Chapter 1: 1. Looming Storm

Chapter 1 - Looming Storm

 

The two armies faced one another in the volcanic fields of Raven’s Eye. The soil was charred to the point of being jet-black by thousands of years of volcanic activity, hence the raven in the name.

Looks like hell, the man in front of one of the armies thought. He held the reins of his white horse firmly with one hand and rested the other on the scabbard of his sword. He had long and wavy hair that he dyed with a shiny ice-blue alchemic dye he specifically ordered from his alchemist — most people claimed he was just being a pretentious prick, but he had long learned to not care about what the others say. He was already in his mid-thirties and he had better things to do than caring for other people’s opinions. Plus, he couldn’t blame them, he was being a huge prick sometimes, there were no lies there.

He fidgeted on his horse, this wait was killing him. Both physically and mentally. Physically, this black plain was absorbing the heat of the midday sun, and combined with the fact that this place was a volcanic field, he felt like a raw chicken on a hot grill. His armor was also made from black leather — signifying his Falcon roots — and although it had no sleeves, he still felt suffocated inside his armor. His arms were naked from the shoulders, revealing his muscled arms. There was no reason for this other than it looked cool — he knew that most people could not harm him significantly and that his armor would be no use against the people who could harm him, so he just put fashion over function. Yeah, maybe he was a bit pretentious.

Mentally… Well, waiting for something that could cause your demise was stressful. Shouldering an entire nation’s fate, on the other hand, was crushing. He let out a deep sigh and glanced at the army camp behind him. Most of the soldiers had finished their preparations and the battalions were starting to take shape. They were outnumbering the enemy three to two, but he could still see the desperation and the fear in a lot of soldiers’ eyes. He could not blame them, this battle was going to be a tough one with all the Elder Arts users in the enemy ranks. He was feeling the same as those soldiers, he was just better at hiding it. He wiped the beads of sweat on his forehead and continued to watch the open field in front of him.

Not long after, he heard the sound of hooves beating the ground behind him.

“I’m here to report, Lord Togan,” said a woman’s voice. It was delicate, yet strong.

“Please, Larena,” said Togan without turning his gaze from the enemy encampment on the other side of the plain. “I really don’t want us to be so formal when one of us, or both, could die tomorrow.”

Larena sighed and rode her horse beside Togan. “Sure, Togan. You do want to hear the report, though, right?”

“Of course.” Togan glanced at the woman beside him. She was in her early thirties, and still as beautiful as Togan first met her a decade ago, although the years were slowly starting to show an attritive effect on her skin. Her blonde hair was tied in a tight ponytail and she was wearing full-plate armor, its helmet dangling off the saddle.

“Another twenty-men squadron joined the enemy ranks. All of them are Crimson Knights.”

“So a total of forty Crimsons?” Togan wanted to raise his voice in frustration, but he didn’t want others to hear him, so he just clenched his teeth. “And to make things worse, they’re led by Ledon of Atraketh.

“That’s what the scouts reported.”

Togan was silent for a while. It was impossible for them to win this battle with their current situation. Unless…

“Have the Falcons arrived yet?” He asked.

“Not yet,” answered Larena. She pulled a roll of paper from her saddlebag and gave it to Togan. “They’ve sent this with a, ironically, raven. They’ll be here but there are things you won’t like.”

“Let me guess,” said Togan, unrolling the paper. “They’re not sending Selkarnas as I requested.”

“They’re not. They say he is busy recruiting new people in the south.”

“What a fucking bullshit,” Togan started to read the contents of the message. “They’re wasting him on an insignificant job like that. I swear people are so incompetent these days.”

“Yeah, but maybe his disease is getting worse?”

“Nah, he’s the toughest son of a bitch I know. Even in his weak state, he could easily defeat those forty Crimson Knights all by himself. Anyway.” He stopped for a moment to read the paper. “So they’re sending only ten Artists? That would’ve been fine if the people they sent were competent, but aside from Razkal and Deitor, they’re all shit.”

“They’re your friends, Togan. You should at least trust them.”

“I know they’re shit because they’re my friends. And I’m not going to blindly trust them just because they’re my friends. Call me an asshole, but they’re just not good enough to take on forty Crimsons.”

“They’re also sending a warrior corps.”

“Yeah, the 7th. They’re good, but they’re no Artists. They won’t be of any use against the Crimsons. They’re definitely a welcome surprise, though. Once Artists run out of Elder Energy, they will shine. We just need to hold on until then.”

“So,” said Larena and rode her horse to be closer to Togan. “You think there’s hope?”

“There’s always hope.” Togan put his hand on her shoulder. “Sometimes it is really hard to find inside all the despair, but it’s always there. We can definitely win this, but goddamn that Ledon of Atraketh is really drowning that small hope in despair.”

“Is he that strong?”

“Not in one on one, no. I fought him during the Circle Wars, I know I can defeat him if we’re alone. But the guy has one of the best compression techniques I’ve ever seen, he’s a monster against large armies. We’re outnumbering their army by almost five thousand men, but he can destroy that advantage in only four or five attacks given the chance. That’s why the Crimson Knights will probably protect him for as long as they can, trying to give him opportunities to do a lot of compression attacks to obliterate our army.”

