The first day of marching, the men were grim, but tried to joke to keep their spirits up. Camping that night, they got the full story about what the next evening would mean. Conversations were muted after that, as it’d become known that some of them would die. The sergeants did their best to explain the intricacies of why Gregory couldn’t save them all— when the realization that trying to save the few meant even more of them would die, they stopped asking, understanding settling over them.
The second day, the men were near silent, the impending fight pressing down on them. The more veteran men did their best to joke around, even if it was dark humor. That helped lighten the mood a little, but they all knew what the next day would mean.
On the morning of the third day, Gregory led them through the Peaceful Fist. When it came to an end and it was time to march again, he didn’t mount up. Instead, he walked down the ranks, meeting each man’s eyes and nodding to them one by one. The somberness weighed on everyone, but the men’s respect for him grew a little bit more. It was clear that the fact that some of them were going to die weighed on him, but he entrusted them to their duty.
When he finished, he walked to the head of the unit, turning back to face them. “Men, today, we go to battle against evil people. They plot to ambush us, to kill us to the last, including our squires and staff. Our gear has been promised to them in payment for removing us from our post. Enchanted armor would fetch a high price, which has allowed them to gather over four dozen men, including a mercenary mage from Buldoun. This is all because we held our ground on enforcing the slave laws. You followed me, and now, we’ll pay a price for doing what we’ve done.”
Davis marched over to stand beside Gregory. He stood at attention when he faced the men, offering his silent support to Gregory as the adept continued to speak.
“Some of you will die, as has been explained. Almost all of us will be wounded at the end of it, varying from major to minor injuries. When the fight ends, it’ll give us the chance to strike at those behind our troubles. I’ll be swift and just when I make them pay for their crimes… not just against the empire, but against us. Today will show me what the weight of command really is. For those of you who fall today, I will never forget you standing with me. Your brothers beside you will raise drinks in your memory for years to come.”
The men stood rigidly at attention, each of them silently promising to remember the names of the fallen for the rest of their lives.
“We won’t march blindly into them. They expect to ambush us, but we’ll be the ones springing the trap on them,” Gregory said grimly. “Glasson, you will take your men ahead of us. When you get to orange three, go into the woods. Parallel the road, find their scouts, and remove them as quietly as possible; they’re set between markers orange three and orange two. Once you’ve dealt with them, stay in the woods, creep closer to the camp, and be ready to ambush the attackers when the fight starts. The woods will hinder your naginatas, so leave them in the wagon. Use your swords and crossbows today.”
“Yes, sir!” Glasson barked.
“Rafiq, you’ll stay with the wagon. I entrust you to help keep our friends safe; we’ll be leaving you at marker orange one. Hanz, Basal, you two will stay with them. Two men will have left the ambushers, intent on raiding the wagon. We’ll leave four loaded crossbows with you. Let them get close, then kill them.”
“Yes, sir,” Basal said, though his voice trembled. “I’ll guard our friends, sir.”
Hanz swallowed, then saluted. Being the younger of the two squires, his hands shook at the thought of having to kill someone.
“Men, we’ll get our crossbows wound and ready a few miles past orange one, before we reach the camp. You will march with an arrow held in the same hand as your naginata. When called for, plant your weapon, pull your crossbow, load, and fire. Then, set for them to come for us,” he went on, laying out their plans. “This will thin their ranks, leaving some dead, some wounded, and giving us a more manageable situation.” Gregory paused, looking over his unit and seeing the anxiety on some faces. “I would be right there with you, but I have to face their mage. Physical enhancement is better for us than some other types of magic they could have had against us, but it’ll take me focusing on him to keep him from attacking you. I’ll be unable to help you with the rest, but I know you’ll show them why attacking us is the last mistake of their lives.”
Gregory drew himself up into formal attention, then saluted them. “For the empire!”
Those three words repeated as a shout from the entire unit, including his staff.
“Sergeant Glasson, move out!” Gregory instructed.
As one, Glasson’s unit marched forward, setting their naginatas in the wagon as they passed it. When they went by Gregory, they turned their heads to face him, saluting. Gregory returned it, his heart feeling cold as he memorized the face of one of the men he knew would die today.
When they were past Gregory, the squad began to speed up— they would alternate double time and normal marching to create distance from the rest of the unit.
“Donald, move to the back. Four-point protection while we march,” Davis commanded.
