Chapter 16
Casyl
Casyl had chosen ground that favoured them. Their camp stood at the top of a hill with a valley below. The enemy arrived the next day and made camp on the other side of the valley.
There would be more than one battle. They would not give up the girl, and the High City would not allow them to continue their plan without a fight. King Elthar and his priests considered stopping Tiryn a sacred duty.
What their plan was, Casyl wasn’t completely sure, but his father would not be swayed or stopped, and Elthar knew this.
They were on the outskirts of the border that separated the two kingdoms. They’d have to win this battle to advance further into enemy territory, where Amelia had initially emerged. The enemy was blocking them.
The army stood ready at the top of the hill, waiting for Casyl to give the order to charge. He wasn’t the type of commander to give a speech before battle. He knew his men, knew what they were capable of. They wanted to win, wanted to live.
He wasn’t sure what he wanted.
He surveyed the enemy, mapping his path. Every decision risked his men. His fingers tightened around the reins as he ran through the tactics.
“Are you ready?” Casyl asked Tharos. He would lead his own battalion of men in the battle. They’d be near the front line where Tharos could utilise his ability to confuse the enemy.
“Yes.” Tharos nodded.
“Stay safe out there. Retreat if you need to. This war won’t be won in a day.”
They mounted up and took their positions among the men.
Infantry took the front with Casyl leading. His powers worked most effectively in close combat. The cavalry waited behind them like a drawn blade, ready to strike, with Tharos leading one of those battalions.
Casyl gave the signal. The hillside shook as the army marched towards the bottom of the valley. The infantry went first to absorb the initial impact of the enemy so that the cavalry could swoop in and attack where there were weak defence points.
They picked up their pace and charged as they approached the bottom of the valley.
A wave of calm swept over him before the two armies clashed with deafening force.
Men screamed war cries to instil fear in the enemy.
Casyl fought blade to blade from horseback, cutting down anyone in his way.
He worked in silence.
There had not been a battle like this in a long time. Small skirmishes happened, but they usually avoided all-out war as they valued their long lifespans.
Both armies were well matched in numbers, and neither of them were inclined to retreat thus far. It was morning when they had started the battle, and the sun had already reached its highest point. By the time evening approached, he was soaked with blood and sweat, and most of it wasn’t his.
He scanned the battlefield, looking at the positions of his generals.
The cavalry had advanced, and they had pushed the enemy back, dominating the valley. A second wave of enemy soldiers charged down the hill and was beaten back by the cavalry, now reinforced by the infantry.
Something tugged at his awareness. A large group of mounted enemies charged across the field. They were targeting the generals.
“Tharos!”
He raced over to help, but his path was blocked, forcing him to fight his way clear. It took away precious moments. He looked up again; Tharos was completely mobbed. The enemy dragged him away, retreating to their camp.
How could they have captured him? This was Tharos.
He stared a moment too long. The glancing blow of a sword bounced off his armour, jolting him back to the battle.
His pulse hammered in his ears, echoing through his helmet.
The enemy soldiers before him were no longer men; they were obstacles in his way. A feral roar tore through his throat as his blade carved a bloody path before him.
Tharos’s battalion still fought to save him, and as Casyl reached them, a soldier called out. “Beware! Mind Warper!”
The words stopped him dead.
They couldn’t have one, but it made sense. It would be the only way they could capture him.
Casyl and his warriors pursued the retreating enemy, cutting down those within reach. They made it partway up the hill before a volley of arrows halted them, pinning several of Casyl’s men to the ground.
He gave the signal to halt, letting the enemy get away.
They needed to retreat and recover.
Had the enemy expected him to abandon reason and lead his men into the camp, where their archers could slaughter them? He might have done if the thought hadn’t stopped him.
He clenched his fists.
He had to keep a level head. There were more lives at risk. They hadn’t tried to kill Tharos, only capture him. He was safe for now. He’d find a way to bring him back.
Arriving back at the camp, covered in blood and dirt, he stormed into his tent. They would need a strategy.
He despatched messengers to the fortress. He needed Ruven and Danae. Amelia would have to come with them.
*
Vultures circled the abandoned battlefield as Casyl surveyed the enemy camp where his friend was suspended.
His jaw ached.
With the arrival of Ruven and Danae, he could breathe easier.
