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The BloodVaine EpicChapter 69: Marching To Mayhem
Jack drilled his troops. He had been training them for two nights now, pushing the limits of both their endurance and his own.
“No, blast it! Put pressure on the wound here, or you might just as well bleed the patient yourself.”
Jack’s troop -- those too young to wield a sword or too weakened by injuries of their own -- were a score of churgeons, herbalists, and leeches, most of whom knew their business better than Jack did. But none had ever been faced with battlefield medicine before, and Jack was making certain they would know what to expect when the fighting began. He had pressed a few off-duty guards to make random attacks as the group practiced mock treatments on equally counterfeit injuries.
“Dodge, you great fool! You’ll do that soldier no good if you get your own head hewn to flinders. Fall back if you need to -- they’ll not attack the wounded.”
After the great council of war, Jack had approached Bjarn and Barbod with the notion of training a group of frontline churgeons for the battle to come. Barbod had been puzzled at the novel idea, but soon saw the sense in having medical help on hand where it was most needed. Bjarn had picked from among his own people anyone who had even a basic training as a healer, and put them under Jack’s direction.
“Aye, and if the wounded is an enemy soldier? What then? You give him the help he needs, of course. They’ve got family, same as you, and they’re only fighting under orders. Just don’t put your own life at risk any more than you need.”
Barbod had been especially curious as to why Jack -- who boasted of being a soldier at least once before -- had decided to forgo direct combat. Jack merely shook his head, and declined to answer. But Barbod knew his friend was not being cowardly, since his group would be as much in the fighting as any other -- and without armor or heavy blades to slow them down. It was important for the battlefield healers to be able to respond quickly.
Shainya, too, was part of the team of healers and herbalists, and Jack had unofficially appointed her second in command. Shainya had a good knowledge of medicinal remedies, and was skilled at which herbs and poultices to use on particular wounds. All of this know-how she had learned from Dale. As she finished depositing a pile of torn-up sheets to be used as bandages she heard the unmistakable cry of a battle horn.
“Bulls, chariot division, move out!”
“Wolfpack, axemen division, move out!”
“Eastern Knight’s Kingdom, spearmen division, move out!”
And Bjarn’s own booming voice, Forestmen, archer division, move out!”
Shainya looked up to catch sight of Bjarn, back again in the very same garments he wore when he wandered Dametreos with the Misfits, shouting orders at the Forestmen who were packing up.
Shainya approached him and said, “Not opting for battle armor, Milord?”, jokingly stressing the title.
He grinned slightly. “Despite what Sir Dractor and Rodurik have said, Forestmen were never armor-wearers. The younger generation may feel comfortable in the stuff, but I feel waiting down like a prisoner chained to a wall with it on.”
Bjarn tested the tip of his blade and sheathed it. His old hatchet, quiver and bow were already in place. He took up his spear and shield and squared his shoulders. He only lacked his sleeping roll and backpack used when he traveled. Those would be no use to him in battle.
Shainya hesitated, this lunged forward and pecked Bjarn on his craggy cheek.
“Fare well, Bjarn.” she whispered, and left.
“I pray we all do, I pray with all my heart.” whispered Bjarn.
Shainya was wiping away a tear when she slammed into a figure struggling with some plate armor. She gasped out “Sorry!” and then realized she had bumped into Reno. She blushed, and Reno said awkwardly, “‘Tis okay…”
There was a silence, and then Reno said, “Shainya?”
She looked at him, quavered, “Reno...I...er...be safe…” she finished lamely.
Reno removed his pendant from around his neck and pressed it into her hand.
“Keep this for me...until I return, would you? I...ah...it would...probably get tangled up...and…”
Shainya looped the pendant’s chain around her neck and whispered, “It will never leave my sight.”
Just then a horn blasted, and Lord Barbod’s voice rang out, “Elite Bulls, move out!”
“That’s...my...platoon, er...I’m fighting along side Barbod...I have to go…” Reno flustered.
Shainya glided forward and pressed her lips to Reno’s for a full five seconds before withdrawing a disappearing into the crowd.
“Yer a lucky man, Reno, lad!”
Reno whirled about, flushing at the sight of Barbod, who was grinning broadly.
“If we live through this, promise you won’t tease me about what just happened.” Reno said hurriedly.
“I will promise no such thing, lad! I want the enjoyment of seeing your face go red as a beet again!” Barbod guffawed, and pounded Reno on the back.
“Come, lad. I have a place just for you, right beside me in the head chariot!”
As they walked to the chariots that had been once several sea vessels, they ran into Bjarn, Willem and Aros.
