Post-Battle Scene

Pain, stiffness and soreness permeated his body. As his consciousness gradually returned, he felt more than heard a fluttering near his head, and a new, sharp pain in his ribs jerked him fully awake. He sat up with a start, and a chorus of raucous cries of surprise and fluttering of wings marked the retreat of the vultures that had been surrounding him.

He looked down at himself, and among the dried blood that encrusted the hacked-up armor, a trickle of fresh blood oozed from where the bird had pecked. He felt lightheaded, and lay back down, noting how dry his mouth was. The brief glimpse of the battlefield had shown him that nothing moved except for the scavengers come to feast. His breath seemed to wear like sandpaper on his parched throat, and as he grimaced in pain, he felt dried blood cracking and flaking from his face. He probed his head - helmet gone, a closed cut on his brow - that must have been what had knocked him out.

When he heard the flap of wings land close to him again, he let out a roar which came out as more a croak from his cracking lips, but the birds stayed away. After he had regained some of his wits, he rolled over and crawled on all fours until he came across a water skin flung in the heat of battle on the grassy hillside. Thirstily, he upended it and drank the last few swallows remaining. Nearby, face down in the trampled, reddish earth lay his friend Subarath Mak, arms and legs entangled with one of the enemy whose face was a frozen mask of surprise and pain. Smoke drifted by on a light breeze, and the morning sun climbed into the clear blue sky as if glad that such a struggle that had lasted three days and three nights was finally over.

Shakily, Merrit stood up, and after a few seconds the dizziness that engulfed him slowly dissipated, leaving a dull headache. He bent and retrieved his sword, the beautiful two-handed Lightning, which struck with the force of its namesake. Surveying the battlefield, he noted the mess of bodies, weapons and burnt-out skeletons of buildings. Not a single being, man or elf, stirred within his view. His armor was beaten and cut through in several places, and a dent chaffed his right biceps, but he stoically endured all of his physical pain and stumbled in the direction of Sirgetti. He could not tell whether they had been successful in stopping the marauding army of undead lead by the priests of Set, or whether that army had pushed on in its march toward Neola. Rotting corpses attested to the great numbers of magical creatures sent back to the pits of Hades; wonderingly, Merrit estimated that the ratio of casualties of the Knights of the Rose to the enemy was at least one to twenty, yet still the enemy had come, their numbers seemingly endless.

Although he searched for living, all who fell were dead. He could not find Ulfred, his second-in-command, and counted this as a good sign. He could only guess that Ulfred had left with maybe fifty knights, for some of those he sought among the dead were not to be found.

As he left the clearing surrounding the remains of the village, he heard a rustling in the leaves of the forest. Crouching, sword above his right shoulder and pain forgotten, his heart pumped and blood coursed through his veins in anticipation. He saw some branches of the undergrowth agitated, and perched for the strike. To his surprise, from out of the trees came a chestnut-brown stallion with a white star on his forehead. It stomped its hooves and rolled its eyes nervously, and Merrit noticed the dried lather on its sides. The poor thing, he thought, it must have spent the night and morning in terror.

He lowered his sword and approached slowly, hand outstretched and muttering soothing sounds. When he had reached the fine animal, he patted its nose and stroked its neck, calming and soothing it. A saddle was strapped around its torso, and a sack still clung to it. Merrit searched through it and found a brush, which he used to smooth out the horse's hair. This familiar treatment calmed it down, and it gladly allowed itself to be brushed then mounted. Merrit noted with satisfaction that, in spite of the animal's night of fear and wandering, it still had much energy. Not knowing whether his army had pressed on to reinforce the city of Dolphin or had been slaughtered here in the foothills south of Lake Oluvar, he opted for the two day ride north, skirting the desert to Sirgetti. The remnants of the now defunct Council of the Tower in the Lake of the Stars would know what had transpired through their wizardly arts, and if need be he would be granted another command to lead into battle.

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