Chapter 91: Night Battle

  Marek, war lord of the Cairn tribe, sat atop his centaur and waited impatiently for Crow and Nokuti to return from the negotiations. He could barely make out their figures in the dark night, small specks on the horizon.

  “This is taking too long,” Kyriil, the elf, groaned from his saddle.

Marek was glad someone shared his opinion.

  “Eager for blood are we? The elves in my Realm leaned towards pacifism,” Lysaila, the lamia, smirked.

  “Oh, that’s where you’re wrong, beautiful. Elves have never been pacifists, they all want to slit your throat if you don’t conform to their views. They’re just too polite to say it,” Kyriil waggled his finger.

  “Except for you, huh?” Grim, the axlean, asked. His tall cloaked figure loomed over the rest, even the centaurs and Marek.

“I’m what you might call unique,” Kyriil smirked. He looked over at the twins, “Isn’t that why you two picked me?”

  Dawn and Vaughn’s twin amethyst eyes glanced at him for a brief moment, before returning their attention back to the negotiation in the distance.

  “I don’t think they like you,” Lysaila laughed.

“Meh, everyone likes me, but I like you,” Kyriil smiled down at the lamia.

  “And here I thought the Ivory Realm hated beastkin,” she raised an eyebrow.

Kyriil shrugged, “Like I said, I’m unique. Stick with me and I’ll make sure you come out of this battlefield unscathed.”

  Lysaila’s sapphire tail lifted her body upwards to meet the mounted Kyriil face-to-face. “I can take care of myself.”

  Kyriil’s eyes widened as he noticed her blade underneath his chin, “How did you-?”

  “A girl has her secrets,” her serpentine tongue slipped out of her mouth and flicked his cheek, “Mm. You’re definitely not my type.”

  “I’m everyone’s type, sweetheart,” Kyriil grinned.

  “I’ve always found it endearing how your kind are always so full of themselves, it makes it that much more fun to see you fail. I do hope your battle prowess is as great as your ego. Or maybe not, I think it’d be fun either way,” Lysaila hissed happily.

  “I’ll try not to disappoint,” Kyriil chuckled.

“Hopefully we won’t have to fight today,” Grim craned his long neck downwards to speak to them.

  “If negotiations go well that is. Which of course, they won’t. And when they don’t, I rather stick with you, Grim,” Lysaila slithered over towards the axlean.

  “Grim is your type?” Kyriil’s jaw went slack.

The towering axlean ignored the comment.

  “If only. Alas, none of you are interesting enough. Grim can kick your ass, though, so I’ll fight besides him,” Lysaila sheathed her blade.

  “Well, that’s just plain hurtful,” Kyriil winced and placed his hand over his heart.

“They are coming,” Grim noted.

  Nokuti and Crow were riding back from the negotiations with the Bronze Eagle tribe.

“Finally, you will all get to see me in action,” Kyriil stretched.

  “Like that time with the white eels a few weeks back?” Grim asked.

“They were underwater, okay? They just caught me by surprise,” Kyriil frowned.

  “Oh, I forgot about that. You fell off the boat and Grim had to fish you out of the water like some sort of tuna,” Lysaila laughed, her voice smooth like silk.

  “We greet you, Lord Marek!” Nokuti shouted as she neared.

  “Welcome back, what did they say?” Marek finally spoke up, eager to face whatever happened next. Anything would be better than listening to Kyriil’s incessant blabbering.

  “A bunch of useless stuff, pretty boring honestly,” Nokuti the vampiress and Marek’s right hand, shrugged.

“But, what about the treaty? Are they willing to join us? To submit to the Cairn tribe?” Marek asked hopefully.

  “Weeeell, they didn’t put it like that per se, it was more of a ‘no.’” Nokuti scratched her cheek.

“Crow, what did they exactly say?” Marek turned to the other negotiator.

  “Their chief said he would rather die than submit to a dire bastard,” Crow, his advisor, spoke calmly, his expression hidden behind his bird-skull mask.

  “Hmm, that’s fair,” Marek nodded solemnly.

“We await your command, my Lord. I will see to their chief’s death personally,” Nokuti bowed.

  Marek looked at his elite comrades, he was glad to have the seven of them here, on this fateful day. He glanced behind at his regiment of warriors, two thousand strong, hidden behind the hill, ready to follow him into battle.

  “Then death we shall give him,” Marek raised his spear up high.

“Finally,” Kyriil rolled his eyes.

  “They still only believe there are eight of us. Let’s keep it that way. Grim, lay down some cover,” Marek ordered.

