A rabbit leaned down to drink from the southbound water, its ears raised, hind legs coiled, chambered to explode at the earliest sign of danger.
I aimed the notched arrow before I took a deliberate step forward. Its ears twitched before it sprung away. I was ready. The arrow whistled through the air then punctured its body, breaking its spine in half. It fell on the mud and spasmed before it went limp. I stepped out from the bushes and retrieved the arrow from my fresh kill. I checked for any damage to its organs. It was a good kill.
A blue mist seeped out of the corpse. I kneeled down and inhaled the mist through my nose. It felt like breathing the cool morning air. As I inhaled, I saw images of the rabbit's short life. I saw it leap around these woods, avoiding predators, hydrating itself in the same river where it was killed. It fed on grass and vegetation, occasionally indulging itself in any wild berries it could find. I tasted the bitter grass and the sweet berries. I experienced how it sensed danger, how it escaped threats to its existence. I felt how its whole body coiled into action as it dashed away from a wolf.
I knelt down to the rabbit. It was like staring at my own corpse. I took out my knife and skinned its pelt, before gutting and harvesting the flesh.
I washed away the blood in the river and buried the guts and entrails. After storing away parts of the rabbit in my knapsack, I headed back to the village, thinking about how much I could sell the pelt for. I considered whether I should just eat the meat or if I should try and sell it to the butcher.
After making it out of the woods near Tenby village, I could see the village just ahead, sitting atop a grassy hill. The river wrapped around the hill and continued eastward. The weather was gray but otherwise clear without any rain or fog obstructing the view of the hilltop village.
As I climbed up the slope of the hill, nearing the top, I saw men armed with spears and chainmail. I stopped, thinking it was a bandit attack. When I saw the village chief talking to men bearing the insignia of the Kingdom of Valen, I relaxed and entered the village. The village chief noticed me.
"Chief, what's going on?" I said, glancing at the soldiers around him.
"Peter, these soldiers are here to recruit for the war. I expect everyone here to cooperate with them."
The chief gave me an apologetic look. He had always cared for the young people in the village and protected them whenever the capital requested soldiers. He only sent out people who were already well into their adult years, never those who were under the age of twenty. With the situation as dire as it was, with soldiers themselves coming personally to the village to recruit militia, he couldn't rely on his usual tricks.
One of the soldiers looked me over. "Back from a hunt?"
"Yes, sir."
He glanced at the hunting bow and quiver I carried. "If you're good with a bow, you might be useful. Take care of your business first, then please come back here. We are recruiting able bodied soldiers to join our cause."
I wanted to refuse, tell him to go somewhere else to recruit, but I knew there was no point in arguing. They could execute those who refused, and I didn't want to cause trouble for the other villagers. I gave a weak nod and headed to my house in the Northwest side of the village.
Last night's stew still lingered in the air. I deposited the pelt in a basket. As for the meat, I took some salt and rubbed it on the flesh. Outside my home, I could see soldiers going to every house and informing the residents that they were drafting for the war. Mothers cried, while fathers not fit for battle looked down in shame, wishing that they were chosen to fight instead.
I joined the other young men and women as we headed to the center of the village, which was normally used for festivals, weddings and other joyful gatherings. Now, it was filled with sullen, defeated faces. Up until this point, everyone lived an idyllic life in the village, an uneventful yet peaceful existence that was disturbed only occasionally by minor droughts and seasons of poor harvest. Now, we were recruited for war, a terrible war that had already been lost.
The soldiers had us line up before an old man wearing chainmail and a surcoat bearing the insignia of the Valen royal family. He walked down the line as he inspected us. His eyes were mismatched. The left eye was pale blue while the right was an unusual lilac. The lilac eye had a pale glow. Whenever he saw someone suitable for battle, he'd point at that person and they'd leave the line and join the soldiers.
I held my breath to the point where I was about to pass out. When the old man made his way to me, I was all green in the face and looked sickly.
"This one," he said, pointing a bony finger at me.
"Yes, general," the soldier said, nodding to the old man's words. "You there, be honored that you are among those chosen to protect Princess Charlotte Valen."
I released my breath.
