The Battle of Nishawa: Part 4

The sudden onset of fog did not particularly alarm us. Sure, we were unnerved from being barely able to see, but this was a spell often used on the battlefield. We weren’t yet sure what it aimed to accomplish – it certainly wasn’t to cover the enemy’s retreat, as they had nowhere to run – but our mages would deal with it in minutes. All we had to do was sit tight until then.

“Halt!” ordered the Lieutenant, “Portos, try to discover what the enemy is doing!”

Our battlemage immediately began a divination, magically analyzing the barely perceptible signs of enemy positions – their breathing, their bodies blocking the air currents. “They are standing around, just like us”.

“Point us to some targets”, came the next order, “Might as well take some potshots while we’re here”.

The enemy had the same idea, and a bolt of magical energy suddenly hit our battlemage straight in the chest, knocking him off his hadrosaur, and a poorly-aimed hail of bullets came our way.

“Move out!” shouted the lieutenant, “We’re sitting ducks here!”

We hunkered down, bending closely towards our mounts’ backs, trying to make us smaller targets, and took off in a semi-random direction. Some more sporadic gunfire came our way, but at canter speed, we weren’t in any serious danger.

That security lasted until we blindly stumbled into a squad of enemy cavalry. After a few seconds of initial surprise, we broke into a chaotic melee. Both groups were in a spread-out formation, and we got completely intermingled. I was frantically looking in all directions, swinging my sword wildly at any enemy that came into range, and seeking fresh targets once my foe was incapacitated or routed. The overall superiority of our cavalry led to our victory in this brief skirmish. As the dust settled, we realized the fog had dispersed in the meantime.

Our wizards had been hard at work, summoning gusts of wind starting from the center of the battlefield, then moving towards the edges. The enemy wouldn’t allow them to work in peace, however. Their spellcasters intensified magical bombardment, forcing our allies to divert most of their focus to defense, leaving only a token group of less-experienced mages to clear the edges of the battlefield and beyond – for this particular fog spell covered a larger area than what seemed necessary. Clear visibility, after all, would mean nothing if enough soldiers got burnt to a crisp due to a lack of defensive magical support.

With the fog removed, we had no opportunity to catch a break. In the distance, we could see a squad of heavy cavalry charging straight at us. These must have been kept in reserve until now, as all the cataphracts sent in the first wave were by this phase of the battle beyond exhausted. And for some reason, they were coming at our squad, ignoring the rest of the battlefield.

Our own hadrosaurs weren’t anywhere near full strength anymore, but we adopted the standard hit-and-run tactics used against the enemy heavy cavalry. Engaging in close combat with the cataphracts would be near-suicidal, so we didn’t have much of a choice. They were betting we were tired enough to allow them to catch up to us; we were betting we weren’t.

To my horror, it would turn out these cataphracts didn’t pick us out by random chance. There was a particular reason for singling us out. Mere seconds after we fired our first salvo and began retreating, multiple enemy fireballs detonated directly in front of our feet, taking out some of our front line. Our hadrosaurs were trained not to be sensitive to loud noises, but not all of them managed to keep their cool under the present circumstances. The thundering noise was deafening, the smell of burning flesh overwhelming, and chunks of earth and body parts were flying everywhere. Not an insignificant number of them panicked, and it spread among their peers. We lost any semblance of unit coherence, terrified beasts running into each other and tossing their riders off.

While I struggled to take control of my mount, another barrage of spells arrived, seeming more intent on boxing us in than actually hurting us. At this moment, I realized the purpose of all these actions, and my heart froze. Arthacyros hadn’t yet given up on his lost creation and was making another attempt to reclaim it. Well, if I could help it, I wouldn’t let him have it his way. I grimly recalled the words of Chevalier de Foix: “For your own sake, I suggest you fight to the bitter end”. If escape wasn’t in the cards, I was prepared for a valiant last stand.

I finally managed to calm my hadrosaur down, turning it around, preparing to face the enemy head-on. Lieutenant Augusta did the same, rousing as many troops as she could for a desperate final charge.

It was then that I took a good look at the leader of our pursuers. He was noticeably larger than his comrades, and I was immediately certain he was one of my so-called siblings. Curiously, he didn’t seem to be carrying a weapon.

As the Lieutenant raised her rifle and started shooting at the approaching cataphracts, it turned out the enemy leader was armed indeed, though his weapons were not of a conventional kind. He was carrying a long, enchanted chain, which had so far been wrapped around his arm. Unraveling it, he flaunted his ability to freely control the weapon’s movement by channeling energy into it. He swung the chain around, grabbing Augusta by the waist, throwing her into another soldier who was riding next to her, and letting them fall to the ground.

The enemy’s next target was me. I was shooting at him in vain, but I was never a particularly good shot on hadrosaur-back, and the few hits I scored bounced harmlessly off his armor. The chain grabbed me, pulling me from my mount. But unlike his last attack, he didn’t let go. I hit the ground and was dragged after the enemy, who had, after capturing me, turned around to retreat. So did a good half of his men, while the rest stayed behind to cover his escape.

I tried to struggle, but in vain. Several times, I hit the ground, and at some point, I lost consciousness. When I came back to my senses, I was in front of a tent on the top of a hill. My head was still aching somewhat terribly. Behind me, I could faintly hear the sound of the battle still raging in the distance. In front of me, I could see seven tall figures, four male and three female, each with similar proportions and smooth skin to mine. Among them was my captor, who had by now removed his helmet, but was still fully armored.

Sitting in the middle of them was an old man in a black satin robe. He was bald and beardless, and a simple silver crown upon his temple was the only thing denoting his actual importance. There was nary a trace of fat on him, and he seemed positively tiny, especially in contrast with the goliaths behind him. He stared at me with black, piercing eyes, which were penetrating into my very soul even as he made his best attempt at a warm smile.

“So, the prodigal son returns”, he said.