Finally, a battle sequence!!!

Louder and louder came the tumult of falling hoofs, until it came to a climax, and then fell silent. The party had paused. The air was thick with sweat and fear.
Then Edyl’s voice was heard.
“Men bearing the banners of Mandgawr in the Sovereign’s land! What is the meaning of this?”
“A Wygar alone in the haunted wood,” came the reply, a fair voice in a strange accent, “Is this not as strange? Would you not better fit in a frozen homestead by a rotting Keep, tending your sheep?”
“The woods best suit me and my ilk,” said Edyl, “Since the Sovereign has deemed my Keep worthy as a barracks for his men and a stable for his beasts.”

Aelwys broke from Mother’s arms and peered through the sliver of open door. Edyl stood with his sword sheathed, facing twenty mounted men dressed in plates and mail and crimson robes. The nearest to him dismounted, the captain of the party. His head was covered with a golden helm, and a glorious scabbarded blade hung at his side.

“Which of the three keeps was yours?” he asked.

“I am Edyl, the Laerd-Duthmir of stronghold Lenthae. I go to flee with my people across the sea.”

“Your people, Laerd?” the captain looked about, “I see naught but a rotted hull and an evil forest.”

“The Sovereign’s men patrol these roads,” Edyl answered him, “and we must travel by night. My people hide within the ancient vessel.”

Silence clung to the air itself while the captain looked exactly to where Aelwys stood watching.

“Come,” Edyl called, “Wygar and kin, meet our friends.” Cautiously, Aelwys opened the door and approached Edyl, avoiding the man’s eyes. A few others followed her, Mother amongst them, though most watched warily from within. A strange look crossed the captain’s face as he observed Aelwys and those with her.

“The Sovereign’s men patrol these roads no more,” he said at last. “The King of Mandgawr has begun to wage war against the Sovereign. The first battle was finished not two hours ago; we smote down a party of soldier-priests wandering this way.”

“There are others,” said Edyl, “and they will know something is amiss when those you slew do not return.”

“That is our hope. We do not seek to defeat the Lalaian Sovereign’s armies; we seek only to draw the their eyes to this country.”

“I fear I am at a disadvantage,” Edyl said, “You know me and where my people hide, yet I do not even know the name of the man I speak to.”

“Felkor Caldholst,” said the man, “Nephew of King Caldholst, the Duke of Mandgawr.”

A murmur shivered through the company gathered; Aelwys could not but stare all the more at the man and wonder to what end had he come as the head of this company of raiders.

“Come, then, Master Felkor,” said Edyl, after a moment of silence “You must have learned what dwells within these woods by now. Join us this eve. The old wreck is spacious, and the deck above may serve as a stable for your horses. We could speak more at ease with thick walls between the things in the night.”

“We’ve set up camp a few miles back,” replied the Duke, “But we would be glad to break camp and pass the evening with your people.”

“Then we shall make ready the stables and your beds,” Edyl tipped his head in a bow.

“And we shall return in a few hours’ time that we might fill them,” the Duke likewise inclined his head and mounted his horse again. In a flurry of hoofbeats and dust, the company departed and returned the way they had come.

As the sun sank into the sea, the winds grew colder and stronger. To the left of the setting sun, black clouds began to boil and billow, stretching swiftly toward the safehouse. The sounds of horse hooves’ beating announced the coming of Duke Felkor and his men. Before darkness engulfed their cliffside haven, the horses were comfortably stabled, and their masters sat together with the Wygar within the safehouse feasting on the meat of a deer one of the men had killed while foraging during the day.

“A rare bounty indeed,” remarked Ceadmon, one of the younger Wygar men. “Few beasts there are that dare roam this country any more.”

“This is a cursed land,” said one of the Duke’s band. “Stricken with a curse, mark my words. While we camped last night, we heard strange voices in the woods, though we dared not answer them nor seek their sources.”

