261 The Rearguard (2/2)

Blood flooded his face. The beast roared, raising its trunk. Cald avoided the leg as he rolled. The elephant threw a tantrum but soon it fell in a loud thud. The two riders jumped and abandoned the elephant to its demise.

You two are mine.

Cald's face was red with the elephant's blood. It was sticky and pungent. He stepped toward the two riders, slowly and with back straightened.

One of them loosed a bolt. He missed. Deadly mistake.

He jogged, still gripping his dagger. The two drew their weapons. One had a dagger while the other had a sword.

The taller one slashed at Cald. The edge of the blade hit his shoulder but just bounced off his mail. Poor choice. Cald rammed the taller one and thrust his dagger at his opponent's stomach. The man grunted in pain. Cald kicked the Wismarine and turned to the shorter one where he redirected a stab.

Cald buffeted the short Wismarine. His elbow broke the man's jaw. He reversed his hold on the dagger and stabbed the Wismarine just below the neck. The Wismarine fell limp immediately. Must have severed the spine.

The taller one was still breathing, clutching his bloody stomach. He is a dead man, Cald thought. He should just focus his attention to other opponents.

He turned and was pushed back. Strangely, he was on the ground. His chest felt heavy. He looked and saw a lance protruding from his chest. The rider was nowhere. Probably just a Wismarine horseman who happened to set his eyes on Cald, thrust his lance and left. Bad form, Cald thought. Not even showing your face to a man you just killed.

Blood was gushing from the wound, flowing to his side and down to the ground. He would die soon. He would become a nameless corpse.

A horn blared from the side of the forest. It was the signal for the rearguard to retreat. All of the Union's soldiers were already safe in the forest.

About a hundred Castonians from the rearguard ran to safety. Most of them wouldn't make it.

Run brothers, run. Cald thought, gurgling blood. Return to Castonia. To life.

His breaths had become forced. Coldness crept on his body.

Are you happy now? The voice again said. You are dying.

Happy? No. Cald answered. I am not happy. Dying is not happy. It is sad. Endings are sad. I only feel... satisfied.

***

”I caused this, didn't I?” Erik asked as he watched the slaughter of the rearguard. A few got away but most of them would be ran down by the cavalry.

”Yes, you caused this. You chose.” General Bourgis said. ”Either a costly victory or a minor defeat. You chose and you must bear responsibility.”

”And did I choose wisely?”

”I do not know. Probably. Probably not. Future generations would read about this and judge your decision.”

”And for you? Do you think my decision is wise?”

General Bourgis was silent until he opened his steely jaw.

”A soldier's job is to win battles. No matter the consequences, a soldier must strive for victory.” He looked at Erik. ”But you are not a soldier. You are Erik Connel, Marquis of Castonia.”

Erik nodded to that. He was not a soldier. He was a Marquis. A single victory is not worth the lives of most of his men. He chose and he must continue on choosing.

”Send men to retrieve our dead after the Wismarines are gone. Cremate them and the ashes are to be sent back to Castonia. As for us...” He turned his head to the Wismarine host. ”We have done our job. Now it is time for the King to capture Kotara.”