Post by James de Valois-Burgundy on Apr 27, 2010 2:00:11 GMT -5
5 Years Past
There is something about the sound of war that I always found profoundly disturbing. Oh, not the clash of blades or the yells of men, but the other sounds, beneath it ... the sob of a man as he lays dying on the field ... the sound of a shield splintering ... the sound of a horse, falling to it's knees in the mud. Some would say that it was odd, that I, a career soldier, should be disturbed by sounds that I had heard so often, but I firmly believe that the man who is inured to these sounds, small though they are, is the man who has lost his way, lost his will, lost his right to command others.
This day was filled with those sounds, though I barely marked them as I struggled with the Akkadian before me. They had sprung up, these Akkadian soldiers, sprung up in ambush as we tried to deliver supplies to our men across the river. I had counseled Colonel Avanoir that this supply train was a bad idea, that it left us too vulnerable, but the man was blind to my advice. Working under him had been difficult, the man seemed to hate me on principle along, but I persevered, because, in the end, is that not what a soldier does?
I spun and managed a blow that knocked the man's sword from his hands, and then quickly followed up with a thrust to the hamstring, crippling him and leaving him to bleed in the dirt as I moved on to the next man. Some might think it cruel of me, but there is no chivalry on the battlefield - not if you want to live out the day.
The tide of battle was against us, and when I heard a cry of despair from the man beside me, I turned to see the standard of our men being cut down, Colonel Avanoir lying bloodied on the ground, his dead horse crushing him. I saw immediately the disaster this could become: the men, demoralized, began to break ranks, to panic at the loss of their leader. I leapt over a dead horse, fighting my way to the Colonel - or, more accurately, to the standard of Terre d'Ange. I managed to take it, blood-smeared and dirty, from the man who was trying to jab the pointed tip into the Colonel's open eyes. Instead, it was the Akkadian who felt the sharp edge, jabbed into his throat at the carotid artery as I pulled another Akkadian from his horse, leaping onto it and raising the standard.
"To me!" I cried, rallying the men even as I parried a blow from the left. "For the Queen! For Terre d'Ange! For our honor!" With that, I struck the man down, and a cheer rose up around me. The tide of battle turned, then, the men fighting with renewed vigor, and though we took heavy losses, at the end of the day, it was our men who remained, and the Akkadians who retreated, vanquished for now, as darkness fell over the dead and dying.
Midsummer, Year one of Queen Sabrina's Reign
Kebel-Im-Akkad was hot. Damnably hot. I swatted at a fly that landed on the back of my neck as I perused the missive that I had only received that afternoon. It was from a superior in Terre d'Ange, turning over command here to General Valencois, and recalling me to the City of Elua. My first response was to question why I was being recalled, but my training allowed me to keep that to myself. I was not of that camp that believed in never questioning authority, but neither did I question overmuch - my instincts never failed to alert me to a situation that called for questions and one that called for obedience. My gut told me now that yes, it was time to go back 'home', for lack of a better word.
And so I gave my men their orders, though none were keen on the idea of my leaving. I had not given the Akkadians an inch since being made Colonel, and then General after that, and more men now survived than had before. And now, there was an uneasy peace between us, though I often wondered if it would take much to break it, and I had to hope that this new man was not a lesser General, one who did not know how to command during peacetime, a skill that was quite different from commanding during war, and one which not all men possessed. In the end, the decision was not mine, and I could merely move on and leave the man with my capable subordinates.
In less than a fortnight, I rode out of Kebbel-im-Akkad, a small contingent of men with me, and as darkness fell upon me there for the last time, I wondered if I were truly ready for the return to the land of my birth, the land where my name mattered, as much if not more than my deeds, a land that I discovered suddenly that I missed desperately, having devoted my entire life to the idea of it.