Chapter 312 - A Battle on Borders (1/2)
*Eldovian Era 1715, 17th day of the 6th month*
When in the middle of a battle, it was hard not to lose yourself to the Sensory Overload of it. The spraying of blood, the scuffle of feet, the war cries, the sound of flash meeting flesh, metal, meeting metal, the quick shik of a blade as it cut down what was in its way.
And the smell. Even after a year of it, Tigin had yet to not feel his stomach protest on the battlefield. Though he had got substantially better at keeping his insides where they belonged, in more ways than one.
Tigin swung the battle axe in a downwards arc, the blade cutting down between his enemy's shoulder and head, only to pause halfway through his torso. Tigin sighed and gave the axe a yank, separating it from his victim's body, which promptly dropped down. He turned, just in time to see a spear cut into his line of sight and block a sword headed right for his back. He watched as the enemy wielding the sword took three steps back, turning his attention to the spear wielder.
Sevis didn't give him time to ponder a counter attack, twisting word as he held the spear close, the blade cutting the enemy's throat before Sevis paused, holding the spear facing down at his back, he look at Tigin.
”You still have to work on watching your back,” said Sevis.
Tigin heard another battle cry coming from the left, and he turned to take care of it as Sevis took care of two others.
”Yeah, but considering I would never have pictured myself here a year ago, I think I'm doing pretty well,” said Tigin.
”Pretty well, does not lead to survival on the battlefield,” Sevis replied, then he raised his voice as he called out, ”Warriors! Ava Foe!”
”Foe Na!” Tigin called out with the remaining survivors within earshot. The call resounded along the battlefield as the Warriors quickly finished their immediate fights and turned to spiral around the dwindling number of Black Sands Warriors.
Tigin could see there were about forty of the Black Sands members left. Looking at the numbers on his own Tribe, they clearly had at least double that, but both sides had started out with two hundred warriors.
A battle won for them. But Tigin was beginning to question whether the losses they were sustaining would be worth it to win this war.
***
”How many casualties?” asked Sevis.
The Warrior hesitated before replying, ”124 Casualties, 38 injured”.
The head warriors sitting around the campfire all sighed in disappointment. Was this the best effort that twelve Tribes in the north could put forward against Black Sands? The answer seemed to be getting worse and worse as the border wars dragged on.
”And the prisoners?” asked Sevis.
”Sixteen surrendered,” said the Warrior, ”The rest, by your order, were beheaded and placed on spears at the border”.
Sevis nodded, ”Start preparing to go back to Red-Eye. We've lost too many and can't afford to get into another skirmish”.
The Warrior nodded, but hesitated in leaving. Sevis looked up.
”Is there something else?”
”One of the Prisoners, sir…he claims to be of the Blue Suns, not Black Sands,” said the Warrior.
Tigin looked up, then stepped forward, ”Blue Suns?”
The warrior glanced at Tigin, nodding. Tigin turned to Sevis. Sevis sighed, then nodded, ”Take us to him”.
***
The warrior appeared pretty well beaten. Though none of his injuries seemed life threatening either.
”Your name,” Sevis said.
”Alred, greets the War Master,” said the man.