The beastwoman had regrets of her own, but she knew her strength had its limits. Her fighting style was wholly dependent on Tyrfing. She had hoped to run wild one last time against Lucia. Now that she had been denied that opportunity, there was nothing left to do but drink.
“Guess we’d all better hope Surtr pulls off his harebrained scheme,” she murmured. She took a sip of wine, snorted, and closed her eyes. “Here’s to the biggest damned fool under the sun.”
＊＊＊＊＊
The fifteenth day of the twelfth month of Imperial Year 1026
Fort Towen, in the Grantzian Empire
The sky was clear, but the morning was chilly. The air was so cold it stung. The soldiers had to force themselves from the warmth of their beds, exhaling white puffs that dissipated on the wind as it snatched them skyward. Yet their duty cared nothing for the weather. They dashed about in such a hurry that they did not feel the cold, making ready to defend their families, their friends, and their nation.
Fort Towen was in uproar. The Demiurgos’s horde had been sighted, a bristling shadow darkening the horizon. Yet no one stood and stared; no one trembled in fear; none thought to turn tail and save their own skin. The soldiers of the empire took up their positions in an orderly fashion and prepared for battle. A grand banner streamed above them, bearing the imperial lion. It made for a sight to put their hearts at ease and fill every imperial citizen’s chest with pride.
The imperial forces consisted of thirty thousand heavy cavalry, ten thousand light cavalry, twenty thousand heavy infantry, and ten thousand light infantry. All told, seventy thousand souls awaited the signal horn. There was no hesitation in their eyes. If anything, they burned with zeal, stamping their feet impatiently. The clatter of armored boots rose to the sky, piercing the clouds and resounding through the heavens.
The monsters met the empire’s fervor with howls of their own. As the two sides began their chorus, a third, smaller force surveyed the battlefield: the soldiers of Lebering, waiting on the end of the empire’s right flank. Their numbers were small—fewer than ten thousand—but they were still zlosta, and their natural strength could be a devastating force if correctly utilized. Queen Claudia, their peerless monarch, stood at their head. A faint smile hovered on her lips as she basked in the battle cries.
On the opposite side of the field, on the empire’s left flank, were the four thousand soldiers of the Crow Legion. Their uniform black armor made for an intimidating sight. Behind them flew a banner just as large as the imperial lion: the standard of Mars, a dragon clutching a silver sword on a black field. The dragon seemed to flap its wings as the cloth streamed on the wind, imbuing it with overpowering gravitas. The eerie black ranks of the Crow Legion stood stoically beneath it, the glow of the War God in their eyes. They regarded their enemies with bated breath as they waited for the slaughter to begin.
The fervor swelled. The imperial soldiers raised their voices and lifted their weapons high. The cheers rang out behind Liz like an adoring crowd as she glanced sideways at Aura.
“They might have us beaten in numbers,” she said, “but not spirit.”
Aura nodded. “We’ll put up a good fight. Enough to get you where you need to go, anyway.” She narrowed her eyes, peering at Liz accusingly.
Liz stepped back, a little intimidated. “What is it?”
“Doing what you want is going to ask a lot from the troops. You can’t let them down. Remember that.”
“I know. I won’t fail. I promise.”
The infantry, both light and heavy, stood in the center of the imperial line, with Liz and her royal guard in front of them on horseback. The light and heavy cavalry made up the flanks. They sat a short distance back from the center in the peculiar arrangement known as the dragon-wing formation.
“Good. Leave the strategizing to me. You just focus on what’s in front of you.”
With a wicked grin, Aura mounted up and rode off toward the rear. She would not accompany Liz to the final confrontation. Put bluntly, she did not have the martial ability, and besides, she needed to command the army in Liz’s absence.
Once Aura was out of sight, Liz climbed atop her faithful steed. Her eyes narrowed on the battlefield ahead.
Meteia approached. “Is everything all right, my lady?”
Liz turned, hearing the note of concern in her retainer’s voice. Meteia looked ill at ease. Liz drew her horse closer and reached out to tousle the woman’s hair. Meteia’s cheeks reddened, but she did not object to the petting, closing her eyes blissfully.
“Don’t worry about me,” Liz said. “I won’t look back anymore. If Hiro can’t keep up with me, I’ll happily leave him behind.”
“I had better go back and fetch him then,” Meteia said. “Someone ought to.”
“Good idea. Then both of you can follow my lead.” Liz took a deep breath and drew Lævateinn from her belt. “From here on out, I’ll lead the way.”
Light scattered along the Spiritblade’s length as its crimson tip took aim at the sun. It shone so brightly that Meteia had to shield her eyes. Her tail wagged with pride.
“Let your hearts blaze!”
Liz’s voice rang out, clear and true. The stamping ceased, and the soldiers snapped to attention.
“Offer up your pride! Offer up your faith! And the light of the sun shall turn our enemies to ash!”
Now, with the last battle upon them, she filled their breasts with fire.
“Victory to the Divines!”
Horns blew. Their piercing notes rode the wind, coursing across the distance, thrumming through the air, spreading over the battlefield like a signal flare.
The soldiers’ passion erupted. “Victory to the Crimson Princess!” they cried as one, loud enough to bring the sky crashing down. They beat their swords and spears against their shields, stamping their feet in place. Their latent instincts stirred awake, bursting free as a primal roar that melded their hearts into one.
“Cut them down.” Liz swung her arm down, her beauty glowing. “Every last one.”
With a smile, regal and graceful, she drove her heels into her horse’s flanks. Her faithful white wolf grinned and surged after her, letting out a battle cry. The soldiers followed, racing after them so as not to be left behind.
Aura watched fondly from afar as the pair raced toward the battle.
An aide rushed up to her. “My lady!” he cried.
“What?”
“The second cohort is anxious to join the fray.”
“Let them. Send in the flanks as well. Victory to Lady Celia Estrella.”
If the soldiers felt that inspired, Aura didn’t have the heart to deny them. She herself felt a surge of pride as she watched Liz ride away, as a mother might watch over her child. Her hands were balled into fists, she realized. Even she was not immune to the fervor that had swept the ranks. She took a deep breath to calm herself. She could not afford to let anything cloud her judgment today.
“Keep an eye on our perimeter,” she said, issuing orders to her aides as she eased her horse forward. “Remember, they have leaders now. Be ready for anything.”
Monsters did not usually have the capacity for coordination, but with the more intelligent yaldabaoth serving as commanding officers, they had been beaten into line. Even from Aura’s vantage point, none seemed to have broken formation at the sight of the imperial charge. They had discipline. Over time, their superior numbers would wear the imperial forces down. If, however, the human troops focused on targeting and killing the yaldabaoth, the rest of the horde would quickly fall apart.
Aura glanced at the imperial flanks, as well as the Lebering troops and the Crow Legion on the ends. They would have a vital part to play in the battle. She had chosen to encircle the enemy, ensuring that no escaped monsters would go on to terrorize nearby settlements. That had been one of Mars’s signature tactics, the cornerstone of his undefeated legend. Aura favored it too, especially when the stakes were high.