Phoenix Destiny

Eighteen

Before the suns rose, Jaron gathered the soldiers for final preparations. Those that were to be buried saddled their horses and rode into the shallow trenches. The others pitched the tents over them. Once done, the camp looked intact and undisturbed. Jaron was as surprised as anyone with the results.

The horses nervously huffed but otherwise didn’t seem to mind. All the equines were veteran mounts when it came to the battlefield. As long as their riders remained calm, the beasts did as well.

Jaron and the others retreated to the forest. He climbed a platform and tested a waiting bow. Ivy perched somewhere in the canopy above him. She seemed to be on edge. Her gaze scanned the horizon as her ears strained forward. Every sense was tuned to where their enemies would emerge.

Below him, Gambler waited at the base of the tree. The stallion’s ears anxiously flicked back and forth. Jaron took a deep breath and looked at the sky as pink heralded sunrise.

In a nearby tree, another soldier fidgeted, causing a platform to creak. Jaron watched the supporting branches quiver, shaking dew from the thin pine needles.

“Calm yourself,” he ordered, and the soldier looked at him. “You don’t want to fall out of the tree before the battle begins, do you?”

Others nearby snickered as they settled on their precarious perches. A few had traded bets on whether there would be a battle when they thought Jaron wasn’t looking. That was fine. He didn’t mind.

Gambler snorted and pawed the ground below him. Jaron studied the stallion, judging its mood before he held his hand to Ivy. The dragon climbed down from its perch to his arm. She chirped, tickling his chin with her flicking tongue.

“All right, my little scout,” Jaron smiled. “Go find them.”

Ivy leapt from his outstretched arm. She dove out of the tree branches, keeping her wings protected from the pointy needles. Once clear, she spread her wings and swooped over the dismantled camp. She rose into the air and quickly flew out of sight. Jaron tapped his bow, waiting.

After several moments, the dragon returned. He didn’t see her, but he heard her rambling chirps from somewhere above. She circled away again. Ivy maintained her wide pattern. Each time she passed over his head, he heard her chirps. The three suns rose in the sky, and he still waited.

Maybe I was wrong, he sighed. Maybe…

Ivy’s warning whistle interrupted.

Then again, Jaron notched an arrow.

“Jaron?” a nearby soldier called in a loud whisper. “What is it?”

“They’re coming,” he answered. “That whistle is her warning signal.”

The soldier rapped a tree trunk with a branch. Jaron listened as several others took up the call to arms. He smiled at the simple, yet effective means of communication, wondering what the soldiers had thought of it. This probably wasn’t the first time they had fought in the trees.

Ivy circled again, whistling. Her flights were getting shorter as the approaching army neared. A smile teased Jaron’s lip. He’d take any advantage he could over Dorrall. Another of the dragon’s whistles announced the arrival of the army, baring Manlea’s standard.

“Phoenix save us,” the soldier muttered from the neighboring tree.

“Remember,” Jaron said, “they’re just farmers.”

“I don’t recall farmers plowing with swords.”

“They don’t. Which means they don’t know how to handle one,” Jaron kept his eye on the hesitating army.

He scanned their partially dismantled camp. Outwardly, there was nothing suspicious aside from the fact it was empty. There were no horses or soldiers visible, only an occasional bucket or spear pike. He wondered what Dorrall must be thinking.

In front of the mounted ranks, a single man raised a hand, signaling the troops to advance. Dorrall...

Jaron watched as they splintered into two groups. One circled to the north before entering the camp, while the main body marched straight ahead. The two groups entered the camp, weaving around the remains of the tents.

Ivy screeched from somewhere above. Jaron raised his bow, took aim and released. The bowstring twanged as the arrow sailed out of the trees. It whistled through the air, striking a soldier in the neck.

The horse reared, letting the soldier roll to the ground. Nearby soldiers watched in shock, unsure what had happened. Before they could react, a volley of arrows descended from the trees. Some bounced off plated armor, but most struck deep in their targets.

“They’re in the trees!” Dorrall yelled. “Get out of range!”

Another volley whistled, striking the retreating army. Ivy screeched again. The tents came alive as horses and riders leapt out of the trenches. Some raised their swords, others grabbed hold of their waiting spears. Dorrall’s troops were caught off guard by the sudden attack.

“To arms!” Dorrall ordered his motley group. Many struggled to free their weapons as the soldiers swarmed into the ranks like a flood.

From the trees, Jaron watched as swords clashed. Frightened horses bolted away from the battle. Dorrall’s troops rallied to push back their adversaries. Jaron and the archers notched their arrows and released another volley. As men fell, several of Dorrall’s forces unrepentantly retreated. They were only farmers and untrained in the art of dieing.

Gambler whinnied, shaking his head as if demanding Jaron take up a sword of his own. Leaving the bow, Jaron climbed down from his perch and onto the stallion’s saddle. He felt the equine’s muscles tense, eager for battle.

“Jaron, where are you going?” a soldier asked as he sent another arrow into the fray.

“Give me your sword,” Jaron reined in his anxious mount.

“What?”

“I’m going after Dorrall. If we don’t kill him today, he’ll find us later. He knows where the training meadow is, remember? Throw down your sword.”

The soldier hesitated but obeyed. It stuck in the needle-covered ground, glinting in the filtered light. Gambler side-stepped to the sword. Jaron leaned down and yanked it free.

“Are you sure you know what you are doing?” the soldier asked from above.

“Yes,” Jaron felt the comfortable weight in his hands. “Don’t let up with the arrows.”

Gambler leapt forward with the barest of encouragement, running straight into the battle. He skirted small skirmishes. One knight singled him out and attacked.

Jaron parried as Gambler pivoted. He shifted, thrust and cut. Jaron gritted his teeth as he countered the knight’s swipes. He needed to get to Dorrall. They had caught their enemy off-guard, but it was still possible for the other side to rally and overrun them.

Crying in rage, the knight swung his sword wide. Gambler sidestepped to avoid and gave Jaron his opening. His blade sunk into the knight’s neck and the body went limp. The other horse bolted when it felt its rider slump. Jaron reined Gambler around, looking for Dorrall. Dust was rising over the battlefield, making it impossible to see through the haze.

Gambler snorted, dancing in a tight circle while Jaron tried to get his bearings. The stallion’s ears flicked, and it suddenly leapt forward. Jaron nearly fell out of the saddle with the sudden jerk. Reclaiming a secure seat, Jaron pulled the stallion up. Gambler grunted, shaking his head.

Above them, he heard a whistle and recognized it as Ivy’s. Gambler whinnied and started after it. Allowed his head, the stallion weaved between skirmishes. Jaron peered through the haze and finally saw his goal, seeing Dorrall slice through another opponent. Gambler leapt over a crumpled tent as the soldier fell.