Chapter No. 46 Saltatus Mortis

And the third angel sounded, and there fell a great star from heaven, burning as it were a lamp, and it fell upon the third part of the rivers, and upon the fountains of waters;

Clouds hung low over the grasslands like a burial shroud. A swirling wind drove ahead of a spring thunderstorm, urging Mara and Hilton to take shelter in the ruins of an old castle. The Arkanon River ran swiftly nearby, adding a rushing sound to the thrashing wind, pelting rain, and rolling thunder.

Two lone knights secured their mounts near the entrance to the keep of this long abandoned castle, or what remained of it. Only a single inner wall with a crumbling tower stood to attest its once glorious presence on this bleak landscape that is the Arkanon. This broken dilapidated structure was a sad reminder of the destructive power of man.

An hour later, only the gentle noise of the river and a lingering rain remained.

"I believe that the information about a royal on the run is not reliable," Mara said. "We've been all over this damn place and we have seen nothing."

Hilton took a deep breath. "At least we haven't run into any enemy forces."

"There's something suspicious about that," Mara said. "If there were an errant royal out here, we should have seen some Imperial soldiers."

"You don't think this is some sort of a set up, do you?"

She looked him in the eye. "Anything is possible. The Empire would love to catch me out here."

"We'll just have to be alert." Hilton blew out a breath that sounded as if he were uncertain. "Why don't you get some rest and I'll keep an eye out for trouble."

"It's a deal," she said giving him a salute.

Hilton climbed into the tower to keep watch while Mara sat on a horse blanket with her back against a wall a few feet inside what was left of the keep. She only removed her helm and gauntlets. Removing all of her armor to get comfortable was not an option.
Hilton scanned out over the expanse of the plains and saw that it was boring, especially with no moon to chase the cutting darkness of night on the Plains.
The rain stopped about midnight and the quiet that ensued lolled him into drowsiness. Lack of sleep contributed to his eventual state of slumber.

With his looking glass, Alisto scanned the dark, drab Plain of Arkanon searching for the infamous quarry that was a thorn in the collective side of the Empire. He and his sub commanders had moved ahead of the main army to avoid detection, fearing that the noise and disturbance of a large group of soldiers would alert the witch and cause her to bolt, denying him his prize.

And, earning him the wrath of his Emperor.

He turned to Drak, his first commander. "Have the knights and archers move up, but make sure they do so as silently as possible."

"Yes, sire." Drak, saluted, his heavy eyes staring out like beacons beneath bushy eyebrows.

"You've spotted something, sire?" Villo, asked.

Alisto glanced over at his Aid and flashed a quick smile. Villo was tall but slight of build with a long imperious face. "The witch and her familiar are in the ruins on that rise. They carelessly tied their mounts in full view. Even in this dismal darkness the witch's pink dragon sticks out."

"Would it not be propitious to encircle the position, sire?"

"The noise and time necessary to accomplish an encirclement would alert the prey. If we are to succeed here, we must strike quickly before first light."

"But if she runs?" Villo's large eyes expressed his dubiousness.

"We stand before her and the badlands. She will need to flee to the south, away from her lair."

"And into Glosha's hands," Villo said with a Cheshire grin.

"Yes," Alisto said, adding his own evil grin.

A noise in the distance filtered on the wind, a barely perceptible clinging of metal but just enough to stimulate a nerve.

Mara jumped up and ran to a jagged arch that once contained a door.
"Hilton," she yelled up at the tower. "Where are you?"

Hilton awoke in a start. He looked out at a sight that made the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

"Oh, god!"

He ran down the tower steps as if he were on fire.

"What the hell were you doing up there?" Mara said while putting on her armor.

He hurried into his armor.

"I'm sorry, Mara," he said with a sheepish look. "I guess I fell asleep."

"I am sorry," Mara said. "I should have relieved you. We have been betrayed."

"Why do you say that?" he asked with disbelief in his eyes.

"The Empire would not have sent a large army just to locate a runaway royal. We were lured to this place to be taken."

Hilton's face twisted with concern. "How can we defend against such a large force?"

"They will not take us alive," Mara said with determination showing in her eyes. "We must make our cause known to all at this place. Fight well, young Hilton." She tilted her head as if apologizing. "I love you. Do not lament our unfortunate situation. We will meet again."

