"I'm not going to lie to you. I never have before, and I am not going to start now. We've fought too long, too hard." Amelie ignored Pierre's smirk as she looked over her army, "together to do that. You've done more than I could ever have expected of you. So I won't lie to you: we cannot defeat their army, the war cannot be won, and I'm sorry to tell you that. We tried our hardest, and we've never lost a battle, but the sorcerer's magic could not be overcome."
Amelie took a deep breath and suppressed the wince of pain she felt as her enlarged bust was pinched by her now too tight armor. "Ordinarily I would never send you into the jaws of death. You know me, you know that I am not one for suicidal last stands or doomed charges and I would never ask you to throw your lives away for nothing."
All eyes were locked on her, bringing a blush to her cheeks from the attention. A shudder ran down her spine and she instinctively clenched her thighs around her horse from the jolt of pleasure that buzzed between her legs. "We cannot win the war, but it is still possible not to lose it." Amelie's fingers tightened around the hilt of her sword, seeking reassurance from the power of the blade as her other hand pointed to Orlous. "My daughter is there. Your families are there. The future of our Kingdom is there, and it can still be saved."
"The walls are stronger than ever, the larders are well stocked, and the garrison is more than sufficient to hold the city. The orcs have no siege equipment, they had to leave it behind when crossing through the shattered Pass. They don't have the engineers to make more, because they think they don't need them. They think they have something better."
The energy of the crowd washed over her, a mixture of despair, but also of rising hope. Her eyes scanned the crowd, seeming to make contact with every soldier in the ranks. "A sorcerer. It is their greatest strength, but also the greatest point of failure. All their hopes rest on a single person, and that is a vulnerability we can exploit."
"You are the greatest fighting force in the Western Kingdoms. No one is better trained, no one is better equipped, and no one has more combat experience. No one else could do what I am going to ask of you, but you can: we're going to kill him. Fifteen hundred elite warriors all seeking the death of one man. Prince Augras. He is the only objective. There is no other mission. We will form a wedge and slam into their ranks, cutting through every orc we see until someone, anyone, sees the sorcerer and we kill him."
Excitement swelled in her breast and the pitch in her voice grew higher. "Together we can do it. It might take all of our lives, but we can do it. And in doing it, we will save the city, the kingdom, and all our families. With Augras dead, they cannot bring the walls down. They will have to settle in for a multi-year siege without their sorcerer to feed them, or negotiate."
Amelie thought of the day her daughter was born and brought forth the brightest smile she could manage. "You know the Princess: if anyone can treat with them it is her. She will bargain a reasonable peace that will keep our families safe. Princess Anne will do her part as long as we do ours. Kill the sorcerer, and if you see him, kill that Abyss damned King too!" Amelie drew her sword and spurred her horse forward, riding through the ranks towards the orcs. "If we must die, let us take as many orcs with us as we can, and make all of Zentara curse the memory of the Falcon Guard!"
****
"What could she be thinking?" Grotok asked. "Noble suicide? She cannot defeat our army."
"No, she can't." Augras stared across the battlefield as the Falcon Guard formed into a wedge and charged straight towards them. "But I won't complain if my prey wanders willingly into my trap." A sly grin spread over Augras' face as he glanced towards Grotok.
The orc king grimaced at Augras' words. He turned towards his squire and gave the order to have the army fan out on both sides to envelop the much smaller force to encircle them completely and cut off any retreat. "Be on the lookout, this is Queen Amelie we're speaking of. There must be a trick or stratagem here somewhere...I just can't see it."
"There is no trick" Marishka stated as she watched the Thestan charge unfold.
"There is a stratagem though" Augras added. "I don't fault you for missing it though, uncle. It will gall you enough when you hear what it is."
Grotok ground his teeth as he glared at Augras. The notion that his young nephew saw something of war and strategy that he missed was infuriating. "Which is why it will no doubt give you great pleasure to inform me of it."
"We've gotten to know each other so well these months, Your Highness."
"I'd wager I know you better than your father does, nephew" Grotok sneered back, "but thankfully not as well as you know your mother."
Now it was Augras' turn to flinch, but he otherwise ignored the insult. "She is coming for me."
"For you?" Grotok said incredulously.
"Of course." Marishka observed. "The child of three races is the key to orc dominion over these lands."
