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Easthaven I
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Thank you both for the compliments. This installment took me a while to write...
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Easthaven I
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Healing wounds, Band of brothers
September 12th /13th 1468AD
Persian Camp
It was a dark night. Hours had past since sun down, and everybody hovered around their campsites groaning, crying, tending to wounds, talking, or sitting in stone stillness. The rain had softened greatly to a mere sprinkle and allowed the poor soldiers on the ground to build their campfires. A few parties were sent out to recover some Persian bodies. One of those recovered was General Mazaeus, his chest was a pin cushion ridden with darts…
“He was a good soldier.” Borio said, remembering old memories he’d shared with his buddy. Emir nodded in agreement, both staring deeply into the campfire.
“Persia has lost one of its sixteen Immortal sons.” Cornelius had said once he received the news. He, Hasduman, Belisarius, Borio and Emir, Datis, Marion, and Otto together buried their old friend despite the wounds they carried. “One day, we shall build a monument here upon our friend’s grave, in testament to his bravery, courage…and sacrifice.”
Philip was eating a piece of stale bread as he leaned against a small boulder staring into the flames. Pavil sat next to him, his arms crossed and heavy bandage wrapping on his head. He, too, stared blankly. Four other soldiers huddled around the campfire as well.
“How can somebody do this for life?” Pavil finally said, breaking the silence. Philip did not look blankly anymore as he secured a train of thought.
“I’m not sure, Pavil. I fear the day we might have to go through that again. I don’t know if I could do it again.” Philip said solemnly.
“Sure you can. You still fight for Persian freedom and your family as you wished to do at the beginning of our journey. I am the one who did want to go through this, I am the one who will probably fail. My bones tremble when I think of experiencing that bloodshed again. I do not know what I am going to do.” Pavil looked at another campfire in the distance, where Borio and Emir sat laughing at some joke. “How do they do it? For a lifetime…it is unthinkable.”
“I don’t know.” Philip looked back into the flames as darkness seeped into his eyes. “Pavil, I fear I am cowardice. Out there in the fight I did not care anymore for Persian freedom. I did not care even for my family. I was so much afraid I pissed myself. And yet I do not know how I stayed and fought as I did.”
“That is as how I felt, Philip. I have never experienced such fear in my life! I fear I, too, have a spirit of cowardice within me.” Pavil said.
Then a voice interrupted their conversation…
“Niether of you are cowards my young persians.” It was Cornelius, making his rounds again visiting his troops.
He grabbed a log that was in the shadows and brought it within the light of the campfire and sat upon it next to Philip and Pavil.
“The feelings and actions you have described are not the ones of cowards, but of the brave. And you still do not understand what these men fight for when they are out there, in the inhumane realms of bloodshed and mayhem. My young companions, what you have felt is what I felt my first time in battle and to some degree every time in bloody combat. But we never fail ourselves. However strong the urge is to run, we do not…that is what is important. You know why we end up staying and fighting instead of running? Listen closely, we fight wars for our country and our families…but we fight battles for our comrades-in-arms. Do you understand? On the battlefield, you must forget your families at home, your country…your king. For you do not fight for them when you are in the midst of the carnage, do not believe those tales of Hercules or Achilles for they are only fiction. My friends, you fight for each other when you are out there. WE fight for each other. All hold the same fears of death, but in the fighting the fear transforms. We still fear death but not for ourselves…but for the man to your left and right. For the man who is fighting next to you…with you…for you.” Cornelius patted Philip on the shoulder and stood up as he smiled. “Wars are fought for the people. Battles are fought for our brothers.”
He stood for a few seconds, allowing his words to soak. Then he walked away into the shadows.
Philip and Pavil did not speak, nor did they even look at each other for the rest of the night. For during those hours they contemplated the words Cornelius told them and concluded that it was the truth. They realized it wasn’t about the nation anymore, as the Russian army stayed encamped a few hundred yards away. As they held together their wounds, they came to the realization that combat was hell beyond contemplation and they feared its experience every second it was reality but they knew they would never run or forsake their duties, for together they found the courage they hungered for. Together that mighty divine power was ever present, Courage. And they knew that as long as they stayed together, Courage would bind them and link them as one chain. A veteran discovers the secret—a man standing alone is insignificant and incapable of valiant heroic actions but a band of brothers standing defiantly together became the heroes and demi-gods of the fairy tales. Within this band each individual strove to preserve the life of the man next to him instead of their own. And this is what made the chain, this bond, strong and resilient beyond the realms of man. This is what courage and bravery was all about. THIS was Honor.
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Easthaven I
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Thanks Mr. Tempor man! Comparison with Tolkien is quite the compliment, whether it was exaggerated or not.