“It is good to share meat with friendly folk, and to be safe within the confines of these walls,” said the Duke himself, his gaze toward the fire. “Pleasures we have not known since we rode from Gelmstror and crossed into the Northern lands.” Edyl, who sat with him, asked,

“Is Gelmstror yet safe?”

“It is safe,” answered Felkor, “for it is far from the forests or the mountains of Lalaia, where the trouble seems to have its source. The first night we made camp near one of the forests, two men had disappeared by morning. We found them dead not far into the woods. Since then, we have dared not rest without a fire by every man’s tent, and one man standing guard over another for half the night. For this reason, I fear our movements have been easily tracked by Lalaian patrols, though every patrol we met was slain.”

Aelwys sat listening as she slowly began to drift to sleep, laying on her couch near Mother. She felt uneasy about this business of killing soldier-priests. She recalled fondly the kind priest who would bless her home when she had been but a young girl, no matter how many times he had already done so. He would patiently listen as she explained, nearly every week, precisely why she felt that her home, one of the nearest to the battlements of Hammon’s walls, was in more danger than their neighbours’ of being breached by the unnamed creatures in the night. She wondered if these men had slain him in the course of their travels. Edyl likewise seemed uncomfortable with this, and asked,

“You feel no allegiance, then, to the Oracle? You slay his priests readily enough.”

“They are hardly travelling holy men,” Felkor said, shaking his head, “You know that as well as I. Nevertheless, we spilled no one’s blood until today, when we gave battle to a company of soldier-priests. The others we found already dead. Some were freshly slain; some were little more than bones upon the rocks. It seems curious indeed that the Lalaian Courts should send so many to patrol these roads,” he added, “as if they fear an enemy to attack at any moment if their roads and borders are not vigilantly watched.”

“It is us they search for,” said Edyl, “the Wygar clans and those who would follow us across the sea. Our keeps have become dens of pigs and of soldiers, and rumour has reached the Sovereigns ear that we seek to counsel with the distant the Clan Dweathcart, whose keep lay west of Ceadlund, in the lands Northward. He fears we will conspire against Lalaia with Ceadlund, and has had us turned out of our villages and camps, spreading lies about my people to all who will listen. We are cast out of every door for being witches, spies, and traitors. Soon we shall be as feared and as welcome as the creatures from which we are hiding tonight. Now he seeks to cut off our escape, casting into prison any who are caught travelling to Llynceth or dwelling nearby the port city.”

“They search for your people, you say?” Felkor asked, now looking intently at Edyl, “And they fear treachery from the Wygar?”

“Or so I reason,” Edyl answered, “for I can think of no other reason for them to strive so hard to prevent us from sailing north to Deawthcart.” Suddenly the horses above them began to stomp and whinnie in terror. Dust sank through the air as it fell from between the ceiling-planks, and the Felkor’s men looked nervously.

“I hope the horses are safe,” muttered Ceadmon.

“They are shut inside a structure on deck,” Felkor said, “and we left it secure. So long as the wood holds, they should be safe from harm, though perhaps not from fright.”

“The wood will hold,” came the voice of Colin’s father, who lay drowsing by his wife in one of the beds closest to the door. Colin lay in a bed of his parents’ cloaks at the foot of their bed, already fast asleep. “For it is not fit to be called it wood. Looks like wood, yes, but it’s as unyielding as stone. Whatever work of alchemy that cast this hull from the sea to the cliffside must have changed the wood, else this safehouse would be little more than a few rotted planks jutting out of the earth.”

“Then we would be no better off than in the camp,” Ceadmon said, “starting at every flicker of every shadow in the firelight. We are indebted to the Wygar for your hospitality and foresight.”

Edyl nodded, saying, “We have had places of refuge made ready before the hauntings of this land had grown so dire.”

“I do not see,” said Felkor, frowning at the fire again, “why the Lalaian Sovereign would send so many of his forces into this land, and send them patrolling the roads and the wilderness, if he knew what lurks therein.”

