"Congratulations, Rudhor," said Urnyras Jael, somehow frowning.
"Thank you, my Lady," he said. "You well know I always did and will respect you as a senior."
"You are the Commander now," Urnyras shrugged. "I have done nothing to be respected. In fact, I have done disrespectful things that ended up in a demotion. Enjoy your position. I am under your command now." she bowed her head.
"Since I am now the Commander, I suppose I can appoint you as my Advisor, can I not?" he rubbed his beard.
"I suppose you can," Urnyras Jael said, she did not look or feel one bit enthusiastic.
"So it is done," he smiled. "I will do the paperwork. I think Eoria will not oppose that."
"She is opposing everything, nowadays," she grunted. "I'd not be over-confident. That would be my first advise to you, actually."
Rudhor smiled again.
...
The army, on its way, witnessed many massacres - the fall of Nin Rivien, the betrayal of Lystendalh and Umbrys.
Darcovìl forces were approaching Ghaow territory more and more every day, with a massive onthox army going by their side through the open plains. They were trying to keep a reasonable distance where they both will be safe from being spotted, and they will be able to launch an assault whenever they want. Eoria realized that the Empire armies were slower than the onthox, and the enemy was opening the distance.
By the time the onthox reached Rhen Valley, the Valley that eventually leads to the Inner Lakes where Ghaow is located in, the Empire Armies still had at least two days to make it near Rhen Valley. Pythe Teleane was aware that the distance was getting bigger and bigger everyday, so he assigned Darcovìl to slow down the onthox within the Valley until the Empire armies catch up.
"You should encourage Eoria to split," Urnyras Jael said to Rudhor, Fanrach was also with them. "I've heard that N'ya is planning to send in reinforcements to Ghaow and to us, but we cannot wait for reinforcements. We have to keep them busy before they reach Ghaow. Krischnokh trusts us."
"We will not fail, I believe," Rudhor said, with self-confidence.
Urnyras Jael turned to Fanrach. Her face expression was somehow a mixture of seriousness -and desperation.
"I do not want Eoria think that I am not up to that duty," Urnyras said, as if she was holding it for too long. "I do not want to disappoint N'ya City any further, and the trust they have granted us. We should take the woods and cut their path, even it causes our lives. Do you understand, Fanrach?"
"I do, my lady," Fanrach said.
"Rudhor," said Urnyras Jael. "Tell Eoria that she should immediately move her forces south as soon as possible. You should assemble your forces to track the enemy down. We will meet at Rhen Valley, southern cove; I think they will not be able to go any further. Eoria will not oppose to that idea."
"How do you know?" Rudhor raised an eyebrow.
"I know her," she said. "She will like it. This is what we should do. She is well aware of it."
"Fanrach," said Rudhor. "Tell Eoria I want an audience as soon as possible regarding that topic."
"As you wish, Commander," he said, leaving the tent.
...
Rudhor and Eoria agreed on the said topic, just like Urnyras Jael predicted. The forces were relocated and Eoria left for Rhen Valley immediately from the woods surrounding it, when Rudhor and Urnyras Jael led the forces further south, to establish a front base for the planned ambush. This way, they thought, they could establish an information bridge between Ghaow, Empire Armies and Darcovìl.
"I need you to sneak into Ghaow," said Rudhor to Urnyras Jael. "You, aside your previous Commander role, are one of the eldest of Intelligence Corps."
"As you command," Urnyras Jael nodded.
"See if you can talk to Ottho Droca and get information regarding their defenses," said Rudhor. "I will send Fanrach to the Empire Armies to measure the distance they have. Oh, and - Fanrach is relocated to the Ranger Division, by Eoria's request. Thought you'd want to know."
"When should I leave?" she asked, ignoring the news about Fanrach.
"Immediately," he replied. "Fetch one of the steeds from the stablemaster, it will be faster."
"Consider it done," she nodded. "I will be back in two days at most."
She did as she was told, she left the Valley, and reached Ghaow in half a day.
...
Ghaow. It is a beautiful city located on the northeastern coast of a lake, slightly bigger than the city itself. The townsfolk are mainly miners and merchants who travel south and east, but it also welcomes many of the merchants and traders at the region, since it is at the very road between Dwese and Orbh. You can come across any of the races present and loyal to the Empire: be it fylla, humans, kheronae or dwarves. Even some of the Empire-alligned siblion live there, yet too few.
Urnyras Jael asked an audience with Ottho Droca, who managed to turn the city into a stronghold in no time. The entire city was converted into militia with men, women, elders and even children. Everyone, but everyone was armed and ready to fight.
"Ottho Droca," said Urnyras Jael in Solian language, to the strong-looking, handsome yet anxious man. "It has been a while, has it not?"
