The battlefield, a stage of relentless slaughter dealt equally to both parties produced sights and sounds providing only the greatest of horrors to all involved. The screams of individuals who I had talked to only moments ago now seemed simply a portion of this abomination. Navigation through this field was more hellish than I had anticipated, groups of arrows meant for units that were now making quick work of their archers had found their way to the areas in close proximity to our own.
We stuck together as an amalgam of a singular being rather than a collection of beings, every unexpected movement creating immediate stress for every facet of this newly formed blob, our survival can only be attributed to the highest of luck, a miracle surely allowed by divine beings who may only look upon us with pity. What a sorry sight! We must seem an error in this battle of men with the will of sacrifice emboldening every action, the blood of many stains the dirt, and yet our lack of injuries is not a sign of competence, no, rather it is an embarrassing lack of honor as a soldier, no, as a citizen of the land of Maeldt that we appear unharmed.
Through no efforts of ours, we had stumbled through hundreds of feet into the enemy encampment, and with the bloodshed now passed still clouding our senses we remained for a moment with the inability to understand our own surroundings. When the best of us came to we all followed their quick instruction to hide in a nearby tent. After I had been shaken back to consciousness by her, I quickly assumed the position of a spy.
I held my ear up to the edge of the tent ensuring that no part of my figure would be visible to any passerby, the only individual left in the encampment would either be the lord supporting our enemy or the wizard we were tasked with sending to the realms beyond our own. I heard not the sounds of any identifiable language, but rather the footsteps, nearly so light that the now distant clashing of blades and deaths unwitnessed by my unit masked their presence, but they were heard, oh, they were heard.
Unfortunately, the reason behind their unfortunate notice would be the figure I was unable to identify approaching the tent we had taken temporary refuge in. Before I was given the time to create some other space where we could properly obscure ourselves from his sight, we were greeted with his presence. My poor reflexes had failed me once more as I neglected to bring forth my blade, yet the soldier who had already saved us once acted again, and swiftly cut his throat open, with the blood resultant dirtying my uniform.
When we were given the proper chance to view this figure, we noticed the robes he had been wearing were similar to that of a wizard's robes within our own estate. We presumed that the wizard who had been given to us as a target was the very one who had just been murdered in an act of self-defense, and despite no physical reaction to this, it was an undeniable truth that celebrations were in order internally. Our next move was to exit the tent we had so hastily chosen as a place of hiding and return to our own side of the battlefield.
However, it was upon this exit that we would be subjected to the poor truth of the matter, and the method by which this truth was delivered was a barrage of flames directed at every individual who composed my unit.
The charred corpses of roughly ten, half of the original unit were quickly acknowledged by those who survived this initial onslaught as we all dove to separate areas of the encampment in a vie for protection from further attacks. It was clear that the individual we had been forced to take action upon was no other than the noble present at this encampment, and the wizard remained in some other area of the camp, likely interfering with the ongoing battle before our quite noticeable entrance.
What followed was a collection of magic each with the intent to remove us from his sight, and from everyone else's sight as well, with separate instances of flame, boulders, and even ice ensuring that most of the soldiers in my unit aside from myself and the most competent among them would only be seen next in a casket, if any of them were to be seen at all.
The other soldier with me, her name refusing to be revealed despite the engravement of it in my own mind had hid herself away to the both of us, and I was left the sole target of what was an unavoidable death. The first attack given to me was the same that surprised us upon exit from the tent, a large collection of flames that approached nearly faster than I could process it.
My reflexes had returned by yet another miracle and I quickly evaded to the left of the attack, however, its contact with the ground beneath me shattered the surface on which I stood into pieces, each of which with its own unique shape, a piece of art concocted by violence as if the red paint on the canvas of this field had not already sufficed the will of our artist.
The wizard made use of these new shapes made of stone and dirt as weapons, retrieving them from the ground just to be thrown at my position. I ran in several directions, changing my movement repeatedly so as to perplex the wizard to prevent an untimely death poetically delivered by the ground that allowed me to live. Each shape would shatter on impact with the ground creating more of itself on the surface it hit; the use of one weapon would serve as the creation of multiple others.
Eventually, I realized that the ground beneath me would become unusable as a means to prolong my life, so I immediately devised a plan to be rid of the wizard once and for all. Upon the next removal of a shape sizable enough to hold my figure, I would hold to it, and use the height every shape would gain before being thrown to make an attempt on his life. I waited out for this opportunity until a large portion of the ground was removed. I quickly jumped over it before this removal and was thrust into the air.
He had not adjusted to this unexpected appearance, and before he had the chance to let go of this boulder I had already leaped toward him blade in hand. As I stretched my arm out so as to injure him upon being within close enough proximity, I saw the light of the very flame that threatened my life before. I would surely die and yet with my state of suspense mid-air there was naught but the ability to accept my death.
As I closed my eyes to greet an instant relief from the pain of this battle I was moved by force to the left, I only slightly felt his flames before the wind of falling forced my eyes open. The sight given upon this third miracle was the very soldier who had disappeared prior. She held me close to her as she used her abilities to ensure our safe landing on the surface I was snatched from moments before. The disparity between the wind she produced and the one of indifference felt as though I had been offered shelter from the pouring rain.
After our own recovery, we cast our eyes on the wizard and found his position had changed from the tower he had previously stood on to the shattered ground a few dozen feet ahead of us.
We immediately dashed toward him in a second attempt to remove him from the battlefield, but before we could even enter close proximity yet another display of flames provoked immediate evasion, however, we were not separated this time. What would follow was an exchange of glances amongst ourselves that would result in an agreement to work in conjunction toward the goal of ending the enemy before us.
We both darted forward, with the first boulder hurled at me being quickly blasted away by her wind. Upon the next wave of flames that same wind would be used to help divert them. Before the next spell could be cast I threw my blade at the wizard, which interrupted whatever attack was to follow after the second redirection. The blade did not hit him, however, it did serve as a proper distraction so we could close the large distance between us.
To assist in this, we were both launched quickly toward the wizard by a blast of wind she summoned, landing us within a proper distance for the final phase of our attack. Before the wizard could summon some other blast of flames or a boulder to use in his defense I solely was carried by a blast of wind toward him. Without my blade, I was left with my fists to deliver a blow strong enough so that either he may pass upon contact, or may be dealt with shortly thereafter.
However, in the most critical moment, my body had elected to fail me. I fell limp in the middle of my movement toward him, finally breaking from the constant stress of the previous moments; my miracle had elapsed.
As I struggled to move after tumbling across the ground, I saw his final preparation. A spell that would certainly produce corpses identical to the ones that now lay scattered across the encampment. The corpses of twenty good soldiers I had led to their certain death, my failure was reflected in the blood or lack thereof on the corpses long burnt seeping into the cracks caused by a now useless battle.
The light of his flames was unwelcoming. It was not the kind you find on a cold night, begging for warmth, the gentle surprise of heat that allows you rest after periods of suffering, no, rather this is the heat that forces your eyes open. The heat of a burnt forest, of a raid on the town you have come to call your home, the burning of everything you hold dear. This is not an existence that gives, but rather one that will take everything in its path.
As I cast my gaze to the sky so I may avoid facing a painful death directly, I saw a silhouette bathed in rays of gold descend at a vast speed. His fist prepared as the deliverance of justice upon the enemy before me. The savior with his divine presence, electing to return for a pitiful soul such as myself.
His impact upon the ground sent my lifeless figure flying without resistance, and yet despite the poor view that may be incited from such an action, despite the albeit probable injury I would soon sustain, I could not hold back a smile.
Dorian Maeldt, in all his glory, had chosen to save me.