The Trees And The Night (Book 3) (17 page)

Many of the Anvil hung their heads. The army growing around the prince silenced as his words stung them.

“My lord,” returned Aul. “We all swore to honor and follow the house of Stormbreaker, but to needlessly sacrifice ourselves does a disservice to our people. We are Keltar’s protection and her defense. To decimate our numbers trying to take a hill in these wastelands is folly.”

“What?” roared Fenrel. “Do you dare question the king’s chosen?”

The prince heeled his Brodor forward beside Aul and his hulking mass challenged the lieutenant. Aul bowed his head and studied the ground as he replied.

“Absolutely not, my lord,” stammered Aul. “Please do not misunderstand me Prince Fenrel. I do not challenge your authority, but beg that we consider tactics against the Zodrians. They would not stand naked on the Dunmor, outside of their precious city walls, if they did not have a scheme.

“We will win this war, my lord. I will happily lay down my life in its endeavor. However, as I said, duty obligates us to return and defend our wives and daughters. The more we attempt to force our way over this line of hills the more of us stand to lose our lives ...”

“Your lives are not ...” began Fenrel interrupting.

“ .... LIVES WE ARE WILLING TO FORFEIT IN THE SERVICE OF OUR COUNTRY!” interjected Aul. “But not needlessly.”

Fenrel was stunned. No one disrespected him in such a manner since the trial of Granu. The prince’s eyes quickly scanned the crowd around him and noted a definite response to Aul’s words. His lieutenant captured their minds with his battlefield heroics. Aul faced death for these men and they were his if he chose to take them.

Fenrel immediately plotted a course of action. Certainly some of what Aul said made sense. However, almost as certain was the loss of Fenrel’s grip upon his men. Fear and intimidation worked well during the supposed security of peaceful times, but during war a man facing death cared little about threats from superiors. These men would quickly see that disobeying their leaders as a group was more desirable than being forcibly marched into Zodrian steel. Fenrel needed to be patient and cultivate this new faith in Aul to his advantage. He could always deal with the lieutenant’s disobedience later, after he overran the Zodrians. The prince’s face broke into a broad smile.

“You are correct, Lieutenant Aul,” replied Fenrel bowing his head. “I am harsh because that is what a commander must be. Oftentimes men lose their resolve at the first sign of an enemy’s resistance. We cannot afford such a misstep now.

“However, I now see that my men have done no such thing. The enemy is clever and has had time to build an adequate defense around these hills. We must devise a plan to circumvent these defenses. Due to the courage you displayed on the battlefield, I find it right that you be called to such a task, Commander Aul.”

The Anvil, close enough to hear the speech, let out a roar of approval. Fenrel was right. These men would now follow Aul into even greater danger. If they could quickly devise an adequate plan of attack, the war could begin again. Fenrel fought hard to remove the spite from his voice and called out to the assembled Anvil.

“Reform your rank along the tree line,” bellowed the Prince. “Commander Aul and I must meet with our remaining officers and devise a plan to defeat these Zodrians.”

The prince heeled his battle mount about and headed west behind the trees to where his pavilion stood. Aul quickly scanned the other Keltaran commanders and nodded to them. After they barked orders to their subordinates, the entire procession moved behind the trees.

“KELTARAN!” shouted Flair from the vantage of his post. “HEAR ME! I COMMAND THE BOWMEN OF THE ZODRIAN GUARD! I SEEK A REPRESENTATIVE TO MEET ME ON THE BATTLEFIELD BELOW!”

The young Colonel stepped from the trench where his archers lay hidden. Slowly he maneuvered down the hillside to the barricade erected by the infantry. He lifted a white pennant high into the air and waved it back and forth.

Fools. These Ramsskull commanders were fools, thought Utecht. They leave an army, on the brink of war, leaderless while they discuss how to attack a position they should have scouted days ago. Now the young leader of the opposition’s bowmen seeks parlay and there is none here to decide whether to accept or not. Three decades Utecht fought in the Keltaran army against both Zodrian and Ulrog, and never had his beloved Anvil fallen to this level of incompetence.

