Completed The Battle of the Banicks

[Kristen Pirian]

"Let it be so."

It was not long after that the army was formed, the horn sounded, and the mass of men began its forward march. These were the men who believed the fortunes of House Banick best lay with Walter, and across from them would soon be others whom they knew, friends, brothers even, but they who believed the opposite, that Garron was best to lead House Banick into the future. The basin toward which they marched would receive them both, and in the most ancient and authoritative fashion would the matter be decided, an idea as primal as the dawn of humankind upon Arethil: he who won would be the most deserving.

Indeed, the sword solved all conflicts where words failed in finding resolution.

The march soon brought them to the gentle downward slope leading into the basin. What they stood upon now could hardly be called the crest of a hill, but it was a vantage over which the whole of the large basin could viewed. The wide stream cut through the basin's middle, near perfectly bisecting it.

And, across the stream and on the opposing side of the basin, Garron's army came into view within a half hour. All was as it had been for the past few days, both sides posturing and presenting themselves as though offering battle, with only skirmishes to follow. Today would be different.

"CAVALRY! FORWARD!" Walter shouted, and one of the cavalry sergeants sounded his own horn. The signal was given, and down into the basin did Walter's cavalry begin its descent, the infantry staying put as was the plan.

Kristen gripped her lance. It was with this and an arming sword that she was armed; her training in the Academy covered spears to an extent, but not anything really to do with cavalry maneuvers or tactics. She just hoped that misfortune did not force her to use her magic and reveal herself as a Dreadlord too soon.

"I'll stay by your side as best I can," Kristen said to Alistair. The words were difficult to say, for it felt as though her heart was lodged in her throat.

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair did not bother with a lance as the cavalry began their descent. He had been trained with the weapon at the Academy, but he had never had a knack for it. Instead, he favored a large cavalry sword that he would use until he moved to join the infantry.

Glances revealed some of the faces of the soldiers nearby. All of those emotions, nothing for him. All of those emotions were worthless before a battle. Only the winners would determine what was said, and he would ensure they were the winners.

"Stay steady. Hold back on any magics at first."

As much as he wanted to reassure Kristen, he bottled those thoughts away for later. He needed to turn it off until this was over...That did not mean his logic and emotions could agree on some things.

"I'll stay close."

Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

The hoofbeats were steady and constant as Walter's cavalry made its way down into the basin. Slow, one might even say leisurely, was this descent, this approach toward the opposing army. Things seemed eerily calm to Kristen, more akin to the boredom of enduring or maintaining a siege (gods, she had been on both sides of that already in her lifetime) than to the precipice of a battle. But the charge she imagined would come soon enough. Until then, dreadful anticipation of it, and the inevitable impetus toward it.

Splashes sounded in legion as the cavalry entered the stream. Kristen bid her own horse to slow even more, let the animal take its time to find its footing. And indeed, though the water was just a little more than ankle high on a man, beneath the flowing current was unsteady ground, rocks, and sediment aplenty, treacherous enough for a man and worse still for a horse. One horse somewhere amongst the cavalry did take a bad step, stumbled, and it gave a shriek of pain and favored its left front leg as it rose; its rider swore, and he had no choice but to turn about and head back toward the infantry, for his horse would now be useless for battle. The rest of the cavalry pressed on.

Onto the opposing side of the stream they arrived. Garron's army was still a considerable distance away, his cavalry massed into a single unit instead of two separate units on the infantry's flanks; seemed the past few days of skirmishes had "trained" him and Vogel well, such that at least he did this part as Walter wanted.

A horn blew from Garron's side, and his cavalry made small adjustments to line up and face Walter's own. Then they began a charge down the gentle sloping hill. A horn blew among Walter's cavalry, and at speed did the unit likewise make its own countercharge toward Garron's unit. Unlike those skirmishes previous, this was now a head-on engagement.

Kristen leveled her lance, its metal spearpoint glinting in the sun. Her heart raced, and for a moment that was all she could feel, all she could sense. The cries of war, the thundering hooves of both cavalry units, the heat of the day beneath her armor, all of it seemed to narrow down to a singular point, that of the terrible drumbeat within her chest.

Then came the clash.

All Kristen remembered was a few enemy cavalrymen zipping right past her, both her weapon and theirs narrowly missing their intended marks. She had nearly passed right through the whole of the enemy's formation until at the very end came a hard jolt in her arm, her shoulder. Her lance collided straight on with an enemy's breastplate, his own lance skirting up the curve of her pauldrons and even sparking from the intense contact. Kristen's lance exploded at the haft and chips of wood flew in a great spray. The enemy rider tumbled from his horse and struck the ground, perhaps dead even before another of Walter's cavalrymen rode over him.

Kristen breathed heavily, in some small amount of shock that she was, more or less, alright.

Then she drew her sword and began wheeling her horse around. The fight had only just begun.

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

For some reason, the lines of the poem filled Alistair's head as they made their way forward. It was steady and calm, the clipping of horse hooves like the slow rising of the band to its inevitable crescendo. The soldiers, for their credit, looked calm, but the unmistakable anxieties of war were beginning to rage.

His sword hung loose in his hand, as the cavalry charge was finally ordered. As soon as the horses were spurred, came the overwhelming sense. The heavy breathing of himself, the other soldiers, the horses. The thundering of hooves. The rubbing and clanging of armor. It was like it was all happening right next to his head.

In one deep breath, Alistair flipped the switch that had been engrained with him in the Academy. The noise, the heat, and the world around him dulled as his mind focused on only what needed to be seen to keep him alive.

