[hider=Betrayed: Part III]

[right][h3]General Hycis[/h3][/right]
[hr]

The sand was cool against his back, the sky above him blanketed with clouds that grew steadily darker as a storm began to blow in from the sea. He could feel the breeze, even through the high bulwark of sand and corpses that served as his final line of defence. The heavy gusts had driven the Akaiban ships to anchor for fear of being driven into the shallows and the flatbows, more often than not, found their missiles being snatched away before they could find the intended target.

An Imperial banner, jammed into a pair of corpses, snapped bravely in the wind, flaunting the existence of the survivors to their enemy. It was an enemy that little could be seen of. The retreat had finally come to a halt in the scrub grass that bordered the white sand beach and frantic digging, using helmets and breastplates for shovels, had managed to create a crude bulwark above the high tide line. Working parties had pulled the dead from the sea and the dying from their ranks to build the bulwark higher still until an elf could safely crawl on all fours without fear of being hit by an enemy missile. They had even become accustomed to the odd groan or plea for help from those they has used to strengthen the defences.

“M’lord.” A soldier scurried along through the sand that had burnished his platemail shin-guards to an eye hurting shine. “M’lord.” He called again quietly. It was unlikely that the Akaiba knew where Hycis was, let alone if he was alive, but there was no sense in taking chances.

“Here.” Hycis hissed, waving his hand to attract the soldiers’ attention. The elf slithered into the crater Hycis and his bodyguard had dug, offered a quick salute, and then gestured down the length of the trenchline.

“I did a count, as you ordered. I put our numbers at two thousand, give or take a hundred. Many are wounded. But all can fight. They all WILL fight!” He said the last few words with a passion that made Hycis smile. It faded quickly however as the import of the numbers sank into his brain. He had less than two percent of the soldiers he had started with, and there was no hope of relief. 

General Taketora stood beneath the waving tree branches, his eyes fixed on the insolent Elven banner that floated above the makeshift wall of sand and corpses. He was aware of the storm that was brewing and had already soundly cursed the wind that made any sort of archery impossible.  To rout the elves out would cost human lives, lives that were desperately needed back home.

The messenger had reached him two days ago, during the long pursuit. The armies of the Imperium had smashed Beival, as anticipated, but with far fewer losses than hoped for.  Already they were moving west, convinced that Hycis and his ilk would help them in springing the trap that he had already undone.  His men needed time to rest and refit, time to drink and eat, and that time was swiftly slipping away. While the storm served to prevent his archers from wrecking havoc on the survivors, it also provided shade and soon, fresh water. 

Even a two-day delay was to more than he could afford. He would have no choice but to order his men to attack the barricades. At least he could give them every advantage possible.

“Keikan-san,” He gestured for the nearby Rune-Lord to join him. “What can you do to help my men right now if I order an attack?”

The woman stared through narrowed eyes at the ragged but formidable barrier for a long moment and then a small smile turned up the corner of her mouth. “I can give them a doorway through.”

“Nothing else?” Taketora was famous for demanding much of his subordinates. 

“I am afraid that many of my other options will be effected by this wind, Taketora-sama.” The raven haired head inclined in a small bow. 

“Then prepare your spell.” Snarled the General as he turned and waved two crouching officers toward him. They leapt to their feet and hurried forward, bowing to him with correct depth. Young eager eyes shone from behind their red masks. “Make your men ready. Keikan-san is going to open a path. I will follow and we will take the beach.”

“Yes, Taketora-sama.” The two said in unison, hurrying away toward the soldiers who sheltered from the wind behind the thick brush that edge the scrubland beyond. To Taketora it looked as though the entire landscape began to move as signal paddles flashed in the gathering shadows.

Hycis felt rather than heard the movement of the samurai. The reverberation in the earth sending small trickles of sand cascading down from the barricade. He felt a sick sensation in his stomach. This was the end. The enemy was coming.

“Father?” His eldest son, a bloody scab across one cheek, reached out and took his hand. The two clasped armoured fists for a moment and Hycis could not help but wonder what sort of leaders his children would have made had he not led them to this end.

“They are coming.” Hycis whispered. Then, with more vigour, he shouted along the trench. “They are coming!”

Taketora could see shapes moving along the top of the trench. The curve of helmets and shoulders as the elves sensed the movement of thousands of samurai. He didn’t bother to look at the Rune-lord or his own men as he stepped out of the trees and into the clear. He could feel rain begin to spatter against his armour and he drew the killing sword from his waist and raised it high.

Hycis watched the blade glitter even in the failing light. Heavy raindrops slammed into the sand all around him, almost like tears, and he could not help but admire the courage of the man in front of him. His armour was ornate, his bearing proud, this was a man to be feared and respected. Perhaps, in another life, they might have been allies.

