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Vol.5, Ch.7, P.3

 

“Fie, fie…!” rasped Anette as she trudged along at the tail-end of the 2nd’s retreat. Southwards the knights wended, down the bloodsoaked and body-strewn slopes and out into the barrens. By now, the last light of dusk had snuffed itself out, but plain to see even in the vesper were the furrows of chagrin graven deep into the under-mareschal’s face.

Her memory burnt yet bright with that last fray within the fane. There in the Dēlūbrum basilica had she done battle, and against whom but allies erstwhile: to wit, the spellweaver Alfred and the hammerhand Malena. Indeed, it had been a mere two Salvator traitors that barred Anette’s way and that of her knightly detachment’s.

Long had they vied, the knights thronging to break through, only to be frustrated time and again by masterful magicks and honed hammerwork, till dim grew the hour and dire became the knights’ situation. Greatly lessened, Anette and her now-meagre men had then mustered for a last and hopeless charge, but were sooner stopped by the appearance of two interlopers from deep within the Dēlūbrum: a wild swordsman and a damsel Nafíl. And what they bore were things to break the Londosian spirit: the Nafíl with the hewn-off head of the marquis, and the swordsman with tidings of Stefan Cronheim’s demise, one hard-dealt by the hand of Rolf the rebel.

To a stunned Anette, this had well-seemed a waking nightmare. Mighty under-mareschal to the 2nd as she was, being overmastered by a sheltered lordling and a witless woman of size had been woundful enough. But to next be met with so gruesome and unmistakable a token of defeat—and more cruelly: the loss of her dear mareschal—it had all been too much to endure; that amidst her screams of grief and anger, Anette’s knights saw no other way but to drag away their superior and quit the Dēlūbrum, wholly empty-handed save for the bitter news they soon must break.

And thus is the rest history: the 2nd and the Salvators had chosen retreat, with Anette last to depart the summit, being utterly delirious and despondent in her scuttling escape. Distant now she was from Déu Tsellin as it smoked and smouldered under the blood-dark sky. With aught and all having gone awrong, it was most mete to remorse, but the present Anette roiled rather with wrath. Ever as she hobbled under the weight of her hurts, the under-mareschal mumbled and grumbled many maledights, each and all of them a ravenous vow to someday soon avenge her beloved mareschal.

“Well, I never. That wasn’t to plan, was it? No, not at all…” murmured Felix from behind her. The timidity in his tone, however, pleased his superior not in the least; and for it, she flung a fierce gaze back at the middle-aged adjutant.

“Oh peace, you piddling pissant!” she spat at him. “If you’ve time to ponder plans, then ponder the next, why don’t you!?”

But unusually, Felix did not flinch. “Mn? Oh, never mind me, madame. I was simply taken aback,” he replied, before thoughtfully trailing off, “In faith; for the foe to prove so utterly fierce…”

Passing strange. To Anette, the oft-spineless adjutant seemed… indifferent to this foulest of defeats. Nay, this was not a man deep in denial, but rather a man detached, as one observing an affair from a far remove. This only served to nick Anette’s nerves more deeply, stoking her into a flying rage.

“What demeanour is that!” she thundered. “You dare applaud our enemy? You dare disparage our plight!? Heavens! Have you no sense for what blow has befallen us!?”

“Yes I do, madame,” Felix replied with regularity. “Indeed, the 2nd’s been soundly vanquished; our mareschal and under-mareschal both now to be buried. The nails’re all hammered in, I tell you. And as for the rest of us, well, I should suppose we’re to disband soon enough. But not without promise of new posts by year’s end, mind. Oh, bother; would the day’ve been won, at the very least…”

Ever as Felix spoke, Anette’s eyes grew hard, till at last she stopped and stared. Something within the adjutant’s words ill-matched all the rest. “…Me? ‘Buried’?” she pressed him. “Wha—”

But at that moment, the questioning was cut short—

—by a dagger-blade running now deep through Anette’s belly.

And Felix, who held it fast in hand, looked upon her as one upon a dog breathing its precious last.

“Now, see you this, madame?” he said, turning cold and quiet. “How so short a blade can find so far a mark? This becomes true strength—strength you vassals to ‘chivalry’ can never fathom.”

Anette’s eyes flashed. Blood bubbled, spilling from her lips. But mustering that selfsame chivalrous strength, she shoved Felix away and reached for the silversword girt at her hip. Yet, no sooner was it drawn than had a circle of knightly spearheads pounced and pierced her from every side.

“Guhakh…!” she bloodfully gasped.

Not upon any other occasion would Anette have fallen so easily for blades perfidious. But alas, the many wounds and wears of the day had proven her undoing. Together, the spears extracted themselves; and Anette, perceiving next her nearing end, redly retched and fell to her knees. Still, with her last strength, she strained her eyes ever upon Felix.

