Terry Simpson - Etchings of Power

Shin Galiana’s dartan mewled behind the lines of its fellow cavalry. Ahead of them, row upon row of armor clad novices and trainees interspersed by spear and sword wielding Dagodin formed. She wished she had all Matii for the task at hand, but such wishes were miracles the gods granted. In her time, she’d seen too little of miracles. Barely enough for her to keep her faith.

At least the supplies they’d collected for years would finally be put to good use. Not at the original time as they’d planned, but that made no difference right now. Plans of men were inconsequential things and made to be changed. Resplendent in new green cloth, painted leather, shiny chainmail or glittering steel, a full legion of Dagodin stood ready. In contrast, the retired soldiers, novices, and trainees had to resort to whatever armor they could muster or what could be hastily crafted. One cohort still wore the crimson of Granadia’s Tribunal.

A white battle standard depicting a forest split down the middle by a great quake flew high in the air-the colors and insignia of the Setian. A long time since she’d seen such. A somber smile touched her lips. Despite her regret at days long gone, she still found herself riding with her back a little straighter, and her chest out. The standard was a pronouncement of independence, of a return of an old kingdom, of a reclamation.

Stefan had insisted on the display. Why, she wasn’t certain. He’d assured her it was worth the risk if Eldanhill and their people was to survive the siege and the uprising of the other Granadian kingdoms. Eagles had been dispatched to the other Mysteras to make them aware and begin their exodus before any repercussions or suspicions took place. She’d also sent word to Jerem so he could activate and dispatch the Sleepers within their network to begin their whispers while relaying tidbits of proof that would point to the Tribunal’s many atrocities over these long years. Whether the Setian were ready or not, war had once again come and no way existed to avoid it. When warranted, strike hard with subversion, fire, and steel and let those in your way tremble at your bold stroke.

Again, she wished the time could’ve been more ideal for this revelation. Indeed, many in Eldanhill had been in shock. But after seeing the few who’d surrendered to the encroaching Sendethi forces have their heads removed and hung on tall pikes, they’d understood their plight. Fight or die.

The Tribunal would be none too pleased by Eldanhill’s proclamation or King Emory’s actions, but faced with rebellion from so many other fronts in Granadia they’d have to consider who to take on first. Their reaction may well be one of immediate retribution. Of course, there was the chance the Granadian kingdoms banded together to crush their old enemy the Setian. Another risk the Tribunal couldn’t afford, and yet they couldn’t be seen to openly support the revival of the Setian. Ah, well, one worry at a time.

The problem at hand lay several thousand feet on the other side of the makeshift palisade where thousands upon thousands of Sendethi soldiers gathered. Twice the battle standards as before flew high, buffeted by the strong wind. Flying not far from those were a few Barsonian banners. More than she’d expected. This was to be the first statement in overthrowing the Tribunal’s iron grip, it seemed. Eldanhill was to be the example. Her lips curled in a cruel smile at that last.

She eyed the sky above once more. Of all times, this Sendethi army had chosen the Spellforge hour to attack. They were playing into the strength of the Matii. Whoever led this army hadn’t done their research. The strategy may be sound against a normal army, but not Eldanhill’s. Could Giomar really be this stupid? Her forehead creased with lines. No. The man didn’t appear the type. After all, he’d already outmaneuvered her once.

Emerald eyes shining from within his silver helmet, icy flecks dotting his beard, Stefan brought his dartan closer. “Something isn’t quite right, Galiana.”

“Yes. That’s what I was beginning to think.”

Stefan signaled for Guthrie, Devan, Jillian, Rohan and Edwin to join them. All now appointed as Generals, they rode over and formed a small circle, misty breaths of men and mounts rising in the air, leather and armor creaking. The musky smell of dartans filled the area.

“Why would you choose to fight Matii at the Spellforge hour?” Stefan scanned the Sendethi forces.

Jillian cocked her head in that odd way of hers, the beak upon her leather helmet making her appear as aquiline as one of her pet eagles. “Maybe they have Matii of their own?”

Edwin snorted. “Where would the Sendethi acquire Matii? The Pathfinders have weeded out every single one who’s come into their power.”

“That may be true,” Guthrie stated, his paunch making him appear to lean unsteadily in the saddle. “But the question still begs to be asked. And the answer Jillian gave seems the most plausible one.”

“I say we take no chances,” Devan said, his hulking form matching his gruff voice. He rode the biggest dartan of the bunch, an animal that dwarfed the others. “Act as if they do have Matii. Prepare our Ashishin to counter rather than attack.”

Galiana nodded. “I agree. If they’d smuggled in Namazzi or Alzari we would have known. And well, the Svenzar fight for no one but themselves.” Her cloak flapped in the breeze, and she pulled it tighter around her. “But I see the Golden Tide banners of Barson among the Sendethi forces. The Pathfinders have never penetrated their borders. I do not think now is the time to act without caution.”

“Well,” Guthrie said, “They have our ten thousand outnumbered by three to one. If our original plan can’t work, what now?”

“We split forces,” Stefan said. “Make them move their army.”

Edwin’s brow rose. “How do we do that? And why we would we split when our strength lies in our numbers.”

Stefan smiled, all teeth. “ Their strength is in their numbers. Ours isn’t. Our strength is maneuverability, our Ashishin, Dagodin and what divya we’ve mustered. Our mounted divisions are groomed for speed. Their heavily armored horses are no match. Today will prove their downfall. Horse against dartan. There’s no contest.”

Everyone nodded their agreement. Galiana could see part of the plan clearly now. But where would they leave Eldanhill vulnerable?

As if seeing the question written on her face, Stefan answered. “We keep several Ashishin here. Fire the tar and oil pits. Let the battlefield burn even before they charge. Why wait? Have the Ashishin maintain the blaze. There’s no way those horses will charge through fire like dartans would. Their infantry certainly won’t. We have the river’s protection on one side of Eldanhill. Put a small force there led by Jillian in case they decide to use the river. Her eagles can keep her abreast of anything they see across the Kelvore.

“The remainder of our forces we take west to face the Greenleaf Forest. They’ll have to change positions. As they do, we spring the traps we set in the fields to that side. If they have Matii, they’ll be forced to respond then. When they do, we strike. Our Ashishin will counter their Matii as our archers pick their infantry and cavalry apart from atop the dartans. Then it will come down to infantry versus infantry. Our Dagodin versus their regiments.” Stefan drew a line across his throat with his thumb.

Galiana almost grinned. As she’d thought, even after fifty years without his active involvement in a war, Stefan hadn’t lost a step. The best General to serve under Nerian the Shadowbearer was proving his worth. The best Knight Commander ever to don the Tribunal crimson was now in his own element.

With the decision made, they ended their meeting and joined their individual cohorts. Nervous mutters abounded as new instructions were given. Galiana passed the word to the green and white clad Ashishin spread to her left and right. Once, they’d all been warriors, trained for worse battles than this, until they took on the task to be Teachers. Now, they were being drawn into what they loved the most, what their power often cried for. She nodded at the stern faces all around.