Battle for the Southern Border

8/14/2019 Battle for the Southern Border

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Battle for the Southern Border

Based on the Soloran Facette by Clifford E. Morton

by Solomon777

Marshal Ontegas heaved a long sigh of remorse. Sitting atop his armoredgray warhorse, Ontegas scanned the barren field before him. The wasteland

was sprawled with spots of haggard vegetation, and deep crevices cut byhuman hands. This land had once been a vast, fertile farming community.

The lands last harvest had been fifteen seasons prior. The fields should havebrought good produce to the Soloran people for those lost ages. However,

the Border War with the neighboring Empire of Xyll had ravaged the

countryside and caused ruin to the land, possibly forever afterward.

Ontegas father was a trade-farmer, and had taught his boys to follow him

and take over the familys lands. The Marshal had resisted his fathers

tutelage when he was a youth. Ontegas could not fathom himself as afarmer; the life of a soldier was more to his calling and it challenged him.

Instead of planting, Ontegas found his mornings better occupied by soldiersof the Beast Kings provincial garrison. The invitation was the only words

Ontegas needed to hear, and it was the beginnings of a soldiers life. Ontegasrose through the ranks quickly and became a marshal in the Beast Kings

armies commanding a regiment of one hundred plus warriors.

Ontegas mind drifted back to the farming land around. Whoever had workedthis land before the war had either moved on, or joined the militia to fight

against the Armies of Xyll, or both? If the farmer had chosen the later, then

he would have died many seasons ago fighting for the very land he hadtilled. If the farmer had moved on, he was probably allowed a claim in the far

north. There was plenty of open land in the northern reaches of the Lands ofSolor, much of which was inhospitable. However, under the Beast Kings Law,

the conflicted provincial levies would have brought the farmer back to thisvery border.

The snapping of gold trimmed, blue shielded, Soloran banners called theMarshals thoughts back to the battlefield. He was a young man still, onlytwenty-eight winters old and he commanded a regiment of one hundred

peasant-soldiers. Nearly all of his skirmishers were green; the products of

the levies gathered from the Outer Provinces of the Lands of Solor. It wasconsidered their duty to the Crown to serve in the Soloran Militia. His bunch

of inexperienced peddlers and farm boys stood shaking in a crooked line

awaiting his orders.

Most of the true soldiers of the Soloran Militia were slaughtered during prior

battles against the Empire of Xyll which had lasted nearly one hundred fiftyyears. Soon the invading armies of Xyll would top the horizon and the two

forces would collide, yet again. This battle would end the same as the battles

before, and much Soloran blood would be spilled. Marshal Ontegas quietlycursed with a knowing regard for his peasants bravery. The Marshal looked


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at each of his fighters as he rode down the line in front of them. Many ofthem, he would not see standing here when the sunset.

Ontegas was born in the northern-most Outer Province of Oulisq, and he

understood the reason for the conflicts with the Soloran Thrown and theOuter Provinces. The levies taken from the Outer Provinces were restricting

the Provinces farming production, making it harder for the territory to meet

the Kings taxes. Neither the levies nor the farm production could cease, andit was only a matter of time before the tension became too much for theSoloran people. Now the Outer Provinces are divided to the Beast King, more

levies and new peasants will not be coming.

The Beast King had ridden to the Southern Borders to meet with Battle

Commander Tokylon, the commanding officer of the force gathered here. Themeeting was brief, as the Beast King was needed in his Outer Provinces. The

Beast Kings departing request to the Battle Commander was not to let theSouthern Border fall.

The request was met by the senior officers pledge that Emperor Xyll wouldnot breach the Southern Border. The Beast King agreed to send additionalforces to assist the Southern Border army. Ontegas knew these soldiers

would attempt to be levied from the Outer Provinces as well. The core of the

Lands of Solor had been stripped of warriors nearly a decade ago.Oulisq, Tides, Cravenport, Marck, and Xzao Archipelago compose the SoloranOuter Provinces. Oulisq had a large mercenary force, perhaps the largest in

the Known World; however, those men and women werent driven by the

bindings of honor. Gold coin was much more persuasive when talking to theOulisq.