Just the slightest glance told him that Kristen was still at his side as they neared the confrontation.

When the first soldiers smashed past him, and the cacophony of collision followed, Alistair leaned to the side in his saddle as he avoided a lance. His sword struck out, deftly finding a home in the small cracks in a soldier's armor.

The explosion of wood spooked the horse ever so slightly, and he watched as one of the large splinters from the remains of Kristen's lance found its way into the eye of one of the soldiers bearing down on them.

Good start.

Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

The clash of the cavalry was in some ways mobile, some ways static. Walter's forces and Garron's forces orbited around each other, making several passes, and with each pass more and more of the individual cavalrymen got stuck into what could only be described as a mass of mounted melee. Their horses were caught in a tight crowd, each trying to navigate out past those others around them, and all the while their riders had their swords drawn and were taking swipes at any and all riders of the opposing side.

Kristen herself had gotten sucked into this mass melee, this after the second charge through and when trying to reconvene with Alistair. Friend and enemy alike were all around her, and the shifting mass changed their positions constantly. Ceaselessly were her legs being banged into by other horses trying to skirt by, by other legs also astride their mounts. Her eyes were wide with stark alertness, and she felt awfully cramped within her helmet, with it's narrow field of vision, and desperately did she wish to be free of it. It seemed for every strike she dished out, she received one in turn, and would then have to wheel her attention and her efforts around to defend against this new attacker. She feared her armor would hold up only for so long, or that a sufficiently powerful blunt force blow would come and do some serious damage right through it. But she was still loath to use her magic.

Kristen, in this frenzy of a fight, swung her sword toward another rider in front of her in the great mass of melee. Then she stopped herself, her weapon so very close to striking said rider...who turned out to be—

"Alistair!" she exclaimed. "Gods, I'm sorry! Good to see you!"

She was interrupted by an enemy pulling up alongside, and she had to defend herself and fight him off before another moment for a breather arrived, what with said enemy moving off and more allies circling in then.

Encouragingly, both for Alistair and for her own sake, she said, "Just a while longer! Just a bit more! Aionus favors us!"

* * * * *​

Garron Banick and Commander Vogel sat atop their mounts behind their line of infantry, each observing the continuing fight between the two forces of cavalry.

"Commander Vogel," said Garron. "Seems our enemy Walter has finally decided to commit."

"Somewhat. But we should wait for a general engagement of the infantry. The cavalry could retreat again."

"Today is the day, Vogel." Garron had quite enough of this posturing; now that his plan was in place, it was time to secure his claim to House Banick. "If Walter doesn't want an engagement of infantry this day, then we will force one. Order the infantry to charge with all speed. Surround the cavalry while they are fighting."

"But, my Lord Garron, such a charge will unduly fatigue the men, especially once—"

Garron snapped a haughty look toward Vogel. "I wasn't asking you, Commander. I was telling you."

Vogel hesitated for a moment, the risk he felt to be a danger to an otherwise certain plan (and this causing no small amount of upset for him), but he relented and gave the signal anyway.

The bugle blew, and the infantry began its charge toward the fighting cavalry, just as Walter had hoped.

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair had a complicated relationship with the cavalry, or maybe more specifically it was just with the cavalry that Vel Anir often used. Too often they devolved into these slogs of melee in which life often boiled down to who was luckier. He much preferred the style of cavalry used in the Empire and the steps, quickly hitting and then moving before they could get attacked.

However, beggars can't be choosers. This was why Alistair was nearly brained to death as soon as he dove into the cavalry, from a backhand from a charged knight. Alistair would have preferred to stay out of this, but he knew Kristen was in this mass. A lance flew by nearly skewering his head before Alistair lashed out and stabbed into the ribs of a passing knight.

Alistair turned his head in time to see a sword coming straight for his head, only for it to stop inches from his face. Wait, it was Kristen. He might actually have to send a prayer to Aionus after this.

"Easier said than done."

Alistair brought up his sword to parry an incoming strike before he spotted the infantry charge that was easy to see thanks to the roar that followed.

"They're they are. Time to pull back, not to fast though. Let them get excited."

Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

Kristen followed the track of Alistair's gaze, looking over her shoulder and seeing then the approaching block of Garron's infantry. A quick glance shot out afar, back across the stream and to the other side of the basin; Walter's light infantry were rushing down the slope, moving ahead of the slow marching heavy infantry at speed, nearing the stream, just as the plan was to proceed.

"Too right!" Kristen shouted to Alistair. Strange, that a shout could be as private as a whisper in these conditions, having to speak through her visor and above all the commotion of the cavalry battle, each of the men involved concerned only with what danger lay immediately before him and sparing an ear only for the commands of his appropriate superior officer.

Fighting for what remaining time they had in the cavalry mass was, at least, alleviated somewhat by the fact that Kristen had Alistair on one side, and Alistair Kristen, leaving both her and him free to concentrate on a more limited scope of potential danger. Garron's infantry were closing in, his light infantry saving their missiles for fear of friendly fire. Walter held his command for a retreat until the infantry were nearly upon them; then, as it so happened, a plunging thrust from an enemy cavalryman's lance, tripping the arcane shield to prevent a mortal wound and deflect the lance, was more than enough impetus for him, and he gave the command after the moment's shock faded. At once Walter's cavalry began its withdraw; they had taken losses, but they, despite being outnumbered, had returned casualties in kind to Garron's cavalry.