“Yeah, but your compression attacks are not that bad either.”

“True, but I don’t have forty Artists on my side protecting me.” He rubbed his forehead — he was starting to get a headache. “Maybe I should try to fight those forty Crimson Knights by myself, while the Falcons deal with Ledon. I don’t think I can win, but at least I can give the Falcons enough time.”

“Leave the Crimsons for the Falcons. You’re underestimating them. How long has it been since you last saw them? Five years? Six? They may not be the same guys you knew before.”

Togan sighed and stared at Larena. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. But still, even if they can take on the Crimsons, even if we win… This is going to be a slaughter.”

“Yes, but if we lose… Then Runodar can easily march onto the mainland and slaughter even more people.”

She was right. Raven’s Eye was located on an island called the Isle of Macaw, and it was proven time and time again that controlling this island determined who was the aggressor of the war. The Alliance of Runodar and the Kel’daras Empire were on different continents and the Isle of Macaw was the biggest stop in the vast ocean between them. Most ships couldn’t sail straight to Runodar without stopping at least on the Isle of Macaw to replenish their supplies, so controlling this island was crucial for the campaign. On paper, they were fighting for this island for the last decade, but in reality, the Isle of Macaw was a symbol of an unofficial cease-fire. The war had worn out both sides, and the Isle of Macaw was a great place to fight for these two stubborn superpowers who couldn’t accept peace without actually occupying each other’s land. Recently, though, with both sides regaining their strength, the war had started to get heated, eventually culminating in this battle.

“Maybe,” said Togan, “Maybe that is the answer. Maybe losing will cause King to open his eyes. Maybe losing a few cities on the mainland will finally discourage him from this campaign.”

“You talk nonsense. We both know you don’t want that.”

Togan raised both of his hands as if to surrender. “It was just a joke, chill.” Or was it?

“I know,” Larena let out a deep sigh. “I’m just not used to hearing jokes on the battlefield. Even from you.”

Togan smirked. “I thought you loved me more when I was serious.”

“I love you as you are.” Larena glanced behind her shoulder to make sure no one heard that. Not that people didn’t know their relationship, she was just shy to show intimacy around other people, which Togan always found weird. “But if you keep making jokes in serious environments, the King will hang you for real someday..”

“Don’t worry,” said Togan, still smirking. “Kel’daras would’ve lost this battle a long time ago without me. I’m too precious for them.”

Larena chuckled. “Looks like you’ve cheered up a bit since you started to be a narcissistic prick again.”

“I haven’t cheered up, but at least I’m not as pessimistic as before. Thanks for that. I’d be really cheered up if the Falcons showed up, though.”

“Don’t worry. You know they’ll show up in time. Also, Runodar’s still not making any moves.”

“Yeah. Let’s hope they stay that way for a little more while.”

 

***

You are reading story The Tragedy of the Falcons [A Character-Driven Epic Fantasy Story] at novel35.com

 

Togan Teremon was discussing the battle strategies in the war tent when a messenger rushed inside the tent. “Lord Teremon, the Falcons have arrived.”

“Perfect,” said Togan and picked up some small, wooden statues of falcons and put them on the big battle map in front of him. “Bring Deitor here immediately.”

“Yes sir.”

“I told you,” Larena whispered. “They were on time.”

“Yeah but they’re acting too leisurely, jeopardizing the battle. I’ll need to have a talk with Fholas after this.”

Shortly after, Deitor appeared at the entrance of the massive tent, hesitantly scanning the room. Among all the lieutenants and generals in the room, Deitor was sticking out like a sore thumb. His black leathered Falcon armor was quite stylish, but that was about it. Everything else about the man felt like he was a regular footman and not a renowned member of the Falcon Order. His shoulder-length black hair was quite greasy, his beard resembling more of a bush than hair. Deitor was around the same age as Togan, but he looked forty-five thanks to his rough appearance. He looked at the lieutenants like he was somewhere he didn’t belong but then smiled widely as he saw Togan across the table.

Deitor ran across the table and hugged Togan. “I still can’t believe you’re in such a position.”

“And I can’t believe you still look like you’ve spent the last five years in a sewer.” Togan also hugged him, patting him on the back several times. “At least shape your beard a bit. I’ve seen people getting hanged for less than that in the Royal Palace.”

“Unlike you, I don’t care about fashion, you gilded bastard. I also will probably never set foot in the palace, so who gives a shit?”

“Women, Deitor. They do give a shit.”

“You may not believe it but some women actually like men who look a bit ungentle.”

“You call this a bit?”

“Guys,” said Larena, forcing a cough. “Do you really have time for jokes in the middle of a war?”

“Larena!” Deitor exclaimed, then hugged Larena. “I didn’t even notice you were here!”

“Well,” Larena was also smiling ear to ear. “I go wherever he goes.”

“Such ranks and positions suit you, Larena. Unlike this jackass.”