…
News travels fast. Before the soldiers arrived, those of us in Tenby village knew the capital was overtaken by the Kingdom of Elesora. The war had been going on for six months, but we figured that a faraway, unimportant village like ours wouldn't see any fighting. That was the only benefit of living far away from the capital, or any place of strategic and economic significance. Not even bandits bothered to mess with us.
There was no escaping the war, though. The Princess was now the sole survivor of the Valen family. Splitting off from the army that stayed behind the capital to buy time for the Princess's escape, they ran as far as they could from the besieged capital, but her pursuers were relentless. The Valen forces stopped in every town and village that they could, recruiting able-bodied men and women to take a final stand against those who sought to end the Valen family. I, along with thirty other young men and women from my village, were drafted for the war, with the task of protecting the Princess.
The Princess herself came out to meet us. I was expecting some haughty brat of a girl who looked like she had never worked a day in her life. Instead she was a girl my age who wore plate armor and carried a longsword like she was a knight. Her long, brown hair was oily and looked like it hadn't been washed in days. Dried blood and dirt were caked into the locks. She had a haunted look in her eyes, but they were steady and alive.
"People of Tenby village," she said, her voice refined and melodic, but carrying a note of tiredness in it, one that she desperately tried to hide. "First of all, I would like to sincerely apologize."
The villagers gasped when she lowered her head to us. The soldiers moved to stop her, but the old man raised his hand.
"I apologize for involving you in this war. I apologize that our kingdom wasn't strong enough to protect you and your livelihood. I apologize for everything, but I am also asking for your service. As long as I survive, our country has a chance of returning to normalcy. Please, help me keep the Valen name alive!"
She kept her head bowed to us for what seemed like minutes. When she raised her head, those gathered started cheering, their applause and cries of support increasing in volume and intensity. The soldiers joined in the cheering, clanging their fists against their armor.
I would have said that the Princess was a cunning little witch, firing the troops up before sending them out to their deaths, but I could tell she meant every word of her speech. She staked her own existence in those words.
The new recruits were told to go to the impromptu training grounds to learn some basic tactics and how to use a spear. As I moved to join the others, the old man pointed to me and a soldier stopped me before I could go.
"You there," the old man said. "A word, please."
He gestured for me to come with him to a tent. The guards moved to follow, but he instructed them to stay outside. He lifted the entrance flap for me and gestured for me to step inside. The princess was inside the tent. She didn't seem surprised to see me.
"I take it that this is the boy you mentioned," she said, "the one with the Valkross blood?"
I tried not to show any outward reaction. I looked at the old man's lilac eye again, how it gave a strange, enchanting glow. It must be a Mylkra, a body part enchanted with powerful magical effects, and this one allowed him to see my true identity. Perhaps it was some kind of divination magic?
"Indeed, Your Highness," the old man said. "As a member of the infamous Valkross clan, I figure that he will be very valuable in our upcoming conflict."
The Princess smiled and folded her hands over her waist. "Fear not. Although the Valkross clan might not have–the best reputation–you will be treated fairly in my army."
"I think there must be some kind of mistake," I said. "I'm a farmer's kid, well, I was a farmer's kid. I just live alone now, pretty much."
Princess Charlotte gave me a sympathetic look. "An orphan, huh? I'm very sorry to hear that. Did your family die in the war?"
When I nodded, she gave me a sad look and apologized once more.
"In any case," I said, "I'm not of the Valkross family."
"You can't lie to me, boy," the old man said, pointing to his eye. "Now, what's a Valkross like you doing all the way here, in this tiny village?"
"I didn't lie," I said. "I'm not a Valkross. My father had an affair with a Lady from the Valkross clan, but I don't know her name. He never told me. I'm just Peter, a farm boy like any other."
The Princess mentioned that the Valkross didn't have the best reputation. That was putting it lightly. The Valkross were called many names, but the most well-known one was 'Vampire'.
"You can call me Winston," the old man said," but call me General Winston in front of the others."
"Alright. Winston, as you can see, I'm not a true Valkross."
Winston grinned. "Nonetheless, your power can still be of great use to us. The power to steal souls isn't one to take lightly, especially in a battlefield where there will be a lot of death."
