What remained was the castle itself, walls cracked and scorched, gates hanging askew on splintered hinges. Smoke curled into the dawn sky, bearing with it the acrid stench of fire and blood. Now the cheers of victory had faded, making way for the groans of the wounded and the silence of the dead.
I sat beside Chris in the infirmary, a hastily constructed tent within the inner courtyard. His breaths were shallow but steady, each one a small miracle. The healers worked feverishly, their faces grim as they poured salves over his wounds and muttered incantations to stave off infection.
"Will he make it?" I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.
The head healer, a stern woman with streaks of gray in her dark hair, glanced at me with weary eyes. "He's strong. But he'll need rest. The internal damage is severe."
I nodded, gripping his hand tightly. Chris had fought like a man possessed, and his victory over the Blackwood commander had saved countless lives. But the cost was etched into every line of his pale face.
Outside, the remnants of our forces worked to bolster the battered fortress. The reinforcements from the west, led by Sir Alden, the knight in gilded armor, had taken command of the defenses. He was a tower of a man, all presence and reassuring measure.
"We've bought ourselves time, Commander," Sir Alden said when I met him near the ruined gates. "But not much. Blackwood's forces will regroup. They always do."
I clutched my fists in frustration. "We can't stay here and be battered like this. We need relief troops, provisions. something."
He nodded. "I sent riders to the southern provinces already. But even if they respond, it's going to take days for their troops to get here."
"Days we don't have," I murmured, staring at the horizon.
The battlefield beyond the fortress was a grim reminder of the night's events. The bodies of soldiers from both sides lay scattered, their lifeless forms a stark testament to the cost of survival. Among them, I noticed the shattered remnants of the mage's staff, its once-glowing crystal now dull and cracked.
A thought struck me.
"What do you know about Blackwood's mages?" I asked, turning back to Sir Alden.
He scowled. "Not much. They are rare but subtly deadly. They draw power from their own forces to strengthen their spells using blood magic. The one you overcame is probably a lieutenant. There are rumors of other ones… the mighty ones."
His words seemed to settle upon me like a shroud. If that mage had been a lieutenant, what horrors did I expect within the battles ahead?
"Sir Alden," I replied, my voice firm, "we must do more than stand and wait for reinforcements. We need to strike at the heart of Blackwood's power. Take it to him."
He raised an eyebrow. "A bold strategy, Commander. But rather rash. Our forces are broken. A direct assault would be suicide."
"Not an attack," I specified. "A special unit. A raiding party to break up their supply lines, destroy their ballistas, and-if we can-find their wizards. Without magic, they're overpowered."
He looked at me, unreadable. "A risky plan. But perhaps it's our only hope. Do you have volunteers in mind?
I was on the brink of decision, thoughts of my remaining soldiers flashing into my head. Each one had given everything to that last battle, and asking for more from them seemed cruel. But the alternative was worse.
"I will lead the team myself," I decided finally.
Sir Alden looked at me, his gaze cutting. "You're their commander. If you fall, the men's morale will crumble."
"Then I won't fall," I said, meeting his eyes. "The fortress will hold in my absence. You'll make sure of that."
After a long pause, he nodded. "Very well. Choose your team carefully. And be prepared to leave by nightfall."
As the day went on, I gathered in what soldiers I trusted most. There was Captain Rynor with his sharp instincts and unwavering loyalty. Then there was Lira, an archer with a deadly aim and a knack for navigating the wilds. Last, I chose Tarek, a young but skilled scout whose knowledge of the terrain would be crucial.
I called to Chris. His face contorted in pain, he struggled to rise from the cot. "You can't go without me," he rasped.
I gently pushed him back into the cot. "You have to rest. If you come, you're just going to slow us down."
His weakened grasp tightened around mine. "Promise me you'll come back."
The weight of his words crushed me. But finally, I nodded. "I promise."
As the last rays of the sun disappeared behind the horizon, darkening the fortress, we began to make our way out. We were going through a space of soldiers who stood saluting us with such mixed expressions - respect combined with concern.
Sir Alden met me at the gates, his handshake firmer. "Good luck, Commander. The gods watch over you."
That's when we plunged into night, our silhouettes being devoured by the darkness. Before us was the Blackwood Legion's camp, a hornet's nest of danger. But if we succeeded, we could change the tide of this war.
The fortress would hold. It had to. And so would I.
For Chris. For our people. For hope.