Chapter 6. Escape from Ash Valley. Part 2.
In the aftermath of battle, a grim silence settled over demon army camp, as weary soldiers struggled to process events that had unfolded before their eyes. The ground lay strewn with fallen bodies – both friend and foe alike – while blood stained ash beneath feet of those who yet lived through carnage.
Lilith stood amidst gathered ranks. Around her, mercenaries moved about with grim efficiency: tending to wounded companions. The loss of Adamus weighed heavy upon all present mercenaries.
As night fell, whispers spread through assembled ranks, awaiting orders to march, come dawn next day. Knight Forronus took charge, but he was no Adamus and could not inspire the men, the way Adamus did. He went to talk to Abaddon and soon returned. Hawk band officers and leaders of smaller mercenary bands gathered around him. The knight’s dark armor gleamed dully in the dying light, as he addressed them:
– Abaddon has contacted second demon army, – declared Forronus. A dozen hardened men and women leaned in to catch every word, their expressions ranging from stoic acceptance to barely concealed resentment: – They as well engaged fomorian army and were pushed back. We are retreating.
– Where are we going? – asked one of the mercenaries.
– East. We will go to Slother. Ideally we were supposed to unite with second army, but it is impossible now. Also second fomorian army is coming here, so we will need to move fast, before they get here. General Abaddon has issued new orders – we are to retreat eastward and act as rear guard for the demon army, – Forronus stated flatly, ignoring the growing mutters of discontent
A low murmur rippled through the crowd. A grizzled orc, with a jagged scar across his face stepped forward, teeth bared in a snarl.
– Rear guard? You expect us to play bait, while those horned bastards run?
Other leaders began voicing their objections as well:
– Our men deserve better than dying for demons!
– The fomorians will be on our heels the whole way – it’s suicide!
– Abandon that fool, he plans to abandon us and save what we can.
Forronus held up a hand, silencing them.
– The general has his reasons. We follow orders.
The half-demon woman, who had confronted him before, glared daggers at the knight, voice dripping with venom:
– You’ll get us all killed, Forronus. The old man’s blind ambition is going to be our death sentence.
She turned away abruptly, muttering darkly under her breath as she stalked off.
– Mark my words – this ‘retreat’ will see the end of more than one band.
Forronus ignored her sarcasm, turning instead to a grizzled human with more silver in his beard than brown.
– You’re welcome to voice your concerns to General Abaddon himself, – replied Knight evenly: – Until then, I suggest you focus on obeying orders. Hawk band will take point – I trust your experience, Torgrim?
The old warrior nodded grimly, face etched with lines of weary acceptance:
– Aye. We’ll do our part.
The other leaders drifted away in small groups, their low conversations tinged with anger and despair. Soon the entire mercenary camp was abuzz with hurried activity, as they prepared for their perilous new role in this bloody conflict.
Lilith went back to her men, and passed them Abaddon’s orders. To her partial surprise, they all survived the battle and, after she healed their wounds, were ready to go.
– I noticed that others were dissatisfied, – mentioned Cian.
– I do not like it either, – answered Lilith: – We will be placed in most dangerous position, with fomorians running after us. If they catch up, we will be first in the meat grinder.
– Should we not attack them. Now that their leader is gone? – asked Kragor.
– No. And keep quiet about their god’s fate. Also their second army is coming here. And fomorians could have more surprises. I prefer to fight, when I know that we can win. Better to retreat and lure them into a trap, if we get a chance. Now, get ready to retreat, we will need to march fast.
The mercenary army pressed eastward under a leaden sky, their footsteps echoing hollowly against the ashen ground. Behind them rose an ominous rumble – the distant thunder of pursuit by relentless fomorian hordes.
Forronus went at the head of Hawk band, eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of Abaddon’s retreating demon forces. But with each passing hour it became clearer that they had been abandoned to their fate.
Around midnight, the knight called a halt near an ancient stone circle, allowing weary men and women to collapse in exhausted heaps.
– Get some rest while you can, – he rumbled: – We’ll need our strength soon enough.
As the first rays of dawn peeked over the horizon, a ragged scout came stumbling into camp. Her face was pale with terror as she blurted out:
– They’re coming! A hundred strong at least!
Forronus rose to his feet, drawing his sword, with a hiss of metal on leather.
– All bands prepare for combat! Form up around the standing stones!
The mercenaries scrambled into position, forming a ragged shield wall as best as they could. Just in time too – mere moments later the fomorians came crashing out from between two hills.
A terrible battle was joined amidst the ancient monoliths, mercenary and monster alike falling to sword or spellcraft. Forronus hacked and slashed at any who dared approach, his dark armor spattered with blood.
But it soon became clear that this was merely a skirmish – as quickly as they had appeared, the fomorians retreated back, into mist-shrouded valleys beyond. Leaving behind only broken bodies and fading screams.
The knight surveyed the aftermath of slaughter, face etched with grim resignation.
– Not all who wander are lost, – he murmured, echoing words once spoken by his fallen friend: – But not all those who remain find what they seek.
With heavy hearts, the surviving mercenaries turned to bury their dead, before resuming the long march eastward – always running, never truly free. For now Abaddon’s army was lost to them and Forronus already lost third of his own men. And with low food and water supply, their fate looked quit grim.
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