Willem smiled, a tear glistening in his eye. “Misfits, once again going into battle...may all of us, including Graygon, and Drakko, wherever he may be, survive to fight another day.”
“May this battle be the last one we fight for a long time.” said Aros.
There was a silence, then Bjarn whispered, “We were different men then than we are now. May we prevail. For Dametreos!”
They pounded one another on the back. “FOR DAMETREOS!”
They dispersed.
Reno remember the last time he had been in a large battle, in the courtyard of the Eastern Knight’s Kingdomers on Kingdom Isle. He had been close to death, but managed to survive. In the Great Sea Battle, the biggest battle Reno had ever been in, Reno learnt of his brother. This battle wasn’t a battle, it was war. Many men would die, and the fate of Dametreos would be decided.
Reno’s mind wandered to Shainya. Sweet Shainya, with her sweet looks. Reno was determined to get back to Shainya. Sweet Shainya...
Woo hoo!! I’m finally doing something worth while! Ark thought. He grabbed the hilt of his sword, and grinned. Ark was with a group of warriors, led by Scartus Meonlor, a young mercenary.
After receiving his armor from Rodurik Dordrot had gone up to were everyone was preparing for the great battle. He had been assigned to the Elite Bulls, right behind Barbod’s and Reno’s chariot. He had been honored when Barbod had asked him to be behind him. The man that was beside Dordrot was a young boy named Blindfar. He was a young boy maybe 15 or 17. He looked smart but Dordrot had welcomed him aboard with some doubt.
“Have you ever been in a battle?” asked Blindfar nervously.
“Yes.” said Dordrot. “In a battle of the Falcon and Bull war.”
“Bloody Falcons.” spat Blindfar.
“Yes indeed. But they will pay for the wrong they have brought upon the Bulls.”
“Yes. A Bull is always charging.” smiled Blindfar.
Bjarn turned to Voolmark, Gonderin, and Gladwheel.
“Men, you know your positions. Gladwheel with the swordsmen and Gonderin with the spearmen will head the charge, backed up by Voolmark and the archers. I will relay my orders through Voolmark, he will contact you telepathically. Bourne has taught you what to do. We have one goal, defeat BloodVaine. We must accomplish this anyway we can. Remember, work with the other commands, as I will be doing. Forget your former squabbles with anyone and everyone. We are all allies against BloodVaine. Good luck, now move out!”
Barbod was also addressing his sub commanders.
“I will at the front, leading the chariots, attempting to push in as deep as possible. Once in, our archers will cover the spear, sword and axemen, who are lead by Berlin and Aros. Reno will be with me. I will receive constant battle reports from other commanders, and I will relay my orders to you in any way possible. Remember, a Bull is always charging!”
Gerald Vos spoke in a commanding voice. “Dark Foresters! Hear me! I will be in charge of this army until King Radjar Kath returns. His word overrules mine, if you see him in battle, in any condition, report back to me immediately. We will advance right after the Bulls, spread out to be less of a target. We do not have the advantage of trees and other terrain, but the gutting city of Orion will provide plenty of shielding. I want to remind you that the Wolfpack are out allies, our allies this time! I will personally execute anyone who purposely attacks a Wolfpack member, and make sure ALL the troops are aware of this. Right, that is all. Move!”
Willem Blackcloak surveyed the brown-and-black cloaked assembly before him.
“We are out of our element, us, the Wolfpack. We prefer subterfuge to blind attack, quiet stealth to triumphant charge. However, we are also adaptable. Orion is a make-work of roads and alleys, use this to your fullest extent. We may be the smallest force, even smaller than the Knight’s Kingdomers, but we are my far the most potent. Remember, the normal Falcons loyal to Falconis and BloodVaine fly under the yellow banner, the rebel Falcons fly under the blue. Also, Lord Void’s Dragon Masters have shields with blue dragons, Del Grakken's has green ones. Be wary, but be bold at the same time. If we fail, we die. Good luck, let’s go…”
Lord Void, from the helm of the ark, shouted to the Fright Knights in his best commandeering voice.
“Fright Knights, listen! I know I am not your proper commander, I am not even a Fright Knight! However, I ask you to obey me for the very reason I see Wolfpack and Dark Forest fighting side by side; allied against BloodVaine we have a chance to prevail. Allied, we have a chance! So, I ask you, for this battle, look to me as your commander, and I will try my tycoed most to get us through this battle, and on the victorious side too! Our designated job is to patrol the skies and survey the battle, firing a few shots here and there. However, be prepared for much more. BloodVaine has an airship, and I know he plans to use it. You have been warned. Now prepare for liftoff!”
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