His most powerful fighters were by his side, stripping the fortress of its greatest defence, but this was an emergency.
He’d told them to bring Amelia with them to keep her safe.
He worried his father would do something terrible if he left her at the fortress.
She was his charge.
She’d been trained to be useful. He had no intention of using her, but when she offered, her courage was difficult to refuse.
He placed Ruven in charge of the army whilst he led the rescue mission. Ruven wasn’t happy about the decision. He changed his mind when Casyl told him that he would lead the charge into the enemy camp.
“When you see the fires, that’s your signal,” Casyl said to Ruven. “Ready the army quietly and leave as much armour off as you safely can. The element of surprise will be our greatest advantage. When you’re close, charge. Give them hell, Ruven.” They clasped hands.
If the enemy insisted on seeing him as God-cursed, he’d give them every reason to fear that title.
They made their way towards the enemy camp beneath the moonlight, praying for clouds to conceal them from view.
Amelia gasped as he slashed a sleeping warrior’s throat without a thought.
This was battle. This was war. There was no time for mercy if he wanted victory. The sooner she saw it, the better. She’d soon see much worse.
They moved from tent to tent until they reached the middle of the camp where Tharos hung. To see his friend, his brother in arms strung up like a piece of meat, filled Casyl with a burning hot fury deep in his stomach. They would die. All of them.
Using a Mind Warper was a dirty tactic, although Casyl could not claim that he would never use one himself.
No one knew exactly how many soldiers in King Elthar’s army possessed powers. He knew of a few lesser abilities. The king had one himself, but he had not known they possessed a Mind Warper. His father would find that interesting.
As the Mind Warper taunted Tharos, trying to warp his mind to harm himself, Casyl could wait no longer.
He had told Amelia what she needed to do, and he trusted that she would be able to do it. There was no time to prepare her any further.
“Now,” he told her as he burst from the tent.
*
He was taken to the medical tent. His wound wasn’t life-threatening; it would heal in a day or two, but they gave him something to help with the pain and relax him.
He’d spent almost a whole day fighting. He must have fallen asleep because he awoke in his own tent to the sound of Amelia and Ruven talking.
She had killed the Mind Warper. It had been her first kill. She was in shock.
A mixture of emotions struck him. He was the powerful warrior who was supposed to keep her safe, and she was risking herself for him. Amelia had saved them all.
He remembered the first time he’d taken a life. It had been the first taste of his father’s cruelty.
He tried to sit up despite his throbbing wound. It felt better than it had earlier. He wondered how long he’d been asleep.
When left alone, he hobbled up and poured himself a potent drink.
The Mind Warper was dead. Tharos had been rescued, and the enemy army had taken a massive hit.
It should have been a celebratory drink, but he knew that this was just the beginning.
He wasn’t even sure what they were really fighting for; he just followed orders.
His father wouldn’t be stopped, and the king’s will swept Casyl along like a wave of despair.
The wine dulled his thoughts. He told himself it was to ease his pain, the physical pain.
When he and Amelia were left alone, he acted on an impulse he had spent weeks suppressing. He hadn’t expected her to kiss him back. Instead of satisfaction, he felt the first cold certainty that Tiryn would use whatever existed between them to destroy her.
There was a pit in his stomach. He had to leave.
*
When he awoke the next morning, it was with a sense of impending doom. He’d slept in Tharos and Ruven’s tent that night, but he needed to get back to his own for Battle Plan.
He couldn’t face Amelia.
The generals stood around the map in Casyl’s tent, ready to hash out their next strategy.
The best option now would be to end the war quickly without losing too many of their own men.
There was no movement from over the hill as the enemy were clearly licking their wounds, which gave Casyl and his generals time to reconsider strategy. They would reconvene later.
“Tharos, stay behind, would you?” Casyl said.
They waited until all the generals had filtered out of the tent.
“What happened? I can tell by your face that something did,” Tharos said.
“I made a mistake,” Casyl replied. He had to tell someone what had happened, someone whom he trusted, who would know the gravity of his mistake.
“Last night, we were alone, Amelia and I…”
Tharos’s mouth opened, his eyebrows raised.
“What have you done? He’ll find out, you know he will, and use this against you.”
“I couldn’t stop it,” Casyl said quietly.