XVI

Adrian sighed as he and Isi walked over towards the tree Emilia was standing at, she was currently leaned up against the old grey bark of the twisted gnarled thing looking out at the swamp proper, as though she was contemplating the meaning of her existence or the reason the swamp was placed here by the gods. The thought brought Adrian up short, he, after all, was not a religious man, he never felt the pressing need to pray, to wonder what the god’s intentions were. If for example they were omnipotent like the priests said and they did indeed dictate the path each and every man led then in Adrian’s opinion the gods were a bunch of dicks, he glanced at Isi who was as always still at his side and revaluated his thought. The gods were usually a bunch of dicks, but occasionally they got somethings right.

“If they exist,” he muttered under his breath, and Isi looked at him with a single eyebrow raised in query, he just answered her silent question with a shrug of his shoulders and kept on walking, not seeing her roll her eyes at him. Emilia didn't look up as he came up beside her, staring out into the cypress dotted swamplands.

“I cannot tell you how to live your life-” she started, obviously going to accuse him of not spending his time wisely, tell him how a Lieutenant should act and all that but before she could really get into it he cut her off.

“I have had roughly 12 hours of sleep in the past four days,” he said, not looking at her. Emilia for her part turned and looked at him. “Of those past four days I have spent one planning, two in skirmishes and the last one healing wounded and burying the dead, I will not apologize if I took some time to relax.”

“Relax?” she scoffed, “you forget Adrian before you met that dark-skinned woman I knew you,” Adrian watched as the good mood quickly drained out of Isi’s face, leaving her with her amethyst eyes slightly squinted. “Let me tell you that there is nothing relaxing about what you do,” she smiled to herself, “enjoyable yes, exciting yes, but relaxing,” she glanced at Adrian again, “ too rough to be relaxing.”

Isi looked like she was about to commit murder but as Adrian stared at Emilia a smile started to break out on his lips and murth bubbled up his throat. Before long he was laughing for all he was worth as was Emilia. “Its good to see motherhood and marriage have not dulled your sharp tongue any,” he said when he could get he breathe again. She smiled at that and nodded, opening her mouth to say something, but as she did her eyes came to rest on Isi, standing there, arms crossed her bone white hair blowing in the breeze the open area of the swamp allowed. And as she did her mouth closed.

“The main body of my men are camped four miles to the east, I would suggest relocating to be within the protection of the fortifications my engineers are currently building,” she said instead. Adrian considered this, his hand resting on his chin as he went over his options, it was a habit both he and his brother shared. And it was one she found rather enduring if she were to be forced to tell the truth.

“That is a sound plan,” he nodded and returned to looking out to the swamps. “It has been rough for us out here, we have been pushing every day but the men are getting tired, you can only push against a wall for so long without it moving before you start to get disheartened.” she nodded.

“What can you tell me about what they are doing here? It seems odd to me that they have yet to push forward, after all with only this,” she glanced around the clearing where his Wolfpack had pitched tents and cookpots and the likes. “They could have easily pushed into Helheim propper and began a skirmish before we could have moved our troops into position.” Adrian sighed and nodded his agreement.

“Yeah, I honestly don't know,” he said with a shrug, “they are building something, several somethings, and they are doing a remarkably great job of keeping us from fully seeing it.” he sighed. “So, what is the plan?” he asked looking at her, already knowing and not liking the answer.

“We push on the morrow, we have everything we need, we know the enemy size and location, sitting around will do us no good,” Adrian felt his heart sink as she said it. “Why do you have a better idea?”

“No, just hoping you did, I need around a hundred or so more men, I’ll take them from my ranks I sent to escort the civilians, we are going to flank them and rip up the right side.” he didn't wait for her to respond he simply turned around and with Isi on his heels, acting as his own personal shadow he left her so that he could go brief his men.