The Provinces of Tides, Marck, Cravenport, to the east and the XzaoArchipelago, to the west, were the naval powers among the Lands of Solor.Each Province had a shipyard and was capable of developing fleets of skilled

mariners. They also generated the bulk of Solors profit from trade.

Each Outer Province was represented in the faces and names to his ownpeasant soldiers.

A keening sound echoed across the vast plains of the battlefield. Ontegas

raised a gauntleted hand to shield his eyes from the sun. It only took him amoment to find the dark dot of the hawk circling the fields. A soldier from his

regiment said something that the Marshal couldnt understand, but he knew

the omen well. Should a birds call come from the north there will be tragedyin its wake. Should a birds call come from the south, there will be luck in itscoming. If the bird sounds its call from the east there is bountiful harvest,

and from the west there will be drought. The hawks call came to them from

the north.

Ontegas cursed under his breath as the raptor drew closer. He could see the

telltale golden tresses of Sabediera, the Beast Kings own bird of prey.


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Looking around him from atop his mount, he selected the standard bearer torun for the latest news. You, Derigan, set the standard and go see to the

Battle Commanders tents, return to me any news of importance.Derigan, a young boy of fifteen winters from the Outer Province of Marck

nodded to the Marshal in understanding. Derigan thrust the battle markerstapered shaft into the ground, and ran weaving into the crowd of soldiers and

freemen within the encampment. A long, uneasy silence followed in which

not a soul spoke among the Marshals troupe.

Moments later he returned. Breathing heavily, Derigan dashed through the

crowd toward Ontegas dapple-gray warhorse. The large animal, Mortalis,

shifted his footing thumping the ground with his large hooves. Startled bythe boys approach, Mortalis eyed him with a warning. Ontegas easily reined

the gray stallion in and took in his standard bearers worried eyes.Derigan was in tears, as he dropped to his knees and said, Sir, the

KingThe Beast King is dead.

Ontegas opened his mouth to ask a question, but knew he would not get ananswer. Stand Derigan.

How could the Beast King of the Lands of Solor, a descendant of the God-

King of Beasts Solor, be killed? The Beast King traveled with a full escort of

his personal guard, all were armed and trained as the best in the world.Ontegas thought, at the very least, the Beast King always had one of histhree advisors close to consult with and for protection. The Beast King was

not a man in need of protection, he was one of the greatest warriors alive,

yet his advisors were wise and deadly. He glanced in the direction of theBattle Commanders tents and knew the brave leader would be calling a

meeting of his marshals soon.

The Marshal looked at the questioning faces of his peasant-soldiers. He knewhis men were demoralized by exhaustion and malnutrition. Ontegas also

knew the power of rumors in a unit as tight as his group of fighting men and

women. He decided quickly to let the truth be known; he reined Mortalisaround and rode down his line of soldiers. In a loud and clear voice he said,

Brothers and SistersI will not sacrifice my honor for withholding the truth

from those who will fight for me! News has come of the Beast Kings death!

Murmurs flowed though his gathered force, and the Marshal raised his arm tosignal that he wanted to speak. His soldiers quieted one-by-one and let the

officer talk. I dont know how, but I will find out! A meeting of the knights of

the Southern Border will take place! I am going to speak for you in thismeeting. I need to know, will you fight or will you retreat?

The soldier-peasants talked among themselves, and a few shouted approval

of the young officer. Slowly a gathered response came that made Ontegassmile. His peasant-soldiers would fight beside him. Satisfied the Marshalheaded back to the head of his legion. His standard bearer had taken up the


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colors again and stood facing the open plains where the armies of Xyll wouldsurely walk. Ontegas was proud of them.

Ontegas looked again to the tents of the Battle Commander and he saw

numerous lightly armored heralds spill out and running in various directions.One such herald was coming for him. This was it, the Marshal thought, now

comes the meeting of whether to stay and fight for a plot of land that has

cost thousands of lives.

The herald sent to him was a pretty young woman, who got stares from

Derigan. Ontegas looked her over and noted her figure, and the wanting look

from his standard bearer. She looked back at the boy through a sheet ofauburn strands that had fallen out of her hair-tie and smiled.

The woman stopped shy of the mounted Marshal and bowed stating that

Battle Commander Tokylon requests his presence.

