Artemis and Caspian: The Spy

Chapter Nineteen

It was three months of bloodshed with grueling periods of stalemate stuck in between. The days blurred together for the Lord and Lady of Calatan. To all in the Guilamontian camp, it was common knowledge now that Lord Cerberus was more than a bit on edge. Perhaps on the brink of a meltdown? That point had yet to be determined. He was struggling to find a way to end the stalemate without losing half his army to those damn machines. Until he could come up with something useful, attempting an attack would be near fatal.

Gaping holes in the earth littered the once beautiful field that stretched beyond the castle's newly built wall. Each was marked as a graveyard for soldiers on both sides who had died where they stood. Only a few were barren of any life, a bleak hole in the land that would serve as a reminder of the war for many years to come. The wall too was showing signs of an early retirement. Scratches of arrows, swords, hooks and every manner of weapon desperate to claw their way up her stony exterior scarred the outside like a prisoner marking down his days until freedom. Heliatra's catapults still lined the castle above the wall, each holding well under the demands of their makers like metal, indestructible soldiers devoid of souls.

Lady Kendra nestled herself between two of them and waited. It was dead quiet outside. Too quiet. The Guilamontian army hadn't attacked in two days and the stress was starting to get to her. She had half a mind to cross no man's land and take care of Lord Cerberus herself but her sense knew better than that. Calatan was winning at a heavy price. The sounds of birds washing their delicate feathers in the morning dew were replaced by the sounds of machinery whirring in the bowels of the catapults that now surrounded her like old unwanted friends. Lady Kendra hated that the only thing she could hear was every tick of their fine handiwork winding themselves up again for an attack. Calatan was never this quiet.

Lord Terrowin watched from a distance, his arms crossed pensively one over the other. His right arm hung loosely in a sling, a nice reminder of the run in he had with a Guilamontain general. He smirked. At least it was a general who had lost. However, it meant he was out of the fight which made him uncharacteristically frustrated. As much as he hated to admit it, the feeling of sitting around and doing nothing bothered him just as much as it did Lady Kendra. He had taken up a job as an assistant medic to occupy his time.

He admired how the rising sun created a soft glow around his wife's hair, who was already up at the crack of dawn and dressed in her armor like she was every day to wait for Lord Cerberus's attack. Oranges and yellows danced along her strands of black hair lighting it up in a way that looked angelic to her admiring husband. It was one of the only times she looked somewhat peaceful to him but it was also unnerving to see her so focused.

Lord Terrowin observed the grey clouds peaking their heads up along the far horizon. Rain, fantastic. He kept a few bitter thoughts to himself as he watched the storm clouds dance along the border of his realm. The rain would make this fight all that much harder. He saw Lady Kendra raise her eyes too and sigh, the first sound he had heard out of her all morning. He knew she was thinking the same thing. More defeated than he was worried, Lord Terrowin paced back into the hallway, begrudgingly making his way down to the infirmary.

...

Lord Cerberus sat in utter silence, jabbing a badly wounded stick repeatedly into a dying fire. Red and orange ember sparks struck from the carcass of the flames, spitting out onto the dirt ground and going out with a pop. The stick began to burn on the end, complaining loudly with crackling noises of its own. As bits flew off, the fire desperately tried to hold onto its life, lighting up again, attempting to wrap its tendrils around the stick, its belly aglow like a great dragon.

The struggle reflected itself on the walls of Lord Cerberus's tent. They flickered with the shadows of the fire. Lining them were the heads of various animals staring back at the Lord with lifeless eyes. Trophies for him to enjoy. A bear, in particular, caught his attention. Its vanquished head with mouth agape was supposed to remind the Lord of his strength and stroke his ego, but all it was doing at the present moment was reminding him that his overwhelming potential as a warlord and leader was being wasted and for what? His recent string of defeats was hitting a nerve. The Lord twisted his stick farther into the fire.