Garron's cavalry, to their credit, did not go blindly in pursuit, but rather began to reform. Garron's infantry shifted their formation, swinging around to properly orient their front now that Walter's cavalry was pulling back and Walter's light infantry were presently across the stream and standing on Garron's side of the basin. Orders were given, bugles and horns sounded, and then both Garron's cavalry and infantry, the whole of his force, began its descent toward the stream, toward Walter's light infantry and cavalry.

"Slow!" Logan called out as the cavalry rode past the light infantry and reached the edge of the stream. "Slow through the water!"

Walter's light infantry all hefted javelins, the weapons they had been specifically armed with. Took aim on Garron's cavalry, approaching at speed and ahead of the enemy infantry. Readied themselves to throw, waiting only for Garron's cavalry to come within range.

"Orders for the cavalry, sir?" Kristen called out to Logan as her own mount, at a slow and careful pace, entered the water.

"Across the stream," Logan replied, for her benefit and for the whole unit. "Watch. See what Garron's cavalry does. React. Dismount to support the light infantry if they themselves break off their charge and dismount."

Kristen shot a glance to the light infantry, intentionally out there, exposed on Garron's side of the basin, covering their retreat and simultaneously baiting the enemy in. Gods, they were brave men.

To Alistair, then, as her mount trotted alongside his, she sought counsel, "My Impalers would be devastating against charging cavalry, but...to reveal my magic, my presence, so soon..."

Blessed Aionus, the right call could be either option. To reveal herself now, or to wait.

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

With Kristen now by his side, the battle became much more controlled for Alistair. Enemies only got as close as he wanted them to and that was swiftly followed by death. He did not need to worry about his back, he had complete trust in Kristen. If something went wrong, then she would let him know.

Alistair always kept one eye on the approaching infantry, careful to measure out the distance. Even though he knew that was Walter or Logan's job, Alistair did not have nearly as much faith in them as he did Kristen. A bolt of fear struck himself as he felt the Death Ward activate on Walter, but forced himself to calm down when he twisted to see the man was not in any real danger. Losing Walter this early in the battle would have proven to be disastrous.

He took a moment to catch his breath as the cavalry calmly made their way back across the stream. The light infantry was looking nervous, but ready. That was a good mindset to be in for battle.

Alistair turned his attention back to Kristen and was quick to shake his head.

"No, it's a game of chicken. Garron's already proven that his patience is thin. Let him show his hand first...As soon as their first Dreadlord shows their head, then one of us can get their attention."

One card would be played, one after another, and it was their aim to have the last card to turnover in this high-stakes game.

Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

Alistair's dispassionate view was the necessary counterbalance to Kristen's overeager heart. His strategic forbearance was borne out only a moment later—even if, in the lead up to it, Kristen was fraught with dismay.

The command of "THROW!" echoed across the stream. Walter's light infantry hurled their javelins, each and every man wasting no time in securing his next from the javelin bundle on his back. The missiles rained down in a fury upon the charging cavalry, killing men outright, wounding them, bouncing off of their armor if the angle wasn't right, knocking riders from their mounts, impaling the heads or chests of horses and causing all manner of injury and fright and panic. Such was the confusion caused by the first volley of javelins that the charge was brought to a standstill, and the second and third volleys broke the morale of the cavalry, sending them turning on their heels in a scattered mess and retreating past even the approach of Garron's infantry. Walter's light infantry never even got the chance to use their nimble spears against them, and a brief, elated cry of victory rang out among them (where, of course, on the further end of the battlefield, admonishments came from Garron's cavalry sergeants, Commander Vogel, and Garron Banick himself for the rout of the cavalry; Garron's cavalry had to regroup and lick its wounds around Vogel and Garron, far behind the advancing infantry).

The little victory was short-lived. Because the light infantry unit now had Garron's whole infantry force bearing down on them, contact imminent, and Walter's two units of heavy infantry had marched a bit too slowly, the timing misjudged, and their union together for the desired battle in the stream would be delayed. The light infantry would have to hold there for a little longer than they had anticipated.

But, with Garron's cavalry so soundly battered and now recalled to protect Vogel and Banick directly, this left Walter's cavalry free.

"Dismount!" came the order from Walter himself for his cavalry. "Into the stream on foot! Regroup with the light infantry!"

Kristen slid off of her horse with almost too much ease. Indeed, though it had been the faulty call to support the light infantry with her magic against the charge, now it was certainly the right call to support them now with her sword.

"Outnumbered at least three-to-one," Kristen said to Alistair as her sabatons made their first splashes into the flowing waters of the stream. "We have endured such disfavorable odds before...against the same commander, no less."

The light infantry were hard pressed, pulling back from solid ground, pulling back to avoid being completely overwhelmed by the full force of Garron's infantry, pulling back into the stream and there to hold as was the plan. Success hinged entirely on Walter's heavy infantry, now moving at a double-time pace, reaching them before they were crushed.

The wildcard, of course, being the Dreadlords themselves, those among Walter's forces, and those among Garron's.

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

The longer Alistair watched their retreat, the more his forehead creased in worry. At first, he wasn't exactly sure what this baseless concern was directed at, but as the impact of the infantries grew closer, he realized the problem. The heavy infantry was slow.

He was not the only one to realize as he quickly descended his mount when he heard the call to reinforce the infantry.

Alistair was far more comfortable fighting on foot, and as he finally felt the ground beneath his feet he bounced from foot to foot and looked over to Kristen. He did his best to put up a confident smile on his face.

"Three-to-one against Vogel. Doesn't really seem fair for him does it?"

The hair was beginning to stand up on his skin as he subconsciously knew that it was coming soon. The first card was about to be played, he could feel it. The more sure he became of it, the more worried that telling Kristen to wait was the wrong decision.