I will write some scenes with more Russian personal involvement and characters and such.
Thanks for the feedback. I'll keep the goods rollin', just keep the feedback comin'.
Anyways I'm glad you enjoy both my stories and sooner or later both will be finished. Just keep reading, bro, for continue I shall.
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Easthaven I
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The Persian Phoenix
September 14th, 1468AD
Persian Camp
Throughout the night the men tended to their wounds. They gathered their weapons and what armor they could find and suited up to do battle again. Many of the wounded and seriously wounded limped to their stations armed and ready to fight and die.
The black night soon lightened to gray as the heavy storm clouds remained solemnly above the gruesome site. Morning was here.
“They’re coming.” General Cornelius said. He stood upon the wall of the camp, Hasduman at his side.
In the distance he could see a dark shadow approaching. It was the Russian army, marching to finish what they started.
All along the wall stood Persian archers, slingers, and spearmen. Down below, behind the General, stood the ranks of Persian swordsmen, beyond exhaustion and misery. The cavalry stood on their wings, ready to exit through the side gates.
Cornelius remained sullen, though did well in hiding it from his men. Despite the tremendous casualties suffered the Russian army still remained a gigantic beast.
“How are your legs?” Hasduman asked.
“They add to my misery, Hasduman.” Cornelius responded.
The enemy army neared.
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Russian Army
The soldiers of the Russian horde were not as confident and invincible as they appeared to the Persians. The men were exhausted also. And they were frightened. Their morale low. One advantage the Persians held above the Russians is that their morale was higher. After the battle many Russians fell to their knees and thanked their god for their salvation, for his mercy. The men were not stupid. They were well aware of the casualty numbers and of the fighting spirit of the individual Persian soldier. After the battle they did not come out with a sense of victory but of sheer lucky survival. They now feared the Persians, no matter how much General Bera reassured them of Persian inferiority.
General Bera marched at the head of his army, his head held high. For now, even though fatigued, the Russian soldiers were somewhat confident after being informed of the current Persian strength. They regained a slight morale boost in witnessing that the Persians were not coming out to meet them as they approached their camp.
“Kutov, be sure to have the ladders ready and the ram manned by the most strongest soldiers. It seems the Persians will not be coming for seconds.” General Bera said.
“Yes, my lord.” Kutov responded.
They arrived within six hundred yards.
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Persian Camp
Belisarius came up to where Cornelius and Hasduman stood. Soon Datis, Borio, Emir, Otto, and Marion were standing side by side. Eight of the sixteen most talented warriors and competent generals stood side by side, covered in blood, ready to do battle. Friends of old, brothers through spirit, fellow soldiers and comrades through memories. All knew very well this day could be there last. Yet they remained…standing defiantly in the face of the most powerful and undefeated empire in the world. Yet not one tear was shed. Instead, smiles were exchanged, a pat on the back, and even a few jokes. How could they stand so courageously? Because they stood…side by side. Each man knew that the man to his right and left would not forsake him, would not ever leave him to fight and die alone.
“So what is the plan, Cornelius?” asked Belisarius. They all stared out at the approaching Russians, swords still sheathed.
After a pause Cornelius responded, “We’re going to fight.”
“And we will live.” Borio continued.
“And we will die.” Hasduman continued after Borio.
Belisarius laughed lightly, not averting his eyes.
“Why do you laugh?” Emir asked, somewhat annoyed.
“Its nothing…just…Hasduman is always so serious. We may very well die in the next few moments and for once, after so many long years, I would like to see him tell a joke. At least once.” Belisarius laughed again.
The others chuckled as well, as they contemplated this and realized he was right. Hasduman was always serious.
“Yes tell a joke, Hasduman.” Otto bellowed. “allow me to die with a smile.”
They all urged Hasduman to tell a joke. It was silly, really. They all quieted down, awaiting Hasduman’s first joke!
“Maybe in Valhalla.” He said simply, his expression remained serious.
The others burst out laughing, however subtle, it was funny enough to satisfy them.
The Russian horns could be heard echoing through the gray moist sky. Six hundred yards away.
“Well Cornelius,” said Belisarius, “its about time for one of those speeches.”
Cornelius seemed to snap out of a trance. He coughed and finally averted his eyes from the horde and looked at his life long friends…he then turned back to the Russians.
“I guess now is where I come up with something inspirational to say, to boil your veins, inflame your spirit…and make you fight like gods.” He unsheathed his sword. The Russians were within four hundred yards.
The Immortal Generals waited, undivided attention was given to their Captain.
Cornelius’ eyes rolled around, as he thought hard. Finally…
“Well…nothing comes to mind. See you in the field or in the underworld, my comrades. And may it be with an infinite number of Russian corpses under our feet.” Cornelius turned away and jumped from the wall. He made his way towards his horse, he would lead a charge through the gates if he decided to order it.