"Indeed, Raven," he replied. "What news from North?"
"Nin Rivien fell, so did Fortosoweth," said Urnyras Jael. "Dwese is almost entirely ruined but the Empire still keep the city. Dytheria, we have no connection. I am here to return the news of your current conditions, the enemy will be here in no time. You will need to hold on to your lines until the reinforcements arrive."
"I will be frank, Jael," said Ottho, sighing. "I assume we will be crushed, because we were not expecting it to be that swift - eventhough we now are aware that Fortosoweth defense won us so much time. Without the immediate help of the Empire army, Ghaow will fall - in hours. Since it is summertime, most of our young have gone to work in Akaramedia. We cannot reach them, all the messengers we have sent seems to be somehow prevented. We will not be fighting to win. We will be fighting to achieve a glorious death, defending our homes. That is all we will cling onto."
"This pessimism and desperation will not grant you a glorious death, but a massacre," she said. "There is no glory in death - none. You should fight to win. You should believe in it."
"I am a war veteran, Jael, for a human at least," Ottho smiled. "I have been in many, many battles; been in many dire situations and saved my life and my collegues', but this is something else. Our intelligence report indicate that the army is almost as populated as Ghaow's winter population. This, in mind, also makes me consider the fact that the enemy is full of vengeance, hatred. They are trained well. Very well. You know it."
"I do, but-"
"Let Darcovìl know that we will be waiting for reinforcements, but we do not hope to get any," he interrupted. "There is nothing else I can tell you about it."
Urnyras did not say another word. She looked at Ottho, touched his shoulder and left the place shortly after.
...
When Urnyras Jael returned to Darcovìl Headquarters, Eoria was not pleased with what she had heard.
"That is not acceptable," said Eoria. "We are not letting them to perish, we can't! Ghaow can be protected. Empire army is slow and heavily armored, but we are trained for this very moment! We can cut their path, slow down and get more time for the army to reach Ghaow in time!"
"If you could have seen the city, you wouldn't be that hopeful," Urnyras Jael sighed. "Their defenses consist of almost only militia. There are a few local soldiers, but that is not even one sixth of the entire defence. No ranged infantry, no cavalry, no siege weapons, no nothing. If the Empire Army can't make it in time, I guess Ottho is quite right - they will perish in hours."
"Fanrach returned shortly, Urnyras," Rudhor said. "The Empire Armies are about half a day far from us. Considering that the onthox will reach Ghaow about the same time, if Ghaow manages to stand for a day, the King might help them."
"Impossible," said Urnyras Jael. "It is not easy to calculate their exact time of arrival, that can't go any further than an approximation. For the onthox, on the other hand - they do not rest, hardly eat and drink. They can make it there shorter, and the Empire Army can arrive here later."
"So, what do you offer?" asked Eoria.
"Nothing," Urnyras Jael shrugged. "Absolutely nothing. You know I will follow you. But I do not believe in it. It appears to me that both Ghaow and Darcovìl will be perished without the Empire. That's all I have to say."
...
When the onthox army arrived at the northern gates of Ghaow, it was rainy - just like many of the sieges they've had done on the Mainland. Their God, Zethor, is known as the God of Rain; and he used it for the good of its 'people', the onthox, thugs, Dytherian humans, Dol'sharen zealots; many, many more.
Darcovìl made it into Ghaow about the same time, shortly after the onthox arrived and the siege begun.
"Here we go," said Eoria, under the rain, to her rangers and assassins. "This is the day we will serve N'ya and the Empire with our steel and blood. This is the moment we will die for the sake of others to survive. This is not a speech to hearten you, my friends, but a speech of goodbye in case we do not survive."
"Fear not, for we are to be feared," she yelled. "Fight to the last man standing. We will not surrender, and will take a bunch of these rotten fleshbags with us to Hente! Attack!"
...
"A young girl, like you, should not meddle in those grown-up matters," Dyrun said. "Why would you worry about things like that?"
"Because I want to know," she said. "I want to know what will happen to me after I'm dead."
"But why?" Dyrun said. "You will have a long, beautiful and peaceful life; why would you want to know what happens after death? Are you scared?"
"No," she shook her head. "I am not scared. Not about my death."
"But whose?" Dyrun carrassed her hair.
"My loved ones," she frowned. "I don't want to see them die before me."
"You cannot prevent it, my girl," Dyrun said. "More or less, all of us will witness the death of our loved ones. Our friends. Comrades. We have to be strong."
...
