Swords of Gilded Crimson

Chapter 8 | Vigour Never Goes to Waste |

The Tenebrian soldiers marched with unmatched vigour towards the Luxandrian camps. Our spymaster, Kymil, had arrived at the battlefield with all the intel we required on the whereabouts of Nikolai and his army. They currently occupied only their camps; no sign of retreat back into the city. No sign of Odeir either, but each of us knew that was not going to stop our march.

Vantage points were primarily on the rocky terrain of the first few tents of their camps; supposedly those outside the High Lord Eleodor's abode, due to the fewer number of Aedgian soldiers occupying that area. Kymil had concluded it was either because of the surety of the High Lord's protection, or that no Aedgian deigned to even think of an attack on their camps, let alone their High Lord. I had to advocate the second option, seeing as by now they should know that Lord Eleodor, without the intended effects of his faerie magic, provided only the threat that any other of their soldiers would. Nevertheless, it was a risky move to use such a point for initiating an attack, but so was the war we had waged.

The sun was high in the sky by the time war camps became visible on the horizon. Even from a considerable distance, the smoke of fires drifted. As we marched closer, the army celebrations quietened, presumably sensing our arrival. I hadn't bothered to attempt the masking spell Odeir had cast prior to the first battle, since my magic would never suffice, with my bloodline not being bred of nobility, and besides we had the upper hand in this attack anyway.

The Aedgians had indeed anticipated our approach, as the chattering voices, laughter, shrieks of joy all having already dwindled down to the silence emitted by a sky before a storm. Numbers of soldiers lined the entrance of their tents, as what seemed like a makeshift formation. No sign that they'd been planning a surprise attack, like I'd assumed. No sign of even planning to fight.

Nikolai's men were unarmed, some of them not even fully dressed in their armour. But even then, there was still joy in their faces, showing me that this was no surrender. Which only meant that the Luxandrians really still believed that they had won this war. But why?

As the Tenebrian legion marched forward, more and more heads turned towards us. There was no stern enough control that leashed their emotions or even their reactions, unlike my legion. Where the rigid stance of the Tenebrians was always to be unyielding to any such evidence of emotion, the Aedgians did not care to recognise and perfect this weakness. Or at least, their General did not.

At last, my soldiers stood only a narrow field across from them. The only sound being the trotting of a few of our horses merged with the bristling fury of their campfires still maintained from the previous night. I pulled on the reins of my steed and grounded him. The chiefs of my army followed suit, and after them, our soldiers came to a halt.

The Luxandrians didn't dare move, but their now-serious eyes remained upon us, tracking every movement with careful attentiveness. I allowed my gaze to scan over the lot of them, amidst their tents, but I didn't find who I was looking for.

The men were as unfamiliar as they'd been on the battlefield.  A few of them, however, couldn't help but nervously dart their eyes now and then towards a particularly large tent in the middle of the camp. This tent was higher than the rest, and wider, as if it accommodated more than a few soldiers. Around it, several guards were stationed – enough for me to realise who was inside.

Indeed, several seconds later, as if in question of why their men had remained silent, the flaps of the tent withdrew, and out walked the High Lord and Lady.

The High Lord Eleodor had a strained smile upon his tightly drawn face as he walked out of his tent, but I knew that there was a storm brewing inside him. Power roiled in those deep blue eyes, coursing through his powerful body, clothed in jet black. Beside him, the High Lady Andraste stood tall and proud. Her thick blonde hair fell in loose ocean like waves around her nimble shoulders, and down her back. The legends had been right about her beauty; she was like an eternal star plucked from the midnight sky of her mate.