Lightning lanced out across the night sky in an almost painfully brilliant blue-white, and the air was suddenly filled with the scent of ozone. Before the afterglow could fade from the dark tapestry, painted in inky black and angry, rolling gray clouds, a growl of fierce thunder bellowed behind it.
The tattered refugees, looking impossibly small and helpless on the vast stretch of plain, shrank away from the sudden light, knowing all too well that if the Nilroggi spied them and sent riders or runners, their flight to freedom would come to an abrupt and violent end.
Blood.
It was on everyone's mind.
So much blood washing over the Empire this last year, and rumor held that the Nilroggi could smell human blood for miles. They were hunters from the bowels of the earth...tireless and relentless in their efforts since the first attacks began just after last year's Harvest Moon. To be sure, The Emperor's legions had fought bravely, but against such an onslaught as they faced...the endless numbers and terrifying weapons and tactics these creatures of the earth used against them, one by one, The Legions that had guarded Ravanna for centuries were simply swept away.
Gone.
Smashed and torn by an enemy that knew no pain. That did not want for sleep or mercy. An enemy that struck without warning and in such numbers that the outcome was no longer in doubt. It was simply a matter of when. Oh, the politicians made light of the matter, exaggerating the occasional victory, downplaying defeat after stinging defeat...but they could not stop the rumors.
Rumor gave way to rampant panic when the first of the refugees began arriving from the east. Ragged and beaten, they streamed westward in hopes of avoiding the fate that befell the Emperor's legions.
Many of these groups simply vanished in the night, leaving only a wide column of blood soaking into the ground where they had last been. Some though, did make safe to the mighty fortress of Kehesh, which sat a scant two days from the Capitol and boasted walls so thick that the Fortress Commander once decreed that the HighFather himself could not break them down.
They brought with them the grim stories of their travels. Tales of the lost, and of those blood-soaked hills and fields. Tales of the Fourth Legion's gallant but futile defense.
So it was true. The armies of the Emperor had been broken entirely then, and soon it seemed, the mighty fortress and her proud walls would be put to the ultimate test.
For their part, the refugees took no comfort in the boasted protection of the walls. They did not stop. And their departure through the capitol set off another flight of the population. Not all at once of course, but it began. And as more stories of the approaching horde of Nilroggi circulated, the flight increased. Small bands striking out further westward, hoping...praying for release. Escape from this strange foe who seemed to disdain the concept of mercy. Who cared nothing at all for parlay and discussion. There was only battle, and the outcome was no longer in doubt.
And so when the lightening came, briefly and brilliantly illuminating the night, and marking their presence on the vast plain all too clearly, the refugees shrank back almost as one. Many wailed in terror. Many wept. But also, they did not stop. No. There would be no stopping now....the course was set. Escape or die trying.
~~Ж§Ж~~
"Sir! Riders approaching!" Perrin shouted as he ran full-tilt down the hill toward the assembled refugees, and Arliss Castillar watched him come, a thin, sad smile on his face.
Ahhh, the energy and exuberance of youth. Young strong legs carrying him fast over the ground. A pity he was running to inform them of their impending deaths, rather than playing as most boys his age would be. Should be.
"Are they ours?" Arliss called out, not allowing even the faintest glimmer of hope into his voice. It was well known that, although the Nilroggi were physically larger, they could, and in recent weeks had begun making use of horses…their pickets and patrols occasionally operating from horseback in an attempt to draw closer before being recognized for what they were.
Either way, there was nothing to be done. The refugees had makeshift weapons at best, and only a handful who knew anything about using them. They were afoot, and the riders could catch them with ease and.... He didn't even finish the thought.
"Too far out to tell, Sir!" The young lad panted as he made to the "safety" of the group.
"Well then, I suppose we should prepare as best we can."
"Will we not try to outrun them?" The boy asked.
"Nay....we shall not. You said riders, yes?"
Perrin nodded.
