Page 70 of Memory of Ashes

“Stay safe out there. Retreat if you need to. This war won’t be won in a day.”

They mounted up and took their positions among the men.

Infantry took the front with Casyl leading. His powers worked most effectively in close combat. The cavalry waited behind them like a drawn blade, ready to strike, with Tharos leading one of those battalions.

Casyl gave the signal. The hillside shook as the army marched towards the bottom of the valley. The infantry went first to absorb the initial impact of the enemy so that the cavalry could swoop in and attack where there were weak defence points.

They picked up their pace and charged as they approached the bottom of the valley.

A wave of calm swept over him before the two armies clashed with deafening force.

Men screamed war cries to instil fear in the enemy.

Casyl fought blade to blade from horseback, cutting down anyone in his way.

He worked in silence.

There had not been a battle like this in a long time. Small skirmishes happened, but they usually avoided all-out war as they valued their long lifespans.

Both armies were well matched in numbers, and neither of them were inclined to retreat thus far. It was morning when they had started the battle, and the sun had already reached its highest point. By the time evening approached, he was soaked with blood and sweat, and most of it wasn’t his.

He scanned the battlefield, looking at the positions of his generals.

The cavalry had advanced, and they had pushed the enemy back, dominating the valley. A second wave of enemy soldiers charged down the hill and was beaten back by the cavalry, now reinforced by the infantry.

Something tugged at his awareness. A large group of mounted enemies charged across the field. They were targeting the generals.

“Tharos!”

He raced over to help, but his path was blocked, forcing him to fight his way clear. It took away precious moments. He looked up again; Tharos was completely mobbed. The enemy dragged him away, retreating to their camp.

How could they have captured him? This was Tharos.

He stared a moment too long. The glancing blow of a sword bounced off his armour, jolting him back to the battle.

His pulse hammered in his ears, echoing through his helmet.

The enemy soldiers before him were no longer men; they were obstacles in his way. A feral roar tore through his throat as his blade carved a bloody path before him.

Tharos’s battalion still fought to save him, and as Casyl reached them, a soldier called out. “Beware! Mind Warper!”

The words stopped him dead.

They couldn’t have one, but it made sense. It would be the only way they could capture him.

Casyl and his warriors pursued the retreating enemy, cutting down those within reach. They made it partway up the hill before a volley of arrows halted them, pinning several of Casyl’s men to the ground.

He gave the signal to halt, letting the enemy get away.

They needed to retreat and recover.

Had the enemy expected him to abandon reason and lead his men into the camp, where their archers could slaughter them? He might have done if the thought hadn’t stopped him.

He clenched his fists.

He had to keep a level head. There were more lives at risk. They hadn’t tried to kill Tharos, only capture him. He was safe for now. He’d find a way to bring him back.

Arriving back at the camp, covered in blood and dirt, he stormed into his tent. They would need a strategy.