Hilton swallowed hard as he stared blankly at her. He knew that they were in jeopardy and it was his fault. The guilt made him sick to his stomach, but he didn't have the courage to admit it, especially to his partner in love--and war.

But what did she mean by "meet again?" Is she referring to an afterlife? But only gods know the fate of men. Oh, no--

"You're referring to your belief in an afterlife, aren't you?"

"Do not persist in your disbelief. I have seen it, and you must accept this on faith if you wish to see paradise."

Hilton stared at her with pleading eyes. "I accept your belief for I have no reason to doubt you. All I ask is that you remember me when you go into this paradise."

She offered him a soft smile on a hardened face. "Soon you will be with me in paradise."

He swallowed hard again. He knew now that his fate was at hand.

They had barely enough time to get into position near the dilapidated keep's wall. Chevron led Hilton's horse away after Mara had grabbed all of the weapons she could. Hilton watched the two animals fade into the darkness and he felt down deep that he would never see them again.

Its armor glistening menacingly in the light of torches held by pages, the large enemy army formed into three lines of knights armed with pole-axes and battle swords while archers took up position in the rear. Mara assumed that they would send the knights first before trying archery, so she decided to use her dual swords instead of her battle-axe. A cold shiver ran up her spine. She had no idea if she could actually prevail against massive odds. Even goddesses have doubts.

Hilton held his battle sword in his right hand and his shield in his left, but he was uncertain that he could persist to victory. He was not all that experienced and certainly not nearly as strong as most other men. He had only the twin feelings of desperation and disgust to urge him on.

Mara raised her swords and shouted to the enemy. "Haven't you heard what the prophet has said: He that killeth with the sword must be killed with the sword."

No one heeded her words.

The first line of knights ran up to attack. Despite her strength and speed, Mara could not afford to waste energy cutting through the heaviest armored plate of enemy knights. She had to time her thrusts and slices to hit vulnerable places. To slice off a hand, she cut above the cuff of the gauntlet. Beheading required a precisely aimed slice at the junction of the helmet and gorget.

When a knight raised his poleax to strike a blow, she thrust a sword into a small area between his demi-placcate and pauldron to penetrate his underarm. Some enemy knights offered an opportunistic target: the helmet eye slit, but she had to get the thrust in and out quickly, because when she made the move her arm was in a vulnerable position.

Mara's offensive and defensive moves had to be made against two different attacks simultaneously and required split-second timing and agility. No ordinary knight could keep up such swordsmanship for very long.

But she was no ordinary knight.
Her biggest problem was a knight wielding a glaive. Extremely effective against armor, these weapons could slice metal like a knife through butter. Knights liked to thrust the pike end of the weapon into their enemy's breastplate and then use the ax portion to slice down through. Mara countered this maneuver by twisting away from the thrust and then slicing down through the thruster's arm to relieve him of his weapon.

A knight faked a blow with his battle sword, but Mara was quick enough to anticipate his next move. She slashed across his right arm and he fell while trying to stem the flow of blood. She had no time to relieve his pain. New knights took his place to accept her blows.

One knight decided to try a shortened pike. Mara calculated his approach, side stepped his thrust, and executed a jump kick, knocking him down. The sight of a knight jumping and kicking in full armor startled many, not so much because it couldn't be done. Many knights could jump on their mounts without using stirrups. It was the fact that this female knight could keep it up. All here would have tired quickly.

What Mara could not fathom was the look in their eyes, eyes seethed with blood curling, gut-wrenching hatred. Why? Why did they hate her so much? She was only one knight among many that wished to defeat the Empire. It was as if they were trying to punish her for all the blows struck by the rebels.
They saw that her sword blows could cut through armor with ease, but they assumed that she couldn't keep up her arm strength for long.

They were wrong. She whirled around like a thrashing machine, cutting, thrusting, and paring. She stepped to the left to avoid a blow while striking her own blow to the right. Like a murderous dance, she shifted back and forth, side to side, ducking, faking, twisting and turning, her swords thrashing with precision and skill beyond any knight known even in legend.

