Just over two weeks later, a lone scout rushed into the compound of an outpost far to the south of Weeping Tree. He was the last in a network of Wood Elven runners who had been carrying an urgent message from outpost to outpost, until this runner finally reached the intended destination—the only human outpost in the forest. He asked to see the commanding officer and was taken immediately to Alayna’s office.
“A message from the high lord,” reported the scout, holding out a sealed paper to her.
“Thank you,” she answered, taking it from him. “Now please, go join the boys for a hearty meal and get some rest. I will be sending a reply shortly.”
Alayna stood for a moment, looking at the royal seal on the note. What would it be this time? Every order from high Lord Aden meant the loss of a few more of her boys, although the ones who had survived until now were skilled warriors and no longer boys at all.
Alayna had tried to prepare the boys as quickly as she could, knowing that Lord Aden would be eager to be rid of them, but he had started using them in raids and to police the forest far too early. In the early years, they lost so many boys due to inexperience and lack of training, and she had taken every loss as a personal tragedy. Alayna had become a surrogate mother to all of the boys, but she knew if she refused Lord Aden’s demands, he would close the outpost and destroy the boys for what she had already taught them. The best she could do was train them hard and do her best to have them ready for anything he put them to.
She was mother, teacher, and commanding officer to the boys and she spent much of the early years teaching them the Elven language and the skills of survival, hunting, and archery. As they had grown and improved, she taught them battle tactics and Elven swordplay.
It saddened her to remember how savagely the high lord had misused them in the early years, but even the youngest of the surviving boys were now skilled veterans, each having killed dozens of trespassers and participated in many border skirmishes. She had watched them grow from traumatized young boys to competent and skilled soldiers, and she was proud of them all. She was especially proud of Donovan, who had remained one of her favorites through the years, and whose archery and Elven swordplay was the best Alayna had ever seen, even amongst her own people.
She had been thinking, for a long time now, about a way to get them out of the Wood Elven forest before the high lord could manage to get them all killed in battle. Now as she stood reluctant to open the note in her hands, she wondered if she were too late.
Lord Aden’s message was short and brisk. Head directly west and cut off any enemy retreat. He did not say who the enemy was or how large a force they might expect. And it didn’t make sense. The Rangers patrolled the western forest heavily. How could an enemy force of any size be traveling there without already being detected? She frowned and read the short note again, hoping to puzzle some clue from the words, but then sighed and set it down. The message was clear enough; there was nothing to do but follow it.
Alayna went in search of Donovan, who was her second-in-command, and Akenji, who was her third. She had taught all of the boys the importance of the command structure, no matter how big or small the command, and none had ever questioned her choice in making Donavan and Akenji her leaders.
Donovan, now twenty-two years old, was six feet tall, with a lithe build and a natural athleticism that served him well on the battlefield. He was a good-natured and fearless young man, and a natural leader. His light-brown eyes always held some hidden amusement, and Alayna was very fond of him, treating him as her own son.
Donovan was rarely found without his childhood friend, Akenji. Akenji, at twenty-one years, had grown up to become the largest of all the remaining human Rangers. Towering over the others at six foot seven, he commanded attention without even trying. His brown skin, piercing gray eyes and black hair, which he kept very short at all times, added to his formidable appearance. His father, Deonock Stonehorn, was one of the twelve great chieftains of the Eknockoha-rry tribes, the ferocious rhino herders of the Kshearry plains, far to the south. Akenji was descended from a long line of warriors and he looked the part in every way. The two were like brothers and looked out for each other at the outpost and in battle.
Donovan and Akenji wasted no time getting the thirty-two other Rangers ready for combat, starting with a trip to the small weapons armory that the Rangers had collected and built up over the past ten years. The amount of weaponry they had been able to obtain was quite staggering as there was always some sort of misfit or rogue slaver trespassing into the high lord’s domain. Over the years, they had collected the weapons of their dead foes and used them for themselves since the Elven made weapons did not always meet with the combat skills that they were now capable of as adult human warriors.
The most commonly made Elven sword was the saber, with blades that curved at the tip. They were fine weapons, but required more speed and accuracy than most of the human Rangers were capable of. All of Alayna’s boys were properly trained in the use of these Elven swords, but many chose not to use them in battle, preferring the heavier weapons they had obtained from their enemies.
Most of the Rangers armed themselves with the long swords that were most commonly used amongst the nomadic slavers and in the Wildlands. A few, including Akenji, preferred a double-bladed dwarf-made ax, which he used in combat with brutal efficiency. Almost all of the human Rangers carried Elven-made short swords and daggers as their secondary weapon, and they were all skilled in the use of the Elven-made bows. Wood Elven bows were the finest bows in all of Ryyah, capable of greater distance and accuracy than those made by any other nation in existence.