Looking back at his bedraggled soldiers he said to Derigan. I shall be back.A squire was at his side as he slid off of Mortalis, and the young woman tookthe reigns of the muscled horse. Ontegas reached up and grabbed hisplumed helm from the saddle. The plume was long and gold, trimmed so that

only the last of the feathers fan hung on the naked plume. This signaled his

rank on the field as a Marshal in the Soloran Militia. Field Marshals wore aplume of the same color with a full fan on their feather; Field Commanderswore a naked plume of deep blue.

A short walk that seemed to take ages greeted the young officer. Would theSouthern Armies divide and flee; would they fight to the last sword; would

there be a trick of strategy involved in their retreat? All of these questionsoccurred to Ontegas as he stepped through the tent flap that was held openby another herald.

Immediately inside a very tall, handsome, older man with a short brown

beard looked into the Marshals eyes as he entered the big tent. Thestrangers eyes appeared to look right through Ontegas, as if they werelooking into his soul. The taller man ducked outside as he was too tall for the

opening, and was gone. The stranger said nothing, but the young officer

could not shake the feeling as if the stranger had been peered into Ontegasthoughts.

Further inside, officers around a ramshackle table turned to see thenewcomer in unison. Ontegas stood and bowed, as was customary. Thesenior officers replied with curt nods. Amidst them stood Battle Commander

Tokylon; Tokylon was a man with graying mane of hair. The Battle

Commander was decorated with bright silver armor that had gold trim on itsedges. A half cape hung from one shoulder, on it, the lion crest of theSoloran Throne was thickly embroidered. The Battle Commanders wizen

eyes regarded the lesser officer, but he did not move.


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Tokylon was a fair and just leader from where Ontegas stood. Tokylon was

known as a man of virtues, and he enforced those virtues to his officers. Hewas a father of three young ones who lived in the Lands principal township of

Solora. Tokylons family had a long-running friendship with the Throne ofSolor. He was also a man of extreme skill on the strategies of war. The Battle

Commander had served on the Southern front from when he was a junior

officer himself. Today, aside from receiving news of his friends death, hiskings death; Battle Commander Tokylon received news that the front he hadfought and planned so hard to save, was going to fall.

Of the other officers in the tent, Ontegas knew them all. The second incommand belonged to two officers. Field Commanders Xastse and Walthe,

the two were very strict yet their combined knowledge was invaluable. Bothmen hovered over a land-map of the Southern Borders. At their shoulders

stood Field Marshals Pyotir and Bouman; both young and tested by variousbattles against the Province of GorSelon, a territory of the Empire of Xyll.

Nearby stood Marshals Keltan, Bistan, and the newest officer to arrive on theSouthern front, Marshal Orbesh. Pacing in the center of the tent was a blondMarshal named Nostrom. And lastly, Ontegas sighted Marshal Strakow

standing on the other side of the tent flap. She was a hard woman from a

stoic, war-tilted tribe in western Solor.

Ontegas leaned close to Strakow, Ive heard the news.

Without moving, Strakow replies quietly, The Battle Commander is askinghis officers what they plan to do. Scouts have sighted reinforcements

grouping with Xylls main forces just over the horizonthey are armed with afull two thousand magi.

Ontegas looked at her, eyes wide. Strakows face was nearly chiseled from

stone showing no emotion. She preferred to command women in battle as

she claims they are the best combatants. Ontegas had tried to make herstrong will release and for Strakow to enjoy life, yet her resistance wasremarkable. She was not an ugly woman to look at, but at times she had a

piercing stare. Her hair was black as pitch, and always worn in a tight bun at

the back. Do you think the combined force is large enough to cause a routebefore battle?

For my soldiers? No. She stated flatly and Ontegas should have seen thatreply coming. For the Soloran presence on the Southern Border? Shelooked straight into his eyes, Yes.

Ontegas thought for a moment, The Beast Kings order stands that theSouthern Border will not fall, yes?

Strakow smiled weakly with thin lips. Yes, until the Thrones successor


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issues new orders. Since the Beast Queen is dead these ten seasons prior,that leaves the only daughter as our new Beast Queen.

Ontegas picked up Strakows thought and whispered his conclusion, If or

when the new Beast Queen gives an order changing the wishes of her father,the order wont reach the Southern Border in time for the coming battle.

Strakow just nodded.

