Theurgy: The Journey's Dawn (Book One)

Chapter 50 Battle of Mer'dith

"They must be fools to believe that we shall back down now," Hagroth said heatedly as they withdrew back towards the command tent. The sentiment was indeed shared, though the reality of the situation was very much apparent. "We will not back out now when we have a chance to victory."

"At least we have a timetable now, captain," Lyse suggested to him, trying to guide him to more productive thinking without stirring up anger. The captain did seem to manage and control his anger, turning to the map that still lied on the table. He seemed more worried than angry at this point. The other officers had returned, as the camp was most definitely in a restless frenzy following the sudden appearance of this messenger. Lyse would be lying if he was not at least a bit shaken seeing one so nonchalant in his mannerisms, staring them down as if he could blow them away with little effort. However, he comforted himself on the thought that if that were at all possible, if they indeed have the power to demolish this camp, they would have done so by now. This warning is just there to scare them into submission. They are well aware of the situation at hand and are hoping for a resolution that will not be as bloody. However, that is not how the Empire operates, unfortunately.

"At the very least, we have a timetable," the captain finally said. "If they indeed find no response to their demands, they will attack soon after. We have until then to mobilize our men and prepare for the battle before they do."

"It is perfect, actually," Edlund said. "We can send someone to distract them now, and we have even more time."

"Perhaps," Lyse said. "But do we want to sacrifice men to buy us just a few more minutes? Is it worth the sacrifice?"

"In this conflict, every single second is worth it. Nevertheless, we can not send out men we may need on that river," he nodded to one of his captains. "Gather some men to act as scouts. That will keep them busy even if they cannot report back. We move on the rise of the sun. This night shall be the last that we may tremble in fear. The might of the empire will crush those who threaten our place. May our mother and Fate be kind."

Reluctantly Lyse nodded. He could not bring himself to disagree with the sentiment. The Frostlanders did initiate this conflict. For them to call for the empire to back down, even if it is in the most disastrous and hopeless of situations, is an insult. They shall stand their ground here till every last man is dead. That is just the way of the empire. Those who are strong survive. Moreover, the coming morning will prove this once and for all.

Moxie's men retreated into the fortress, retrieve their camping supplies from the field, and took the rest of the night to prepare for what was to come. Rali and Tug seemed already to regret their decisions somewhat to come along. Tug had told Lyse that he had some experience with Frostlanders, as he served in the northern territories of the Outlands. However, he never actually saw a Hyperborean. They are a rare race of the Frostlanders who use Ice magic, and having just one on the battlefield can be quite devastating. To say less, sleep visited very little, and Lyse ignored its coming as he stayed up all night, thinking of the possibilities of battle. He gripped the pendent in his tent, huddled away from most others, as pact as they all were at this point, and looked over a map illuminated by its glow. The influence of the pendant, the wisdom of Athena, still flowed through him. He could see the formations of men in ranks moving across the land. He could see their relative strengths, their weakness. The terrain became him, and he could feel the trampling of feet sifting through the snow and ice-covered dirt. He became each and every man, the stinging air filling his lungs as he charged Frostland soldiers that charged over frigid rapid rivers. He became the enemy, who saw every minute flaw in their opponent and could exploit them. Every crack became gaps and opening. The battle was his own, like a game of chess that he could both observe and participate within. He is both the piece and player, the sword in each hand and the officers that command their draw. Every piece of armor and the spear that breaks them. He is the hammer, the shield, the sword, the mace, the arrows into their quivers, and the ground they may walk on. He will use every single part of himself to win this day. There was simply no question to this dilemma.