***

The cold of the Hortas river bit into Adrian as he and a group of 150 men pushed their way through it, muskets and powder horn held high above head in an attempt to keep the gunpowder dry. Not far in the distance, the enemy was engaging the bulk of Emilia’s forces, who had put up a defensive position to the south around a quarter mile away. From the sounds of gunshots and the occasional grapeshot fired from the swivel guns she had brought with her, Adrian assumed they had been engaged, and engaged fully. His boots sunk into the mud with each step, the river threatening to claim them permanently by forcefully removing them from his feet, the current of the river, which was mild here pushed him sideways, making crossing the river an ordeal. Every man was tied to two others so that should one lose his footing his fellows could, in theory, pull him back, but Adrian was dubious of the effectiveness, would the falling man not simply aid in pulling others?

He decided to put it out of his mind as he pushed up the far bank, grabbing onto the prickly bushes that seemed to line the shores on the far side and using it to aid him up the rather steep incline. Turning back he reached down and grasped Isi’s hand, hauling the woman out of the water by sheer force of will. She was drenched up past her stomach, but she didn't so much as grimace as he pulled her free of the rather chilly waters. The third man to come up the bank after she was none other than Pock, cussing under his breath as he was helped out of the water by Adrian.

“This damned plan had better work,” he growled under his breath. His words would have gotten him at the very least reprimanded by any other commander but it simply caused a smile to form on Adrian’s lips.

“It will work pock, and you will get to kill yourself a load of whitecoats,” Adrian laughed as he untied the rope around himself.

“Good to hear,” the small scarred man growled.

“Listen up everyone, I want a firing line staggered with a three-shot volley, 40 in each line, first row kneeling, second crouched, third standing, last thirty men in reserve got it?” he yelled, watching as the last of is men struggled out of the water. They already knew the plan, and each man even had been drilled over the past week or so as such that they knew exactly where they were supposed to be when the firing line was formed.

“Yessir!” the replied shout came, issuing from the throats of the men as they all came to attention, now on the enemies side of the river.

“Good, then let us go bloody their side shall we?” he grinned, watching as each and every man grinned back at him in a feral way that would make a man’s skin crawl. The company fell into formation behind him as they made the short treck back towards the fighting, each step bringing the sounds of gunshots and the cries of men wounded louder and louder. It didn't take long to see what was causing that ruckus.

The land in front of him practically writhed with men locked in a mortal struggle as nearly five thousand men faced off against one another. The blue and red of Helheim entrenched on the far side of the Hortas, the hastily constructed earthworks providing the men with a tactical position as twice their number doggedly pushed forwards as though the hounds of hell themselves were nipping at their heels.

Adrian glanced at the men behind him and nodded. “All men in positions!” he barked. The white coats were within firing distance, just under 300 yards away, and they had somehow flanked the enemy. This advantage, however, wouldn't be theirs for long, it simply took time to get that many men moved into position or a formation rotated to effectively protect the flank. In under a minute the Helheim soldiers under his command were in position. “First line!” he called out, eyeing the sea of white soldiers in front of his men when they did respond it was going to get rather ugly rather quickly. “Fire!” A wave of smoke and thunder rolled out obscuring the entire battlefield as 40 muskets spoke in unison. Ears still ringing Adrian counted to five in his mind before barking “Second line! Fire!” the second line of Helheim troops fired, thickening the obscuring cloud of smoke. As he counted he reached into his pocket and pulled out the small tin of reagents scooping out a generous portion of Sulfer and Nitre and a pinch of Cuprum combining the ingredients in his palm. “Third Line! Fire!” he shouted, satisfied as a third volley thundered out.

The wind picked up blowing the smoke away and revealing their handiwork, near eighty men lay dead or dying and a good twenty more were wounded badly enough that they would not be participating in the fight any longer. He crushed his fingers into his palm, the reagents burning through his veins as the arcane power drained energy from him to burn as a fuel for his spell, in a flash of red he swept his arm out across the battlefield, as he did so a red fog began to coalesce, sweeping through the ranks of the white coats. The breeze spreading the miasma deep within their ranks.