The tent flap flew open and in stepped the camps third in command, BattleMarshal DRagna. DRagna was an uncouth officer, and a chaotic soldier on

the field. He met any and all battles with an almost mentally scarred

approach; flinging himself wholeheartedly into combat without concern.

Ontegas regarded the veteran Battle Marshal with a nod and DRagna noddedback. Whats goin on in here? DRagna asked Ontegas and Strakow.

I believe we are planning a tactical retreat. Marshal Strakow said.

DRagnas peered at the table full of overland charts. He was a bald man ofslim build, but in his armor he appeared the very essence of the WesternSoloran militiaman. DRagna was sent to the Soloran militia with favorableremarks from his village in the west. His savagery and endurance in battle

was said to be the substance of fables. Those same remarks placed DRagna

on the Southern Border as an officer, and his actions placed him as third incommand.

DRagna stepped up to the Battle Commander, We dont need to retreat!

The Battle Marshal eyed the table again.

Go on? the Battle Commander led, his visage brightened somewhat athearing that they may be able to hold the Southern Border.

DRagna felt the eyes of the officers on him. His eyes scanned the charts and

came to rest on a cropping of trees. DRagna said nothing for a moment

then, I take it a feigned retreat has been thought of?

Yes, Field Commander Xastse said sharply.

Our only hope is to retreat and form a front in the north. added FieldCommander Walthe.

Field Marshal Pyotirs quiet voice said, Ive had scouts infiltrate Xylls

encampments. Xylls forces have magi, DRagna.

The junior officers gasp at the mention of the secret art of the Fae. Very Few

humans were able or allowed to utilize the secrets of magic, and it was

against the Beast Kings law to practice such. DRagna cursed as he studiedthe map.

Following a long moment, DRagna spoke again, Who wants to retreat? His


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graveled voice was low and sounded as though depression was taking overhis fighting spirit.

One by one the majority nodded. Those who wanted to stand and fight were

Battle Commander Tokylon, Battle Marshal DRagna, Marshal Strakow,Marshal Ontegas, and Marshal Nostrom. The Southern Border militia was

split.

DRagna looked at them and glanced at the map again.

The tents flap opened and a man dressed in peasant garb stepped in.

Nostrom stopped pacing when the man entered. Hastily he walked over to

the peasant and spoke a few hushed words. Nostrom turned to the gatheredofficers with an ashen face and said, My scouts report that the forces of Xyll

are advancing.

The resulting silence of the tent was broken when the Battle Commanderspoke aloud. If you have a plan DRagna, say it. If you have no plan,Tokylon choked on his words and continued, then we will pull back and theSouthern Border will fall.

DRagna didnt hesitate. Commander, those who want to retreat can retreat;however, they must go through here. The Battle Marshal pointed to ashallow ravine on the battlefield map. The ravine, called High Edge, was

some distance away from the front; the move would be easy only for those

on horseback, more challenging for those on foot as speed would be a heavyfactor.

The officers began to scoff at the idea of such a retreat, but the BattleMarshal spoke first. Now listen, DRagnas graveled voice filled the tent, Ineed a legion to charge the forces of Xyll. We arent going to wait and fire

your arrows first. This legion needs to be disciplined. I want them recalled

when the Xyll forces charge. I need another legion; Nostrom, you go to HighEdge, go now and ready an ambush at its mouth.

Nostrom nodded that he understood and bowed to Tokylon as he ducked out

of the tent.

DRagna continued, Ontegas, Strakow, which one of youll charge the Xyll

front?

Strakows mouth opened, but Ontegas volunteered first. He knew his legion

would die before they would surrender ground to a ruler as twisted and cruel

as Xyll. The Beast King may have done things wrong from time to timenonetheless he was a good King.

Strakow glared at the young Marshal.


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Good, DRagnas voice called out. Strakow you ride flank with me. This

section of trees, here, he pointed to an area of the map, well hide in hereand sit until Xyll drives our retreat to the ravine. We need to leave

immediately after Im done here.

Field Commander Xastse said, You didnt give Nostrom a signal.

DRagna looked at the man and smiled, He dont need one. When he feelsthe time is right to ambush, hell ambush. By that time, Marshal Strakow andmyself should be able to close behind Xyll. We can pounce on them at the

ravine. Those who retreated can ride to the battle or they can watch from the

ravine outage. DRagna looked around to the officers.

