Smoke stained wind
Posted: Tue May 24, 2005 11:22 pm
The smoke stained wind tore his hair loose from it’s binding the knight drew a stained gauntlet across his face settling it back and smudging the black stains on his face. His formerly shining white tabard now smudged grey and smatterings of a darker red now hung in tatters. His silver armour scraped and dented, his sword notched and his shield arm hanging weakly at his side. He knew he was one of the most fortunate.
He looked over the ranks of soldiers that trooped back towards the stronghold behind them. The stale harsh wind tore at their banners and tabards from behind them as if chasing them back to their final defence. Many supported a comrade who was able to limp home, others waited groaning or cried out in pain and sorrow as men ran doggedly back and forth with stretchers taking those that could be saved home. So many more lay on the valley floor and would never see the gates of their home again.
He looked back down and smoothed back the hair of the lad he knelt on one knee before. He looked briefly again at the destroyed leg then back into the young mans eyes above terribly pale tear streaked cheeks and he sobbed weakly valiantly holding back screams of pain before his commander. Resting his hand over the lads’ eyes he murmured a soft prayer for that which came to him. Moving his hand away the large blue eyes stared into space without focus, his chest no longer rattling with the weak breath. How many times had he spoken this prayer in recent days.
Drawing a discarded cloak over the body he stood and stared into the valley before him. The acrid smell from the funeral pyres mixed with the sickly sweet smell of those whose bodies had not been recovered for cremation to make drawing breath a constant reminder of the direness of the last moon. The number of scavengers wheeling on the thermals above the valley told the story of the numbers slain for miles around.
He walked on past the lines of retreating soldiers. Even in defeat they held themselves with pride and their march was as ordered as the wounded would allow. Several looked at the passing knight and saluted or called out and he returned their calls with as much bravado and promise as he could muster without being false. Falsity these men of war did not deserve. Where their officers had perished soldiers with no rank but respect gave orders without waiting for formal promotions, and their men followed without question. There was no time for such civilities as their defence of the gate would be needed in hours, not days.
He left the road and strode to the wooden battlements. There the last rearguard stood resolutely facing the valley. Their faces were held high and their stance proud. Only moving to bend head as the clerics walked amongst them whispered prays and assurances of honour in the realms beyond this world. He again murmured a prayer to his god for them all. Certainly She and her Lord father would welcome these truest men of war. The last of those soldiers retreating past below them. Torn banners dipped in salute to those above who would see them safely to the city they must in turn protect with their lives.
Then they were gone and the only sound was the howling wind whipping up out of the valley and into the guards eyes as they peered into the smoky haze. For a quarter of the morning it seemed to remain such and then as the sun reached its zenith orange through the smoke they heard it.
Sounds began as yelled undistinguishable orders. Or the cry of a horse. Or the distant crash of some weapon on a shield. The sounds ofthe enemy drew ever closer and more often seemingly coming from all sides. The captain spoke quiet words to his men to calm, that the valley and the wind played tricks. They all knew this was not true.
Silence came. Again the smoke and wind held reign over the valley as again they saw nothing but the irregular outline of the valley floor covered with the bodies of their own and their enemies men. A movement below and the defenders strained forwards to see a solitary man walk forward encased in red armour. He surveyed the defenders lined above at the valley end for a moment then raised his sword, hilt against his forehead the blade reaching upwards in salute. He walked back into the smoke.
Then it began. All around them the repetitive pounding of impossible numbers of booted feet sounded out towards them echoing off the valley sides and seemingly coming from everywhere. Knuckles whitened amongst the last defenders. Then through the smoke and haze they began to see them. This time there was not strike force. This time the entire army came to them. Ranks upon ranks of the enemy walked in purposeful lines in the valley floor and up both sides to the ridges above. Thousands of black armoured infantry followed by chanting men in long black cloaks and others tracing arcane symbols of fire in the air. He knew if they each killed two score men they would still not win this battle. This army did not come to continue the battle, they came to end it.
‘Tell me mam I’ll be late in fer dinner tonight ay Cap’n?’ a ripple of laughter ran through the proud defenders.
‘I’d not survive the scolding Harney’ came the easy answer, ‘Well I don’t think I want to wait for these bastards to walk all the way here. How ‘bout you lads? Shall we scare them some?’ The grizzled men echoed the affirmative and they moved to the crest of the hill. He went with them drawing his blade once more and feeling honoured as these warriors made way for him to stand aside their Captain and lead them. He shared a wide smile with a spearman next to him.