“He knows,” Edyl said. “Of course he knows. His clerics teach the people to fear the darkness and what it hides. In the city of Hammon, from whence fled this girl and her mother,” he gestured to Aelwys and Mother on the couch nearby, “Every house is lit within and without, and fires burn at every tower along the walls, as the soldier-priests have instructed.”

“Then why send his men to their deaths?” Felkor asked, “Has he such great suspicion of the Wygar that he will willingly risk the lives of many of his own? Does he think you such a threat as that?”

“You ask me questions I cannot answer,” Edyl said, weariness beginning to take him. “Perhaps I will not have the answers until after the four clans meet in Dweathcart. Now, my friend, let us rest that we may be prepared for whatever the morning has in store for us.”

“Sleep,” nodded Felkor Duke, “Rest, and prepare for the deeds of the morrow.” Edyl lay down on a bed like the boy Colin’s, made of coats and cloaks, but Felkor did not move. Sleep began to take Aelwys, and her eyes fell shut while the Duke yet stared into the slowly ebbing flames.

“Luira inata sacral Capratel! Luira mandata Aluera!”

Aelwys jolted awake, terrified. She understood the words instantly, for the Chieftains had labored greatly to teach the children of Hammon the tongue of Lalaia. Hearken to the holy name of Capratel. Answer the command of the Oracle. The soldier priests had found them.

The hull was dark and smoky, suddenly alive with movement. The children gathered as far from the door as possible, some weeping softly but most striving as hard as possible to be silent. Aelwys saw Colin among them, wide-eyed and afraid.

“Luira, luira!”

The Wygar drew swords and spears from their piles of cloaks and travelling bags, drawing their thick coats over their cassocks. The Mondgawr soldiers stood ready, swords in hand. Edyl consulted briefly and quietly with Felkor, and after a moment, the two men clasped one another’s arms. Edyl reached into a pocket in his cassock and withdrew his hand, blackened with ashes. He closed his eyes and blackened them with the soot. The Wygar who held weapons did likewise, and all stood grimly silent, their darkened eyes giving them a fearsome appearance. Aelwys knew what that meant. They meant to spill blood.

“Luira, luira! Answer the call of thy Oracle if thou reverest him!”

Edyl threw open the door and stepped out alone.

“I will answer,” he said. Aelwys looked out to see a small host of soldier-priests, masked in white and astride white horses. Their spears thrust toward Edyl, whose sword hung sheathed at his side.

“Alas, what is this?” came the voice of the nearest soldier-priest, “A Wygar band hiding along the road to Llynceth?” He brought his horse very near Edyl, and slapped his cheek with a gauntleted hand. “And you dare answer our call armed and painted for battle! Do you not care for you life, witch?”

“I care for my people,” Edyl answered. “My life is of little consequence. I answered your call; what is it you wish of us?”

“First we shall require your weapons,” said the cleric, “and then the whereabouts of the band of the Mandgawr who I cannot doubt you saw passing near here.”

“You will not seek long for either,” said Edyl, and with that he seized the cleric’s spear and, as they struggled for it, threw him out of his saddle and to the ground. The room erupted in confusion as the Wygars and the Mondgawr fought their way out of the safehouse and into the fray of what had become a battle. Aelwys broke free from Mother’s arms and ran to the doorway.

The soldier-priests drew back, though their long spears could not stop so many at once. The Mondgawr soldiers began to flank the horsemen, drawing away several of their spears, allowing the Wygars a window of opportunity to break through the thinner defenses. Quickly Aelwys understood why the Wygar held Edyl in such high regard; the Laerd was not a merely figurative protector of his people. He moved with great speed, weaving between the priests’ spears like a running lizard between rocks. Once he had cleared the first line of defence, he swung his sword mightily once, twice, and leapt toward his next foe before the two men he slew had fallen from their saddles. Aelwys was grateful that Mother held her tight, so that she would not have to decide whether or not to join in the fray or merely watch while others died.

