A bearded man in his mid-thirties, Volian, his hair braided and a scar crossing his left eye, spoke in a commanding tone.
"That's right. We just strike from both sides. Not much of an order, more common sense."
Selara nodded. "He's right, Cedric. It's the most logical plan."
Cedric raised an eyebrow and looked away. "Ahh, whatever."
They dismounted and began the climb, up a steep, forested slope. Mosquitoes buzzed, birds chirped, and distant owls howled. As they rose higher, snow covered the trees and earth. Frost nipped their fingers; some shivered uncontrollably.
Wilaric's team, well-prepared for the cold, moved swiftly around the other side.
Cedric's group pressed on. Orlen's scouts led the way ahead. But as they neared the back of the mountain, the wind shifted. Unease struck Cedric like a chill through armor.
Draviz, ever anxious, muttered, "This is bad. If the rebels spot us, they just have to fire a few arrows, or roll some stones, and we're done."
Selara's voice was low. "He's right. We'd be sitting ducks."
Cedric frowned. "Maybe. But we have Orlen. He'll warn us before that happens."
Selara glanced around. "What's taking the scouts so long to report back?"
Cedric's jaw flexed. "Don't worry. Keep faith in Orlen."
The narrow trail widened into a small clearing against the slope, roots tangled in stone. Toward the right, the path narrowed again. Then, Orlen and his men came rushing down, dragging a lifeless body.
An arrow had pierced straight through the man's skull, several more through his chest and abdomen.
Orlen's breath came fast. "They're waiting up ahead, an ambush! Archers. Lots of them."
Cedric's jaw tightened. "Everyone, back to the rock!"
The team scrambled for cover, setting the fallen man down. Cedric peeked over the ledge, an arrow hissed past his ear. He ducked back immediately. "We can't move forward. They've got the high ground."
Tarric muttered, "Shouldn't we send the infantry with shields?"
Cedric pressed his fingers to his lips, leaning on the rock. "No. That's stupid, they'll just roll boulders on them."
A man arrived, panting. "What's going on here?"
Cedric's eyes lit up. "Fenric! If you get a chance, can your group take out the archers?"
Fenric straightened. "Yes, sir. If we get an opening, we'll strike."
Cedric smiled slightly. "Perfect. Just what I expected."
He turned toward another soldier. "Lieutenant Borl, it's your turn to shine. Count the enemy numbers above us. You'll be covered by Silgard and Varron."
Cedric met Silgard's eyes and flicked his chin toward Borl. Silgard understood.
Torric protested, "This isn't right, Cedric."
Selara stepped forward. "Don't do this, Cedric. We can find another way."
Cedric's eyes hardened. "Either this, or we sit here idle while that prick takes all the glory."
Selara exhaled sharply and turned away. Torric lowered his head, jaw clenched, his hand tight around his spear.
Varron, a broad-faced, stocky man in his late thirties, nodded. "As you say, Captain."
Silgard, short dark hair, narrow face, calm and athletic, added, "Aye."
Orlen watched in silence. Fenric readied his bow. Varron and Silgard advanced, shields raised, covering Borl as he crept forward. Near the edge, they split apart, pushing Borl into the open.
"No! Wait, please! Help me!" Borl screamed, scrambling to retreat. A rain of arrows struck him. He staggered, pierced through, until one final volley dropped him where he stood, eyes wide, lifeless, blood soaking the snow.
Cedric's voice roared, "Now!"
Varron and Silgard pushed forward, shields up, smaller ones held above their heads. Fenric's team rose behind them, releasing a storm of arrows.
Rebels fell screaming, the air thick with pain and frost.
Varron and Silgard dropped their shields and charged, voices fierce, echoing like war drums. Three enemies lay dead, two wounded, three more stood to fight.
Silgard blocked a slash with his shield, wood cracking under steel. He shoved the blade aside and drove his sword clean into the enemy's heart.
Another came at him; the blade grazed Silgard's cheek. Varron tackled the last man, cutting him down, then turned and stabbed Silgard's opponent from behind.
When the echoes died, only silence remained. The ground was red, snow melting beneath the blood. Brol's body lay still, their one sacrifice.
Cedric stepped forward. "Brol did a great job. He gave his life for the glory of this army. Anyone got a problem with that? No? Then move."
A few glanced at one another, doubt flickering behind obedience, but followed regardless.
They climbed higher until they reached the back of the mountain. The clearing spread wide, uneven and snow-covered. The air was freezing, the wind biting. Dusk fell golden and cold.
To their shock, Wilaric's army was already locked in full battle with the bandits, and losing. The cliff loomed behind them as they were pushed back.
Worse yet, another bandit force waited ahead, right in Cedric's path. They'd walked straight into a trap.
Cedric's jaw tensed. "This is bad. We never should've trusted that prick. He said two hundred bandits, but look. There's at least four hundred."
Kaedric muttered, "This is the strongest bandit force in the kingdom. Winning here would bring great reward."
Cedric smirked. "Still thinking about rewards in a life-or-death fight, huh? You're something else."
Kaedric laughed. "I'm confident we'll win, because you're here. Isn't that right, lads?"
Orlen, Torric, Selara, Draviz, Silgard, Varron, Fenric, and the rest roared together, "Aye! Aye!"
Cedric raised his voice, sharp as steel.
"I shall not disappoint Alvyren Crest! Torric and Silgard, lead the charge! Draviz, left flank with Varron and Kaedric! Fenric, hold the rear! Orlen, gauge the field! Selara, tend the wounded!"
As they hyped themselves up, ready for a head-on collision, something unexpected occurred. A volley of arrows struck their left flank, soldiers dropped like flies. Another volley followed; one of the arrows pierced straight through Kaedric's temple. He fell instantly. Fenric trembled, his voice cracking, "How is that possible? There's no way you can control the direction of arrows in this wind!"
Cedric shouted, "Halt! Halt! Everyone, shields up and form a line! Shields on top too, make a tight formation, hurry!"
The volley kept pouring in. Amid the chaos, Cedric met a gaze in the enemy's front so intense it made him draw back a step before he regained his composure. Once the formation was complete, they were shielded from the arrows, but their numbers had dwindled down to one hundred and ten.