“Yes, sir,” Sergeant Donald said.
~*~*~
When they reached orange one, Gregory stopped, looking back at Rafiq. “I’ll come back for you once things are settled.”
“We’ll be waiting, Gregory.” Rafiq bowed formally. “Aether watch over you.”
Gregory bowed from his saddle, then trotted back to the front and got the rest of the unit moving again.
Basal watched them go before he knelt to check the crossbows, which were wound, loaded, and ready to fire. Hanz knelt beside him, his hands shaking as he touched one of the crossbows.
“It’ll be okay, Hanz,” Basal said softly. “I can do it. Just hand them to me, okay?”
The younger boy looked at his friend with gratitude, but also shame. “Sorry… I’ll hand them to you.”
Basal patted Hanz on the shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m scared, too. There’s no shame in not wanting to kill someone. I’ll protect you, Dot, and the others.”
“We’d help if we could,” Dot grumbled. “Stupid brands…”
“They do present a challenge,” Rafiq agreed. “However, as long as you aren’t trying to kill someone and are simply defending yourself, you will not trigger your brand.”
“But if we do trigger it, it’d take Gregory coming back to make the pain stop,” Barny said quietly. “He’s going to be an hour away.”
“Very true,” Rafiq nodded. “Do not worry— I will assist the boys if needed. While I cannot kill the attackers, I might be able to render them unconscious.”
“If I fail, I’d take the help,” Basal said.
~*~*~
The timekeeper in the wagon chimed an hour later, and everyone said a silent prayer. Gregory and the others would be approaching the campsite now, so the battle would soon be underway.
“Put your hands up,” a snide voice demanded. “Behave and you don’t need to get hurt.”
“Well, not much, anyway,” a second voice chimed in.
Basal turned to face the southern tree line. Two men were coming out of it with weapons in hand. One of them carried an axe while the other had a hammer, though neither had a shield.
“Now, now, boy. Just get out of the wagon. We’ll be taking it and the slaves with us,” the man with the axe said.
“Don’t do anything stupid or we’ll kill you,” the first added, pulling his hammer up onto his shoulder. “I won’t make it quick, either.”
“If you try to take us, I will defend myself,” Rafiq said calmly. “I am Rafiq, son of Rafiq and father of Rafiq. Do not make this mistake, as it will cost you your life.”
Both men stopped, staring at Rafiq with incredulous expressions. The hammer man laughed. “Oh? Are you going to attack us, Croc? I can see you shivering in that coat— you hurt us and your brand’ll give you pain you can’t even imagine.”
Axeman joined in the laughter. “I think killing him first will prove ou—”
The clank of the crossbow firing cut the man off. To be fair, it was the crossbow bolt suddenly lodged in his throat that really cut him off. Basal dropped the weapon he’d just fired in horror— he thought he’d been aiming at the man’s chest.
“What?!” The other man was shocked, but he recovered quickly. “Fuck this! You get to die!” He came sprinting at the wagon, his hammer pulled up to hit anyone who got in the way.
Hanz held the next crossbow up, but Basal fumbled it, sending the bolt thunking into the wagon’s edge. Hanz’s eyes went wide as he lunged for the third one. Basal bent to grab the fourth; he yanked it up, but the bolt went flying wide, as he didn’t aim in his panic.
Rafiq’s body blazed with blue flame as he intercepted the man charging forward. The hammer hit him in the head, but the blow only jerked Rafiq’s head sideways, no blood coming from it. His return strike tore the hammer from the man’s hand, as he’d aimed for the weapon.
Stumbling, the attacker fell and rolled, the force of being disarmed flinging him well off his stride. Scrambling back to his feet, he cried out in pain and fell to his knees, then onto his face with a crossbow bolt sticking out of his back.
Rafiq let his aether fade. Walking calmly over to the downed man, he checked him. He stood back up and looked over at the pale-faced boys. “You saved our lives.”
Both of them stared at him dully for a moment before they lurched to the side of the wagon and vomited. Dot rushed to grab them some water— she’d help them through what they were dealing with. Polka and Barny went to help a moment later. Both of them were glad they were safe, and a little ashamed that they hadn’t done anything to help.
As the others sprang to help the boys, Rafiq checked over the bodies. Gregory would come back in time, and he wanted to make things easier, as he was sure Gregory would be on the ragged edge by then.