Utecht smiled as he recalled his early days under the young Grannak Stormbreaker. The Ulrog feared them and the Zodrians stayed clear of the mountains. Peace through strength was Grannak’s plan and it worked well. Now, as the old king faded and his sons squabbled over the future of the kingdom, the Anvil suffered. Certainty leadership is the hallmark of a truly great fighting force. Sergeant Utecht had been stripped of his command as Fenrel’s Ramsskull took control of the Hammer units.

Utecht scanned the Anvil, none of the black shirts remained to answer the Zodrian’s call for parlay. Thousands of his brethren stared at one another, unsure of what to do. The old sergeant snarled, extended the handle of his battle-ax and strode from the throng of soldiers toward the base of the hill.

“Flair’s idea is questionable, my lord,” stated Brelg staring at the battlefield below. “It may simply bolster the enemies numbers, or lead them to believe we are weak.”

“Those injured Keltaran below have lain there long enough to assure me their injuries are grave. If they are returned to the Anvil, I doubt they add much to its force,” returned Manfir as he too scanned the battlefield with a deep look of concern. “Colonel Flair has taken one of Prince Granu’s lessons deep to heart. We do not simply fight for land, my brother, we fight for the hearts of men.”

Flair wove his way through the bodies of injured and dead Keltaran never taking his eyes from the giant purposefully striding toward him. Some of the men below him groaned and gasped for help, but the young man needed to ignore them. If their Keltaran comrades were reasonable, these men would receive help momentarily.

Within moments Flair stood ten yards from the Keltaran. The pair studied one another for a moment. The giant was old. Gray streaked the wild red hair flowing to his shoulders. Scars covered a powerful body growing lean with age. The Keltaran carried a worn battle-ax, a weapon that had seen much action.

The Keltaran flipped the ax handle into his hands and slammed its head into the rocky soil. Flair remained stone still. The weapon stood almost as tall as the young man. The Keltaran leaned forward on its handle and eyed Flair critically.

“You are young,” growled the giant with a hint of surprise.

“You are old,” replied Flair flatly.

Utecht allowed a light chuckle.

“Your archers have done a good deal of damage,” stated the giant.

“That was their intent,” returned Flair.

Utecht snarled at the boy. He admired the Zodrian scheme but could take no pleasure in its results.

“It was but a delay to your defeat, boy,” stated Utecht. “In all my years in the Anvil I have never seen such a mismatch between our forces. You will be overrun.”

“Perhaps,” smiled Flair. “I have not been in the Guard long, but time is not required to see the mismatch in leadership on this battlefield. I intended to converse with a ranking member of the Anvil, yet see no insignia upon your person.”

Utecht narrowed his eyes at the boy, acutely aware of the misstep by Fenrel and his lackeys. The giant felt no need to concede this point to the Guardsman.

“They confer and devise your downfall,” replied Utecht. “They elected not to bother with the cries of mercy you surely come to deliver.”

“On the contrary,” smiled Flair, “it is mercy I come to offer.”

A puzzled expression crossed Utecht’s face and the giant laughed.

“Surely you do not waste our time with ludicrous suggestions concerning terms for our retreat,” laughed Utecht shaking his head. “You are a bold one, boy.”

“No,” replied Flair soberly. “I do not pretend to ignore the dire situation my army is in. However, I see others, children of Avra in more dire need.”

Flair turned and waved a hand across the battlefield strewn with the bodies of the injured and dead.

“These children of Avra do not deserve to lie here,” said Flair.

Recognition entered Utecht’s face and the Keltaran grimaced.

“Those still gasping for air do not need to perish staring into the harsh face of the morning sun while the men who sent them to this fate argue over the best way to produce more corpses.” said Flair moving toward the giant. “The first order of business for your leaders should have been to collect their dead and dying.”

Utecht’s head lowered slightly as the truth of the boy’s remarks took hold.