"Then we stand firm here. Running would only stretch our group thin and make any sort of defense impossible."
A large man with vast shoulders and heavily calloused hands snorted at that. "Either way our defense is impossible, old man. I have but twenty-six with me who have any sort of combat experience, and our weapons are ill-fit for woman's work, much less battle."
Arliss spun 'round on him, flushed with more anger than the comment warranted. "And what would you have us do, McDougil? Run ourselves ragged from an enemy who can catch us anyway? Better that we stand and fight, or even piss on them in defiance than that!"
McDougil paused, and his normally stony face actually softened half a shade as a hint of a smile flickered onto his features. "Such language for a Priest, Father Castillar."
Arliss bowed his head, shamed into silence by the rebuke.
"But I agree. We'll make ready here. Pass out the weapons and at least take a few with us." He unhooked the signal horn from his belt and blew two short blasts in quick succession to call his men to him. More lightning flared when he did so, immediately followed by that menacing thunder.
Twenty-Six men, armed with spears improvised from pitchforks, and sometimes even less likely weapons. Yet they stood their ground with stoic bravery as the riders crested the slight rise and began down toward them.
A cheer went up from the refugees huddled behind the line of defenders. The riders were human. Better still, they bore the Imperial Crest.
Regulars.
A hard thing to find these days.
They approached slowly, and as they drew closer, the refugees began to see why. Many were badly injured, including many of the horses. Arliss winced and wondered how many men had started out in this company. At present, he counted fifty-eight. As the cavalry approached the battle line of the refugees, the leader of the horse troops held up a hand, halting his comrades behind him. "Who leads you?" He asked in a firm, clear voice that was devoid of pain, fear, or despair (surprising, considering the gash in the breastplate of his armor which had cleaved the Imperial Eagle neatly in two, and the all-too-wet sheen of blood around it).
"I do...Father Arliss Castillar." The Priest said, walking out in front of the battle line and extending a hand. The cavalryman took it, and the fear in Arliss' heart grew. The man was quite pale, and his hand clammy. That he was able to even remain in his saddle was a tribute to his strength and determination.
"I have lost a great many men in the past fortnight." The cavalryman told him simply. "My unit was cut off from the main body of the reserve legion....we...we tried for two days to fight our way back to Kehesh, but there were too many....there were just too many...." Professional soldier or no, he could not keep the emotion out of his voice, nor the tears from his eyes. Arliss gripped his forearm in a gesture of comfort common to the men of the military.
"So Kehesh has fallen then?"
"Aye....it has." The soldier let out a heavy sigh and shook his head. "We made for the Capitol with a mind to regroup, but it was all in chaos. No unit commander to report to...no organization...nothing. I tried to rally the citizens....the odd deserter that happened by, but it was no use.....so I led the men away....Ravanna is gone....she's gone."
The silence that followed those last words was extreme, and yet, Arliss knew they could not remain where they were. If Kehesh had fallen, then the Nilroggi would continue westward unopposed. He made some quick mental calculations. Their supplies were stretched thin as it was. Medicines were scarcest of all, and yet....how could he turn these men away?
"What is your name, soldier?" He asked, breaking the silence at last. "Duncan....Captain Duncan Fury, of the Fourteenth Imperial Cavalry, or....what's left of it."
He nodded to McDougil. "Take your men, help get these riders off their mounts....clean them up, and see to their wounds as best you can."
"But sir, we have scarce enough medicines for...."
Arliss silenced him with a hiss. "Damn you to the Eternal Fires if you do not do as I say man! Help them, and help them now!"
McDougil gave the signal, and his defenders moved forward to assist the cavalrymen.
"We'd be honored to have you travel with us, though I know not how long any of us will live."
Duncan nodded weakly. Having finally arrived at something resembling a safe haven, his strength seemed to be fading. "Th...than...k...." He never even finished saying it, slumping forward and falling off his mount, and into Arliss Castillar's arms.
~~Ж§Ж~~
