Semi-Finals: The Castigar Clash

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

Five hours earlier

Today, the fierce Coronian sun beat down on an island of strife. As birds swooped and dived majestically in the air, unconcerned with the matters of men, Harper Malley lay on thin, wiry grass and propped his telescope on his pack. He slid the brass shutter aside from the eyepiece, adjusted the tubes, and stared in awed amazement.

He gazed upon something fierce indeed. He watched an army marching.

The leader of the Immortals had seen the smear of dust in the sky about an hour ago, rising higher as the morning moved towards midday’s heat, and the fine film had looked like the haze of a great grass fire. Intrigued, he had ridden towards the smog, going slowly for fear of enemy patrols, and now, in the early afternoon, he lay on the low summit of a small hill and stared at the men and animals that had smudged the great plume across the heavens.

The Brotherhood soldiers under Storm Veritas’s control were marching towards the west, and it appeared to his trained eye they were setting up for an attack. The road itself was left for the heavy traffic, for the wagons and the guns and the carriages of the generals. Beside the carriageway, trampling the scanty crops, marched the infantry. Harper, brushing his oaken hair from his face, moved the telescope right, the far uniforms a blur of colour in his eye, and steadied it where the road came north. Tumbrils and caissons, limbers and makeshift ambulances, wagons and more wagons, the horses and oxen dipping their heads with the effort of hauling their loads all moved with purpose under the hot Coronian sun. He pushed the telescope left, turning it to look as far as he could, to see a tiny grey blur on the horizon where the topmost stones of Radasanth’s famous Citadel dominated the landscape.

Harper rested the telescope. Without the benefit of the fine glass, the Veritas legion’s forces looked like a black snake winding across Corone. He knew what he saw was preparation for an assault, but was it on Radasanth? If so, he did not understand why just yet. He just watched the great beast snake across the plains, smearing the sky white, and he had no idea whether or not Storm Veritas knew where Shinsou’s own troops were, or what they were doing.

It doesn’t make sense for Storm to attack Radasanth if he knew we were a day shy of his southern flank. Does he even know we are here? Or does he have something else in mind? A feint, perhaps?

Malley wriggled back from the skyline, snapped the telescope shut and turned to the horse which he had tethered to a stone field marker. Shinsou had leant him a fine, strong, patient stallion called Slepnir, who now watched the man and twitched his long, black, undocked tail. He was a lucky horse, Harper thought, because the rule in the Brotherhood was that all horses should have their tails cut short, but Slepnir had been left his intact so that at a distance the Rangers would believe it was one of theirs.

As he released the rope and hauled his large chassis onto the saddle, Shinsou’s head of intelligence spurred Slepnir into a gallop and began to piece together his report in his thoughts. It would be a two or three hour ride, and that left plenty of time for the man to contemplate his conclusion of events.


A few hours later

As the evening crept in, just when the sparrows stopped making their nests in the trees lining the Brotherhood encampment twenty miles south of Storm Veritas’s army, commander Shinsou Vaan Osiris stared down from the entrance of his tent upon the crest of a small hill, and waited. The small westerly wind lifted his chestnut bangs from his face as he watched campfires light up one by one. Before long, the rows of tents and supplies looked like fireflies had begun to swarm in their numbers. His men went about their evening duties, stacking crates and brewing stew in iron cookpots that clanged in the wind. He fidgeted with the heavy silver buckles on his drakescale coat as he watched four wagons of supplies brought up from Havre Lesaint being dragged over the dirt road. Finally, as he was about to turn and enter his makeshift quarters, the form of Slepnir entered his vision, cantering in from the southeast corner of the vast plot of white tented land.

The garrison of the camp watched Harper Malley arrive eagerly. The newly mounted watch of the day saluted as the head of the Immortals trotted past their guards. Above their heads, on a makeshift mast, the tricolour of the Brotherhood’s colours flapped sullenly in the wind. The sentries stared out across the wide countryside, wondering whether the war would once again bring them to bear against their own brethren in the north.

The Telgradian smiled. A hawk, high above its victim, might have felt the same satisfaction that the Brotherhood’s leader felt as he ordered an aide to send his compliments to Harper Malley with a request. A request, which, from Shinsou Vaan Osiris, was tantamount to an order, that the head of the Immortals come to his presence immediately. Harper Malley, smelling faintly of dry earth and sweat, was ushered into Shinsou’s spacious but bare tent fifteen minutes later. Sat at a makeshift desk, surrounded by hand drawn maps and charts, Shinsou looked up at his third in command. Arius Mephisto was conspicuous by his absence, something Harper made a mental note of.