I sighed, failing to hide my displeasure. "Not like I have much of a choice if you're drafting me."
The Princess gave me a weak smile. "I'm sorry, Peter, but we need every advantage we can get."
"Come with me to the training grounds, Peter."
The open field that children played in was now designated as the training grounds for war. The new recruits were given spears to practice with. Soldiers barked instructions at them as they thrusted the spears into cloth bags full of hay. The recruits were outfitted with gambeson and spears, while those who had some experience in hunting game were given bows to practice with.
"Alright. Now, I asked the chief about you, and he said you're quite a capable hunter. You're not just a simple farm boy, like you claim you are. Even if you didn't have Valkross blood, you'll still be of use. Now, show me what you can do."
Wooden target signs were set up for recruits to practice on. The soldiers saluted Winston as he came in. He asked me to show my skills with a bow. I took a basic stance, notched an arrow and fired at the target. The arrow hit true. Winston nodded in approval.
"Not bad," he said. "You're pretty good for someone who was self-taught. I think you'll do well in combat."
"I've never killed anyone before," I said.
"We're at war, kid. You'll just have to get used to it."
"To protect the Princess?"
"Ideally, yes, but don't you want to come out of this conflict alive, too?"
I nodded and he patted me on the shoulder.
He watched me as I practiced. I went through the motions, adjusting my stance and technique whenever Winston gave me advice. I didn't miraculously improve with a few hours of practice, but the new stance and techniques Winston taught me didn't feel as strange and uncomfortable as it did the first time I tried it.
The basic training ended after only three hours. They didn't want us sore and hurting all over when it came time to fight. Archery aside, spears were simple, but they were deadly even in an untrained fighter's hands. The instructors spent most of the training time teaching standard unit formations and tactics, instead of any fancy weapon techniques.
I was about to head back when my friends called out to me, the butcher's son, Keith, Thom, the son of a farmer like me, and Isabella, Thom's little sister.
"Peter, we're having a party with all the other recruits. Come join!"
I was about to politely decline, but Keith already had a muscular arm around me. He smelled like game and smoked meat. Keith was seventeen, a year older than me. He was set to take over his father's store and had started to grow a rough beard like his father. He had a girlfriend named Sammie until about a month ago when they broke up, after she discovered that Keith had slept with the daughter of a shopkeeper his father did business with, from the next town over.
"Everyone's gonna be there," Isabella chipped in. Thom only nodded along to his sister's words.
Thom and Isabella weren't twins, but they looked so much alike that they might as well have been. Both had curly blonde hair and freckles. Isabella was known for having a messy cloud of blonde hair when she was a kid, which she was often teased for by the other boys. The teasing stopped once she grew and learned how to use a comb. She became the most sought after girl in the village. Now, those same boys who once teased her went completely red in the face whenever they saw her. A lot of them had even proposed. She declined all of them.
"Yeah, sure. I guess I can come," I said, trying to sound excited.
"You're such a loner, Peter," Isabella pouted. "Would you really rather shut yourself at home when we're about to go to war? Don't you want our company?"
"It's because we're going to war that I want some time to sort my thoughts. Who knows what'll happen?"
"And how are you gonna do that by yourself?" she said. "We can think about all kinds of things together. More heads are better than one, you know?"
Keith laughed at that. "You know, since we might never get another chance again, I'm thinking of getting back together with Sammie."
"Isn't Sammie already going out with Ben, the baker's son?" Thom said.
"Seriously? How come no one bothered to tell me?"
While Keith tried to get answers from the siblings, he dragged me with his muscular arm to the outskirts of the village, where the other young men and women were having a small party. There was a small fire going. People were chatting in small groups, couples were making out, those without a significant other were flirting or already in the process of sneaking away for a one-off fling. We joined a group of other kids I was somewhat familiar with. I returned their polite nods of acknowledgement. I noticed that Sammie and Ben were in the group. Sammie wrapped an arm around Ben's waist as soon as she saw Keith, who grit his teeth and glared at Sammie's new man.
I thought that I could just blend in the background and join the conversation only when I was addressed. I didn't expect Sammie to immediately ask me a question as soon as she saw me.
