261 The Rearguard

Cald planted the butt of his halberd on the ground, gripping it firm. He would probably die today.

Beside him, men from different cohorts and legions stood unmoved. Their looks were stern, striking the enemies with one last show of resistance. Most of them would die. The survivors would probably get captured and tortured. It was a grim day, a painful day.

The breeze spoke like a mother's weep- slow, long and loud. The midday sun was cast above without a single puff of cloud to shield its radiance. The ground was shaking. The trumpets of the charging elephants were loud.

Her they come, Cald thought. Omniscience. They are many.

He gripped the halberd tighter, hand slick with sweat. His hair was damp beneath his coif, not too damp to trickle a bead of sweat but damp enough to incur discomfort.

They are large! Cald bit his lips. Omniscience! I don't wanna die. I want to go home. Omniscient save me! No no no no no no.

Yes. A voice said inside his head. You need to go home. You need to see the sweet sweet nation of Castonia one last time. The lush forests, the hardy mines, the air of steel. Castonia awaits Cald.

The elephants were close now. Each of their steps dented the earth. Their scale armor shone a bright silver. Their tusks were tipped with serrated tips for grabbing and mauling men. On their four legs were curved blades the size of a man's torso. The riders had crossbows and heavy lances twice the length of the normal ones.

I don't want to die! Cald shouted in his mind. I will die. Omnscient's will! I am going to die!

The other Castonians were also shaking and sweating. And yet nobody moved. A thousand men pointed their halberds forward, awaiting the fury of the beasts. Awaiting a gruesome end.

Nobody spoke, not even the officers. The order had been given. Delay the enemies at all cost. Fight until death. And so they stood in the way of charging elephants- terrified- but unbroken.

Here they come. Cald filled his lungs. It is too late now. I guess I'll die.

The elephants hammered through their ranks, plowing them. Mangled corpses were flung. Some were mushed inside their armor. Some were impaled by the iron-tipped tusks, bleeding their guts in a gruesome show.

And yet they stayed, a defiance undulled. The battlefield was heavy with blood. Cries echoed. Dust were everywhere. It turned into a brawl between men and beasts.

Cald thrust his halberd at an elephant. The tip broke the scale armor near the neck but it wasn't enough for a kill.

He ducked, threw his halberd to the side and avoided the tusk, the serrated iron whiffing past his head. He tumbled to the side. A roll on the ground saved him from the elephant rider's lance. The tip of the lance struck the earth behind his ear. Cald grabbed the lance, trying to yank it from the rider.

Cald twisted his pull. The lance slipped from the rider's hand and fell to the side. Cald drew his dagger. A rush of energy propelled him forward. He ducked again but was hit by the tusk. He flew like a rag doll and landed face-first.

Everything spiralled. It was cold- too cold. And dark.

I am going to die aren't I? Cold under the earth, without life and without breath. Forgotte n.

Yes you are. A voice said, the tone void of mockery, only truth. You are going to die Cald. Just like the others. You are a dead man walking. You know that. So why are you still here?

Cald couldn't answer. Why? Why is he still here? Why isn't he running? He would die if he stay. Forgotten. Just another mangled corpse. Then why?

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Because I have to. Cald's answer was without logic, without sense. But it felt right.

He opened his eyes, coughing sand and blood. One of his fingers on his left hand was twisted. The pain was searing.

He rose. He was still alive. He could still bleed some Wismarines. He grabbed his dagger from the ground. The handle felt just right. The battle had divided into several packets. The Cavalry had joined too. The Castonian rearguard were being slaughtered.

Cald dashed again. The elephant that flung him was battling other Castonians now. His vision tunneled to the unguarded neck of the beast where he broke the plate earlier.

The rider noticed him and steered the elphant, baring the tusks at his foolish dash. He jumped to the left, avoiding the serrated tusk. He parried the lance of the rider with his dagger. His legs sprang and his dagger bit the elephant's neck.

Blood flooded his face. The beast roared, raising its trunk. Cald avoided the leg as he rolled. The elephant threw a tantrum but soon it fell in a loud thud. The two riders jumped and abandoned the elephant to its demise.

You two are mine.

Cald's face was red with the elephant's blood. It was sticky and pungent. He stepped toward the two riders, slowly and with back straightened.

One of them loosed a bolt. He missed. Deadly mistake.

He jogged, still gripping his dagger. The two drew their weapons. One had a dagger while the other had a sword.

The taller one slashed at Cald. The edge of the blade hit his shoulder but just bounced off his mail. Poor choice. Cald rammed the taller one and thrust his dagger at his opponent's stomach. The man grunted in pain. Cald kicked the Wismarine and turned to the shorter one where he redirected a stab.

Cald buffeted the short Wismarine. His elbow broke the man's jaw. He reversed his hold on the dagger and stabbed the Wismarine just below the neck. The Wismarine fell limp immediately. Must have severed the spine.

The taller one was still breathing, clutching his bloody stomach. He is a dead man, Cald thought. He should just focus his attention to other opponents.

He turned and was pushed back. Strangely, he was on the ground. His chest felt heavy. He looked and saw a lance protruding from his chest. The rider was nowhere. Probably just a Wismarine horseman who happened to set his eyes on Cald, thrust his lance and left. Bad form, Cald thought. Not even showing your face to a man you just killed.

Blood was gushing from the wound, flowing to his side and down to the ground. He would die soon. He would become a nameless corpse.

A horn blared from the side of the forest. It was the signal for the rearguard to retreat. All of the Union's soldiers were already safe in the forest.

About a hundred Castonians from the rearguard ran to safety. Most of them wouldn't make it.

Run brothers, run. Cald thought, gurgling blood. Return to Castonia. To life.

His breaths had become forced. Coldness crept on his body.

Are you happy now? The voice again said. You are dying.

Happy? No. Cald answered. I am not happy. Dying is not happy. It is sad. Endings are sad. I only feel... satisfied.

***

"I caused this, didn't I?" Erik asked as he watched the slaughter of the rearguard. A few got away but most of them would be ran down by the cavalry.

"Yes, you caused this. You chose." General Bourgis said. "Either a costly victory or a minor defeat. You chose and you must bear responsibility."

"And did I choose wisely?"

"I do not know. Probably. Probably not. Future generations would read about this and judge your decision."

"And for you? Do you think my decision is wise?"

General Bourgis was silent until he opened his steely jaw.

"A soldier's job is to win battles. No matter the consequences, a soldier must strive for victory." He looked at Erik. "But you are not a soldier. You are Erik Connel, Marquis of Castonia."

Erik nodded to that. He was not a soldier. He was a Marquis. A single victory is not worth the lives of most of his men. He chose and he must continue on choosing.

"Send men to retrieve our dead after the Wismarines are gone. Cremate them and the ashes are to be sent back to Castonia. As for us..." He turned his head to the Wismarine host. "We have done our job. Now it is time for the King to capture Kotara."