Still, he dove into the infantry to assist, knowing that they had to deal with the problems that they could actually see first.

Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

"Ah ha!" A moment of levity, standing starkly against the anxieties and fears of war. Amazing, truly, how such a moment could send her spirits soaring, refreshing what wear-and-tear her morale had suffered; was it any wonder, then, why humor, even gallows humor, was so popular among soldiers?

In with the light infantry did the dismounted cavalrymen mix. The light infantry had but their spears with which to keep the enemy at bay, no shields, and for protection, naturally, lighter armor that fatigued them far less quickly. All of this was suited for mobility on foot, not for holding ground. Yet hold their ground in the stream they must, this at least until the heavy infantry arrived on their flanks, and then they could at last slowly pull back (and, if luck held, bait overeager enemy infantry into overextending).

The dismounted cavalrymen, at least, were more heavily armored, and provided a good check against Garron's infantry if they tried rushing through the jabbing spears. Kristen and Alistair were at the front. So too were Walter and Logan, each nobleman sharing in the danger of all the men around him; and without gaudy signifying adornments, with enclosed helms, it was difficult for the enemy to know their true identities, while Walter's own men knew the discreet details of his armor to pick out their commander and his brother.

Garron, meanwhile, was pressing Vogel to provoke the infantry to further aggressiveness. Vogel, in his turn (and feeling quite stressed and anxious), was shouting appropriate commands to the infantry sergeants and captains. Garron wanted his whole infantry force to surround Walter's light infantry unit on three sides, to press in and start a wholesale slaughter before Walter's heavies could reinforce. And to this effort, Garron's infantry were slowly trudging through the flowing waters to begin this near complete encirclement.

"Hold, hold!" Logan cried out.

"Do not waver!" Kristen shouted as well (some number of the men on both sides of the conflict somewhat bewildered to hear a young female voice amidst everything, for such was rare).

Then it happened. The first card was played.

"BROTHER!" came the booming voice of Halcor Vinn, teeming with all the eagerness for blood inspired by the Old Way. A rumble, a crash, and a roaring splash of water heralded Halcor's magic as no less than six light infantrymen went flying back, their wounded or dead bodies falling upon their comrades in the center of the formation. Saydor stood alone where Halcor had unleashed his power, and the two brothers were facing off against one another on the light infantry's right flank. "COME! For old times' sake, COME!"

With the reveal of Halcor, Garron's infantry became more emboldened. They were on the verge of the critical moment. The furious assault was coming, the three-sided encirclement almost complete. The heavy infantry of Walter's might just be a moment or two late.

"This ground is yours!" Walter shouted to the men behind him, this to give them heart. "Make the enemy pay if they dare approach!"

Kristen, for her part, was throwing ferocious thrusts with her sword, now to her front, now off to her left, now off to her right, fending off enemy infantry who tried to close the distance, some managing to strike her armor before pulling back, the blunt force of these strikes each doing their work to wear her down. Her heart, though, was flooding her veins with a fighting fire.

A glance. How was Alistair doing? Aionus preserve him! Aionus preserve them both, and may the gods see them each through this battle!

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair was not the inspirational type, he frankly did not think he looked like one, and he did not provide enough inspiration through his voice like those of Walter and Kristen. Instead, he just did his job. He used his speed to move through the mob of light infantry, dancing in to stab the enemy before moving away once again. He saved his attack for those spots in the line that he thought were looking weak, or where a soldier on their side looked like they were about to meet their end.

His eyes snapped up when the first card was played and he grimaced in annoyance because it required their first card was also played to meet it. Saydor would have to show his abilities now, and likely the brothers would counteract each other.

Alistair moved back towards Kristen further from the right flank, trusting Saydor to hold his own. The crunch of the enemy's infantry was becoming more apparent. Walter's heavy infantry was taking their bloody time. Alistair's fighting was forced to become more ferocious and less graceful than previous as he fought his way over to Kristen.

He spotted her in the distance and was moving as quickly as possible. Once Saydor and his brother got deeper into their battle, then they could play their next card. Kristen's crucifixes would be the perfect combination with the fresh push of the heavy infantry once they arrived.

While Kristen was closer to the middle, he spotted Walter and Logan closer to the left flank admirable holding their own section of the line.

Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

For Garron's infantry, it was now or never. Their three-sided enclosure of Walter's light infantry was complete, Walter's heavy infantry—even at their vigorous double-time march—were still moments away, and Garron's force, though lacking in time to completely wipe out the light infantry, could inflict heavy casualties and perhaps even shatter their morale.

Now or never.

And so the Push began.

From the front, the left flank, the right flank, these three sides which presented walls of enemy for Walter's light infantry to contend with, came rousing shouts and battle cries. Frontline sergeants of Garron's foot soldiers did not so much as order their men forward as they did cry out their encouragement, throwing themselves at Walter's infantry first such that their bravery might shame the men behind them to action. And it did. All at once, from all sides save the rear, did Walter's beleaguered light infantry find themselves suddenly and furiously assailed. The no man's land between Garron's infantry and Walter's light infantry dissolved, and the whole of Garron's entire force of foot came crashing upon them; there was nowhere to go, save for the light infantry to either bunch up amongst themselves in a tight crush, or to go scrambling for their lives out through the open rear.

The plight of the light infantry was a desperate one in this crucial moment. And worse, two things happened simultaneously. Two things, both available for Alistair to see.

