Princess Eloni thought her heart stopped when the rider came. The words she had always feared to hear one day, spilling over a messenger's lips. Fallen in battle. A sword to the chest. To the heart. To the back. An arrow to the heart. The eye. The shoulder. Taken captive. Tortured. Maimed.
Any of these possibilities flashed through her mind and blurred together as she watched the rider dismount and approach her father's reception hall.
She dropped the flowers she had been cutting on the front lawn and lifted her skirts to run home in order to hear the news, any news, though she feared the worst.
The rider didn't seem surprised when Eloni came bursting through the door while he was making his report. Everyone that was regular at king Elon's court knew the royal daughters' spirited nature. All five may be different in their own way, but hey all had the same strong personalities and were encouraged to follow their own path in life. For that reason alone, the rider didn't bat an eye, but merely inclined his head as he continued his report. "... sent additional soldiers. And not a moment too soon. Our troops were about to be overrun. Balor is well organized. It seems they've managed to conceal their true numbers for a long time, hiding in the mountains. It is unfortunate we only learned this now. Much could have been prevented."
King Elon nodded grimly. "It is no fault of ours, nor of our allies. Balor has always given us grief. They are mountainfolk and know how to lay traps. If only we'd had more men from the start, but we had to make due."
The rider inclined his head. "Byron and the other injured were transported back to the base camp. Command was handed over to Dunstan and one lord Theron from Zeir. They..."
"Byron was hurt?" Eloni gasped. That fear from earlier returned tenfold and she found it hard to breathed. A sword to the chest. An arrow in the back...
"Princess Eloni," the rider spoke, "he engaged the enemy in battle at our South border when he took a sword to his leg. He kept on fighting until an arow to his shoulder and lower back took him down. We took out the arrows, princess, but his leg wound festered. He was loaded onto a cart and escorted back to our base camp with the other injured."
"But he'll be alright?" Eloni breathed fearfully, "he will live?"
The man lowered his eyes. He understood her worries. Nothing was certain in times of war, and sword wounds were precarious. "I do not have the answers, princess Eloni. Forgive me. I am no physician."
"Father," Eloni turned to the king.
King Elon shook his head gravely. "No child. I know what you want to ask, but I cannot send you into danger. It would mean crossing a battlefield and a mountain range that holds enemies waiting to ambush. You, too, know what Balor does to women they capture. They have physicians in Tirèze. Any number of them will be at the camp, tending to the wounded. Difficult as it may be, I need you to stay here. You have children to think of too. Byron would never approve of you throwing yourself at danger."
"But father," Eloni tried again, "you know the best ointments come from Lavos. We know exactly what herbs to use to make the best healing creams."
"Then send those," king Elon sated firm but kind, "Faolán here will carry back the tinctures and ointments. I'm sure there are other injured that will also benefit from them. Worry not, my dear Eloni, Byron is a strong man. He will not be taken down as easily."
She knew this, of course, but she wanted to be near him and make sure he would be alright. She wouldn't believe it unless she could see with her own eyes.
But she saw reason too. Brynn and Alon were still so young. They needed their mother. Making the medicine would be the best thing she could do. There were still ointments left. She would ask Eloise and Elvira to help her make more to give to Faolán before he left. Her father was right. Others might benefit from them as well. There must be so many wounded. Why had she not thought of this before? It was the only contribution she could make to the war.
Eloni bit her lip. She should also include those tinctures that wouldn't cure but would provide a gentle death. At least those injured too badly to heal wouldn't need to suffer needlessly.
She bowed at her father. "I will make arrangements." She inclined her head at Faolán and went in search of her sisters.
...
Iolaus glared at the man who was kneeled in front of him with a sword pointed at his throat. His opponent equally glared back and gritted his teeth.
"Why did you betray your king?" Iolaus demanded. They had captured one of lord Vertus' men when they came upon a scouting party from Balor. The Balor warriors had already been dealt with, now all that was left was getting some answers from the traitor.
