Benoit was feeling pleased with himself. It had been a thoroughly satisfying morning, all things considered. He had already made good headway into intelligence gathering with the Norscans and the armour for Lord Ramirez and himself looked like it was going to cost significantly less than he had anticipated. He still had absolutely no idea where they were going to find the coin, but then again, he mused, that’s probably one of the benefits of having a wizard around. Maybe she could turn twigs into coin.
They were walking towards the choke point which held, according to the information he had gained earlier, at least a couple of werewolves, assorted trolls and one large, acid spitting reptile: probably a dragon. It wasn’t the strangest enemy force he had ever faced, but it was certainly shaping up to be an interesting fight. Scanning the column, he saw so many faces unified in one purpose. Good people marching together to defend their allies. It could not be more different, he thought, to that first gathering in the snow of Lyonesse when the wild hunt turned friend against friend. He looked to his right and saw Lord Ramirez, jaw set in a firm line. He inspired trust and confidence, and Benoit felt a fire kindling in his belly. It would be good to punch holes through the enemy lines. He looked to his left and saw Captain Aesin, silent and dour as always, shoulders set as if already bracing against the enemy’s shields.
Aesin was similarly lost in thought. His morning had been taken up primarily with information gathering too, although he had of course made time for his protegées. Aethra was striding confidently ahead, as was her way, pointing out areas of tactical interest to Riina and Lyra. Those three were destined for great things in the warhost, he mused, although their place within the house would never be anything so lofty. He wondered if Lyra’s obvious capacity as a scout might find her on the path of the spears. After all, if the house’s pet wizard could become High Arcane, it was probably less unlikely that an adopted ranger could one day lead the Spears of The Hunter. How he would explain that to the Donna of course was another matter. Of all three, Riina had the most potential of anyone he had ever met to become a spymaster. He was intensely satisfied with the progress.
The column halted at a steep crossroads. This must be the choke point. Ahead, the sounds of battle already rang out: the forces of Albion and the Fir Cruthen must have already engaged the enemy. Benoit’s brig felt heavy in the early afternoon sun. Orders had been sparse and he had misgivings about the day’s organisation. Ever the obedient soldier, however, he did not think to question and simply focused all his attention on doing what was asked of him. For a second, the world fell silent and all that could be heard was the clanking of the chains of his flail, impatient to be put to work. He caught the eye of the captain and the pair exchanged a nod. It seemed to Benoit that the chains on Aesin’s cloak burned hot and red against his armour, urgent and insistent. The singed robes that had once belonged to Iago fluttered in a breeze he could not feel.
To the front was a far more immediate issue. A column of enemy warriors was attempting to flank the group and trap them between the larger enemy force at the top of the slope and the impassable terrain to the left. Rook ordered his forces to engage and then all that could be heard was the sound of biting steel and broken bones. Benoit’s mace screamed into skulls and arms. He could feel the grace of The Goddess describing the perfect arc with his arm, and in his wake the bodies of his enemies fell broken and twisted. He felt the raw power of The Hunter flowing through him in a way he had not known before and he knew in that moment that no mortal soul could stand against him. To his side, Captain Aesin’s blade flashed with savage precision and soon there were no enemies left standing before them.
At the top of the slope battle still raged. The combined forces of Albion and the Fir Cruthen had not managed to break the main enemy force, and Benoit was waiting for the order to move up and support them as a strange and terrible howling tore through the air like thunder. Two enormous, snarling beasts more than half as tall again than the captain, followed by another huge group of enemy warriors tore through the Warhost of the Laughing Star, splitting them in half. Benoit and Aesin found themselves caught in a steep gully with the Franconians and the Blackstone Wardens: it would be hard to ask for a better group with whom to be cut off. The song of the Goddess pulsed through the gully and the call of the Hunter demanded blood to be spilled. Again the enemy fell, their bodies crumpling helplessly before Her will and His might.
Aesin’s cloak tugged urgently against his throat. Confused, he looked to his rear, but it was too late. One of the enormous werewolves ran past, blood dripping from its claws. Dizzy with pain, Aesin stumbled forward, unsure how badly wounded he was. It felt bad. Benoit was lying face down in the mud, his brig torn apart as if it were nothing more than cloth. He managed to roll himself to his back, but the agony threatened to consume him. The world rolled sickeningly and the sun disappeared behind dark clouds, plunging everything into a dusky gloom. Benoit could only see Aesin next to him as the darkness took hold.
The moon rose above the forest canopy. How strange, thought Benoit: it was only early afternoon. A figure started to move slowly at the top of the hill. He hoped it might be another who had survived the charge that had cut them off. The light of the moon, full and sharp , revealed the face that walked towards them. Benoit shook his head. It was impossible! But the closer the figure came, the more he knew it to be true. He looked towards Aesin who simply nodded, and then understanding flooded his veins.
Iago took both men’s hands and helped them to their feet, then gestured to the full moon above. “The goddess sends Her light to greet you both. I have been watching since she called me back, and now I am here to thank you for giving freely all you have. Let us walk together into the night.”
It was around this time that Ximena first asked where Benoit was. She continued to ask anyone she thought might know until the battle had ended. She waited and waited until no more were there to walk off the field and then she knew. As she left the field, just for the very briefest of moments, her eyes shone as if there might be tears, although it could have been a trick played by the sun burning cold and bright above.
charliholmes1 