Artemis and Caspian: The Spy

Chapter Forty Three

Dagaric was woken by a loud boom. Scrambling to get out of bed, he grabbed a sword and ran out into the camp clearing. It'd been three days without Cerberus at the front line and the Guilamontian army was being badly beaten. Now with the permission to fire at will, the Heliatrian soldiers with their inhuman precision were battering the general's camp. It took the whole army most of the night a few days prior to move the entire camp back out of range, but by the looks of this morning's surprise, it seemed the effort was in vain. Sitting pretty at the mouth of his camp was another steel ball with the remains of a few tents sticking out from underneath. From experience, Dagaric knew this was a warning shot, more were coming. If the remaining soldiers wanted a shot at survival, they would need to prepare for an attack on foot. Waiting like sitting ducks would get them all killed. Turning back to face the soldiers tripping out into the sunlight, Dagaric screamed against the whirring of catapults and distant shouts to make himself heard.

"Everyone out on the battlefield now! The catapults are-" Before he could finish the sentence the trademark sound of the ball whizzing through the air ripped through the camp claiming several victims as it crashed against the earth on the north side of camp. Dagaric violently coughed as a dust cloud blew through the air, sucking the oxygen out of his lungs. Ignoring the water clouding his vision, he forced his voice out of his body, raising the sword.

"Charge!"

The soldiers, recovering fast, ran past him towards the battlefield now a half mile further away. Exhausted by the time they got there an army of well-rested enemy soldiers were there to greet them. Dagaric pushed his way to the front of the mass and stopped short at the wall of bodies facing his army. Dear gods. Kendra and her warriors had just smoked the Guilamontians out like badgers from a hunting hole and they'd fallen for it. Nothing could help them now.

The general could feel himself turn the hilt of his sword sharply in his hand. What his army lacked in numbers they made up for in skill. He just hoped that was enough to keep them alive. The brief tense silence between the two forces was short-lived when Dagaric noticed the smug smile plastered across a Calatinian general's face, like he'd already won some sort of sick victory. Fueling the boiling rage already stewing in the pit of his stomach, Dagaric raised his sword once again to summon his great army.

"Attack!"

Before Calatan's general could react, Dagaric claimed the satisfaction of running him through, smiling as the grin faded from his enemy's face. The second the general's body hit the floor, chaos erupted around him. Exhausted Guilamontian soldiers threw themselves at the bigger enemy with screams and clanging swords. Dagaric could hear the feet of his people skid across the hard ground as they tried their best to fight on, bearing the bulkier weight of their opponents. Breathing heavily the general whirled around to face another soldier who came down with a long spear. He expertly defended his advance by stopping the inferior wooden weapon with a wily hit from the edge of his sword. His enemy only had the time to look surprised by his speed for a second before Dagaric impaled him with one go, shoving him off with his boot. Behind that soldier was another one who put up an even tougher fight and behind her, another one.

It wasn't long before the general's pile of bodies was big enough to start bragging over but it came at a cost. Nearly out of breath, dehydrated and lightheaded Dagaric could feel his energy slipping away with every second. Taking a moment to hide on the outskirts of the fight, he lazily dragged a hand over his mouth to wipe the blood caking on his chin. He saw his army fighting valiantly, impressively against the bigger foe but each of them looked like he did. Worse for wear. It hadn't been an easy three days and without their Lord, it was only bound to get worse.

Scattered in between the ash and rubble beneath boots scraping for dominance against the ground were the bodies of his warriors, fallen from exhaustion, released from duty. Dagaric wasn't sure how much more of this the army could take. Half of them were gone. How much longer before the rest perished? He shook his head violently and squeezed the hilt of his sword, bracing himself for the worse. Damn his Lord to the gods. If he wanted to get angry then so be it, the general's decision was made and he'd accept the consequences. He wouldn't lose another soul to the moon goddess. He wouldn't lose another friend.