Kristen, in falling back from the charge of enemies before her, lost her footing in the unsteady ground of loose sediment and rocks beneath the stream's water. She was falling, a panicked look communicated only through her eyes visible through her visor, and though her back had yet to strike the ground, no less than three enemy soldiers were lining up their weapons for thrusts and strikes; merciless and necessarily so in their yearning for victory, they had no intention of permitting Kristen to rise.

Walter and Logan were fighting back-to-back...until a colossal blow from an enemy mace sent Walter spiraling, stumbling out of reach from his brother's help. The visor of Walter's helm was broken off on one of its pins, and it hung limply now from the left side of his helm. Winded, dazed, Walter was for a moment mostly defenseless as an enemy soldier, with a fine-pointed sword, was stepping forward to make a thrust toward his now exposed face.

Kristen in severe trouble. Walter in severe trouble.

And Alistair had not the time to offer his aid to both.

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

It was when time seemed meaningless that decisions were made, and in this moment time felt like it had stopped so that the world could watch Alistair's choice. Cards of the battlefield were being played across this grand game, each one pulled from the tarot of destiny, and now the world froze and waited to see what card Alistair would pull.

He had said this to himself, that he had no strong connections to Walter. In fact, his connection with the man had only faded as his admiration for the man diminished. The fact that Alistair was even here today was because of Kristen. A part of him told himself that this made the decision easy. He needed to save Kristen.

However, that part of him that had been trained for war screamed for the opposite choice. Without Walter, their army would falter. So many of these soldiers would die, and the fate of this battle would likely be decided. Kristen would have to take care of herself. That was what logic told him...but fuck logic.

Logic was an excuse that Alistair had been using to avoid the consequences of the decisions he was making. There had been no logic in killing his father, there had been no logic when he started his fight with Kalix, and there was certainly no logic when he had taken Mariana into his family. He constantly told himself to follow the logical choice, but when it came down to it, he never listened.

Alistair's fingers began to weave together a spell that would pierce through the soldier's attack on Kristen. This battle could go straight to hell, as long as Kristen was ok. Then, he did the worst thing that he could possibly due at this moment. He hesitated.

It wasn't logic or his own emotions that convinced him. It was Kristen because he knew she would make the right choice here. Kristen had worked hard to become the Dreadlord that she would soon be. No longer was she a pampered princess who had been allowed into the school as some sort of gift. She was a warrior that understood what it would take to win. He had to have faith in her. He had promised her that they would win this fight.

Alistair had pulled his card and, ironically, it would be 'The Lovers' for he had made his choice and he must live with the consequences.

The spell streaked across the battlefield and struck the soldier hanging over Walter, the magical spear piercing straight through the man's breastplate and dropping him to his knees. This would give Logan the time to help Walter, but Alistair did not care.

He turned in here to see what had become of Kristen.

Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

Kristen, the whole of her world narrowed down in that moment to the immediate danger before her, could not know of the turmoil within Alistair.

Within her were less conscious thoughts arguing over what she ought to do, and more instinct, a snap formation of will based on the desperation of the moment, the risks and the efficacy of her options. Mundane means of defending herself were right out, for against such odds she'd no true chance at all. So her magic, then, being forced to reveal herself, was her sole recourse. Curses were too slow, and therefore were no option. Her Ashen Crucifixes required her assailants to be looking at it, and they were very much focused on her (and there was no room in which to summon one in the middle of this infantry crush anyway). Her Withering Chains might help, but it seemed highly unlikely that they would mitigate these initial incoming strikes, and what would it matter of her foes were debilitated after they'd delivered their blows if she, severely wounded (or worse), was taken out of the fight?

But there was a high risk, high reward action: her Impalers. Aiming them, getting the angle right, was always the most difficult thing about these Conjurations; generally, the closer to herself she summoned them, the more accurate and effective they were. If she conjured Impalers behind their assailants, where presently, in her fall, she could not see nor otherwise sense, there was a likelihood of failure, of missing them even if they hit someone else.

Yet as Kristen's body hit the water of the stream, descended down until her back was flush against the bed of sediment and rocks, and through tactile sensation was aware of the ground around her, the gambit was clear: summon two Impalers right beneath herself, right between her sides and her flailing arms. A slight miscalculation could mean disaster...but disaster was coming anyway.

She did it.

Through will and verse, spoken before the stream's water rushed back in to flood her mouth, her nose, two Impalers erupted from the ground. So violent was their protrusion that the heads of two assailants struck by their pointed tips partially burst into a fine spray of red mist. Kristen herself was given the ride of her life. Carried under her armpits by the twin Impalers, she was raised up suddenly and quickly, from the bed of the stream to high above the clashing infantry, her feet dangling above the heads of stunned onlookers. She herself was stunned. She spat water from her mouth and it dribbled out from her helm and she breathed heavily.

One problem averted. Now she faced another, being highly exposed up in her awkward vantage.

Meanwhile.

Logan forcibly withdrew from the fighting before him, bashing and ramming his way through enemies who tried to pin him in, and arrived by Walter's side (Walter, of course, looking as though his life flashed before his eyes). The enemy soldier was dead in the water before him, his chestplate pierced right through, and it very well could have been that this was the soldier who won the battle for Garron, had it not been for Alistair's intervention.

"Back! BACK!" Logan shouted, both to Walter, who in his opinion needed to withdraw from the front for now, and to the light infantry as a whole, for there was nowhere else to go but back, and men were being slain on these three embattled sides with terrifying speed.

"Where are the heavy infantry?" Walter managed to ask.

Then, just as he said it, they arrived.