The soldier spat at him. "You follow your lord," he said, "I will follow mine. They were orders. I simply did my duty."
"Your lord," Iolaus said, "has been taken into custody by the king. He will be charged with high treason and sentenced to death. You may be a soldier following his lords commands, but your first loyalty should be your king. You know full well that conspiring with the enemy is treason. You should have reported to the king instead of blindly obeying. For this, you too, will share his fate."
The soldier scoffed. "Judge me all you like. But you, too, follow your lord's command without question. And what good has it done you? You'll always be a vasal to your king. Nothing more. At least in Balor men live free. They answer to no one."
Iolaus shook his head. "If that's what you believe, you were twice a fool. Who organized the Balor troops to march? Who told them where to attack? Everyone serves someone. And we all have to carry the consequences of our loyalties." He nodded at one of the men at his side to hold their captive down, and struck.
A clean death was all the mercy he would give.
...
Darius had made it his daily routine to visit the infirmary first thing every morning. Prince Cyrus would do the same at the end of each day. It was their responsibility. It was on their command these men had come to fight, so it fell to their lord and king to see they received the best care that could be provided under the circumstances. Which was not much.
A few days ago, Byron had been brought in with an infected leg wound. The two arrow wounds he also bore had been addressed, but his leg was in bad shape. He was running a fever and had been out cold for two days now. They physicians were doing everything possible to treat the infection, but Darius had heard them talk about amputation. The thought alone made his blood run cold. He had seen soldiers with severed limbs before. In Tirèze there was no other occupation for them. Most of them could now be found on the streets, begging for alms. The lucky ones found some sort of labor they could still perform. Others had to rely on their families to support them.
It was one of the things he wanted to change now that he was king, if ever he had the chance to do so.
In Zeir, he knew, such wounded soldiers received a pension. It wasn't much, but enough to provide for themselves and their families. In Lavos, he did not know. The governing system there was completely different to what he was used to. As Byron had mentioned once, there were opportunities for anyone that dare to take a chance. The king held council every week to listen to petitions or settle disputes. Darius had never bothered to study things further. Lavos was his ally and his wife was from there. That had always been good enough for him.
Now, he couldn't help but wonder.
"How is he?" he asked the physician that was tending to Byron.
The man bowed at him. "Your Majesty," he said, "his fever still burns. We are doing what we can to stop the infection from spreading, but we can't wait much longer. Our treatment is only slowing down the infection. We don't have enough medicine, my king. We can't use it all on one person. We have many injured."
"I know," Darius nodded. He had already send word to his wife, asking if Elora and Malati could prepare more healing creams. But it would take time, he knew. Time they did not have. "I trust your competence," Darius told the physician. "Do all you can and also do what you must. Save as many as possible."
"Of course, Your Majesty," the physician bowed and he turned back to his patient.
Darius nodded and walked out of the infirmary to meet with Cyrus. They still took turns resting and only had little time to confer with each other before other matters demanded their attention again.
Cyrus was already waiting for him, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Any news?"
"We're running out of medication," Darius said, "but we're still decreasing our enemy's numbers. They are suffering the same losses. Let us hope they don't have the physicians to patch them up."
Cyrus nodded. "Alcaeus sent word. They are slowly but surely driving the enemy back. A squadron went in pursuit to make sure they are retreating. With some luck, they'll drive them straight into the arms of Iason and Iolaus." Communication between there and the fort in Zeir was scarce. They couldn't send out riders for every little thing. It would only meant more risk at discovery. They would have to trust Iason and Iolaus would make wise decisions and that if there was an urgent matter, a messenger would manage to reach them.
Darius sighed and nodded. "How many dead?"
"One hundred and twelve we know of as of this morning," Cyrus informed him, "the added forces we sent to the border of Lavos strengthened our position there. How many more can we dispatch from here to keep a sufficient back up?"
