A Secret Man of Blood

Chapter Twenty-Six

Squad sprints through the woods, leaves falling like faint meteors as the battle rages around, the sun's beam stroking slowly along the ground and glinting on the helms of soldiers. A lot of people are dying in these woods, which are in full bridal bloom, as the Night Elves try to sneak through a force which can sweep west to the Tyrian capital.

As a spectre, Squad holds the equivalent rank of a commander in the Samarian Army and so has been made a high-ranking officer in a legion. They're to take a hill and have been fighting for it for two hours. While the forest is clothed with life, death is all around: spindly bushes fleshed with red, the threadbare beauty of dying trees and something long gone that has preserved a part of itself like the tender, clear echo of a great sound that has faded away. No one knows what advantage this hill will gain but they're killing for it.

One of Squad's fighters is smashed to the ground by a burly enemy, then finished with a strike in the head, the opponent's gaze locked on Squad like the horns of a bull. Charging, he grapples Squad before the spectre can strike, their powerful frames throwing them to the deck. Crazed, burning eyes focus on Squad, three concussive punches slamming his head into the ground.

There's a sickly crunch and the enemy's face is swathed in pain, crumbling over onto Squad's chest, the spectre pushing him off to gain his feet. Sig pulls his axe out of the man's side and winks at Squad smugly.

"So much for us being able to circle around the hill to get at their weak side," Squad complains.

Sig shakes his head morosely. "Each time I'm wrong the world makes a little less sense."

"Any other bright ideas?" Squad asks. "Go wild...but then go calm again, because we have to be realistic."

"Do you know what I'd do if I was in your shoes?" Sig asks.

"You'd run away with my shoes."

"Yeah!" Sig giggles.

The foot of the hill is harrowed with trenches, its head sticking up out of the trees and giving a view of everything that's going on for miles. Tal Riose gestures to Indigo, who waves a hand towards the closest trenches, where a molten waterfall drips where he indicates: the screams and scuttling of the defenders catch everyone around in a net of sound, merciless fire gushing through their defences and forcing them up into Tal Riose's charge.

Bright, rosy and triumphant, she lifts her sword and signals the charge, her heavy infantry smashing into the frantic defenders and cutting them down in an unearthly frenzy. Tal Riose signals to Anya's cavalry.

The cavalry charges uphill and plumes of flame stretch into the unfathomable sky, crossing its face with patches of colour. At the top a few defenders notice the impending attack and rally enough forces to prevent an instant breaking of their spine, but Anya's cavalry is an elite Samarian unit and, when their charge is slowed, they continue fighting on. Anya cuts down two attackers with quick thrusts of her sword, takes an arrow in the shoulder, which bounces off, and magically throws back several attackers attempting to cut down her horse.

Since taking impromptu command of the cavalry a few battles before, when the commander was killed in a magical barrage, Anya has proven to be a skilled military mind, capturing one enemy general and killing another; still, the overall war situation heavily favours the Night Elves, as all Anya and Tal Riose's victories have come against central army group, but the enemy's north and south army groups are pressing on, trying to outflank the Samarian forces and catch them in a pincer movement.

Fire strains like a root at the base of the hill, the infantry climbing the hillside wearing smoke like a grave and awkward mask. They gain the peak and slam into enemy forces, which are pushed back by Anya's cavalry. Knocked from her horse, she deflects an attack, severing her opponent's hand and deftly slitting his throat; an arrow whistles through the air and she hits the deck, the projectile passing straight through where her head was. Squad throws a sword into the archer's chest and she dies spouting blood.