Blood and Winter

Chapter 5: A Dark Alliance

Chapter 5

He road back and forth until the soldiers finally quieted down; and then he released, with all the power in his throat and lungs, so loud the other army knew it was it coming in fear, “FIRE!” ………….The fighting was fierce, the fiercest Lon had ever seen. His men fought with fire in their eyes, and pride in their heart. Men from both sides were lying in the field, bleeding to death slowly, their death slowed down by the chill wind in this hard winter. The stench of steel mingled with blood and sweat was in the nose of all the warriors on the field. Lon and Alys fought to and fro at the front of the line, helping their men keep the enemy back. The Northern commanders saw the battle was slowly slipping between their fingers, but the North was known for their trickery, and the tricks were yet to come.

A powerful swing came flying towards Lon, but he parried it with skill. A flick of his wrist knocked the man’s weapon away, and a blade to the stomach ended him. Lon had lost track of the number of men whose lives he had ended, but it was many. Everywhere he went, bodies were left behind. The countless hours of training done after his father was killed had found their use. However, no matter how well he fought, the small wounds were piling up. A stab to his thigh would have ended him if the attacker had not tripped over a fallen comrade. It still met its target, but barely. A scratch to the forehead bloodied his vision. The men later spoke of him, from both armies. A powerful man drove his enemies to their knees, easily spotted by the blood covered scar that ran down the length of his face.

Taking a moment to rest at the rear of the action, Lon observed the battle. Things were going well. Yet something was not right. By now the Northern Alliance generals should have realized that retreat is their only option, yet they stood their ground.

“Something is wrong…” Lon thought to himself, and at that moment he spotted a scout running through the woods west of the battlefield towards him. The scout was bloody, and ran as if he had done so for hours. He emerged from the woods, a slight smile on his face thinking he had made it home; at that moment a large, Krog-made arrow burst from his chest, bringing the man to his knees and draining the life from his face.

“A Krog attack at this time? It cannot be!” raged the thoughts in his mind, until a small insidious idea slowly grew in his head, Lon thought “Unless they….” and he slowly turned to the location of the Northern generals. Slowly walking in from behind them was a Krog. Not a krog ready to attack, not sneaking up to kill them, but walking towards them.

“They have aligned themselves with the Krog!” the thought burst into Lon’s mind with all the power of a spear, and for a split second, he did not know what to do. The Krog ambush would very soon emerge from the forest, and annihilate his western flank. Then, as he had done in the many battles before this one, he calmed himself, to where hardly an emotion could be felt.

“Bring forth the ballistae!” Lon yelled, and the yell continued as the line of messages repeated it to the rear of the battle. At his command, twenty ballistae rolled forward. They were large stationary machines that could launch projectiles far distances. Lon’s ammunition of choice was ballista arrows, arrows the size of a man.

“Prepare to fire towards the woods men!” Lon commanded. The men did not know why, they saw no enemy in the woods. Their friends and brothers were dying in front of them, yet they were told to fire towards the woods. They did not hesitate. They trusted their commander, not due to rank, but because the man he was. Bolts were drawn back and arrows placed.  Seconds passed, and nothing was seen. Lon stared, transfixed on the woods. A slight movement was seen and the command followed; “FIRE!”

Bolts were released and arrows went flying. They sliced through the air heading towards the forest. A moment before they landed, the Krog charge broke through the trees. There were dozens, all ready for blood. It was not the blood they were hoping for, that they would receive. As soon as they hit the plains, massive arrows hit home. Krog that were hit directly were split into pieces, others knocked back by the force. The men were firing the artillery as fast as they could, and it was to great effect. By the time the bloody and battered Krogs reached the line of the southern men, the men knew it was coming.

The fighting continued for several more hours, but the southern army prevailed. Quickly after the Krog ambush was routed by Lon’s ballistae, the North began their retreat. The Krogs kept fighting, but were defeated as well. The wounded were tended to, and the dead buried. The people were not quite safe yet. There were still small parties of Krog wandering the woods, so Lon led one party to find and kill them, and Alys led the other.   

The searched had started several hours ago, and they had no luck so far. Alys and the two men worked their way through the forest, following several sets of tracks.

“Pay attention men, don’t lose focus” Alys murmured.

They walked into a small narrow canyon following the tracks. Then without warning, the tracks stopped.  The two soldiers with Alys one second were fine, and then the next dropped by arrows.  Before she had time to even think of an ambush, Alys was knocked off of her horse. Drawing her blade quickly, she struck out at her attacker and felt her blade find flesh. The next Krog ran up and knocked her blade from her hand, then dealt a mighty blow to her face with the hilt of his hammer. Groggy, Alys tried to fight back but was then held down by two more Krog warriors.

Alys had heard the stories of what Krogs do to human women they capture. Their bloody, violated remains were often hard to distinguish as human. Her leather grieves were ripped off by the lust driven beast, and he was violently fumbling with the rest of her armor and clothing. Alys was strong, but a tear would have been seen if it was not for the violent struggling she was doing. The Krog, triumphantly smiling because he had finally removed all of the armor, began to move in closer for what he wanted.

The vicious smile on the Krogs face only left when the blade erupted through his chest from behind. As the blood from the krog gushed onto Alys, she saw the blade removed and then stab again, this time through the beast’s neck. The two holding her, in shock by what they were seeing, did not see the two soldiers sneaking up behind them and slice their throats. As the blade was removed from the Krog’s neck and it fell to its lifeless knees, she beheld the eyes of her savior. His short black hair was plastered to his face by sweat, and the white knotty scar running along his face was no exception, sweat running down its length as well.

“We have you Commander Cromwell, you are safe now” said Lon, as he picked her up and put her on his horse.

“They have brought the war to our homes, now let’s take it to theirs” Alys groaned out, barely audible.

“Let’s take it to theirs” repeated Lon.