Live by the sword, die by the sword.
Knight after knight advanced to be slain by the killing machine known as the knighted witch. Soon blood colored Mara and the ground around her in a gory red, rendering it slippery. Corpses littered the ground around her position, many bleeding arterial blood from horrendous wounds like fountains. Enemy knights had trouble obtaining good footing over them, sliding away on the small rise that led up to Mara.

To kill is to live.

A few knights attempted to drive small lances into her, but she easily dodged them by twisting to one side and cutting the lance in half. With less lance to separate them from Mara, the lance wielders were easily relieved of their arms, or in some cased, their heads.

Hilton fought with as much ferocity as he could manage. He was mad as hell that the Empire had sucked Mara and him into a trap just to take Mara, but he was angrier with himself for falling asleep on watch, an offense punishable by death. He assumed that the sentence for his sin of omission was at hand.
Fortunately, the enemy was more interested in Mara. He only had to deal with one knight at a time, and they seemed less enthused with fighting him, a newly knighted warrior. He tried to avoid wasting energy on useless sword blows, waiting for opportunities to do real damage. He was rewarded with jarring blows to his own armor and bruises aplenty.

Mara was surprised to see that Hilton was holding up well against the onslaught, but she knew that fatigue would lead to his downfall. She could protect his right or his left but not both. This dilemma made her angry with herself for being so careless. She knew that her mistake would lead to his demise and it infuriated her. She fought with a vengeance born of revenge and it made her angry all the more.

After the bodies of knights became too thick to advance over, the line of knights retreated and the archers took over. Mara and Hilton crouched behind their shields to withstand a heavy rain of arrows and bolts. Mara countered with shots from her crossbow. Since archers wore chain mail and pots for helmets, sometimes fitted with nasals, she found it easy to target their eyes or chests. She killed one archer after another, but her production rate was slow.

A new wave of knights approached, ponderously crawling over bodies to attack. Mara slashed and cut up each and every one that came in range.
Hilton finally tired and was overcome. He fell to repeated blows and she could do nothing to help him, except to cut into his attackers with a vengeance, punishing them for their absurd evil.
The archers started up again, but after Mara had slain several dozen of their ranks, they retreated. Seeing that mounted knights with lances were beginning a charge, Mara looked over at the fallen Hilton and decided that the time and opportunity had come to unleash her secret weapon. She had promised herself that she would save it for a major battle, but she was so angry that she could not stop herself.

She took out a bolt with a bulbous head and lit it by striking flint. The fuse flared to life, and she mounted the bolt in her crossbow, took careful aim and let it fly directly into the midst of the charging knights.

The bolt exploded in a shower of white-hot flaming shrapnel that pierced armor and flesh with horrendous result. Horses bolted, sending knights to the ground. Screams of pain signaled the onset of utter chaos. Mara fired another flaming bolt into the knights behind the first line. They broke ranks and ran. The sight of an army running away was bizarre.

To kill is to live.

Mara whistled and Chevron appeared with Hilton's mount in tow. She picked up Hilton's body and draped it over his horse, mounted Chevron and rode off, leaving over two hundred dead and dying men on the field. She had won the second battle of Arkanon, but at a terrible cost.

But, the battle was not over just yet. Another brood of vipers waited to the south. Mara spotted the advanced units of Glosha's Fifth army riding to intercept her. The main body moved quickly, splitting into two phalanxes to act as a pincer. If she ran to the north, the two halves would envelop her. To the south, the Arkanon River represented a barrier to rapid movement. What to do?

She will strike at his head, while he strikes at her heels. Mara turned to ride into the junction of the pincer. General Glosha watched the insane charge with both amazement and dread. He ordered his archers to move up into two lines to shower the lone attacker with a rain of death.

The bolt arched through the night air like a flaming meteor, its course marked with a phosphorous trail of blazing hell. Despite the biting cool air, Glosha broke into a sweat. All he could do was watch and wait.

The bright flash lit up the night like a beacon. A flaming plasma ball billowed over an acre of grassland, quickly consuming everything in its path. In one horrendous moment, the general and his commanders were roasted alive, spewing flaming metal fragments and burning flesh over the archers and knights nearby. The panic that followed caused an entire army to melt into the night, fleeing for their lives.

Mara took her good time moving back to the badlands. There were no more armies to oppose her sorrowful return, but it was little consolation.