The Kiarany soldiers burned with hatred and desire for vengeance. Were it able to set something ablaze, wildfire would have been raging through the GreatForest. Yet the only force the soldiers could rely upon was the good old steel of their weapons. They had no ballistae with them, nor siege machines and magic scrolls, although of little use would they have been in the depths of the forest.
The GreatForest appeared dangerous and hostile. The sunshine couldn't penetrate the thick foliage. Everything was silent: not a bird sang, not a leaf rustled. Small doubt, it boded ill.
The soldiers treaded carefully. Some of them even felt the way before them with their spears, lest they would happen across a bear pit or another hunting trap. The soldiers clutched warily at their swords and javelins. Even the archers draw their blades, for their arrows wouldn't do them much good in the thickets.
A thin mist slowly spread through the forest. At first it reached the soldiers' boots, then raised to their waists, and then washed over the tops of their heads. It was now thicker too, damp and cold; it made the skin crawl. The soldiers saw no enemy yet, peer as they might into the mist. But they had to muster up all their courage to keep going. Everyone would have preferred to face five barbarians instead. It is the human nature to be less afraid of a known danger and more, of an unknown one.
The mist thickened into impenetrable fog, swallowing the soldiers. The silence became the song of death. Arrows rained on them, like a downpour of shimmering deadly steel. Every arrow hit its mark with inhuman accuracy. In vain the soldiers sprang forward, trying to meet their enemy at a sword's length. In vain they swung their swords, trying to reach the invisible attackers. They still fell on the ground dead, with a moan, or shriek, or no sound at all.
Arrows mowed the soldiers down like grass. Tree branches caught their arms and legs. The fog smothered and poisoned them. Sharp curved blades set on long hilts stroke them down like lightning bolts. Those who wielded them were too swift to be seen clearly. The blurred figures clad in green landed a sweeping blow and faded back into the fog.
The forest was ringing with screams and moans of the dying, with clash of steel and singing of arrows. The frightened horses neighed and reared up.
"We should fall back!" Matholwy yelled in a thunderous voice that carried over the clamor of battle. "Retreat! I command retreat!"
He rode closer to Ashurran. She had lost her horse already and was fighting on foot. Under the protection of her magic shield she was unscathed. Yet she couldn't land a single blow, only deflected the enemy's swords and arrows.
"I would do no such thing until I killed at least one of them!" she snarled.
Matholwy had lost no time in taking action. He hit her upon her helmet with his sword's flat, flung her over his horse and took her out of the melee.
The remaining soldiers heed Matholwy's command and retreated. They tried not to turn their backs on the enemy and cover their retreat with swords and shields. The forest demons chased them to the very edge of the forest, evidently trying to slay every single one of them. Even after leaving the forest, many soldiers had died from spears and arrows which flew at unusually long distance.
Less than a thousand of fighters returned from the cursed forest. That battle would be called later the Battle of Crimson Leaves. Leaves of the forest turned crimson that fateful day, as if by autumn. The warriors fell like leaves in autumn, in great numbers. The arrowheads which drank their lives were like silver leaves drenched in blood.
As if the bitter defeat wasn't enough, a more dreadful sight was presented by morning. Some of the dead soldiers were carried back at the edge of the forest. They were scalped, or their ears were cut off, like hunting trophies. Their mouths were filled with a handful of grain. The message was crystal clear, "If you want to grow crops in our land and cut down trees for your fields, this is what you will feast upon."
There were only a few dozens of their fallen comrades. The rest was lost forever in the depths of the forest. Even their bones were never found.
YOU ARE READING
Gates to Glory: Epic Fantasy Adventure Tale (Ashurran #1)
Adventure[FINISHED]She was born in a tribe of fierce female warriors. Swords and spears have been her toys from the cradle. She has the only path before her, to become the tribe chief after her mother. Yet Ashurran dreams of strange lands, of bigger battles...
