3

Corc lunged his foot into the shovel. The defensive ditch of the new fort was assigned to his division, and had to be ready by sunset. The earth’s dry crust was brightly lit by the sun and partially blurred by the sweat dripping into his eyes. Muffled scrapes from the blades of shovels piercing the earth thumped in the air. Fine dust collected knee high, resting before it would drift away with an occasional cool breeze.

“Enemies!” yelled a soldier, as he pointed to the beginning of a forest in the distance where some Duesart warriors were making jerky body movements. Everyone startled for a second but then quickly went back to work. “Let them be, they’re trying to taunt you into chasing them” Corc said calmly then lunging at his shovel again. “You hadn’t noticed them? They’ve been there since dawn. Don’t worry, they lack any real force for now. They’ll attack tommorow when the Elosians get here” Corc said, not even looking their way.

The soldier slowly lowered his pointing hand, gave one last look before turning to shovel again. Another soldier came to Corc. “My lord, I can get my bow and…”

“No!” Corc interrupted. Corc remembers the craftiness of the Duessart and their ability to draw out defenders. Its how he lost a veteran warrior, and almost a battle. The veteran warrior’s towering figure and thick plate armor that he could carry made him a reliable front line. Ferocious but also quick tempered. They were ordered to defend the village that day. Holding ground was to the major advantage.

One of the Duesart men started taunting the veteran warrior, hard insults along with an arrogant face. The veteran warrior had lost a daughter to their raid days earlier. Before anyone could stop him, he charged at the taunting Duesart. The Duesart warrior ran backwards taunting away, drawing him to the rest of the Duesart warriors.

When they got there, they half way encircled him. The Duesart warrior then pointed his axe at the veteran warrior, a declaration of a duel.

The veteran warrior lifted his mace while running, and swung it down when he reached the Duesart warrior, but the Duesart warrior easily dodged. The rest of the Duesart cheered loudly, making a sport of the duel.

Corc sensed the unsteadiness in his line of men, as they could only watch from afar. With every missed swing of the veteran warrior, his line of men’s legs jerked and their feet slipped forward.

The veteran warrior started to struggle lifting his mace up after swinging. He swung again, this time the Duesart warrior dodged close and Swung the blade of his axe into the Veteran warrior’s wrist, severing it. The veteran warrior lifted his arm, this time without a mace or a hand.

Two men in Corc’s formation charged forward, a couple of men followed. The Duesart warriors matched each with a duelist, repeating what they did with the veteran warrior.

Soon too many of Corc’s men were being drawn in. “Hold the line, get back in line!” he said, but it fell on deaf ears. It reached a point where half his man were already charging. Drawing his sword, he ordered the rest of his men to charge as well.

The victory was like a defeat in Corc’s mind. His sheets stained with sweat for many days as he relived the battle in his dreams. He could have stopped his army from engaging. He was defeated by his own blood lust.

“Get back to work” said Corc sternly, yelling for everyone to hear. He looked around. Everyone had listened and the thumping sounds of shovels had returned to normal. Then, something in the corner of his eye caught his eye. Dust being picked up in the horizon. He blinked hard trying to remove any sweat from his eyes, then squinted into the distance.

A familiar figured arose from the agitated earth. A horseman charging to the fort as fast as its feet could carry.

Corc impaled the blade of his shovel into the ground, leaving it upright. He quickly jumped halfway out the ditch, burying his hands at the top soil, his feet slipped a couple of times and the small plates of armor on his shoulder, chest and shins wighted him down, before he could pull himself up.

He ran inside the camp, past the heavily guarded gate, making his way to the horse stables where he stood, heavy breathing while he, along with some stablemen waited for the horseman to arrive.

“Open the gates!” the gate guards could be heard yelling as rapid, rhythmic galloping surged in sound. The horseman then thundered the wood of the gates. Corc moved away from the horseman’s direct path, fearful of the encroaching, massive animal approaching.

The horseman got to the stables. The horse sluggish to come to a stop, its brown silky mane covered in warm tan colored dust, small parts had crusted over. It was breathing heavy and its legs shaking slightly.

The horseman that was riding with head down, was covered in dust as well, all over his boots, leather trousers, and jacket. He jumped off before the horse came to a full stop. Heavily breathing, he reached out to one of the stable boys, receiving a leather canteen that he swiftly opened. He put it to his mouth upside down. The water overflowed, collecting the dry dust on his chin and neck before it dripped down to the ground.

“What has happened” Corc asked to the horseman. The horseman wiped his mouth and turned to Corc. He tried to control his heavy breathing “my lord, I need to see king Tidwield at once, its urgent” he said in a brisk voice. “He’s at his tent” Corc said. The soldier quickly turned and started pacing towards king Tidwield’s tent, Corc followed.

In his tent, King Tidwield was waiting along with Salbas. “Well?” Tidwield asked as the horseman had just entered tent. The horseman quickly got on one knee in front of him “My lord, it’s dire. We were ambushed by a large force of Duesart men to the east of here. The other two with who were with me are dead, one of them was a traitor” said the horseman scout slightly shaking. After a slight moment of silence “How far away?” Salbas quickly asked.

“About one day away at most, my lord” the scout responded. “Salbas, how did our scouts miss thi?” asked Tidwield turning to him. The scout interrupted “My lord, the traitor had us chasing ghosts. When we confronted him, he laughed, said we were surrounded. Two other men ambushed us, coming out from behind the rocks of the cliff we hid on. I rolled down a sleep slope barely making it to my horse”.

“For our scouts to be outfoxed and lured so easily, someone knows what they’re doing” Salbas said, his eyes wide open in thought.

Corc stepped forward quickly “Father, now we must really retreat”. Tidwield looked at Corc intently.

Before Tidwield could give an answer “My lord” the scout broke the silence “one more thing, the Duesart, they were…they were wearing armor”. Duesart wearing armor, in the west this was only a legend you would hear from time to time. You would hear merchants or warriors who had encountered them. Tidwield had told stories about them. But Corc had never seen it before, he couldn’t even imagine it.

“Elite generals” Salbas said slowly. “We are in great peril, my lord. We must retreat”. Now it was two allied large armies who would be at the fort the next day. Those Elosian dogs and some scattered Duesart might have been winnable, but when the Duesart sent their elites, a sign of their desperation, it became impossible.

“Very well” Tidwield said in a deep calm voice. “Tablas, gather the men, tell we’re retre…” before Tidwield could finish, the thundering of the wooden bridge by the gate was heard in the distance, rapid horse hooves, another scout.

They didn’t wait long before the new scout entered Tidwield’s tent. He knelled before the king, this one more steady and calm than the first scout “My lord, a large force approaching from the south west. It’s the Leuxdren, they’re being led by none other than king Tomasan Luccemaire”

Tidwield’s corner of his mouth twitched and kept twitching as he built up a large grin. His laugh that began as like small hiccups had grew into full maniac for the whole camp to hear.