War Of The Wildlands(15)

“Are you alright, my lord?” Mi’tal asked, breathing heavily.

“I think I just had the wind knocked out of me,” the prince replied. “We need to get back on our horses and reform the charge. Somehow these elves knew we were coming.”

As Mi’tal looked around the battlefield, he realized that the elves had every advantage. Though his troops were certain they had the element of surprise, it was clear that the elves had known of their presence. It was a stupid mistake on their own part. Of course the elves would have scouts scouring every edge of the forest. A large group of mounted soldiers would be impossible to miss. Most likely, the elves had been expecting an attack ever since the massacre at the farming village. They must have been lying in wait, hoping for the opportunity to turn this war to their advantage. Today they had succeeded.

Arrows continued to fly from the trees as men and horses fell to the ground. The vast majority of the wounds were lethal, piercing the men through the eyes, neck, and heart. The mages at the rear of the assault stayed away from the fighting. From a distance, they began tossing fireballs at the huts, setting the village alight. The elves ignored the fire, and no one came running from the burning homes. With their clansmen safely evacuated to the trees, the elves would not be distracted by fleeing, unarmed citizens.

Moving through the treetops, the elves inched closer to the mages. In one coordinated attack, four arrows were loosed and simultaneously struck the four mages. Three of them were hit in the neck, while the third was hit in the ear. He had lowered his head slightly just as the arrow came whizzing his direction. The elves considered the mages to be the greatest threat of all the human soldiers, making them a prime target. The chaos had left them completely unprotected, and now they were dead.

“We need to get out of here,” Mi’tal called to Aelryk.

Grabbing at the reins of a fleeing horse, the prince pulled himself onto the saddle. Mi’tal mounted a horse as well, and they began motioning and yelling for their troops to retreat. More than half already lay dead, and many others had been wounded. Once a dozen or so had managed to gather, they retreated back into the forest. More of the remaining soldiers followed, leaving the dead behind.

The elves did not pursue the fleeing soldiers. They had accomplished their goal and proven themselves worthy adversaries. No longer would the Na’zorans attack frightened, unprepared elves. From now on, they would deal with a mighty elven force that was not afraid to fight back.

“Reylana!” Reylin called as he looked around the battlefield. His sister’s auburn hair normally made her stand out among a crowd, but he had not seen her since the battle began.

Hearing her name, she cried, “I’m here!” She walked slowly toward her brother. After the men had retreated, she began to feel pain in the back of her left shoulder where she had been struck with a war hammer. The pain was becoming severe, and a large purple lump was forming. As she approached Reylin, she looked at the ground and realized most of the fallen were Na’zorans. Unfortunately, a few of her elven sisters lay dead as well.

“Are you hurt?” Reylin asked as she grew closer.

“The back of my shoulder is bruised and maybe broken, but I’m not bleeding. Where’s Doni?”

“Dead,” he replied. “The flames from one of the mage’s fireballs leapt at the tree where he was standing. I saw him fall directly into the fire. There’s nothing there now but ash.”

Reylana looked over at the tree where Doni had been. “I’m sorry to lose him. He was a fine healer. Did any of his supplies survive? We’re going to need those.”

“Some of the archers are looking for them,” he replied. “We’ll just have to help each other instead of relying on a healer.”

He inspected the lump on his sister’s back. It was rapidly becoming darker, and she winced when he touched it. “I think something is broken in there, Sis. We need to get your arm stabilized so it can heal.”

“I can’t use a two-handed sword very well with one arm wrapped up,” she protested.

“You’ll never use it at all if your arm heals crooked.” He looked her straight in the eyes, his tone serious.

“Ok,” she said reluctantly. He removed his vest and began ripping the fabric to create a makeshift sling. Wrapping it around her arm with a delicacy that she found surprising, he said, “That should do for now. Maybe another clan still has a living healer that can look at it.”

“You still want me to visit the other clans?”

“Of course I do. We’ll be much stronger if we stand together. We have no homes now, so we’re all going to be living in the trees. They can’t keep burning our villages if we have none. With nothing holding us in place, we can form an army to match the strength of our enemy. We’re going to win this.”