“Line One!” he shouted, his eyes fixed on the panicking enemy soldiers in front of him, it had taken them only 45 seconds from the first volley to be prepared for the second round of staggered shot. When the third line fired the first was already reloaded, with the second nearly finished, by the time the first had fired the second was prepared and so on. Like this they could maintain a constant barrage of fire on the enemy flank, effectively cutting down any man that was unlucky enough to be in the line of fire. “Fire!” he barked and watched in satisfaction as the hot lead balls ignited the fog within the Kurtz rank.

Firestorm was one of the few spells that had been preserved despite the calamity that had befallen the Helheim library. In days of old, a mage would prime it and a second would ignite it with a fire spell, effectively causing the caustic fog to combust. With muskets, however, it was not even necessary for there to be a second mage present.

The blast of the fire as it tore through the left flank of Kurtz men was rather awe-inspiring, if also grotesque, near two hundred men were cooked alive as the fire consumed everything, the flames turning people into human torches as they were flung through the air. Those that were not immediately killed by the fire were flung far by the explosion or rained upon by bits of their burning comrades.

“Second Line,” Adrian growled, “Fire,” the guns rang out the song of their work echoing in his head, briefly blocking out the screams of the men that had survived his onslaught. Helheim might be diminished, most of their magic might be lost to the sea, but there were still a handful of spells that would outshine even the best Kurtz sorcerer. After all, they valued quantity instead of quality. “Third Line!” he watched as a company of whitecoats turned and aimed at his men, “Fire, First and second fall back!” he was about to lose men, there had been no way he wouldn't, but the knowledge of that did little to blunt the blow that was about to be dealt against them. “Reserves forward!” he shouted, “Third Line re-” he didn't finish his words, drowned out as the enemy managed a counter attack, nearly two hundred balls of lead flying through the air back at his position. The counter was quick, perhaps a little rushed as a good fourth of the balls fell short or overshot whizzing overhead harmlessly. The rest, however, found fertile ground in his men’s chest. The majority of the reserves as well the third line dropped like flys in a pink mist as led was planted in them. Adrian knelt and fired his own musket, taking a shot as he called out his orders. “Fall back!” he roared, “Fall back!” he turned and saw Isi standing there, she looked at him, before looking down at her hand, which was pressed against the left side of her neck. He felt the world drain of color as red seeped between her fingers, dying the white of her shirt.

“Adri-” she started to say but her eyes rolled back into her head and she fell forward and lay still in the dirt. A primal roar of pain and fear ripped its way out of his throat as he forgot everything else, rushing forward to her side, he scooped up her limp form kneeling there holding her against his chest, his fingers fumbling for the tin of reagents.

“We are falling back Sir!” a man shouted, hauling Adrian to his feet, “Now move your ass sir!” He blinked bleary eyes and looked up into the grim face of Torin.

“If I move now she is dead,” Adrian growled, his shaking hands barely able to open up the tin, he reached bloody fingers in and scooped out Calamine and Cuprum, gathering all the reagents. There was always a risk when you used too many reagents, a risk of backlash but he didn't even think about it as he pulled Isi’s fingers away from the wound. The musketball had carved a finger deep gouge in the left side of her neck, and at the rate, she was losing blood if he didn't do anything soon then he was going to lose her, healing or no.

“How long do you need?” Adrian took the briefest of seconds to look up at the man, he had a determined look in his eyes. “How long?!” He roared leaning over Adrian.

“I need a minute, perhaps a breath more.”

“Then you best get to work,“ he turned away billowing orders for his men to stand firm. Adrian closed his eyes, knowing he might have just traded Torin’s life as well as those of the men he was currently mustering into a defensive line for Isi’s.

The worst part was knowing he would do it all again that he would have no qualms sacrificing twice the number of men, even good men like Torin, just to save her...