Garron's encircling infantry force found itself now in an awkward position. Yes, they were inflicting terrible damage upon the light infantry unit which they had formed a bloody horseshoe-shape around, but, with the arrival of the two wings of Walter's heavy infantry, the outside arms of said horseshoe now found themselves hard pressed. Two fronts were at hand: an easier fight was within Garron's infantry horseshoe formation, against Walter's light infantry, and a more difficult fight all around its exterior, against Walter's heavy infantry. Not precisely the clean envelopment that Walter had planned, but reality hardly gave enough leeway for a plan to be perfectly mapped upon it.

This was good for Walter's forces overall (though the light infantry were still in severe danger), but Garron still had cards to play. His cavalry force was still in reserve, and could help even up the fight now that his own infantry were outnumbered. And then there were still Bellona and Cadoc, the two known Dreadlords, lurking amidst the battle somewhere.

And both Alistair and Kristen had revealed themselves, more or less conspicuously.

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair's choice had essentially imploded his plans. Not only had they been forced to play a card, they had played all their cards. He had used his magic, Kristen had clearly used her own, and Garron's Dreadlords remained hidden.

Still, he did not have time to lament these problems, as he had to focus on the obvious ones. Kristen was hanging onto a spike in the middle of the battlefield.

He let several of his runes activate, and as he did, he moved with inhuman speed toward Kristen. Any soldier that tried to obstruct his path was quickly cut down.

"Kris, drop! Time to go."

Alistair arrived underneath the impaler and did not hold back several attacks to attempt to clear out a space for her to land. All the while his vision would switch from his own to the runic eyes around the battle, pleading that he find the hidden Dreadlords before they could surprise their army.

With the arrival of the heavy infantry, Alistair's focus was swiftly shrinking to focus on just the magic users of the battlefield. The armies could have their own fight, but only a select few would be allowed into the arcane battle that would follow.

Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

Kristen dangled. Enemy soldiers below, gathering their wherewithal after the initial shock (and with plenty of encouragement from the fury of the Push, their comrades throwing themselves into battle all around), began to opportunistically swing their weapons at her feet, her shins, hoping to perhaps cause injury through her armor.

Then Alistair arrived. He created space where before there was none, driving back the enemy soldiers, at least for a time, and in so doing exposing himself to great danger. Kristen felt a powerful surge of adoration for him, and this helped dispel the stunned stupor from her Impaler gambit actually working as intended.

"I'm coming down!"

She banished the Impalers, both spikes of conjured metal sharply retracting back into the earth from which they had been spawned and disappearing therein. Kristen fell a short distance, landed next to Alistair, took a moment to steady herself in the uneasy bed of sediments and rocks, and at last, success, as she remained standing.

Time to go, Alistair had said. Oh, how right he was!

"Fighting retreat!" Kristen said. Then a laugh, stoked from the high thrill of combat, that mix of fear and other select emotions producing an inescapable and exquisite (and sometimes painful) rush, came roaring from her throat and she added, "At least they know who we are!"

Meaning: while the enemy now knew they were Dreadlords, which wasn't ideal, they didn't need to hide their magic anymore. But...the light infantry becoming on three sides surrounded wasn't ideal, wasn't to plan, so these were the circumstances with which she and Alistair now had to contend. The pulling back of the light infantry was panicked and hurried, and only so many men could get clear of the Push at a time, and for Kristen and Alistair? Being up at the front of the light infantry unit as they were and not at its rear? They would be some of the last to escape the encirclement.

Kristen harshly dispensed with the word if, with the suggestion of if they would escape said encirclement. Not if, when. Optimism, here. By Aionus, optimism.

Kristen held her sword in her left hand, and had from her porcelain palm now a Withering Chain summoned, and she whipped the Chain in great arcs before her, side-to-side, discouraging any of Garron's foot soldiers from approaching too close. It was working, for now, buying time for herself and Alistair while the enemy's fear held and while they had no backup from a Dreadlord of their own (Halcor, of course, engaged in his duel with his brother Saydor).

* * * * *​

"Where are they?" Garron asked, as if some minor inconvenience troubled him and he was disproportionately annoyed by it. He watched the infantry clash happening some distance before him with more impatience than interest. The number of lives lost meant nothing to him; all he wanted was that which was his.

"My Lord Garron," said Vogel, anxiety over the battle gripping his tone, but furthermore anxiety from actually telling Garron what was wrong gripping him tighter—this despite efforts to conceal it. "We initiated the battle maybe a little too early. The...the timing, it won't be right, it won't be as planned."

"What was his name? Captain...Kaijo?"

"Y-Yes, Lord Garron."

"He seemed a savvy businessman."

"What do mean, my Lord?"

Garron smirked at the commander of his forces. "I offered him extra. A set sum of gold for each scalp his men claimed here. As an additional incentive." Garron snorted. "They do that, you know. Scalping. Kaijo and his lot are mercenaries that follow the old and brutish tradition."

Vogel cared nothing for the barbarism of it. He cared only that there might be a salvation for him. "So...they may come earlier than scheduled?"

Garron, exuding that Banick confidence in the allure and persuasiveness of money, said, "I'll certainly be paying them enough."

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair was able to easily cut through most of the soldiers, long enough for Kristen to drop to the ground next to him. The biggest problem was ensuring they still had a line of retreat, but with Kristen down on the ground now. The two of them could make their way back. He was still worried about now seeing the Dreadlords, but luckily he did not have to wait long for one of them.

Out of the corner of his eye, Alistair was barely quick enough to raise a shield. That shield abruptly shattered as a...body was thrown at him with incredible speed. It sent Alistair flying backward before he landed on his knees. Holy hell, he felt like he had just been hit by a speeding wagon. What was that?