Darius joined him at the large table that was set up in the tent. Maps were spread out all over it. "Another two hundred and twenty here," Darius decided as he pointed towards the Northwest border. "Let's spread out a hundred more along the entire Northern mountain range. I'll send more archers and instruct them to find higher ground. How far are we with making new arrows?"
"Torcan went to oversee the fletchers and blacksmith earlier," Cyrus said, "he should be back soon. The report that came in from Theron stated that they managed to confiscate several of the enemy's horses. The animals are still fresh. He will arrange for an escort to bring them here. He says he doesn't want to risk riding them into battle. The mountain tribes are known to teach their horses specific signals to respond to. It might lure them in an ambush, so he'd rather send them here."
Darius nodded in agreement. He would have done the same. It was a waste to put down good animals. Even if they couldn't be used in battle, they still had value and might be put to good use. They were spoils of war and would be rewarded to those who had shown exceptional courage in battle, as well at those who had not hesitated to send aid. "Let's gather the men we'll send out. I prefer they are ready to ride out by tomorrow." It all depended on how many arrows would be ready by nightfall. They needed to supply the troops at the front.
"I'll speak to Antonios," Cyrus said, "and lord Cassius too."
Darius nodded. "I'll send one of my men to meet with them and give additional instructions for them to carry. Tell them to meet here."
"I will," Cyrus agreed and he walked out of the tent to find his captains and get something to eat. His thoughts drifted off towards his wife, who was sitting at home for away in Zeir, carrying their second child. How far along was she? Would he be home to see it be born? Perhaps this time it would be a girl. Would she be timid like her mother? Or wild and free like Vara and he had been? He knew Ariane longed for a daughter whose hair she could braid. To him, it didn't matter much as long as it was healthy. He wanted Lucius to have a sibling to play with. All of his own siblings had died, either through illness or birth. He wanted his son to have many siblings.
"Prince Cyrus."
Cyrus stopped and looked up. Torcan approached him with a man in tow that pulled a cart. On it were newly forged weapons. Swords, axes, arrows, bows.
"Good," Cyrus nodded pleased, "they're ready."
Torcan bowed lightly. "I took the liberty of placing another order," he said, "but Tirèze is not rich in wood. May Zeir be of assistance?"
"I will write to my father," Cyrus said, "and see how soon we can provide weapons. The swiftest way of transport will be through Boncini since it's closest."
Torcan bowed again. "Thank you... Has king Darius returned yet?"
"Yes," Cyrus answered, "he is in the commander's tent. We 're assembling another two groups to send out."
"I see," Torcan said, "I'll speak with him later then." He wanted to know if there was any news from Salvire, but it could wait.
Cyrus nodded. "Join me then for something to eat. I need to speak with Antonios and lord Cassius. After that I will return to king Darius." He looked at the man that had brought the weapons. "You can announce yourself with our master of arms where you will be paid." He waved over a nearby soldier to accompany the man before motioning for Torcan to follow him.
The improvised mess hall was mostly empty at this time of day. Most soldiers had already eaten and were now inspecting their gear or training.
"We should do another inspection round," Cyrus told Torcan, "after we dispatch the men. The longer it takes for them to see actual battle, the more restless they'll become. Still, we can't send them all out at once, and they know that too. We need to keep them sharp."
Torcan nodded. It was true, but they couldn't let the men get injured while keeping them busy. "How about target practice? The mountains West of us are filled with game. We could send some of the men to go a hunting. It will provide more food too." Perhaps a good hunt would break the boredom somewhat and prepare them for the actual fight when they would need to relieve their comrades who were now fighting at the border.
Cyrus nodded in approval. "You should take it up with king Darius. It might do the men some good and raise their spirit." He could use a good hunt himself. Weeks of living in a military camp was making him restless too.
Unfortunately, as first in command with Darius, he needed to stay put until this war was over.
Cyrus finished his food and stood up. "Eat," he told Torcan, "get some rest. Then meet up with me and king Darius again. We should have finished instructing the captains by then."