“Yes, my Lord,” Grim extended his long grey arms.

  The tall grass all around began to shiver. The dew on each blade of grass began to vibrate and gently rise into the air. The droplets evaporated in a matter of seconds, forming a dense fog all around them.

  “I have to admit, actual water magic is incredible,” Nokuti sighed in amazement. She could not even see five feet in front of her.

  “Can you cover the entire army like this?” Marek asked.

“No, it’s too large of a scope,” Grim said.

  “So much for being amazing,” Kyriil muttered.

“If that’s the case, I want you to focus the fog in front of us. Keep the enemy blind to our true numbers,” Marek said.

  “Consider it done.” Grim waved his hands, the fog began to slowly move forward.

“Lysaila, when the fog reaches their encampment, break their front line,” Marek ordered.

  “Oh, how exciting. We’ll have to postpone our partnership for another time, Grim,” Lysaila drew her enchanted blade.

  “What a pity,” Grim’s eyes passed over her body.

“Crow, I want you to command our army from the back,” Marek said.

  “My Lord, I can fight just as well as any of these Realm travelers,” Crow objected.

  “I know you can, old friend,” Marek grabbed Crow’s shoulder. “But, I can’t afford to lose you. Your wisdom and knowledge are too important to risk in a night battle. Your skills will be needed in the war effort to come.”

  Crow lowered his head, “I will do as you command. But, what of you, my Lord?”

  “I will go straight for the Bronze Eagle’s chief. If their tribe sees their leader fall, they will most likely surrender. Or perhaps our army will persuade them, either way works for me,” Marek shrugged his massive shoulders.

  “My Lord, you are the only one we truly cannot afford to lose. Without you, our dream of liberating the Valley will die,” Crow argued.

“If I do not fight at the front, how can I expect others to follow me? Besides, Nokuti will have my back as always,” Marek grinned.

  “Don’t worry, Crow. I’ll keep our suicidal chief safe,” Nokuti cracked her neck.

  “I wouldn’t put it like that,” Marek smiled wryly. “Don’t worry, really. Nokuti and I are high master magi, we’ll be fine. And Stjerne forbid, but if something were to happen, the twins can always step in.”

  “No, thanks,” Dawn shook her head subtly.

“Agreed,” Vaughn added.

  “I don’t like this plan,” Crow crossed his arms.

“...It’ll be fine, trust me,” Marek cleared his throat. “Grim, begin the advancement.”

