Chapter 67: How the Mighty Have Fallen (Patreon)

The Lord of the Blue Sky surged forth on his horse at full speed, leaving a great cloud of dust behind. the wind whipped his face, stung his eyes, but he hardly noticed—his world had shrunk to the thunder of hooves, the tightening grip on his saber, the electric crackle of fear and exhilaration in his chest. For a fleeting second, he felt weightless. He was like a storm breaking loose, like fate itself hurtling forward to avenge the slight levied upon him by Lazzaro van Ravenveld.

Ahead, there was a small host of cavalry—no more than a hundred, waiting patiently with sword and shield. The Lord could feel the aura pulsing out of them—in particular, one who wore a decadent set of armor. The king himself had come to the battlefield, the Lord realized. The bloodlust within naturally urged him forward, but the reason in his head that had brought him this far calmed it.

Why would horsemen stand still as we charge?

As the great thundering roar of blue aura arrows, like streaks of sky brought to the earth, surged out across the land at the small host of cavalry, the Lord looked around. There were hills flanking them, almost herding them, toward this one specific point. And looking ahead… the ground was unnatural, deformed. Instinct told him of what came next.

The Lord grabbed at his side to retrieve a horn. He blew it loudly, trusting his men would heed his words. His command was exemplified by his action—he veered, and as he did, the horde turned with him. They barreled up the hill, but as they did, several people burst free from hidden ditches in the ground, casting aside crafted camouflage. These were no mere infantrymen. They were soldiers who used aura, and they lashed out devastatingly, catching the now-exposed flank and killing a substantial few.

The Lord’s horde, disoriented, partially charged upon these soldiers, but these men ran back and jumped into the ditch from which they’d come before serious reprisal came. The trenches were absurdly deep, and the horses refused to either jump or pursue. Some charges couldn’t be broken, and several horses catapulted into this deep gash in the earth. They impaled themselves upon wooden stakes fashioned on the wall, or at the very least trapped themselves.

Several horsemen dismounted and attempted to jump into the ditches to fight on foot, but the aura users ducked into small tunnels reinforced by wood, vanishing beneath the earth. Arrows empowered by aura slammed the earth upon which they sheltered under, but it was impossible to tell how effective it was. It seemed like they simply disappeared.

The Lord of the Blue Sky elected not to remain here, hoping that his men would heed well his command to split and traverse the hills. As the horses trudged up, infantrymen poked out from yet more trenches at the top of the hills, heaving logs up and sending them tumbling down the hills. The horse warriors of the Blue Sky could extend aura protection to their horses almost as well as their own body, and exerted tremendous effort casting away these logs, often to little success. It was an exhausting trudge for all.

By the time the Lord of the Blue Sky arrived to the top of the hills and peered out across the landscape of rolling green hills, with only a few villages in the distance… that small host of cavalry was already falling back, retreating behind a hill while only a few remained to watch. The remainder of his horde struggled with the trenches—astoundingly so. They were incredibly wide and deep, and laden with traps enough that it essentially rendered their horses useless.

And they’d had a month to prepare.

The people of this land had relied on castles a great deal—sheer fortresses of stone, sometimes even metal. Beneath the might of aura, they had crumbled. But this? It required a delicate, gentler hand. In the steppes, a feigned retreat was a favored tactic. He needed to fall back and more thoroughly map these lands, so that something like this didn’t happen again as they proceeded.

***

The Lord of the Blue Sky sent out a hundred of his best men to chart the network of trenches, while the rest of them camped. They had a vast glut of supplies after their razing of the other kingdoms—enough to last for months, at least. It wouldn’t be the best for morale to advance so slowly, but his people followed his word absolutely, viewing him as closer to a god than man.

Only… fortifications weren’t the only things carved from the earth.

In the middle of the night, eight fires began in their rear, which was supposed to be the safest point. Several baggage trains were lit aflame, seemingly without explanation or cause. His people, somewhat superstitious, claimed that ghosts were here. Having seen the fires in the north of Ravenveld, and moreover the tunnels in the trenches, the Lord quickly caught onto the true cause: tunnels, carved into the hills and concealed. According to eyewitnesses, mages had travelled through and attacked at their supply.

When they tried to send men and pursue, these tunnels would collapse without fail. They lost hundreds of men from the fires, or from attempting to pursue those that’d started the fires. Generally, it was their own troops who led such campaigns of harassment—to be on the receiving end wasn’t quite as pleasant, and generally unfeasible for the defenders.

The Lord and all of his advisors were unable to develop a fast and easy way to deal with the trenches. Makeshift bridges would take time, and collapsing the earth around to fill it in would leave loose dirt and uneven terrain likely to break a horse’s legs—if it even worked, that is. The Lord waited on the reports of scouts, hoping to receive good news.

After days of enduring nightly raids from a seemingly never-ending supply of tunnels, a great number of the scouts simply didn’t return. Those that did gave disheartening reports—every approach, save the dense forests, had some level of entrenchment. At points it was lessened, but the Lord of the Blue Sky could guess from experience these trenches were deliberately designed to herd toward dead-end kill zones.

The Lord of the Blue Sky could tell that only a few days of this had frustrated and demoralized his men. Land that was supposed to be their favored terrain had become as difficult as the campaign in the mountains that they’d fought two years ago. Falling back again would surely infuriate them. His own reputation as undefeated and invulnerable would waver.

But he had not come this far due to his horde—rather, the reason for his success was his core of potent aura users that had mastered the technique of the aura bow.

He sent out a small raiding party deep into Ravenveld with the objective of capturing a local guide. Meanwhile, he assigned loyal officers to disperse throughout the other conquered territories, plundering to their heart’s content—loyalty was essentially, after all. Then, he gathered together a core of his elites.