“Who?” she demanded. “Who dares design my death?”

Only, such words never did leave her gurgling throat nor her blood-flooded lungs. But to Felix, her utter disbelief well-sufficed. Thus, with icy compassion in his eyes, he vouchsafed unto her a parting present:

“I will weep for you, my Lady,” he said, “as will the good Sir Erik Lindell.”

 

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“…and the 1st have all withdrawn without further war.”

“Very good.”

Upon receipt of the report, I yielded a sigh of relief, as did all the other braves about me. The 1st had abandoned the battle, it seemed, and were now nowhere to be spotted upon sacred slope or spur. Thus was it ended at last: the great and bloody battle of our time. But whilst our warriors celebrated, I could but silently stare out into the distance.

“Rolf?” said Lise beside me. “What’s the matter?”

“Hm? Oh, never mind me,” I answered, and looked once more to the horizon.

In truth, I had felt from a while before a brief gaze given my way. From far afield it had come, yet queerly enough, I fancied myself having seen it once already, once upon a time some winters past, perhaps. Nay, nonsense, I now thought to myself. A sleight of the faeries, no doubt. Nevertheless, I could scarce help but recall the battle on the Erbelde—and withal the belle that sat then at my bedside. How long since has it been? I pondered next. Three? Four years? But not on this evil day did we meet again. Though whether that’s something to rejoice or no, I…

“My thanks,” I said, shelving the thought and turning aside to the lǣċe that had been tending to my wounds. “That ought suffice.”

“I’m afraid not, good Herr,” the lǣċe returned with a shake of the head. “The wounds are woven shut, but you must rest. You have bled much.”

Saying that I would, I thanked the lǣċe again, and saw him off as he went to tend our other wounded. And there, sat upon the Dēlūbrum portico, under the looming of its high columns, I looked all through my surroundings. Clear night had fallen full upon this sacred peak. A lazy wind blew. And up above, the stars twinkled quietly; but beneath their myriad regard, there was much mirth and merry being made, for the bitterness of the battle had served only to sweeten this victory of ours all the more.

“Well, no rest for the weary,” I soon said, and slowly started up to my feet. “Too little time and too much to clean up. Let’s see… I ought first meet with the other—”

“Did you not hear the lǣċe?” retorted Lise, who swiftly set me back down. “Sit tight. I can handle the rest.” How very considerate of her. I had half a mind to insist, of course, but decided in the end to do exactly as told. “Oh, and the both of you,” Lise then said, turning about elsewhere. “Joining us, you said? There’s much to be explained, then.”

And upon whom was she looking intently but the former Salvators Alfred and Malena.

“For true,” answered the former. “Henceforth, I raise my staff for you and yours. That is my will—and Malena’s, too, if there is no mistake.”

“A-aye!” the latter jumped, but catching herself, asked sheepishly, “Ah, c-can I…?”

Lise’s answer came quick. “Of course, you can!”

“The more, the merrier,” I echoed, for which Malena had no words. Instead, she smiled, stiffly in a way but with sincerity, and nodded many times. After the enemy had gone and the dust had settled, she had made plain to us her wish to pack her bags and move to Hensen. I worried little that she would be welcomed there—she and Alfred both. For former foes though they were, we would all of us be dead and defeated by this “vetimentum” had they not chosen treachery.

Nay… even absent their heroism, I wagered that the two would be accepted all the same. After all, today had borne witness to Men and Nafílim fighting both together and for one another—and emerging victorious, no less. To think that just a few days before, such happenstance had stood beyond all hope and reverie.

Indeed, such hurdles had we overbounded today, such walls climbed. Doubtless would this day be most remembered for many ages to come; ages themselves born from our successes, our sacrifices. Yes; it shall be remembered. It must be. So long as we stay true and keep the course, that such a future may be forged.

…Wouldn’t you say? I said to the stars—and as well, to our dear friends and fellows now fallen. And then I sighed. After all this warring, I had forgotten how beautiful the night could be.

“What see you up there?” asked Lise.

“Oh, just the night,” I said. “The high heavens, from atop a mountain—little else can boast of more beauty.”

Lise herself looked up, and after a while of star-watching, said, “For true, that.”

One might think it some cruel sarcasm, that the sky should span so splendidly over so ablood a battlefield. But with the stars sad and serene as they were, it sooner seemed to my eyes a mural in mourning and celebration both.

And then I looked north- and westwards, where lay Hensen beyond the horizon. There yet remained one more mission, I then remembered, the one and very last. And so did I set myself to it: to come back home safe and sound.

Just as promised.

 
 

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Volume 5 ─ End

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