He looked at the black ranked wall closing inexorably on them. He thought a final quiet prayer to his goddess as the Captain raised his sword crying the name Loudwater. The men screamed back that cry and surged downwards in a furious and oblivious charge. He to ran, outpacing the other men imbued with the power of his Lady, as he ran to meet her…
He looked over the ranks of soldiers that trooped back towards the stronghold behind them. The stale harsh wind tore at their banners and tabards from behind them as if chasing them back to their final defence. Many supported a comrade who was able to limp home, others waited groaning or cried out in pain and sorrow as men ran doggedly back and forth with stretchers taking those that could be saved home. So many more lay on the valley floor and would never see the gates of their home again.
He looked back down and smoothed back the hair of the lad he knelt on one knee before. He looked briefly again at the destroyed leg then back into the young mans eyes above terribly pale tear streaked cheeks and he sobbed weakly valiantly holding back screams of pain before his commander. Resting his hand over the lads’ eyes he murmured a soft prayer for that which came to him. Moving his hand away the large blue eyes stared into space without focus, his chest no longer rattling with the weak breath. How many times had he spoken this prayer in recent days.
Drawing a discarded cloak over the body he stood and stared into the valley before him. The acrid smell from the funeral pyres mixed with the sickly sweet smell of those whose bodies had not been recovered for cremation to make drawing breath a constant reminder of the direness of the last moon. The number of scavengers wheeling on the thermals above the valley told the story of the numbers slain for miles around.
He walked on past the lines of retreating soldiers. Even in defeat they held themselves with pride and their march was as ordered as the wounded would allow. Several looked at the passing knight and saluted or called out and he returned their calls with as much bravado and promise as he could muster without being false. Falsity these men of war did not deserve. Where their officers had perished soldiers with no rank but respect gave orders without waiting for formal promotions, and their men followed without question. There was no time for such civilities as their defence of the gate would be needed in hours, not days.
He left the road and strode to the wooden battlements. There the last rearguard stood resolutely facing the valley. Their faces were held high and their stance proud. Only moving to bend head as the clerics walked amongst them whispered prays and assurances of honour in the realms beyond this world. He again murmured a prayer to his god for them all. Certainly She and her Lord father would welcome these truest men of war. The last of those soldiers retreating past below them. Torn banners dipped in salute to those above who would see them safely to the city they must in turn protect with their lives.
Then they were gone and the only sound was the howling wind whipping up out of the valley and into the guards eyes as they peered into the smoky haze. For a quarter of the morning it seemed to remain such and then as the sun reached its zenith orange through the smoke they heard it.
Sounds began as yelled undistinguishable orders. Or the cry of a horse. Or the distant crash of some weapon on a shield. The sounds ofthe enemy drew ever closer and more often seemingly coming from all sides. The captain spoke quiet words to his men to calm, that the valley and the wind played tricks. They all knew this was not true.
Silence came. Again the smoke and wind held reign over the valley as again they saw nothing but the irregular outline of the valley floor covered with the bodies of their own and their enemies men. A movement below and the defenders strained forwards to see a solitary man walk forward encased in red armour. He surveyed the defenders lined above at the valley end for a moment then raised his sword, hilt against his forehead the blade reaching upwards in salute. He walked back into the smoke.
Then it began. All around them the repetitive pounding of impossible numbers of booted feet sounded out towards them echoing off the valley sides and seemingly coming from everywhere. Knuckles whitened amongst the last defenders. Then through the smoke and haze they began to see them. This time there was not strike force. This time the entire army came to them. Ranks upon ranks of the enemy walked in purposeful lines in the valley floor and up both sides to the ridges above. Thousands of black armoured infantry followed by chanting men in long black cloaks and others tracing arcane symbols of fire in the air. He knew if they each killed two score men they would still not win this battle. This army did not come to continue the battle, they came to end it.
‘Tell me mam I’ll be late in fer dinner tonight ay Cap’n?’ a ripple of laughter ran through the proud defenders.
‘I’d not survive the scolding Harney’ came the easy answer, ‘Well I don’t think I want to wait for these bastards to walk all the way here. How ‘bout you lads? Shall we scare them some?’ The grizzled men echoed the affirmative and they moved to the crest of the hill. He went with them drawing his blade once more and feeling honoured as these warriors made way for him to stand aside their Captain and lead them. He shared a wide smile with a spearman next to him.
He looked at the black ranked wall closing inexorably on them. He thought a final quiet prayer to his goddess as the Captain raised his sword crying the name Loudwater. The men screamed back that cry and surged downwards in a furious and oblivious charge. He to ran, outpacing the other men imbued with the power of his Lady, as he ran to meet her…