Claxons sounded in the distance. Everyone looked at one another.

Battle Commander spoke aloud, Xastse, send a runner to alert the BeastQueen. The final battle of the Southern Front is today. Battle Marshal

DRagna, your plan is as good as any. We have run out of time to plan as Isee it.

Officers, to your legions. We have a battle to retreat from. Tokylon smiled

genuinely.

Ontegas didnt bother to say farewell salutations; he leapt out of the tent andwalked hurriedly toward his legion. The other officers spilled out of the Battle

Commanders tent, and went about making the preparations to retreat. If

Ontegas had looked for the gentlemen hed seen when he first entered thetent, he would not be able to find him. The tall, wizen man had long departed

the encampment.

As Ontegas nears his legion he finds his squire; the young man handsOntegas his plumed helmet. Setting it on his head, the Marshal walks to

Mortalis and swings up into the saddle using his squires bent knee as a step.

Ontegas heavy armor is light enough to run in, and for the length that theMarshal has worn it, it feels as a second skin. He reins the warhorse aroundand looks out onto the plains. He is taken aback by what the sight that

greets his eyes.

Nearly a hundred battle standards flapped with the breeze. Several hundred

soldiers stood by each standard, all armed well, and all armored equally well.

Various commanders rode through the ranks of archers, skirmishers, andcavalry. Each soldier wore the black and green colors of Emperor Xyll. Ascore of drummers rapped off a marching cadence to line up the massive

fighting force.

Fear welled inside the Marshal and Ontegas embraced it like an old friend.Fear accompanied every battle, for if he stopped feeling the fear, he knew he


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would stop being human. His mind wondered over images of warriors likeStrakow, DRagna and Tokylon. Did they feel the fear, as he did?

Ontegas steeled himself and pulled Mortalis around to ride the length of his

legion. The warhorse trotted down the line, his heavy hoof falls thuddingagainst the earth. We are going to charge the army of Xyll! Ontegas

shouted.

No one spoke against him. The Marshal breathed hard and looked at hiswarrior-peasants. We will engage the enemy for only a moment, and then

we will retreat. We will retreat as fast as our legs will carry us. Follow me, if

anything else; keep your eyes open for me! Ontegas finished hisannouncement. No one questioned him, yet everyone looked downcast. The

Marshal and the peasant-soldiers knew they were going to die today.

The rapping cadence from the Armies of Xyll stopped as one and the Marshallooked back at the massive front. A shine glinted off of the horizon and

Ontegas wondered what commander that happened to be. He knew the shinehad come from armor or a sword poised to command the attack. Somethingthat shiny could only belong to an officer of high rank. He shouted over hisshoulder, There will be no mercy!

Ontegas peasant-soldiers cheered behind him, but he knew their fear as wellas his own.

Claxons began to sound from within the ranks of the Southern Border forces.

Marshal Ontegas drew his long-curved sword of Oulisq steel. The eyes of hissoldiers were on his every move as he sat atop Mortalis with his arm ready to

fall signaling their charge. With pike and spade and old weaponry thepeasant-soldiers focused on the enemy.

A claxon sounded twice from the rear and Ontegas dropped his blade. He

kicked his weight into Mortalis side, and the warhorse was off down into the

barren plains. Mortalis heavy hooves thundered a single drumming beat.One hundred armed peasant-soldiers ran screaming after their commander.

The gallop seemed to be endless as Ontegas sped toward the angry faces of

the Xyll warriors, who had started their own charge. Ontegas does not recallhearing a signal from the opposing forces, perhaps his charge had taken

them by surprise and they charge despite their orders. The Marshal knew this

wasnt the case. Those faces he looked into were hardened warriors. Hispeasant army would be slaughtered, curse the Beast King for not sendinglevies of worth.

The collision was similar to a thunderclap. Marshal Ontegas galloped andslashed at the soldiers he could reach. Mortalis kicked and bit theunfortunate souls that came before his strong legs and wicked teeth. He

heard the first few men of his army scream and curse as death took them.


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He glanced back at his men and uttered a silent prayer to Solor. Mortalis

kicked out his hindquarters and sent a shielded Xyll skirmisher flyingoutward.