"So, Peter, why did the general invite you to the main tent?"
I didn't think that anybody saw me. "I think my father served under him when he was drafted into the war," I said. "He just wanted to give me his condolences."
They accepted the lie easily enough. My father was relatively young, still in his late thirties. He was one of the first wave of adults who were drafted from the village. The others were still alive, or at least, that was what the last letters said. No one knew the situation now that the capital had fallen.
"I hope we can get some news about my father. I bet he's fighting valiantly to reclaim the capital as we speak," Sammie said. "The general seems to have taken a liking to you, Peter. Can you ask him for me the next time you see him, if he knows anything?"
Sammie's father was among those who were sent out to fight. I told her that I'd see what I could do, despite knowing that Winston probably didn't know the name of every single soldier in the army, especially those recruited from a village secluded from the capital. I also didn't want to say that if her father wasn't included in the Princess's retinue, then he had probably already died in the capital, having been used as a diversion to allow the Princess to escape. I figured that, deep inside, she probably knew that as well, but she clung onto the slim hope that he was still alive. Everyone else was the same.
The conversation steered to other topics, but Isabella didn't give me an easy time, always steering the conversation my way. I contributed as much as I could. I was a bit of a loner, but I found some enjoyment in the casual pace of the conversation.
There was a nervous energy in the air. We were about to go to war, and that was on everyone's minds. Like Isabella said, everyone sought comfort in each other. If it wasn't in a physical way, it was through words and assurances.
Before it got too late we dispersed to our own homes to get some rest before the upcoming battles. We were to rendezvous with the recruits from other towns and villages in the morning, and after forming a suitable fighting force, we would fight off the Princess's pursuers. Keith tried to talk to Sammie, but she wasn't interested in hearing anything he had to say. I bid goodnight to Thom and Isabella before I headed home.
It occurred to me that I skipped dinner during everything that happened. I took the rabbit and boiled it in a simple cream stew and ate it with bread and cheese. While eating I looked around at the house that I lived in my whole life. I wondered if it was the last time I'd see it.
Before going to sleep, I thought about many things, but my thoughts didn't connect into anything tangible. I laid on my bed and looked at the moonlight that shone through my window. Motes of dust and weightless debris floated around and were given form by the moonlight. It occurred to me that I never cleaned the house, ever since my father died.
I thought about my Valkross heritage, about our sudden conscription, about my father who died half a year ago in this war that made its way to my quiet village. I thought about Winston and the Princess and the guilt and the exhaustion they tried to hide. How many lives did they sacrifice to make it this far? How long was the trail of blood that followed them, in a desperate escape to shake off their pursuers? How much more blood were they willing to spill?
Concerns and worries took over my thoughts, becoming more solid and concrete than anything else I tried to think about. The fears of war and death were grounded in reality, unlike the fantastical musings I usually relished while staring at the pale moonlight.
…
Parents watched as their children marched away from the village, carrying instruments of war that glinted like many diurnal stars under the fiery hue of the rising sun.
The village chief bid us good luck and a safe return, while the Princess promised the parents and the chief that she would do her best to protect us. The parents were saved by her words, treating them as if they were a covenant from the gods themselves. For a moment, even I was stirred by the sincerity of her words, until reality returned like a persistent malady and I felt hopeless all over again.
We began our march to join the rest of the army. There were thirty recruits from my village and fifty trained soldiers and the rest were militia from other villages. Winston told us, during our march, that we would meet with the rest of the army before the day was over. We marched through large stretches of farmland, our arrival a signal to the peasant-folk to pack their belongings and escape. We were an encroaching storm. Our glinting iron spearheads were bolts of lightning. The amorphous mass of marching bodies were dark, rolling clouds.
We took a lunch break at noon, setting up a tent for the Princess on top of a grassy knoll, while everyone sat defensively underneath it, eating cheese and bread and drinking water from jugs and wineskins. The Princess came down to socialize with us, anyway, ignoring the sound tactic of having her set up camp on top of a defensible hill, in favor of smiling and laughing at the jokes and stories of the young recruits.