Several enemy soldiers parted to reveal a large, muscular woman walking toward him and Kristen. And when he said muscular, boy did he mean muscular. The woman had solid musculature, but more unsettling were the veins that bulged all around her body. In her hand was a large hammer that she made look like some kind of toy.

"I've waited long enough. I've been wondering when one of you fuckers would show up. I must have one the lottery with two dumbasses showing their faces."

The woman yelled at the top of her lungs.

Alistair scrambled to his feet, but looked at Kristen, motioning for her to continue slowly backing up towards their own soldiers.

Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

The retreat of the light infantry from the inward Push of Garron's horseshoe formation was proceeding under its inescapably dire circumstances. Casualties were mounting, men either killed outright by the weapons of Garron's infantry or, wounded too much to stand, falling and either drowning as their faces were forced under the shallow water of the stream or from simply being trampled to death. But many were out already from the deathly field that was the horseshoe's interior, these taking a breather and reforming, and—if one had a bird's eye view of the battle to see it more obviously—the wide "U" shape of Walter's infantry was beginning to form. Where once the light infantry was surrounded on three sides, soon it would be Garron's infantry so surrounded.

For Kristen and Alistair though, this promise of a coming success at the large scale view of the battle was of no comfort. They had their own problem.

Alistair (and the body with which he was struck) went flying past Kristen, a foot or a knee or something, either from Alistair or the body, smacking into her arm as it happened. Kristen, in sharp fear, snapped her gaze toward Alistair and was immediately relieved when she saw him recover.

The foul mouth of a gargantuan woman made their declared adversary known. Kristen kept up the pace of the slow retreat, one foot followed by another, the splashing of the water and the unsteady ground making even this an effort. All the while, she faced the warhammer-wielding woman. As wide a berth as was possible, given the crush of the infantry, was wisely given by all the infantry for Alistair, for Kristen, and for the warhammer woman.

"You must be—"

"Have fun, Bellona! Ah ha!" Halcor cried with glee from his own magical duel with Saydor; strikes parried strikes, spells countered spells, and even then Halcor spared the time to shout his piece.

Kristen hardly needed to make an appraisal of Bellona: her formidable stature, her heavy weapon, Kristen knew she didn't stand a chance if she were foolish enough to engage in a straightforward martial trade with her.

She looked to one of the retreating, back-pedaling light infantry. "Your spear!" She tossed her sword to the soldier, and the soldier, thought taken a touch by surprise, nevertheless caught the sword and completed the exchange by tossing Kristen his spear. She caught it. Spun it around. Took the fighting stance taught to her in those precious and relatively few spear lessons she'd received. Made ready.

It was a risk, a gamble, this plan of hers.

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair took a moment to catch his breath and quickly checked to ensure nothing was broken. Thankfully, it seemed that he had reacted fast enough. He gripped hard on his sword and moved to assist Kristen, but was slowed by the tide of enemy soldiers.

Even as he began fighting toward her, he had to focus more on keeping as many soldiers back so they would not get overrun, meaning Kristen would have to keep Bellona busy for some time.

Bellona snorted as she watched Kristen with a cocky grin on her face that evolved into a chuckle.

"What is that? Are you going to give me a splinter? How 'bout this? I'm gonna shove that stick up your ass and then snap you and it like a toothpick."

Bellona moved incredibly quickly for someone of her size, causing an indention in the ground from where she kicked off. She quickly found herself in front of Kristen and brought her hammer down with extreme force.

"Entertain me, child!"

Alistair frowned from his position, he had wondered what her abilities were, but it was increasingly obvious that this woman was just strong. Simple, but strong. Even so, Alistair continued his work of killing soldiers and creating an isolated area for Kristen and Bellona.

Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

Bellona's crudeness was matched effortlessly by her ferocity. Kristen had to throw herself out of the way of the woman's mighty (and, by the grace of Astra and the whole Pantheon, overcommitted) swing. The force of it still whipped against her like a sudden gust of wind, this before Kristen hit the water of the stream and made her rapid effort to stand once more.

Now for the first part of her plan. This needed to work, or else the fight would become far more complicated, far more deadly. She would need Alistair, and it might even be so that neither one of them would be able to defeat Bellona alone...unless Bellona, like Bull before her, fell to the razor that was Alistair's sharp wit. Gods be praised if that could be so, should Kristen herself fail here.

The Curse Kristen already had within her mind, a snap insight to make her gambit work. The Curse was shaped, will and intent set, and Kristen spoke the words to invoke it upon Bellona: "The armor you trust wears and weakens."

If it worked, if Bellona did not resist it, then the very armor she wore, the metal itself, would slowly become altered, become flimsier, lose its rigidity and sturdiness and resemble more a suit of parchment than a suit of armor.

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

By now, Alistair had at least halted the tide of soldiers, many of them too afraid to step within the range of his sword. His eyes shifted to glance at Kristen's battle and he moved swiftly, recognizing an opening.

Alistair's movements were a blur as he streaked across the shallow water, looking to take advantage in the moment. He started by lightly tapping the water beneath him, and a trail of ice shot forward and froze the water around Bellona's feet.

With her movements slowed Alistair dove to pierce his sword through her chest, paying no mine to the armor that he trusted Kristen had handled. Their teamwork had been tuned perfectly after years of fighting together, everything was going according to plan.