“You realize I can take your head for that, right?” Togan rolled his eyes. “Larena’s right, though. We don’t have time for jokes.”

“How many are there?” Deitor got serious immediately, looking at the battle map.

“You already know how many there are. You were to get the reports as soon as you arrived.”

“My apologies, Lord Teremon,” said Deitor mockingly. “So, forty Crimson Knight led by Ledon of Atraketh. What’s the plan?”

“To kill Ledon before he kills our people. I can kill him, but the Crimson Knights won’t let me do it. They need to be distracted. Can you and your men do that?”

“With 10 Artists?” Deitor thought for a while. “We can gain you some time. But that’s about it. We can’t defeat them, just stall them.”

“I can help you after I deal with Ledon. You just need to hold on for a little while.”

“You’ll need to be fast, brother. Or we’ll all kick the bucket.”

Togan smiled to ease the tension. “Trust me, I can kill Ledon in the blink of an eye as long as you distract those Crimsons.”

Deitor folded his arms, frowning. “How many years has it been since you last fought Ledon? Five? Ten? You have to give up on your habit of underestimating your opponent, he probably trained and improved since you last saw him.”

“Yeah, but so did I. Thanks for your concern, though.”

“He’s right, Togan,” said Larena. “No one doubts your ability, but you still need to be careful. You know the importance of this battle more than anyone, don’t let your confidence blind you.”

Togan heaved a sigh. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I will be careful.”

A small silence filled the tent. It was one of the lieutenants who broke the silence. “My Lord, how are we going to deal with their pike wall? They’re probably going to use that tactic again.”

“Good question,” said Deitor. “That will make it really hard to break their formation. Ledon and his Knights will probably be in the middle of the army. Nobody leaves their back open when the enemy has Artists. We need to break their formation to be able to find our way to Ledon.”

“Exactly. But I don’t think all Crimson Knights will be protecting Ledon.” Togan pushed some of the enemy pieces near the pike wall. “If it were me, I would’ve put at least twenty or so Crimsons to the front line. They can easily stall a potential charge from the Artists.”

“Then our cavalry should wait for an opportunity to flank the enemy. They won’t be able to achieve much before we break that spear wall. Do you have Tal’garath with you, Togan? You can use her to help us deal with the Knights on the front.”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I? Do you really think I would fight an entire army without her?”

“I don’t know. With that ego of yours, I would’ve believed if you told me you would fight that army of ten thousand all by yourself.”

Togan smiled. “Ten thousand might be a bit much, but I think I can handle at least eight thousand.”

Everybody in the room laughed, knowing that this might be their last. The rest of the talk wasn’t as pleasant, though. They just went over the plans countless times until the time of battle.

 

***

 

Togan mounted his horse in front of the army, his eyes watching the slow but steady approach of the enemy.

“You should speak to them,” said Larena, behind him. “They’re afraid.”

Togan turned his horse to face the Kel’daras troops. They were already split into fifteen battalions. Most of them were praying, and some of them were talking with their friends for possibly the last time. Long pikes facing the sky were trembling as if they were fishing rods that caught a big bass. Some soldiers were trying to regulate their breathing by taking deep, long breaths. Regardless of what they were doing, they all had one thing in common: terror. Togan knew that no speech could cure that. On the battlefield, even the bravest people would be afraid. It was impossible to prevent that.

Still, he could at least embolden their terrified hearts. He approached the front ranks and even this basic move caught the attention of the soldiers. They all began to look at Lord Togan Teremon with hopeful eyes. The soldiers nudged each other and spread the news that Togan was going to make a speech. A single shred of hope from their commander's mouth was enough for them. After all, he was Lord Togan Teremon, respected by everyone in the country. After making sure that everyone was paying attention and listening, Togan used some of the elder energy inside of him and changed it to sound energy, boosting his voice to be heard by everyone.

“I will not utter hopeful words today! I will not give you false hopes that we will win the battle, that everything will be fine. We will die. Many of us will not be able to leave this plateau and reunite with our loved ones. Perhaps none of us will.” He stopped for a second to add a bit of impact to his speech. “But if we lose today, we won't be the only ones losing their lives. We are the shackles of Runodar, and if we lose this war, there will be nothing holding them back! When your spouses, when your children open the door hoping to see you come back, they will see the Runodar soldiers on the door instead! To hell with your own life! To hell with Kel'daras! Today you will not fight for either! You will fight for the people waiting for you at home! Forfeit your lives! Die, so that they can live!”

A thunderous cheer erupted as soon as he finished his speech. Some were just shouting in vain, while others were shouting Togan's name. But there was one thing most soldiers had in common. They were crying. Bitter but resolute tears of men who accepted their death.

With an aura befitting kings, Lord Togan Teremon steered his horse towards the enemy. To many, this man named Togan Teremon was the last hope of the Kel'daras Empire. He was the only person everyone, be it common or nobility, prayed for. He spurred his horse with thousands of people following him. He gracefully drew his sword from its scabbard and raised it into the air, driving an army of fifteen thousand Kel'daras soldiers into the battle that would decide the fate of the entire country.

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