The Breton Boys

Chapter Nine: The Battle at Banebury | 2

The Fourth Infantry carried on their march into the night before finally stopping at the border of Twayblade and Banebury to sleep for a few hours. The next morning, the Captain roused the troops early and they set off once more - east, this time, towards Banebury Castle and the sea.

As they marched, armor clashing rhythmically with every united step, Reid's thoughts flitted between the battlefield - where Oliver was undoubtedly already stationed, eagerly awaiting his chance to fight - and Imeric. It frustrated him, but despite everything that he had put Reid through, he found himself feeling increasingly sorry for his comrade. Reid could recall all too vividly how worthless Gretchen made him feel day in and day out; he couldn't imagine how much more severely her actions would have stung had she been Reid's actual mother. And Imeric was older than he was, after all - he'd been living with his father's abuse for longer than Reid had suffered Gretchen's. Maybe after three more years of it, he would have been just as bad as Imeric.

Reid was wrenched from his thoughts by a desperate shouting coming from somewhere down the queue behind him.

"Mr. Captain, Mr. Captain!" the strangely familiar voice cried, getting louder all the time.

Reid turned just in time to see a blurry streak of flesh and fur bounding up the side of the trail, calling out and waving his arms.

"Mr. Teagan?" Reid said before crashing noisily into the soldier in front of him, who had abruptly stopped marching.

From where he stood, Reid couldn't see or hear the Captain and the faun. Desperate to know what was happening, he tried standing on his toes, craning his neck and jumping in the air to try to catch a glimpse of the front of the line. Almost immediately, anxious whispers began sweeping towards Reid like a wave.

"...at the border?"

"The Fifth Infantry..."

"Attacked?"

"We have to go back!"

"RESOLUTE!"

Captain Pitchblende's command echoed loudly through the trees and all other voices silenced instantly. It was several moments before the Captain spoke again.

"The Fifth Infantry has been ambushed," he called, "at the border of Waterleaf and Twayblade. The northern front has been breached. We must move quickly."

Reid scanned the forest as they marched at a quickened pace, half expecting to see pairs of glistening darthag eyes lurking in the shadows, waiting to attack. His hand automatically gripped the hilt of the sword that hung at his waist, which at this particular moment he found a great deal more comforting than the agate he had wedged in his pocket. A strange tension seemed to have fallen over the Fourth Infantry - a collective feeling of foreboding that flowed through the air between them, binding them together in purpose.

The trees began to thin, and before long, the forest vanished altogether and the unit found themselves in a vast, grassy field. Reid could see the rolling green Hobblish Hills in the distance and, perched high atop a rocky plateau, the majestic Banebury Castle with its stark white walls, long, gleaming windows, and spindly black turrets towering proudly over the landscape.

When Reid was finally able to tear his gaze way from the striking fortress, his eyes fell on an entirely different but equally awe-inspiring scene. Even sandwiched between Tristan and Jo, Reid could see that the entire plain - from the very edge of the hills, to the coast beyond the castle and west towards Twayblade - was spread with soldiers in even rows, resolute and waiting.

Captain Pitchblende guided the Fourth Infantry to the space that had been left for them, where they assembled in formation and fit like a puzzle piece amidst the rest of the Hollenmerish Army. Reid could see a great herd of centaurs, wielding bows and arrows, stationed at the base of the hills, and he wondered if Rolomir stood among them.

"Jo?" came a voice from the row ahead of them and to the left, where the Fourth Infantry ended and another one began.

"Ethan?" Reid questioned. It was hard to make out any distinguishing features through his helmet.

"Reid?"

"Where's Oliver?"

"Up there," Ethan answered, pointing.

Reid squinted and though he couldn't be sure, he was almost certain that the brown curls that were poking haphazardly out from beneath that helmet were Oliver's.

"Oliver!" Ethan whispered as loudly as he dared, trying to get his attention. "Oliver!"

He turned and Reid caught his gaze, but Oliver only had a moment to smile at his brother through his helm before Captain Pitchblende began to speak.

"Soldiers!" he cried loudly and deliberately, riding up and down the line before them, saber in hand. "The time has come! Today, we will vanquish the monster that has troubled our people - robbed peace and security from the Southern Lands - for far too long. Today, we fight for our lost children, the Fairevalians who have already perished at the hands of our enemy, for those we've lost trying to defeat her, and for Hollenmere! Draw your weapons, soldiers, and remember the promise you made to your country to defend her. The time has come to make good on that vow. So draw your weapons, soldiers, and prepare to fight!"

A mighty cry rose up from the Waterleaf Hollow Company as they unsheathed their swords and raised them, gleaming, into the sunlight. Their cheers were echoed by the troops from every hollow as each captain galvanized his company. But when the last echo faded into the hills, an eerie silence descended upon them. All was still.