The onset of the relief was like a gasp of air for a drowning man. Their flags cut through the haze of smoke, the clamor of their step resounding above the battlefield. For a moment, hope surged in our hearts.
But war was never so merciful.
The gates groaned their tortured wood screaming in protest against the iron jaws of the battering ram. And then, with a final crash, they gave way, and enemy soldiers, like water bursting from a shattered dam, flooded through the breach.
"Archers, fall back! Spearmen to the gates!" I roared.
The battle between Chris and the Blackwood commander now was obscured by chaos, his form lost amidst the waves of flailing swords and flare of temper. I yearned to go to him, to fight alongside him, but my duty lay with defense. If we lost the courtyard, there would be no fortress left to save.
The reinforcements, a knight whose armor was gilded, plunged into the flank of their enemies, cutting through the Blackwood Legion with precision and fury. Their arrival split the battlefield into a fragmented cacophony of combat, but even their strength was no promise of victory.
When I fought, I was struck with some strange phenomenon-the Blackwood soldiers had a coordination that seemed unfamiliar-coordinated to an extent, far above discipline. They swarmed like they were driven by a unified will, moving with a startling level of precision as if they could see our strikes and slid through the lines like they could almost intuitively sense things.
Then I saw her.
Standing before the gates, just over the rise, stood a figure muffled in black. The battle haze obscured her as much as the outline of the very real movement of her dark-staffed hand, tipped with a pulsing red crystal.
"Chloe! The one on the ridge!" shouted a voice. Captain Rynor, one of the reinforcement leaders, had seen her. His pale face showed beneath the helmet he wore. "She's controlling them. A war mage!"
A war mage. The words sent a chill through me.
I fought my way through the chaos, rallying a group of soldiers to follow. "We have to break her hold!"
"Commander, the walls—" one of the men started.
"I know!" I snapped, frustration boiling over. "But if we don't stop her, this battle's already lost!"
Cutting our way through enemy lines, every step a victory paid by price. The closer we got to the mage, the heavier the air seemed to become, as if the very earth was fighting against our advance.
The mage turned, her hood falling away to reveal sharp features and eyes glowing with an unnatural red light. She raised her staff, and a wave of energy erupted from its tip, throwing soldiers back like leaves in a storm.
I staggered but stayed on my feet, my sword raised. "Take her down!"
Arrows struck through the air toward her, but with a swing of her staff, they rose to ash in mid-air. She began to chant and her voice was low and guttural, making my skin crawl.
The earth beneath us trembled as dark tendils slithered up, snatching at the legs of my soldiers. Screams converted to screams as the tendils pulled them down into the chasm of earth.
"Fall back!" I yelled, swinging at the tentacles. But for every one that went down, two more sprang up to replace it.
I couldn't get to her with force alone. I thought fast, my eyes racing across the battlefield, seeing if I could find something, anything, that might give us a foot up. And then I saw it, a ballista, its single bolt still in place, positioned on the top battlements.
"Cover me!" I shouted, taking off running for the siege engine.
The soldiers responded, forming a defensive line that kept back the Blackwood Legion. My heart raged as I climbed the narrow steps to the battlements-one step at a time-inching my way closer and closer to the mage's exposed position.
The ballista groaned as I adjusted its aim, the bolt aligning with the crimson crystal atop her staff. My hands quivered as I prepared to fire, every muscle screaming in protest from the night's relentless combat.
The mage turned toward me, her glowing eyes narrowing. She raised her staff, a bolt of crimson energy surging toward the battlements.
I pulled the lever.
The ballista fired, the massive bolt slicing through the air with a deafening roar. The mage's spell struck the wall just below me, the force of the explosion throwing me backward. I hit the ground hard, my breath knocked from my lungs.
Through the haze of pain, I looked up just in time to see the bolt strike true, shattering the crimson crystal in a blinding burst of light. The mage screamed, her voice piercing and inhuman, as the energy of the crystal erupted outward, consuming her in a fiery vortex.
The tendrils vanished, the ground stilling beneath us. The coordinated movements of the Blackwood Legion faltered, their soldiers now disoriented and vulnerable.
A cheer rose from our ranks, a cry of triumph that echoed across the battlefield. But the cost of victory weighed heavy. The courtyard was littered with the dead and dying, the fortress walls barely standing.
I staggered to my feet, my vision blurry as I searched the battlefield. My heart sank when I saw Chris, lying motionless amidst the carnage.
"Chris!" I cried, running to his side.
He was alive, but barely. Blood pooled beneath him, his breaths shallow. His battle with the Blackwood commander had left him grievously wounded, though the enemy lay dead at his feet.
"I told you… we'd stand together," he whispered, a weak smile on his lips.
Tears blurred my vision as I gripped his hand. "And we will. Don't you dare give up on me now."
The reinforcements secured the fortress, but there wasn't time to celebrate. The Blackwood Legion may have been driven back, but the war was far from over.
And when dawn broke full, its light spelled out the true price of our victory—a broken fortress, a decimated force, and a grim future. But in the shadow of such loss, one thing remained unbroken: our will to fight.
The battle was won; the war had just begun.