The Immortal Generals stood, caught off guard. Then they burst out laughing once again.
“That was good as any speech I have ever heard.” Emir said laughing, as he made his way towards his station.
The others laughed as well as they gave their last pats on the back and made their way to their men.
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“You ready, friend?” Emir said to Borio. They stood side by side, leading a company of Immortals behind the camp main gate and behind Cornelius and his small cadre.
“What!” Borio said.
“Are you ready?” Emir asked again, not really caring much for the answer. Just passing the time.
“What!?” Borio answered again.
Emir looked at him and saw the bloody pulp at what used to be the place of Borio’s right ear. Emir smiled slightly and walked to Borio’s left and repeated the question.
Borio laughed.
“Yes yes. I am ready as ever, Emir.” He answered smiling.
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Cornelius stood upon his horse, Hasduman at his side. Around them was a company of mounted Immortals. Behind them, another company of Immortals on foot and behind them were the rest of the Immortals. And beyond were the rest of the Persians. The Russians were within three hundred yards. Cornelius was about ready to give the order to open the gates, they would charge full frontal into the Russians. They would not hide behind walls. Belisarius would lead half the cavalry through the right gate and Datis the other half through the left. An all out attack will commence upon the attackers.
“You ready, Hasduman?” Cornelius asked. He was no longer stressing. He felt the calm cool coldness of a true leader as he anticipated combat.
“Yes, Cornelius. I am ready. We all are.” Hasduman responded.
“Good.” Cornelius said.
Then a rider came, a soldier from Belisarius’ cavalry arm.
“My lord! A rider is approaching from our right. It is one of our scouts.”
“He is probably coming to join the battle. If he has anything to say send him straight here, if not, have him join under Belisarius.”
“Yes, my lord.” The rider galloped off, back towards to right gate.
Moments passed. The Russians were within 250 yards and were already showering a few volleys of arrows. They did not have many.
Cornelius waited patiently. He would order the attack when they approach from under 100 yards away.
Then the scout arrived.
“General! An army has approached from the south! 12,000 strong! 8,000 foot 4,000 horse!” the scout yelled, even though he was now no further than a few feet away from the General.
“It must be the unknown army from the clan wars in the south east.” Cornelius said.
“It couldn’t be.” Hasduman said.
“They must have been forced marching since Fort Antioch.” Cornelius thought outloud. “Did you get a good look? Do you know their race?”
“Yes sir, I did.” The scout said as he panted. A smile then appeared across his soot-covered face, “They’re Persians.”
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Russian Army
“Keep releasing the volleys, until all arrows are expended.” General Bera ordered.
“Yes, my lord.”
A rider came.
“General! A Persian army has appeared to our rear!”
“What did you say?!” General Bera wheeled his horse around.
Then he heard it.
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Persian Camp
“Persian!? Under whose command?” Cornelius said urgently.
“Lord Eleazer, General.”
Cornelius’ eyes went out of focus. Then he heard it.
A loud horn blow echoed through the sky and sent vibrations on every soldier’s armor. Only one horn could make that sound. That sound had not been heard since the civil war before the Russians invaded. It was a horn used to rally the Immortals. One man had it in his possession…Lord Eleazer Gordian.
“Open the gates!” Cornelius ordered. After a split second hesitation, the gates slowly creaked open.
Cornelius slowly trotted his horse past the gate. And looked out beyond and beheld past the Russian mass, on the horizon above a small ridge in the distance, a sole man upon a horse. Then slowly thousands of mounted men appeared on the ridge by his side.
The horn blew again.
Then the distant army upon the ridge began to move, with amazing speed and talent. The ranks of the distant Persian riders charged down the ridge, towards the Russian army, they were followed by thousands more. The low rumble shook the earth.
Cornelius wheeled his horse around. And looked at Hasduman with lidless eyes.
“Our Phoenix is Persian, my friend!” he said. He then looked at his men beyond Hasduman.
“Persians! The horn you hear is the horn of Eleazer! He has come with an army of 12,000! The horn you hear is his rally cry! The rumble you feel are the hooves and feet of his army charging our enemy! Follow me! And let us reap victory when the world believed we would reap defeat!” he held his sword above his head and wheeled his horse around.
With a swift kick of his legs his horse jumped forward in full gallop. And like a flood his army flowed out of the gates of the camp to join him.
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Easthaven I
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whoa, thanks for the replies, fellers. I will try another installment today. Sorry for the delay.
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29-04-2003 00:43
Dude, you really put a lot of work into this. The addition of the battle map was a nice touch. Keep the goods coming.
I already have my battle gear ready...
Me want more... 
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