Seven hundred aura bowmen, commanded by the Lord of the Blue Sky. No one had ever beaten that. The elite discipline of these men, some of whom had stood by his side for over ten years, was the single strongest fighting force in the world.

***

Junior rode into a secluded outpost in the forest that’d been designated as their meeting point. Senior had been overseeing the network of trenches and tunnels, while Junior had been taking care of troop commands. Together, they’d been devastatingly effective. At first the men were galled, forced to dig tunnels as aura users, but after days and days of low casualties on their side against high casualties against the enemy, everyone was on board. Senior was said to be a real drillmaster, but Junior’s time had almost been leisurely, scouting from a distance on horseback while dealing with the odd aura-infused aura.

After a little while of waiting, Senior also walked into the clearing. He was covered in dirt, clearly having come from the trenches.

“Hey,” Senior greeted, wiping his hands down. “Our guys in the tunnels are saying that a lot of the horsemen are spreading out, heading back to the territories that they’ve already subjugated,” Willem told Junior, wiping dirt and grime off his body. “But apparently, the Lord of the Blue Sky is still here. It might be your time to shine, soon.”

Junior looked at Willem. “Trenches are one thing, but… these tunnels… how the hell do you know how to do all of that?”

“Non Gratum Anus Rodentum,” Willem said, rolling his shoulders.

Junior stared blankly, confused.

“I was a tunnel rat for a little under a year. Our job was to search out and destroy tunnel complexes. The things I had our sappers dig were primitive by comparison—Charlie had hospitals, training areas, storage facilities, headquarters, barracks, you name it.” Willem looked as though he was reminiscing, but not all of the memories seemed fond. “I’ll tell you… it’s a lot more fun tunnelling than destroying tunnels. They’d put punji sticks, venomous snakes, spiders, ants… sometimes they’d flood ‘em, too. Absolute nightmare. One of the consequences of being short.”

“Short?” Junior said.

“I was Dirk-sized back in my day, yeah,” Willem confirmed. “But enough about me. Are you ready to tangle with the Lord of the Blue Sky?”

“If he does come, he’ll have his best men there with him,” Junior reflected. “Given their expertise, it’s going to be absurdly difficult for me to get close enough to do real damage. I really only think I’ll have one opportunity. He learns from his mistakes and adapts. Quite damned well, at that.”

Willem nodded. “Yeah, I’d agree. How are you going to get close?”

“Well… think I’m going to use your tunnels,” Junior said.

Senior raised a brow. “You won’t have many reinforcements.”

“No, no,” Junior said, shaking his head. “Your tunnels have pissed off his troops immeasurably. I’m going to bait him toward the nexus of your tunnels, then… hunt,” he declared.

“Bait him how?”

“The man thinks he’s smart, deductive,” Junior said. “I’ll give him something to deduce.”

“Theory is different from practice, Junior,” Willem said, repeating a line that Junior himself had used.

“Then let’s start practicing,” Junior finished with the line Senior had responded with.

***

The Lord of the Blue Sky roamed the grassy hills of Ravenveld, heeding the words of their guide and the discoveries of their scouts to circumvent the entrenchments. Already, it felt so much smoother to have a small, elite force. Skirmishers still emerged from well-hidden recesses, delivering strategic attacks, but with a force solely consisting of aura users their defenses and counterattacks were now devastatingly efficient.

They didn’t suffer so much as a single casualty as they proceeded. But as he dealt with more and more of the skirmishes… he started to be able to predict where they were going to come from. He had a flare of suspicion at first, but it gradually coalesced into a conviction.

These mole rats had a central base.

As more and more came, he felt a surge of pride as he caught on to what these defenders had concocted. He was beyond impressed by their strategy, but given its infancy, it didn’t have a way to properly disguise its origin. He traced it through the hills and grasslands, eventually coming to a forested hill. It was the perfect location to keep it—Lazzaro must’ve understood that he had a natural aversion to fighting in forests.

But… with his elites at his back, no such aversion existed. If needed, they could shoot the forest down.

The Lord and his men rode through the forest, concerned but understand. After a while of searching, they noticed denser traps—despite some difficulties, he overcame them, passing through. And like a light at the end of the tunnel, he saw it. It looked like the entrance to a mine. Perhaps it was, and it had been repurposed. But now…

“Destroy it,” he told his men confidently.

Aura-infused arrows rained out, slamming against the tunnel. It collapsed, and he smiled… until the earth beneath their horses began to rumble, and the creatures neighed uncomfortably.

In a mere moment, all the ground beneath them collapsed, sending all in a scramble. The Lord of the Blue Sky braced on his horse and jumped away, scrabbling at unbroken ground. He managed to break free of the pit, but he saw a host of horsemen rushing out. His men, dismounted but unbroken, got out of the pit. It wasn’t made to kill, merely to stop.

There was a blonde warrior at the head of the host. The Lord of the Blue Sky focused on him, entranced, and drew his saber. His blue aura erupted outward, then came to tightly cloak his body, signifying his masterful control. Opposite him, the other warrior did much the same, golden majesty briefly flaring before collecting.

The blonde-warrior leapt off his horse, landing on the ground gracefully before lunging forth with a thrust as vicious as a tiger. The Lord of the Blue Sky received it with his saber, then swept in a deadly arc. The man dodged expertly.

“I am Dorgul Khan, the Lord of the Blue Sky!” he shouted.

“You think I give a shit?” the warrior said, then rushed forth with another potent thrust.

The Lord of the Blue Sky realized, then, that this fight would be one of the deadliest he’d endured.

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