As he brought the sword down, Bellona's hand reached up and grabbed the blade. His sword had managed to pierce several inches into her stomach, but it suddenly felt like it had hit a wall. Blood poured from the woman's hand as it tightly gripped the blade, and the muscles across her body were growing red and covered in veins due to strain.

She grinned at him with bloody teeth, "It is not the armor that makes a Dreadlord."

A meaty backhand sent Alistair bouncing off the ground as he felt something crack in the hit.

"Is that it? From the both of you?"

Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

Alistair moved to capitalize, and with his swift action could this duel be ended, could their escape from the Push be effected. Kristen wouldn't even need to deliver a single strike of her own—let alone one which had thought possible but never before attempted!

Yet these hopeful thoughts were quickly dashed. Bellona proved to be possessed of a hearty resilience, surpassing that of any normal woman and perhaps approaching even the dizzying heights of a troll's or ogre's hardiness. Gods, was this her power? It was simple, brutish, but terrifyingly effective.

Alistair was hit. Hard.

"No!" The exclamation came bursting out in force, despite all Kristen's efforts to keep a level head and focused mind.

As Bellona wheeled around her, Kristen resolved to take a chance with her Impalers; deadly and decisive were they in the right circumstances, but they were costly, sometimes difficult to use, and could be countered. Alistair's sword had been halted by the magically enhanced bulk of the brute Bellona, so mayhap her Impalers would not fare terribly better, but if they chipped away at her, piece by bloody piece...then maybe...in any case, she took the risk.

Bellona surged toward Kristen again, warhammer prepped for a thunderous arc, and Kristen, right before her very feet, called forth with a chanted verse a singular Impaler, the Conjuration erupting from the stream's water and poised to skewer Bellona to whatever effect it was capable.

And if nothing else, it might provide at least an obstacle to Bellona's fearsome wrath.

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

The iron-like taste of blood filled his mouth as Alistair coughed a glob of the crimson liquid out. He quickly activated a rune trying to heal some of the wounds, but the forcing of bones back into place made him wince even worse from the pain. Even so, he forced himself to his feet.

This woman was built like a Nordengaard outhouse. He should have used the runesaber to cut through that bitch. Now, he was struggling to move while his magics tried to put him back together.

He looked on to see the monster marching forward toward Kristen. That hammer was being swung with enough force to bring instant death for almost anyone that got in its way, and it was heading right for Kristen.

That hammer was going to descend on Kristen's impaler and smash it to smithereens. Well, not if he had anything to say about it. Kris just needed an opening to finish this.

It was the smallest shift, something someone like Bellona would never notice. Alistair had placed his hand to the ground and caused a small patch of dirt to rise just in front of her step. It was not enough to trip the ogre of a woman, but it was enough to make her stumble. Her hammer swung just a second slower. That one second was all that mattered.

Kristen's impaler had reached first and brought with it much more force than Alistair's earlier sword strike.

Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

Alistair disrupted Bellona's poise just enough, and thus Kristen's Impaler proved faster than her opponent's swing. Straight into the brutish woman's gut, the same weakened place where only a moment ago Alistair had driven his sword, the conjured Impaler lifted Bellona clean off of her feet and brought her up to the same height above the battle Kristen herself had been earlier. Bellona gripped the thin arcane metal of the Impaler, holding herself straight up. The woman's monstrous resilience had prevented the tip of the Impaler from puncturing all the way through, even if it had caused further damage to a now vulnerable spot.

Kristen, spear in hand, had the perfect weapon to reach Bellona's dangling vantage, to jab at her and make her bleed more. And she made ready to do so.

Until Bellona simply laughed. Sneered fiercely. Glared down with burning triumph at Kristen and Alistair alike. "You dumb fucks," she said, "you've been paying too much attention to me."

Now here it was that the last card in the deadly game of Dreadlords was played. The light infantry had by now evacuated the lethal three-sided surround they had been caught in, and had reformed into their own line in preparation for a counterattack, to envelop Garron's infantry the same way they themselves had been enveloped. But among the light infantry, having slipped in during the desperate and hurried withdraw, was an enemy in their midst.

Cadoc. He kept many of the secrets of his illusion magic to himself, was even able to graduate from the Academy and perform his duties as a Dreadlord without revealing too much. But to Garron he had pledged his loyalty, and to Garron he revealed some of his magical secrets for his lord's tactical consideration. And Garron, having heard, knew at once what he wanted Cadoc to do: wait. Wait until the perfect moment during the general engagement. And then kill Walter Banick.

Cadoc's illusion, his peerless image as just another of Walter's men, fell away the moment he summoned his Phantom Blade. Standing just behind Walter, knowing for a fact that it was him because his face had been revealed by the damaging of his visor, knowing that Saydor and the two unaccounted-for Dreadlords were engaged with Halcor and Bellona, Cadoc's time had come.

He rammed the arcane Blade up through Walter's back, the magic slicing cleanly through his armor. Out through Walter's chest it burst; Walter's eyes bulged with shock; blood ran down from his lips. And when Cadoc wrenched the Phantom Blade out, Walter Banick was dead even before his body had fallen all the way forward into the water of the shallow stream.

Kristen saw it all happen, and she was stunned with disbelief and a sinking dread. The cold feeling of doom blotted out the heat of the sunny afternoon. Though the day was not yet done, she knew as much as she feared that the future of House Banick...belonged now to Garron Iddeo Banick. Gods help Vel Anir. Gods help her and Alistair.

Bellona pulled herself free of Kristen's Impaler. Dropped down, her feet making a heavy splash in the water. Then she wheeled on Alistair, said, "I owe you one, don't I?" and swung her hideous hammer his way.

Alistair Krixus