  The axlean marched forward, the others followed closely behind. Crow groaned, but went to rally the two thousand warriors hiding at the bottom of the hill.

~~~

  As the thick fog reached the Bronze Eagle’s encampment, the night guards stood up from around their campfire. The fog seemed ominous as it curled around them. The five men pulled out their swords.

  “Something’s not right, alert the chief,” one of the guards said.

  Lysaila sprang out from the fog, right at the guards. Her body spun over the campfire, her blade dancing around her, slicing flesh with each wave. She landed past the fire and dashed forward, straight into the nearest group of tents. The guards’ bodies fell apart in bloody slabs.

  Lysaila sliced through the tent and slithered inside. A feminine scream was cut short as blood splattered on the walls. Lysaila slipped into the next tent and left it in another pool of blood. Panicked shouts began to spread through the encampment as several hundred men and women began pouring out of their tents. Most did not have time to put on their armor and simply settled with their weapons of choice.

  “What happened!?” The chief yelled angrily.

  His men pointed to the bloody tents at the corner of the encampment. One tent kept shaking quietly. The morbid squelch of death resounding from within.

  “Fire!” the chief shouted.

  A group of archers notched their arrows and let loose into the tent. Dozens of arrows pierced through the thin leather walls. The bloody tent stood still. A blade sliced through the wall.

  Four lamias slithered out, each identical to the other. They were covered in blood yet were unscathed. Their magestone belts glowed a soft purple. The Lysailas licked their lips and lifted their curved swords. Their serpentine tongues flicked out and tasted the blood on their blades.

  “More, please,” the Lysailas giggled.

“Kill the demons!” The chief cast a fireball and launched it at them.

  The Lysailas curled around the fire, dodging the orange spell with ease. They moved in rhythmic motions and jumped into the fray of enemies. The warriors hacked at the lamias, but they danced away with nimble movements. The few blades that found their mark sank through the lamias and out the other side without a single drop of blood.

  The Lysailas’ blades sliced all around them, most passing harmlessly through their enemies. Yet, many others found their heads severed from their bodies in quick fashion. The lamias’ tails whipped about, shattering bones here and there. The fog began to thicken all around them.

  “Get away from my girl!” Kyriil shouted through the fog.

  A ray of searing light pierced the enemies nearest the lamias, burning the tribe mens' flesh. The bright light made a clear target for the archers. They fired their arrows straight at the mounted elf.

  “Ah, shit!” Kyriil threw himself to the ground as his centaur was riddled with arrowheads.

  Kyriil hid behind his centaur’s corpse, the arrows still raining down. He laughed maniacally as he pulled out an arrow from his own leg. He covered the wound with the palm of his hand. Soft white light surrounded the injury. The wound began to heal at a rapid pace. He poked his head out from behind the dead centaur and fired off a few blasts of light to hold off the warriors that began encroaching on him.

  A javelin of ice flew through the mist and pierced the neck of one the enemies. They turned just in time to see Grim let loose several more icy javelins, the enormous icicles puncturing their unarmored bodies with ease.

  “Get up, elf.” Water formed around Grim’s hands and froze into another javelin.

“As if they could keep me down,” Kyriil jumped to his feet and fired off another ray of light.

  Marek shouted a war cry as his centaur and him jumped into the fray. He multicast an agility and vigor spell throughout his entire body. His veins darkened and his skin turned bronze. Marek’s hands were a blur as he thrust his spear through several enemies in a single charge.

  An enemy rider smashed into Marek, stabbing his centaur in the chest with a lance. His dying centaur fell over, pinning Marek to the ground. The enemy rider turned around for another charge.

  Marek’s vigor-enhanced dire strength easily lifted the dead centaur up. He yelled as he grabbed his centaur and flung him like a disc at the charging rider. A sickening crunch resounded as the rider’s steed smashed and folded inwards, tumbling to the ground in a bloody mess.

  Marek ran up to the dismounted rider as he staggered away from the crash. Marek dodged his floundering punch, grabbed the man’s neck, and pulled, ripping the neck from the body in one swift movement.

  An enemy dwarf dashed forward and swung his axe low at Marek’s knees. Nokuti leaped off her centaur and blocked the attack with her own double-sided axe, and swiftly decapitated the dwarf.

  “Keep your eyes open.” Nokuti swung her axe at another oncoming foe.

  Marek grabbed his spear from the ground and stretched his arm out in a long swinging arc. His spear practically sang in a steely warcry as it flew above Nokuti’s head and sliced the necks of the enemies behind her.

  “Right back at you,” Marek flourished his spear.

  “Archers!” Nokuti yelled. She jumped, grabbed Marek’s shoulder, twisted around, and hugged his broad back, covering him with her small frame.

  Arrows slammed into her body and shattered as her durability spell’s scales wrapped around her skin.

  Marek released his agility magic and cast his own durability spell. His darkened veins faded away and the faint outline of yellow scales appeared all over his skin. Nokuti noticed the change and jumped off him.

  “Where’s their chief?” Marek asked, eyeing the throng of incoming enemies.

  “It doesn’t matter, there’s too many of them. And we’ll never get to their chief if we don’t stop those archers,” Nokuti pointed her axe to the cluster of archers on the other side of the battlefield.

  One of the archers’ arms turned bronze as he pulled his large bow back and aimed at them.

“Vigorized archer! Dodge!” Nokuti pushed Marek aside.

  Before the arrow could fire, a bolt of lightning struck the brown mage archer, evaporating his shoulders and head. The other archers fell back in surprise. The earth erupted beneath them, sending the dozens of archers flying in the air. A massive stream of fire scorched their bodies before they even touched the ground. Nokuti glanced at the ones responsible.

  The twin archmagi, Dawn and Vaughn, waved their hands in precise movements, a flow of magic bursting forth with each gesture. Dark tendrils emerged from Dawn’s shadow and pulled enemies towards her. With one hand Vaughn burned them with flame, the other hand roasted them with blinding light. Lightning crackled and shot out from Dawn’s palms at the ones who tried to run, eviscerating them.

  The twins walked side by side, a swirl of red arcane wards surrounding them. They were a storm of magic sweeping upon the enemy in wave after wave of destruction.

  “Retreat, retreat!” The Bronze Eagle’s chief yelled from amidst the carnage.

  A horn resounded through the fog. Marek’s army charged forth, cutting off the enemy from the back. Crow led the archers in a volley from the rear, clearing a path towards the enemy leader.

  “There’s the chief,” Marek gripped his spear.