"Peter, are these your friends?" she said, as she made her way over to us after having shared some laughs with Sammie's group. Sitting with me were Keith, Thom and Isabella.
They introduced themselves to the Princess, trying their best to sound formal and respectful, but the Princess told them to drop the formality and speak to her like an equal.
"That's kind of hard to do, with you being the Princess and all," Isabella said, scratching her cheek with a gloved hand. We were all wearing gambesons, and from the stink of it, they likely belonged to someone else before they were distributed to us, someone who had died long ago.
"We're all brothers and sisters in arms now," the Princess said, pointing to her armor and longsword. The difference in our equipment didn't really help us see her as our equal, but no one dared to say it. "Call me Charlotte. I'm already on a first name basis with Peter here, right?"
They turned to look at me. I shrugged. "If your highness commands it."
"Peter, that's not exactly how equals talk to each other. You're making it sound like I'm forcing you to call me by name. Just say it once and I'll be happy."
I turned to the others, but they avoided my gaze. "Charlotte," I said.
"See? That wasn't so hard, was it? How about you try it now, Isabella?"
Isabella looked to me for help, but I returned the favor by refusing to meet her gaze.
"Charlotte," she said.
"Very good!"
Charlotte had us tell her about life in Tenby village. We assured her that it wasn't anything interesting, but she was still fascinated by the lives of her people. We told her about hunts, about festivals, gossip we'd heard about over the years. We found that it wasn't very hard to talk to her at all.
"It's interesting how similar some of the gossip is in a village and within the castle," Charlotte said, now sitting down with us and munching on some cheese. "They're almost the same. So-and-so slept with so-and-so's spouse, this family is in financial trouble, this family's daughter is eloping with this family's son. There's very little difference."
"Even if the circumstances aren't the same, we're all still human beings in the end. Different play, same actors," I said, with an analogy I thought that royalty would relate to. Not like I had ever seen a proper stage production in my life, only the poorly made ones the villagers put on during festivals.
"That's what I've been getting at!" Charlotte said, with a grin. "Don't you feel a bit silly now, how uncomfortable you were to say my name?"
"To be fair, Prin–I mean, Charlotte," Keith corrected himself. "We've spent our entire lives looking at you, at the royal family, like you were beings that were far away from us. You were untouchable, sacred. It's hard to just shift our perspective after only knowing you for a day."
"Yeah," Thom said, nodding in agreement. "I still remember Isabella putting on a crown of daffodils and wrapping a curtain around herself, pretending she was a Princess and demanding that we prostrate ourselves before her. That was the closest thing to royalty we saw in Tenby village.
"Hey!" Isabella said, blushing at Thom telling embarrassing stories from her childhood, to the Princess of all people.
Charlotte giggled, making Isabella blush even harder. "Oh, really now? Did you want to be a Princess when you were younger, Isabella?"
I could tell that Isabella wanted to roll her eyes, as she had a habit of doing so, but she refrained in front of Charlotte. "Yeah, I mean, almost every little girl does. It's all just play, anyway. I don't care about that stuff anymore."
"That's a shame," Charlotte said, with a pout. "I was thinking that after all this is over, I can take you to the castle and dress you up in a beautiful dress, maybe even have you try on my tiara. Then I'll invite everyone who fought for me to a grand ball and you can show off your outfit to them. But I guess you're not interested in that sort of thing–"
"I am!"
Charlotte giggled again, as Isabella couldn't contain her excitement and leaned in with her eyes wide and hopeful. She blushed again as we joined Charlotte's giggling, albeit, Keith and Thom were much louder in their merriment than the rest of us.
While I was chuckling, Charlotte turned to me. "How about you, Peter? Do you have any dreams?"
"As a kid?"
"Dreams now and dreams back then. I'm interested either way."
The only thing I wanted was this war to be over with, so I could go back to my peaceful life in the village, but I didn't want to hurt Charlotte's feelings by saying that.
"I guess, back then, I dreamed about wanting to be a hero," I said. "Like a knight in shining armor who rescued damsels from towers guarded by evil dragons. You know, a generic fantasy a boy would have."
"Yeah, it was pretty much the same for me," Thom said,
"Me too," Keith said.