“I do not pretend to know you, Keltaran,” continued Flair, his voice full of passion, “but I know of you. This is not your way.

“Your list of grievances against my people is long and filled with truth, but in your quest for vengeance do not lose your souls. Retain your honor.”

Flair and Utecht stared at one another for a long moment. Finally the giant bowed.

“You are young,” stated Utecht again, “but your age belies your wisdom. What is it you propose?”

“Send two dozen unarmed soldiers to collect your dead and wounded,” said Flair. “They may come and go unmolested by my archers and my troops as long as they display their own flag of parlay. When your men have cleared the field they may lower their flag and the usual honor of parlay will apply.”

Utecht’s huge hand rose and he stroked the red and gray beard covering his heavy jaw.

“There is much compassion and honor in what you propose, Zodrian,” stated Utecht. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you a student at the Monastery of Awoi.”

“You don’t know better,” smiled Flair, “and the Abbot of the Monastery has carried its message beyond the borders of Keltar.”

Utecht raised an interested eyebrow, but did not pursue his question. The men lying among the grasses of this battlefield needed attention, not conversation.

“Do you agree with this proposal?” asked Flair.

“I agree with this proposal,” replied Utecht, “but am uncertain if I hold the authority to do so.”

Now it was Flair’s turn to be puzzled. He furrowed his brow, unsure of what to say. Utecht swept his hand behind him.

“I am no different from any other man standing along the tree line,” continued Utecht. “Our commanders left us whilst they scheme. I may agree to your proposal, but who is to say what Prince Fenrel will do upon his return.”

Flair clenched his teeth.

“I challenge you, Keltaran!” blurted the young man.

“You what?” exclaimed Utecht.

Certainly the boy did not hold this entire conversation in order to challenge the Keltaran to single combat at the end of it.

“I challenge your thinking,” snapped Flair. “You are not like any other man arrayed behind you. None stepped from that line but you. None held the courage to recognize the need of his army and step forward to take control. It is men like you, men who step forward even though they were not singled out, who change history.

“I challenge you to look at yourself and recognize your duty to the men lying here at our feet. Accept my proposal and if Fenrel of Keltar finds fault in your judgment make him see his error.”

Flair stared hard into the Keltaran’s eyes and the giant steadfastly returned the gaze.

“I accept,” stated Utecht finally.

The giant spun on his heels and strode toward the tree line. Flair nodded and pulled a flask of water from beneath his cloak. He quickly moved amongst the injured Keltaran offering them water and assuring them of their imminent help.

“The Keltaran accepted,” said Brelg over Manfir’s shoulder.

“Yes,” nodded the prince. “Let us hope Colonel Flair planted a seed that is allowed to grow.”

Utecht charged into the line of Keltaran barking orders.

“Kleed! Turig!” shouted Utecht to a pair of older Keltaran standing near the front line. “Gather two dozen men to your banners to see to our wounded and dead. Have them discard their arms and form rank. Be quick about it.”

The pair slapped soldiers on the shoulders and formed them into groups. The soldiers quickly discarded their battle-ax and long pikes.

“Warth! Raise a banner of parlay and move it to the head of the troops. Place it amidst the battlefield while our men work,” shouted Utecht. “I, and only I, will tell you when to remove it.”

A young Keltaran quickly grabbed a pike and tore a swatch of white from the cloth of a saddlebag he overturned. When the cloth was affixed to the pike he stood and hesitantly moved forward.

“Can these Zodrians be trusted?” questioned the young man turning back to Utecht.

“What of Fenrel?” added Turig staring at the tree line to the West.

“We have more to fear from Fenrel than the Zodrians,” scoffed Utecht. “Leave the prince to me. I will accept all responsibility for these actions. Now off with you.”

The group charged out toward the battlefield and amongst their fallen comrades.

Flair helped a fallen giant take his final drink when the thunder of two-dozen Keltaran runners approached from behind. He spun to see the Keltaran split from rank and move amongst their brethren. A veteran moved rapidly toward the young Zodrian and Flair stood.