She came to her senses with a dreadful mace smash she hardly (and instinctually) could block with her daggers over her chest, but she could not prevent it hitting anyway. She fell down. All the sounds came back to her, battlecries, cries of pain. Screaming. Agony was in the air. She looked above as the time slowed down drastically. She could see a gray-black sky, with smoke and shadow. She saw one huge onthox approaching her, with his huge mace hanging over his head, ready to smash her brain out.
That was, pretty much, the last scene she remembered.
...
She woke up to ash, smoke and the unbearable smell of burnt flesh. There were no voices. She've felt something very heavy on her body. She managed to look down. It was a body. A fyllian body, presumably a dead fyllian body. She slowly pushed it away, without looking at him. She realized that the onthox was somehow killed by him before he could even swing his mace. An unknown lifesaver, she thought. She kissed dead fylla's forehead. The face was entirely disfigured and smashed, and he was missing one arm and his legs, as if they were torn apart. The blood was almost dry.
She somehow felt something familiar about this fylla. She did not dare to think further, she was so sure it was a friend, at worst.
She tried to stand up on her feet, getting support from her left arm - when she tried it, she screamed in pain. Apparently now, she had a broken arm. She couldn't avoid two teardrops.
"Why?" she asked to herself.
She looked around for the first time. Ranger corpses, assassin corpses, onthox corpses and various body parts besides these - it resembled a butcher - a slaughterhouse for stable animals. The grass was not green anymore; it was a filthy mixture of red and black. It smelled so bad that Urnyras eventually felt dizzier. She realized that she had to go into the city to see if she could do anything.
...
The city was not there anymore, there wasn't one single standing building. She saw some Royal Empire soldiers from the distance and started to walk towards that direction, then she reached to a newly-made tent.
She stopped by half of the body of a young boy, the dreadful expression on his face, his small hands holding a shortsword even after death. There were thousands like him. Tens of thousands. After literally crawling for half an hour around the ruined streets of Ghaow, she saw two Royal Guards. She tried to talk, but she realized her voice was entirely gone now. She held her hand in front, her legs started to shake and she somehow managed to make a grunting sound. The guards realized her, immediately ran towards her and helped her up.
"Urnyras Jael, N'ya Intelligence Corps," she said to a guard. "I need m-medical.. assist-tance. I also need t-to update... t-the King.."
...
The next thing she has seen was the sight of the medicine tent's ceiling. Her arm was bandaged, her armor partially cut open, apparently for medics to mend the wounds. She lied still for sometime, then she slowly stood up.
Other than the fact she broke her arm, she was lucky to have the rest of her body in one piece. Remembering the scene back on the battlefield, she was so sure that she was among the luckiest. Maybe she was 'the luckiest'. She couldn't tell.
Resting after two days without even leaving the bed, the stench of the corpses eventually embraced the entire city. She had learned that the Empire Army somehow made it earlier to Ghaow then expected - but too little too late, apparently. By the time they arrived, the onthox had invaded more than half of the city, making their way to the other parts, slaying everyone mercilessly.
She got out of the medical facility. She still had a limp and a cracked bone on her right leg, she was leaning on a wooden stick to stroll around. She approached to four chattering footmen she saw by the rabbles of old town hall.
"I am looking for the King's marqueé," she asked to them weakly.
"Over there, behind the governor's residence," one of the footmen said, pointing towards another pile of wood, cement and iron.
She slowly left them, walking around the 'governor's residence' to reach the said tent. It was a big, crimson tent with serpent figures on it. She stopped in front of the entrance and gazed towards two Elite Royal Guards in front of it.
"I want audience with the King," she said.
"Who are you?" one of them asked, bluntly.
"Urnyras Jael, of N'yaian Intelligence Corps, I need to talk to the King," she repeated.
Royal Guards swiftly stepped aside for her to walk through.
...
Inside the tent, it was more crowded that Urnyras expected it to be. There was the King and four humans and a kheron around the round table inside. One of the men was talking in a fierce manner about what to do next.
"You know my stance, my King, I still support that we should immediately leave for Orbh City, for we have seen how slow we advance. We should at least send our cavalry first. Better than nothing. I also concur about a stronger intelligence web, now that we lack it; inevitably."
Pythe held his chin, peering at a blood-stained paper on the table thoughtfully. He did not respond.
"Quarlyn," said the kheron, with his deep voice and kherae accent, "I understand your emotional exhaustion, but even if we were a day faster that would not prevent a war here. You are aware of it. Splitting the army into sections and seperating them will not benefit us. I doubt Dytherian Army will attack to Orbh right away, before they devour all other smaller cities first. If only those rumors about a possible rebellion in Kith'lath come true, than we should decide to split the Army. Otherwise I will stick to my idea as well."