Ontegas looked forward over the massive front of Emperor Xyll. Some of the

force had been committed to his advance, many still waited along the hill.

***

What the hells are the Solorans doing? Grand Magi watched the doomed

assault from horseback. The Grand Magi was an aged man of a hundred ofseasons. His white hair and short beard made him look rather peculiar in his

regal decorations of office. His bright silver pendant glittered in the morninglight showing himself to his thousand strong magi of Fae and human.

Beside the Grand Magi sat General Bitterach, an officer of great experience

and one who had fought the Southern Borders of Solor since he was a whelp.Wrinkling his stubby nose he said, You tell me wise one? The Generalsvoice is husky and his s are drawn-out when he speaks. Smiling he said,

They are luring us, very interesting maneuvers Tokylon. The General had

known of the Soloran Battle Commander for countless years and felt as

though they should have been brothers. Surely he must know we outnumber him by fifty times over.

Now it was the Grand Magis turn to smile as he said, No General, they have

greatly underestimated our forces today. He swept his sun-spotted handover the complete Xyll army numbering into the tens of thousands. My magi

and I have weaved an illusion strong enough to dim the mightiest of wills. Ihave made your army appear as though it had never moved at the calling ofyour orders to charge.

General Bitterach was not one to laugh nor had he found reason to laugh in

his forty years of combat against the likes of Battle Commander Tokylon, yethe laughed hard and long at the foolery that he now witnessed. He slaps theGrand Magi on the shoulder, jostling the old man, I smell victory today!

***

A pikeman, not seen by Ontegas, ran into Mortalis flank. The steel-headed

pike glanced off the warhorses barding and nearly skewered the youngMarshal. Ontegas responded in kind by freeing the mans head from his neckwith a slash from his curved sword. He pulled Mortalis around and shouted

above the battle, Route, route men! and the Marshal kicked Mortalis into a

gallop back out of the fray.

As he fled he witnessed the bodies of many of his peasant-soldiers littering

the ground. Ontegas cursed himself, Solor save us.


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Mortalis carried him to the Southern Border front and he arrived in time to

witness the last of the legions trotting away. Claxons sounded from Ontegasrear and he peered back witnessing the Xyll front moving forward as one.

The tactic was extermination, and Ontegas knew it was for the simplepurpose of destroying everything in the armys path. The maneuver was solid

yet slow.

The front of the extermination tactic was wide and the Marshal feared theambush would be discovered. He looked among his soldiers; only thirty were

left. Many of his thirty were wounded. Ontegas rode ahead of his wounded

army and addressed them, Men, we have to hold them here. There needs tobe more time for the rear forces to retreat.

An older peasant named Tolber stepped forward, Sir, we will hold them, I

and the wounded.

Marshal Ontegas saw the determination in the eyes of the man. Yes, thewounded stay here. Take what weaponry youll need. Those who are healthy,come with me. He rode forward and waited for the wounded that would holdthe advancing Xyll armies to take weaponry, and say farewell to the brave

wounded for their sacrifice. Soon twelve men and women surrounded the

mounted Soloran officer. Ontegas looked at each of them and saw a soldiershonor in each set of eyes.

Ontegas pulls the large dapple-gray around and looked toward the path

leading to High Edge. Seeing the craggy out cropping heralding the hillyterritory beyond Ontegas yelled, Follow me, and trotted heavily onward.

Ontegas soldiers were not as peasant-warriors; they were militia, as true asany that had served.

Mortalis carried Ontegas into High Edge and rode far up the steep slopes

several hundreds of meters before he and his men reach the ravine. Turningthe dapple-gray about he surveys the ground to mount a stand against theadvancing Xyll forces. On the air, he hears the screams and sharp clashing of

metal from his wounded back on the trail. But it only lasts a moment before

the drumming beat of the advancing Xyll army continues.

Ontegas smiles as he sees his own battle standard wading through the

twelve soldiers, it is shattered in half but young Derigan still holds it high,Mr. Derigan, nice to see you have come with us!

Would not miss it, Sir. Derigan shouted back.

Ontegas shouts out over his soldiers, Line! The last of his men straightenand face the advancing force.