“You’re unusually late,” The Telgradian remarked, pouring the two a crystal tumbler with a quart of whisky, “What do you have for me? Good news I hope.”

Harper took off a glove, dusting his hands against the leathery chaps he wore, and took a folded piece of paper from his pocket. As he unfolded it in quarters on Shinsou’s desk, a sketch of the area with snaking pencil markings fell before his leader.

“Veritas’s men are heading for the west coast. I can’t say for sure, but it looks like he is preparing an attack, possibly on Radasanth.”

Shinsou stared at the map, frowning as he traced a finger between the lead snake on the parchment and the gates of Radasanth. “Really? That’s a bit of an odd play, to be making a land grab there at this point. What kind of strength is he packing?”

Harper shook his head. “I was too far away to get a full count, but I saw horse, foot and cannon on their way up. It’s enough to stand against what we have here, but not enough to mount a serious attack on Radasanth, which is curious. The way he's throwing his men about, it makes me think that he doesn’t know we sit on his southern flank; yet, at least.”

Shinsou, taking a sip of the potent liqueur in his right hand, shook his head in return.

“No, or else he wouldn’t be positioning his forces between us and Radasanth. Now, he has a problem,” with that, the Telgradian rose from his chair and paced towards a larger chart nailed to the centre post of his tent, showing an overall map of the theatre of operations, “If what you say is right and he continues on to Radasanth, a city which, if I recall, has not seen a military defeat for over four centuries, and simply knocks on the front door, the Cornonian army will outnumber him five to one. If he camps on the west coast and bides his time, he likely knows it will be a matter of time before Radasanth sends everything they have at him. What he doesn’t know, yet, is that his third problem is that any retreat will be cut off by us.”

Harper raised an eyebrow as Shinsou’s tone of voice hinted concern. “Is that a problem? You sound concerned.”

The intelligence officer stared at the Telgradian, who was mulling over the chart. After what seemed an age, Shinsou turned and held his chin in his hand.

“Once he realises that he is caught between a rock and a hard place, Storm Veritas may actually present us an opportunity. You see, whilst we do not have the problem of the Radasanthians in such close proximity to our flank, we too have a glaring issue,” Shinsou gestured to the lists scattered on his desk; lists that contained accounts on the entire strength of the Brotherhood, “which is that we, neither, have enough men to take Radasanth on our own. The only way it can feasibly be done is through a united Brotherhood. There is simply no point in wasting men fighting each other to the bitter end for the Radasanthians to simply waltz in and mop up the dregs. This situation could play right into our hands.”

Harper Malley scowled at that. After all that had happened, the thought of Shinsou Vaan Osiris and Storm Veritas presenting a united front did not sit well with him at all. However, the man had been with Shinsou long enough to know when not to question the man, and this was one of those times. After all, he was right. It seemed the only way to resolve their current problem without facing annihilation from Corone’s army. There was, however, one matter which concerned him.

“So are you saying that if we can convince Storm his position is untenable on the west, he’ll just come to his senses, invade Radasanth side by side and give up a share of the spoils to us? I can’t see it, Shinsou.”

The Telgradian smiled. “Neither can I, but if I know Storm like I think I do, once he sees that he hasn’t got much of a choice he’ll play ball. He’s a selfish man, but he isn’t stupid; he knows better than to waste good men on a fool’s errand. Arrange for an emissary to ride to him under a flag of parlay and invite him here for talks. At the very least, it’ll make him think twice about his plans and perhaps in that moment of vulnerability we can reach out to him.”

“Very good, sir.” Harper bowed, albeit hesitantly, turned and disappeared through the canvas flaps. With that, Shinsou turned back to his office, the late night wind whipping at the flimsy sides of his abode. He would defy the odds. He would save the Brotherhood, defeat Radasanth and dazzle the world. For a few seconds, standing with his back to the magnificent view from his tent, Shinsou imagined himself as the new co-leader of Corone; the new bright star in the former republic’s glory. He could not lose; he knew it, for he had calculated the risks.