Grotok started to laugh. "I knew you suffered from delusions of grandeur nephew, but I didn't believe it had exploded into such Abyssal vanity."
"It's not vanity, Your Highness, but simple truth. Amelie cannot defeat us, and she knows it. But I think you will agree that Amelie could kill me, and if I fall, you lose your ability to destroy the walls of Orlous." Augras smiled again as he saw recognition dawn in his uncle's eyes. "You see it now. She's coming to kill me thinking it will save her daughter and her kingdom."
"That makes sense" Grotok admitted grudgingly, "You were right, it does gall me to hear it. So what, no magic trick to strike them down?"
Augras burst into laughter at that. "There is no time for that. This battle will be settled by arms." The Prince's laughter died down. "You are not such a bad sort, uncle. We do not need to oppose each other due to your dislike for my father. Leave Queen Amelie and Thesta to me and I shall leave Queen Jeanette and Zentara to you."
"Queen Amelie deserves better than you, nephew, and your presumption to Thesta is an insult. Be content with your father's crown, I'm sure it will be yours in time. Leave Thesta and Sandora to your elders."
"Would you ask the future to give way to the past? The old make way for the new" Marishka interjected, "It is thus everywhere."
"She is coming for me, not you. It is under my power she will fall."
"Then I must go to her." Grotok placed his helm atop his chain coif. "Stay here, nephew, and keep yourself safe. Amelie is right, our ability to take Orlous is much too valuable to risk in battle." The orc king climbed atop his horse and accepted his sword and shield from a squire. "To me! It is time to bring this war to an end. I shall defeat Queen Amelie, in the field and in single combat. To me!"
Grotok and his honor guard departed, leaving Augras atop the hill with Marishka. Augras watched the small force join ranks with the center of their army, and then begin marching towards the Thestans. He continued watching as the two ranks closed, and as they finally began to near he turned to Marishka. "Let us get the centaurs. I have no intention of sitting this battle out."
****
Amelie stood up straight on the stirrups as the galloping horse led the wedge of Thestans closer to the Zentaran line. She reached over her should to grab a javelin and readied it to throw. She only had two left, which was more than most in her army had. Supplies had begun to run low after months in the field without resupply.
If only we had a little more,
she thought with a grimace,
we're going to need every last one to open a hole in their ranks.
Behind her the rest of the Falcon Guard rose on their stirrups like a wave as they each prepared to throw. It would take precise timing, but these were the elite of Thesta, handpicked and trained personally by her.
We can do it.
It was time to make her father proud, and to do justice to the proud memories of her brothers. Amelie scanned a few rows back from the front looking for a sergeant or officer. When she spotted a large orc wearing gleaming chain armor shouting to the men she launched her javelin. The missile flew through the air, soon joined by the rest of her army's javelins. Long hours of training in formation allowed them to throw with varying strengths but all timed to land near simultaneously.
Amelie's javelin punched through the orc's cheekbone just below his eye and ruptured his brain. He collapsed in a heap along with the first few rows of the center of their rank. She grabbed the second javelin and launched again. This time the flight lighter, the torrent becoming a light drizzle on the orcs. Amelie glanced past the orc army before her to a large grouping of centaurs. In the midst of the half-horse half-mincentti was Augras, towering above them atop his courser.
There he is!
She returned her gaze to the thinned ranks of orcs before her and scowled. There was still a huge mass between them, and in her periphery she could see the wings of the orc army moving to her flanks.
Speed and strength, one last charge. It will have to be enough!
She drew the iron sword and braced herself in the saddle as her horse crashed into the orcs whose line was reeling in disarray. The dark blade slashed through the neck of the first orc to try and come at her from the side sending a spray of blood onto the orc beside him. More horses slammed over the orcs, riding them down and pushing through the army like a spear stabbing through flesh.
The orc armor proved almost useless against her magic sword, which cut through both chain and leather with ease. Amelie continued to hack from side to side delivering devastating blows to all who opposed her. One orc managed to jab her leg with his spear, but the tip merely gouged along the leather greave on her leg as it got deflected away.
A slash through the top of his head answered that effrontery, but with the orcs beginning to recover from the initial shock she knew it was time to withdraw. "Pull back!" She shouted, and a moment later the call was made on the trumpet. As one, the mounts of the Falcon Guard began to walk backwards, breaking contact and creating distance with the smashed infantry formation.