He drew his own sword, hefting his battered shield, and glancing around him at his sons. Only three remained but none looked afraid as they followed his example. All along the trench he could see soldiers preparing for this, their final battle. It almost seemed, for a moment, as if time slowed.

A wounded elf, one hand gone, tightened the strap of his helmet. Another, an eye covered in a mask of blood, was piling spears next to him. Still others hugged, gripped hands, and, in some cases, embraced as lovers would. So many lives yet unlived. And for what?  

For the first time in his life he found himself wondering why the Imperium had come to Seikatsu. He had been told that they needed new lands to conquer, new lands to populate, but at what cost? He had led eighty thousands men into battle and he doubted any of them would see home again. Could the armies that remain sweep aside the Akaiba? In his heart of hearts he did not think so. 

“Akaibaaaaa!!” The roar rose from the forest and Keikan stepped forward, raising two palms toward the beach. She muttered swift words and the runes all across her body flared blue, a sudden blast of light against the black forest. A pulse of energy hurled forth from her hands and slammed into the barricade. Bodies, both living and dead, were hurled through the air as a breach was opened. It was all Taketora needed.

“SADATAKE!” He screamed the name of his Shogun into the gathering storm and charged. Behind him thousands of samurai echoed his cry until the whole beach shook with it, the drum of their feet drowning out even the sound of rain that suddenly burst upon them in a might deluge. 

“To me! Sons of the Imperium!” Hycis gave cry and stood at last, stepping forward so that his shield was above the wall of corpses. It seemed as though the entire forest was moving forward, red armoured samurai swarmed across the land, trampling the scrub grass flat, their war cry rolling over the elves like a wave.

The elven cheer was feeble in comparison, but at least they did not run. Spears, long husbanded for this moment, floated out from the elven lines to crash into samurai and sand alike. Akaiban’s fell here and there, armoured shapes crashing to the sand, blood washed away instantly by the pouring rain. 

Taketora’s calves burned from the effort of running, every two steps forward seemed to result in one step backward as the sand shifted underfoot. He ducked a well-thrown spear, knocked another from the air with his sword, and then he was into the gap made by Keikan-san. 

An elf, his face half covered in a mess of bloody scabs, screamed and lunged a spear toward Taketora gut. He tried to side step, slipped on the sand, and was pushed aside by other samurai as they swarmed through the gap. The spearelf died, his face laid open to the bone, as a sword hacked down.

Hycis watched the Samurai General, first through the breach, slip and then be pushed aside by his fellows as they killed the elf who had lunged so bravely with his broken spear. The Samurai turned toward Hycis as two others pulled their General to his feet.

His son, he could not tell them apart in their armour, leapt forward and drove his blade toward the samurai who now came toward them. The leading man turned the blade with ease and chopped his sword down so that an elven head rolled into the mud. It had looked easy, like killing an ox.

His eldest, he had not left his fathers side, snatched up a spear and hurled it with brutal force at the samurai who gave a surprised grunt, staring down at the weapon that burst through his chest, before toppling into the mud. 

Taketora saw the samurai die, the spear sticking up from his chest like some branchless tree. A dozen or so elves faced him, but one of them, his armour and weapons finer than the others, caught his eye.

“I want him alive!” He pointed with his sword, his words a roar, as samurai went to avenge their dead comrade. “Alive!”

Hycis could not ignore the sword that had singled him out. He could not understand the words but he could guess their meaning easily enough. He hefted his sword, brought his shield up in front of his body and began to crab walk across the bottom of the trench now slick with blood of the dead and dying.

In the end, his heroics served him little good. The samurai, rested and unwounded, quickly overwhelmed the pitiful survivors in the trench. Hycis and his sons managed to kill a pair of the samurai before they sensibly withdrew and hedged him in on all sides with long spears, constantly jabbing from every angle until he wanted to cry with frustration.

The rain thickened, as if such a thing were possible, and the bottom of the trench filled rapidly until he was knee deep in bloodied water. He watched in fascination over the rim of his shield as the samurai drowned wounded elves in muddy water, holding them down until their feeble struggles stopped. 

The ring of spears slowly tightened until Hycis and half a dozen elves, his two remaining sons included, were pressed so close together they could not use their swords.

“I want the General alive.” Taketora stood on the top of the trench, staring down at the wretched collection of elves. This was all that remained of their vaunted army. It was a small part, but every dead elf was one less to attack Akaiba. “Kill the rest.”

The spears hammered forward and Hycis screamed as his sons died beneath the reaching blades. The few survivors around him were quickly disarmed or killed until he stood alone. He wept in frustration as he raised his sword and prepared to die with honour.

He never saw the spear shaft that crashed into the back of his helmet, pitching him forward into the bottom of the trench. He felt water in his mouth for an instant and then the world went black. [/hider]