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Ontegas spurs Mortalis to ride before his soldiers. Ontegas circles the largewarhorse back to the end of the line; its heavily hooves landing on the

ground with a solid jarring weight. The line waits. The breaths of the soldiersare heavy and labored with exhaustion. They watch the opening at the

ravines mouth leading into High Edge for what seems an eternity before themarching drums spill slowly into view.

The Xyll forces, far smaller than they had been at the beginning of the battle,round the pass at the mouth of the ravine and stop. Xylls own banners ofblack, and green, flap in the autumn breeze.

For a long agonizing moment nothing happens between the two forces.Ontegas knew he and his soldiers were more than outnumbered, but he

wasnt sure of the reason for the delay in their charge. Something iswrong? The young officer thought aloud bringing a look of concern from his

standard bearer.

A call sounded from down the line, Marshal, a rider is coming! Ontegasturns to see Field Marshal DRagna riding a scout horse hard and fast towardshim.

Blood is trailing down DRagnas forehead from a blow. His mouth is open

and the experienced soldier is yelling something, but Ontegas ears cannotpick out the sound over the roar of the horses hooves.

Then the world came crushing back as DRagnas voice shouted, Marshal,

Xyll attacked us at the Pass. The runners have been slaughtered.

Ontegas spurred Mortalis around, his heavy hooves thumping on the ground.What has happened?

DRagna pulled back harshly to stop the fast horse before Ontegas. Mortalis

shifted uneasily and DRagna spoke quickly, both testing

Ontegasconcentration. The Xyll Armies are twofold, the second lay waitingto ambush our forces at the Pass. DRagna stopped talking long enough topull the satchel that loosely strapped around his neck and shoulders. Youre

the runner now Marshal. DRagna tossed the satchel to Ontegas, I am

taking command of your legion and we are riding to save the BattleCommander.

Ontegas spurred Mortalis closer, Sir, I only have twelve soldiers.

DRagna smiled in a half-crazed manner, Then I am leading a rescue squad.

Commander Tokylons stand is at the mouth of the Pass. DRagna points to

the Xyll soldiers poised to charge, That legion is the cork on this giant anddeadly bottle. Now go, ride for the Palaceride for Solora!

Ontegas watched DRagna hoping that the veteran was going to smile as if it


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had been a joke. Nothing happened and Ontegas kicked Mortalis into a fullgallop. His heavy hooves crashing into the ground sending a roll of thunder

loud enough to be a cavalry charge.

DRagna turned to the frightened men and women he now commanded. Helooked at the standard bearer. Drop that banner and take up your sword,

this fight will be for survival, not honor. Follow me!

Mortalis reached the hills above the ravine and High Edge and Ontegas badehim to stop. Ontegas looked back toward the Southern Border. He saw dust

from several different trails all coming to close on the pass opening. Ontegas

strained his eyes to find his banner, yet he could not. He hoped youngDerigan had died quickly. Ontegas could now see the true size of the enemy

army. Xylls huge force had merely moved around the Southern Border,taking the more difficult routes of uneven terrain and sealed the fate of the

Soloran militia.

From the vantage where Ontegas now perched he could see the remainingskirmish at the Pass where the armies connected. Among the skirmishersglinted the bright steel of polished armor, Ontegas knew it to be BattleCommander Tokylon. Then, like a candle being blown out, the shine was

gone from sight. Ontegas blinked looking down, then to Mortalis. His

emotions warred as he understood that the entire Southern Army was gone,except for him. Ontegas felt a twisting pang of guilt that he had lived throughthis slaughter.

Mortaliss body shifted his footing and Ontegas looked out to see a thin dustytrails drift into the air. A scouting party was coming after him; they had seen

his departure and knew he was carrying a warning for the Beast Queen.

Ontegas looked down at Mortalis. My friend, what I need is for you to run asif you were but a spring foal. Ontegas pulled his dagger from its sheath,

But, youre not going to make it far with this armor holding you down. He

sliced through the straps securing the barding to the warhorse, dropping theplates to the ground. The sole piece of armor left on the gray stallion was thesaddle. Ontegas wasnt about to choose that moment to free Mortalis of that

piece as it would have taken more time than the pursuing scout patrol would

allow.

Sheathing the dagger Ontegas spurred Mortalis onward, to Solora.

Battle for the Southern Border

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Transcript of Battle for the Southern Border