The Lalaian priests’ defences were broken, and the Mandgawrs attacked from both sides, leaving the Lalaians with little choice but to retreat. One by one they were pulled from their saddles or slain seated upon their mounts. A few broke away from the rest and fled eastward toward Hammon, leaving their brethren in the hands of their foes. Some dismounted and drew swords; white robes blossomed in red. Some of the horses fled, while others lashed out with their hooves. Here and there a Wygar or a crimson-clad Mondgawr fell; the cries of men and women and the sounds of wood and steel filled the air. Within a few moments, most of the soldier-priests lay dead or wounded, while four stood surrounded, one yet on his horse. The fighting had stopped.

In the tense respite, Felkor cried,

“With what price will you buy your lives? You are beaten, and none will come to aid you.”

“Our brethren escaped,” said one, removing his mask. He is face was fair, though his countenance was gaunt and hungry. “They will return with a legion ere the sun sets.”

“We will not be here by nightfall, for we march to Llynceth, as soon as the dead are buried. Again, I ask you, with what price will you buy your lives, or do you wish to be buried with your brethren?”

“One does not slay servants of the Oracle and escape punishment, neither here nor hereafter!”

“Then I shall set the terms for you: lead us to the punishment you believe we will face in Llynceth. Run to the Shrine in that place and warn them of our coming.”

The man considered this for a moment, and then said,

“I will go with you, if you permit me and my brethren to enter Llynceth two days ahead of you.”

“I do permit it. Are your brethren in agreement with you?”

The three consulted for only a brief moment.

“They are,” he replied.

“Then,” Felkor said, “surrender your arms at once and join us in burying the dead.”

“We will perform the rites upon the bodies,” said another of the soldier-priests, “as we will do upon your bodies when you fall at Llynceth, if there is verily peace to be found for such as you.”

“Perform your rites upon your dead, and we will perform ours upon our own,” Edyl countered, “and we will let what powers that be choose the more worthy.”

The mounted priest nodded his head, and said,

“Then let it so be.”

The next few hours of the morning were spent digging shallow graves in the rocky earth. Four of the Wygar men had been fatally pierced of the Lalaian lances, and those whose families travelled in the company were mourned bitterly. After they were lowered into the earth, candles were lit by their heads and at their feet, and their swords laid across their chests. The Mondgawr soldiers worked in silence, stone-faced and wordlessly. The Lalaian dead numbered fourteen, and only three men were left with the work of preparing a place to bury them. After the Mondgawrs and the Wygar had finished, they helped prepare a mass grave for the soldier-priests, and watched as their living brethren prayed over the bodies. Soon all was finished, and the company moved grimly onward to Llynceth.
Aelwys was not certain what to make of it all. She dared not speak to Mother what was in her heart; she dared not speak at all. It seemed that any sound but the howling of the wind would be irreverent, and might disturb those who laid so peacefully in the earth after falling so brutally to it. She had never seen a man killed until that morning, and she was still trying to make sense of it all. She felt as though she mightn’t ever make sense of it. She hoped she would not have to.
The soldier-priests led the company, looking more like an escort than prisoners. Edyl rode behind the Lalaians, leading the Wygar folk, all on foot save the children and a few women, who rode the Lalaians’ horses. Their Wygar clothes and woolen cloaks were very dark against the white caparisons that draped the horses, making them appear even more out of place atop the powerful beasts. The Mondgawrs brought up the rear, their ranks barely thinned from the morning’s battle. White, brown and red rode the company, perhaps the least likely combination of travelers the road had carried together.
The day carried on with little incident and largely in silence, until after they had stopped briefly to eat and rest. Little can coax conversation better than food, even after a morning like that one. After a short time, their tongues were loosened somewhat. The first to speak were the Mondgawrs. After a few moments of convesation, they began to bemoan the journey time lost in burying the dead, when Colin’s father answered,

“Now more than ever we must respect the dead. We do not know whether the dead we leave behind will join the haunts in these parts, but we do know what the haunts will do to their bodies.”

And so ended that avenue of talk.