Isabella smirked at us, placing her hands to her sides. "You boys were mocking me, but you were the same, weren't you? I dreamed of being a princess and you all dreamed of being knights who rescued princesses. Aren't we the same?"
"The difference is that I didn't wear our mother's favorite curtains like a dress and got spanked with a hairbrush for it," Thom said.
"Shut up! Don't tell them about that!"
We all shared a laugh at Isabella's expense again.
We chatted with Charlotte some more, until she stood and said that she'd like to spend some time with everyone else. She promised to talk to us again, that there was a lot more time to talk in the future. We watched her move to the next group, seeing her disarm them with her natural charm, making her soldiers into something like old friends in a matter of minutes. I didn't know if it was a social skill that all royalty were trained to cultivate, or if it was just something about Charlotte, something about who she was as a person, that made her so easy to talk to.
…
After the lunch break, we started moving again. It was noon and the sun was starting to set, making the shadows longer. We marched past the fields, endless stretches of wheat farms, produce and vineyards. I wondered what would become of them once Elesora arrived. Would these endless fields become wreathed in flames and famine, or would Elesora repurpose them for their own gain, despite knowing that the more they expanded their territory, the more they'd stretch their defenses thin?
We kept walking until we came upon a forest by the side of the path. Winston raised his hand and we stopped and made camp in a windy glade with tall, swaying grass. We sat underneath the shade of pines, not because it was hot, but because we wanted to rest our backs against the cool and firm trunks. Winston sent a scout ahead on a horse, likely to check on the progress of the other groups.
We had an early dinner, nibbling on cheese and bread again, but this time indulging ourselves with some dried beef. Charlotte didn't come to do her rounds like last time, talking to each group, as she was discussing matters with Winston. Thirty minutes later, the scout came back, horse galloping at full speed. The scout came down from the horse in a hurry. He spoke to Charlotte and Winston with animated and frantic movements of his arms. Winston let out a curse that we all heard, while Charlotte lowered her head.
"The other groups have been intercepted! They probably know where we are now. We need to move!" he commanded, spurring all of us into action, grabbing our gear as we moved to follow Winston, who was barking orders at soldiers and militia alike.
I gave the others a glance. Everyone had the same worried looks. Our chances were already slim before, and now we couldn't rely on reinforcements. Thom held Isabella's hand, while Keith looked in Sammie's direction. She met his gaze, and they shared a long look.
Grim silence replaced the jovial conversations we had just moments before. Winston commanded us to head into the forest to try and hide from our pursuers. Might as well set up an ambush, instead of meeting a force with superior numbers in an open field.
It didn't even take an hour until we heard the enemy. We listened as we heard the sound of galloping horses in the distance.
We concealed ourselves behind trees and shrubs, and made fake tracks to lead the pursuers astray. It wasn't likely that we could completely fool them, but we could still attack them from a flanking position if they followed the tracks.
Archers would hide behind trees for cover and fire volleys at the enemy, striking first to deplete as much of the enemy forces as possible, while spearmen would wait for a chance to strike. I hid behind a tree while Keith, Thom and Isabella hid in the bushes in front of me, making sure that the steel tips of their spears were buried in the dirt, so as to not send out a glint of light for the enemies to catch. The other groups took similar positions, each archer hiding behind a tree.
The soldiers went ahead of the militia. They covered themselves with leaves and branches as they laid supine on the ground. They would be the first to attack after the initial volley of arrows from the archers. Charlotte was among the advance group, hiding in the same place as Winston. I thought that the purpose of this mission was to protect the princess from harm, but she was taking her place in the frontlines.
While we laid in wait, we heard the galloping horses coming closer. I gripped my bow tightly, my knuckles becoming pale. I couldn't force myself to relax. I felt feverish, my skin cold, yet my blood was hot in my veins. The sounds of the pursuers got louder, closer, realer. We only knew about the enemy from gossip and letters from the frontlines. In a matter of seconds, we'd finally see them with our own eyes.
