Chapter 2- Who are you?

  The General's cold body, with his companion donkey, was collapsed onto the floor as a thunderous applause of musket volleys shuddered soot and soul through the valley. Chaos had already consumed the Ignian ranks, as musket bolts and boulders cleaved through the front column, segmenting them as bodies fell, the Ignians couldn’t discern snow from musket smoke to ambusher as they attempted to return fire. Mages which slowly became sparse, fired volleys and plumes of fire up the steep rockface… only to be silenced with rifle fire. That was what Viktor saw. Retaliation was no longer an option.

  The Ignian standards were felled like trees

  All Viktor could do was cling to the walls of the mountain, fear gripping as adrenalin made his heart of steel melt in ecstasy and dread. His grimoire was satchelled as he peered upwards, attempting to gain a view of the enemy, before a musket bolt smashed by his right foot, the man recoiling as he kept to the wall. There was nothing he could do, with the thought of fighting back terrifying him even further as his freckled face grimaced in fear. Peering past the corner, his eyes slitted in seeing the dead general, with the Commander of the Guard organising of what remained of the grenadiers, shouting and screaming as they took cover. He was now in command.

  Mustering his courage, his aching stomach ceasing its pain, he trotted out carefully, passing by a dead comrades body, the comrades' glassy eyes staring into the sky. What was the last thing he saw?

  The coldness of the wall that he hugged embraced him as his hands slowly started to turn red, he instinctively warmed it with his fire, peering from at an angle as he started to identified a Zemlyian borough's position. The men were draped in white, perfectly blending in with the white background as their ghostly faces showed no emotion. This was a masterfully planned orchestra. Yet the unbearable noise and volley of rocks still shattered him from his analysis. Feeling pressure build up behind him, he looked at the wall that he hugged, as steam started to gush out of the porous rock that he accidentally started heating.

  It slowly started to crack, hot hands causing the ice within the porous rock to melt and steam out, with the Mage instinctively increasing the temperature as he slowly moved out of the way…, keeping his hand in place as he forcefully increased the temperature ten fold. A moment of brilliance.

  “CLEAR!” He Shouted out to the two remaining guardsmen (Which includes the commander) that were left at the snakes head, who instinctively moving out of the way, with Genwealth hugging the wall next to the Mage.

  “What on Earth are you thinki-”

  A sudden explosion shook the mountain, stirring the vultures and undisturbed snow,, with the sudden quake throwing a Zemlyian off of the top clifface, landing in front of the soldiers, his eyes and face mouthing in surprise as he saw the men by the wall. His greens sachet around his waist identified him clearly. It was a Zemlyian Mage. The Lieutenant guardsman rushed to bayonet him, thrusting steel into flesh as he dragged the man off of the path and over to the jagged stones below.

  The brave guardsman was shot in the shoulder, he collapsed onto the floor in utter shock.

  This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  As dust and steam settled, the explosion exposed a cavity within the mountain, a hidden cave! Gwenwelth in shock, holstered his rifle, making eye contact with Viktor as both knew what needed to be done. Both men rushed onto the path, grabbing whatever blood soaked bodies that were strewn onto the floor. Not much writhing in pain. Those that did not move were left on velvet that carpeted the narrow pass. Viktor dragged as many comrades as he physically could with his weak, unassuming muscles, with the commander taking his lieutenant into the cave before rushing out once more. Those who were left continued to fight furiously, their last stand behind the carcasses of their mules and their fellow men. But they were slowly picked off. There wasn’t much time until the Zemlyians figured out what was going on.

  Viktor pulled the body of a corporal, his eyes fixated on it as his palms began to pulse, little whisps slowly trailing and intertwining with the corporals body, but soon after Genwelth dashed pass, as a soldier behind a horse pleaded for help. The Commander wrapped his arm around the cavalry officer as he began to drag him to the safety of the cave. The shear Adrenaline pulsating through his nerves of steel as the sweat in his furrowed brows began to crystallise. Pulling and pulling before the air within his lungs got sucked out. He couldn’t breathe. Slowly, he collapsed onto the floor, dragging and pulling his limp body towards the cave, pulling the cavalry commander behind him.

  Why did Viktors face look like that…? He was in safety, it was probably just a flechette that could easily be stitched up, with the old man looking downwards to see himself dragging… where is his right arm…? Where…- he looked back in total shock, as all what was left of the officers body was a puddle of blood.

  “Shit!” Viktors voice cried out, grabbing onto the commander as he pulled him into the confines of the cave.

  “Go-… get the others… I’m… fine.” Genwealth realised the futility of his words. He attempted to move out of the way, yet a warm sensation began to seize him. It was a hazy warmth, a rather comforting one, with the Old Guard slowing down as he took a sweet… intoxicating breath. Around him, little whisps of orange light slowly flew around, as a strong hazy suffocating sense of dread tiring and warming him up. Looking to his right, closely… tiredly he looked at the Mage. How? He sighed as his curious eyes glimpsed at his arm, for it only to be a stump, with fresh flesh throbbing in the cold. A reduced, unassuming, scarlet stump.

  No more blood.

  “How did you..?” He asked exacerbated, but Viktor shook his head, the commander's tired eyes trying to make sense as the Mage walked away. “You’re…?”

  All Viktor replied with was his finger to his lips as he looked back, “Don’t talk.”

  Silence befell those in the cave, yet the breaths of those who continued living persisted in audible motion. Not a sound from outside. Just utter silence. Spare the wind that blew gently across the cavern, the wind that howled further down the valley. No words, nor mutters, nor incoherent foreign speech of the Zemlyians. Viktors ears began to ring, his throat beginning to throb as he peered pass the caves walls. Nothing. Spare the blood soaked sleet and stone and the corpses that decorated the once clear pass. Looking back, he beheld those that were in the cave, sighing as he pulled off his tricorn, revealing dirty brown hair, his legs gave way as he collapsed onto the floor. There was only 15 of them.

  He would then stand up once more, leaving his hat on the floor as he approached the wounded lieutenant, grabbing hold of his shoulder as tiny orange whisps of fire surrounded the mans arm. He was clearly wide awake and not out from shock, his blue eyes making sense of what was unfolding. He understood. The wound would slowly seal up, it being cauterised meticulously and with care.

  12 more men to heal.