Torcan inclined his head and watched Cyrus leave. Rest, he thought to himself, was a luxury that did not exist at a battle camp. There was so much to do. And there were always sounds. Riders relaying a message, sword play of training soldiers, murmured conversations around the night fires.
But he wasn't the only one that suffered from lack of sleep. It was the same for every soldier in this camp. Even more so for those at the frontlines. And he knew that the longer it would go on, the more restless the men would become.
How long before this alliance would break? How long until the men from different nations would start fighting amongst each other over minor things? Where would that take them then?
For all their sakes, he hoped this battle would be won soon or they might have more than one enemy to deal with.
...
Every morning, she found herself climbing the steps to the wall that looked out over Boncini's lands, waiting for news. News of her husband, news from Tirèze, even from Auros.
But there was nothing.
Vara told herself that no news meant good news, even though she knew that was only partially true. Messages, after all, could be intercepted.
"My lady," Drusus, the captain of her guard, spoke gently as he approached her. "If there was ought to learn, we would inform you immediately. Don't torture yourself like this."
Vara smiled at him kindly. "I know, Drusus, but coming here takes my mind off things. I'm running out of things to do. Sitting still would only make me more anxious."
Drusus inclined his head at her. He could understand that much, being a soldier. Since his training days he hadn't had a day of sitting idle. There was always something to do. For nobility, he mused, days must go by slow indeed. "Perhaps my lady would visit her friend in the village?" It had been a while, he knew, since she had seen Eudemas, and the former serving girl would surely find her something to do. Vara had never shied away from labor and the tailor shop was always busy.
Vara smiled again. "I might," she said, "thank you, Drusus."
He nodded. "We will send word if there is news to share. Worrying around the estate will not make the war end, nor soldiers return home sooner."
"You are right," Vara nodded, "I will go then. The walk will do me some good." She left the battlement and went inside to retrieve her shawl. "Chloe," she called when she came across the young woman, "I am headed towards the village. Will you join me? I'll go see Eudemas. Perhaps you'd like to come, or visit the market place. Bring Phoebe if you wish. She'll like that."
Chloe nodded. "I will, my lady. There is still some things to purchase for tonight's dinner." There wasn't really, but it was the only excuse she could come up with. At least it would get Vara away for a few moments instead of having her stare out over the plains all day. They were all worried about lord Iason, and about everyone else fighting Balor currently. No news had come for a while now.
She took a basket and retrieved her daughter from the playroom where she had been coloring. It was more difficult every day to keep an eye on the adventurous child. The other day, one of the stableboys had found her attempting to climb on one of the horses. And last week she had wandered into the training grounds. Perhaps a trip to the village would distract the child for a while.
Phoebe followed her eagerly and insisted on carrying the basket. Chloe let her be since the basket was still empty and didn't weigh much.
The weather was nice even if it was chilly, and they made quick progress. A lone guard trailed behind them. Everywhere Vara went outside the gates, one of the soldiers would follow at distance to ensure her safety. It was something Iason had instructed before he departed. Vara had agreed to it. She was no longer a child protected by the walls of Auros. She was a king's daughter with an estate to her name, close to a border where a war was waging.
The roads were not as safe as they used to be.
Hopefully they would be safe again soon, Chloe thought to herself as she watched Phoebe. Her daughter should have a peaceful childhood, where she could play outside the gates without her having to worry about invasions or attackers.
Chloe turned her head towards the sky. The chill in the air promised snow. She hoped it would not fall. Snow would only make things harder on the soldiers at the battlefront.
She glanced at Vara, who was looking at the sky as well. A worried frown was on her face.
Chloe cleared her throat. "I hope Eudemas had the fires burning. We are barely on our way and my feet are already cold."
Her words had the intended effect, because Vara laughed and looked at her. "Well," she said, "we can't have that. Let's quicken our pace. Let's hope she has some of those spice pastries ready too."
A/N So Byron got hurt. Makes you wonder who else will get hurt >.>