We felt the ground rumbling. They were right there, just seconds away. Each beat of a horse's hoof against the dirt, the crunch of sticks and pebbles, roared in my ears. I sucked breath through gritted teeth, careful not to make any kind of noise. My body was frozen, stiff and tense, ready to burst into action at the slightest hint that the enemy detected us. The rabbit's memories appeared in my head, its memories of being hunted. I felt its desperation as it used every muscle in its body to escape from its bigger, more powerful foes. Yet, it still died. Just like that. The galloping slowed, just as the enemy appeared. They emerged out of the cover of trees on top of large warhorses, tall lances at the ready.
They wore surcoats bearing the crest of Elesora, a golden griffon layered over two crossed longswords. Underneath the surcoats, they wore chainmail that covered their torsos. They were equipped with standard Elesorian helmets, which covered all of the face and mouth. The head was domed and they glinted from the stray lines of sunlight that trickled from the canopy of branches and leaves.
They slowed into a gallop, observing the fake tracks. They continued their march. We let them pass, hiding, waiting. Once they revealed their backs to us, Winston raised a hand from where he was hidden and the soldiers emerged from their camouflage, and the archers let loose their notched arrows against the unaware enemy.
I fired my arrow along with the deadly volley. The initial volley was successful, catching them off guard. I watched many enemy soldiers fall from their horses, as the arrows hit them in places their helmets and chain mail didn't cover.
Since we were in a forest with limited maneuverability, the panicked horses who lost their riders caused chaos and confusion among the rest of the forces. The Valen frontline took advantage of this, knocking the surviving soldiers off their horses, or stabbing the horses themselves with spears. A second volley of arrows dealt with those who were still on horseback. Some of them tried to fire back with their own bows, but those with a bow in hand were unable to defend themselves from the rush of Valen soldiers.
"Get the archers!" the enemy leader barked.
The Elesorans responded, those who were still on horseback sprinted past the Valen frontline to assault the archers who were hidden in trees. The second line of defense emerged from their hiding places and stuck their spears out, halting or outright killing the advancing soldiers.
Keith and Thom worked together to keep a soldier rushing for me at bay. Isabella swooped in from the flank to thrust her spear into his side, knocking him down on the ground. Keith and Thom worked to dispatch him.
With them protecting me, I was able to send another shot along with the other archers at the main fray, easily taking down those who were still on horseback. The fighting resumed on the ground. They lost much of their forces trying to attack the archers, who they thought were unguarded. I saw Winston and Charlotte fighting together, their movements clearly a cut above the rest. Winston wielded a black halberd to great effect, slicing through the enemy's chainmail like it was nothing. I noticed that the halberd he used emitted a red glow whenever it made contact with the enemy. It was an enchanted weapon.
Charlotte wore full-plate armor, the most heavily equipped warrior in the battlefield. She shrugged off attacks from lances and spears and retaliated with a long sword that rendered the enemy's reach advantage useless with its own magical effect. Whenever she slashed her sword, a strong blade of wind would extend from the edge, extending the reach of her attack. The magical wind cut through chainmail with laughable ease.
Thanks to the magical weapons, as well as Winston's superior tactics, the battle that I thought would end in our slaughter ended without too many casualties on our side. Five members of the militia died, those who were unable to survive the enemy's charge against the archers, and one soldier died. Aside from the losses, it was overall, a great military success, with the remaining members of the Elesorian forces retreating.
There was no room for battlecries and celebrations, though. We didn't know if the enemy had reinforcements. While those who were injured were tended to, Winston walked over to me, looking only slightly winded.
"Do you see them?" he asked? "The souls?"
I looked over the battlefield. Blue mist started to crawl out from the corpses of the enemies I killed. Three souls emerged from the corpses. I felt sick.
"I have never absorbed a human soul before," I said.
"We need you, Peter. We won't be as lucky again. They won't underestimate us after this skirmish. Once our reinforcements are dealt with, they can focus their efforts on wiping us out." He placed a hand on my shoulder. "We need your strength."
I looked at the others. Thom received a few cuts and Keith had some bruises. Isabella was fine, physically, but she was clearly shaken by the battle that took place. We had all become killers. And now, I was going to ensure that the dead would never find their peace. I would steal their souls, their skills, their experience, everything that made them human. I would take it all for the sake of killing more people.