that died around the king's tent that he wouldn't let us take; he ordered our centurions to leave them."

"How many?" Kalus asked.

"A half dozen or so are left; all from the four centuries that saved the king's life." Titus said bitterly.

"Tell me exactly what the king's orders were." Kalus said.

"He said that our soldiers weren't to waste time burying the dead." Kyselius replied. "He was quite specific."

"Gentlemen, we technically aren't soldiers according to the king." Kalus said after several seconds. "He has repeatedly said that commanders aren't to be considered with the common soldier."

Shara had a guess where he was going, and couldn't help but feel her heart swell slightly at his dedication to his men. It was truly admirable. Regardless of how she felt about the enemy invading her country, she couldn't deny that Kalus's men were different. They were honorable men who'd given their lives in battle.

Her father had always valued honor and loyalty so he had drilled both into her. She thought the men who'd died the previous night were both honorable and loyal to Kalus, and thus they should be treated with dignity, even though they were the enemy.

It was the honorable thing to do.

It was the right thing to do.

It's what her father would do.

Kalus looked around at them, visibly shaken and upset at the news. "Those were good men who gave the last full measure of devotion to defend their king. The least we can do for our honored dead is give them a proper burial. I will stay behind with a shovel until the deed is done."

"And I." Titus nodded.

"And I." The scoutmaster agreed, with Kyselius echoing him after that, and the rest moments later.

"I know how to use a shovel, and I'm not a soldier either." Lyra said after Kalus's council had finished agreeing to his plan.

"We would not ask a lady to help with this task." Titus shook his head.

Lyra looked like she wanted to say more, but didn't get the chance.

"You didn't ask her." Shara felt her mouth speak before she realized she was going to say anything. "We volunteered." Then she looked down sheepishly. "Though, I'm afraid I've never used a shovel before."

Everyone stared at her.

* * *

Lyra stared at Katia, not quite believing what she'd just heard. The former handmaiden's arms were slender and her hands looked like they had never done a hard day's work in her life. She also didn't like 'the enemy' as she often called them, and yet she was volunteering to bury their dead.