"These men died brutally," the man whose name was supposedly Quarlyn hammered the table with his fist. "Brutally! Like in Waesandra! L'isain, Iogard Yjes! All those cities suffered ultimate massacre until the last one died. Dwese was almost invaded. Lystendalh was purged down. Nin Rivien, needless to say, my liege, you witnessed it with your own eyes! Now Ghaow. Costed us a dear patriot, a hero; along with the entire city. The ones somehow surviving are cripples who are thought to be dead, or waiting to die in the medical facility. We don't even need a medical facility anymore, because we do not have any injured. Everyone dies. They only devour. They vanquish. We have to strike back instead of sticking to template military tactics. This won't work. We shouldn't be meddling here. Let us send the cavalries and rangers -Lyca'nae knows if we have any left- and let us move the infantry as fast as possible towards Orbh. That is the only way!"
"I will have to agree with Quarlyn, if you allow me, my King," said a mid-aged yet handsome knight. "I volunteer, along with my Knighthood, to take the lead of the army as a forward force. I suppose if we could merge your cavaliers with Lyrant Knighthood, we could proceed faster."
"Granted," said Pythe. "We should split the army then."
Everyone around the table bowed their heads once, before turning back to their conversation. Urnyras Jael kept watching the discussion silently, at the edge of the marqueé, near the entrance with patience.
"Krischnokh Ilinarth required a detailed report on the survivors of N'yaian forces," asked the kheron.
"I know," said Pythe. "So I've heard. Can you please check the reports if they are accurate, preferably now?" He pushed a paper towards the kheron.
"Let's see," he peered down to the reports. "Eoria Ilinarth managed to survive with twenty-five rangers of her own Division. Rudhor of the Intelligence Corps, dead. Hrm..." He started reading it silently. Urnyras Jael could not believe what she just heard - Rudhor? Dead? What about the leader of the Intelligence Corps now, what would happen to them without a leader at a time like this?
"Well, apparently there is no need for a leader for N'yaian Intelligence Corps anymore, my King," said the kheron, as if he has heard Urnyras Jael's thoughts. "Apparently there are no survivors. Only that female at the medical facility, what was her name, let me see-"
"Urnyras Jael," she said, revealing herself. "My name is Urnyras Jael."
Kheron folded the report and bowed his head in sorrow, as Urnyras Jael stepped forward.
"Noone survived?"
Kheron shook his head in sorrow. The pain he had could be read from his eyes, just like the sympathy he have felt towards her at that very moment.
"I understand." she headed back towards the entrance of the tent. Then, she felt a warm hand on her shoulder.
"Let's take a walk, shall we?" said Pythe, weakly smiling.
...
They walked slowly towards the burnt down Temple of Fire. Pythe aided Urnyras Jael while doing so, holding her waist and arm. Eventually, he helped sitting on a broken wooden bench.
"I miss Syera, my King," said Urnyras Jael, calmly. "The plains and shores of Syera. I miss them dearly, I do not want to be here. Forgive my weakness."
"I know you don't, Urnyras," said Pythe. "None of us want to battle. None of us want to die, or to kill. None of us want to be reputed as barbarians in the tomes of history. But we are fighting to survive. You are fighting to survive. Fanrach fought to survive, Urnyras. For you to survive, for his people. He is the one to save you from certain death, as long as I have been informed."
"I do not understand," she said.
"Witnesses," he said. "They have seen you collapsing, shortly before Fanrach blocking a certain death blow. He died protecting you. His body was found disfigured, his legs and left arm ripped apart."
"Was he-" she could say, before she looked up at the sky, letting the tears flow inside instead.
"I am sorry for your loss," he said. "He will be dearly missed."
"May the Demi-god grant us the victory, my King," she said. "Then their spirits may rest in peace."
"You are the only survivor of what your Corps had, Jael," he said. "Eoria left for N'ya to inform them of the fall of Ghaow and to alert them. She'll be happy to hear you are fine."
"I wish to be leaving soon, too," she said. "I can't linger."
"A free spirit like you," said Pythe. "Cannot be held captive in a ruined city. However, let us wait until your arm heals. But I have different plans for you, after you are healed."
"As you wish, my King," said Urnyras; directly looking at him.
"Thank yourself, my sweet Jael," said the King. "I was desperate, you see. We have lost Ottho Droca, we have lost many good patriots that day. You, among all these, returned to us. You are the living form of hope now."
Urnyras Jael managed to feel slightly better.
"You are Urnyras Jael, fyllian light," he said. "You are the tiny sparkle of hope arose from this rabble. You are the key to these chains in my sorrowful heart, everytime I look at my ruined Homeland. You give me freedom. You are my freedom."
He stopped for a while, kneeled in front of her and kissed her forehead, before leaving her alone to think.