Donovan’s choice of weaponry was a bit different from his comrades. Like the rest of the Rangers, he opted for foreign-made weaponry, even though he could use the Elven sabers with greater speed and accuracy than most Elves. His preference was a dwarf-made, two-handed broadsword made of dwarf steel and about five feet in length. Donovan was savagely efficient in the use of this weapon in battle. He also carried an Elven-made short sword with a two-foot long, thin, curved blade, a Wood Elven-made short bow and an Elven-made dagger on him at all times.
Thirty minutes after Alayna gave the order, the men were armed, supplied and ready to begin heading west.
They had been moving west for nearly two weeks when they came upon the first signs of a recent, massive movement of men.
After studying the boot prints in the torn forest floor, Donovan announced, “These are not Elven males. They are human… and there are a lot of them. We’re dealing with a human army, most likely slavers.”
Akenji agreed. “They’re heading southwest,” he added.
“We’ll follow them,” ordered Alayna. “We must move quickly. If they have Elven prisoners, we need to find them before they reach the Wildlands.”
Alayna and her command closed ground on the larger army until, five days later, the slavers were in sight. She ordered the men to fall back and await her orders while she, Donovan and Akenji crept forward and spread out for a closer look.
Donovan frowned as he looked over the large clearing where the slavers had set up camp for the night. There have to be at least 2,500 men here, he thought. It was a troubling sight. It was the largest slaver army he had ever seen. They seemed to be getting more organized.
When he spotted the prisoners, an old anger burned deep in his belly and he was surprised to find himself trembling. Most of the Elven females had their hands bound. Many bore the bruises of recent beatings and mistreatment and several of the women had their clothing torn. It was their faces that bothered him the most, though. Most seemed to be in a state of shock, their eyes sad and glazed with fear. How long had they been on the move? They were clearly exhausted. Looking at them brought back the voices of his past, the animal terror in his mother’s eyes that day, the screams. Donovan tore his eyes from them and spotted Alayna several yards away.
Donovan gave her the Elven hand signals for 300 prisoners and over 2,500 fighting men. Alayna nodded and signaled for them to back off. Back with the command, she ordered her scouts to get a message to the high lord that they had located the enemy army and that their numbers were at least 2,500 strong. We will continue following but will not engage until your arrival, she wrote, then signed and sealed the message and sent it off with her scouts.
Two days later, the scouts returned with word from the high lord. Direct order. Royal Army one day north, closing ground. Engage enemy and slow them down until army arrives.
Alayna frowned as she read the order. The high lord had issued them a death sentence, and they both knew it. There was no way her small command could engage so many soldiers without being destroyed in the process. To engage would mean death by the enemy’s hand. To disobey a direct order from the high lord would be treason, and would ensure their death as traitors. She would rather die fighting. She crumpled the note and began to formulate the best strategy she possibly could.
She had her soldiers split into groups of ten, each group led by a commander—Donovan, Akenji, and herself. The two scouts were given the duty of reconnaissance. They were to follow and keep the rest of them apprised of the enemy army’s position at all times.
“You two, take your commands further south and set up separate ambushes along the trail. We’ll ambush from a distance and withdraw into the forest as the enemy moves to defend itself. Draw as many soldiers as you can into the forest and deal with them there. Do not engage the army directly. Am I clear?”
“Aww, I was looking forward to giving these halfwits a taste of me,” teased Donovan.
Alayna didn’t smile. “Promise me, both of you,” she insisted, and it was a mother’s plea more than a commander’s order. “Do not engage this army unless it is absolutely necessary.”
Donovan looked at Akenji and back to Alayna, all playfulness gone from his expression. He had rarely seen her so anxious. Both “boys” nodded their understanding and turned to the south. Alayna took her band of ten and moved in on the army from the rear.
For the rest of that day, the human Rangers and Alayna ambushed the enemy army and then disengaged, fleeing back into the denser woods beside the trail. Many enemy soldiers were killed as they followed the mysterious assailants into the forest, and Alay-na’s goal of slowing the army down while keeping her boys safe was working.
All was going well until the enemy commander gave orders to refrain from engaging or chasing the Rangers into the woods. Instead, they were to use their shields to endure the harassment and allow the archers, who he set up behind the soldiers, to fire at anything suspicious in the trees.
It was Alayna’s group who ambushed next, and she watched as two of her young soldiers were slain due to the change in enemy tactics. She quickly sent word to Donovan and Akenji to fall back and rejoin her. She needed to make a serious change in plans. Her tactics would have given the Royal Army time to draw nearer, but it would likely not reach them until the next morning. They needed to stop the enemy army before it could reach the Wildlands…, less than a day away. On open ground, the Elven army would be sure to suffer much greater losses than in the forest. It was time to engage them full on!
By the time Akenji and Donovan made it back to her, Alayna had her next strategy planned out.
“One group will engage the enemy from behind,” she told them. “The other two will flank each side and attack from a distance. This way, we should be able to break the enemy formation and slow them down long enough for the Royal Army to reach them in time.”
“I will lead the engaging command,” Donovan volunteered, understanding that whoever went in would not be coming out.
Alayna smiled at him and sighed. “I decline your request. I am pulling rank on both you and Akenji. I will lead the assault. Then, perhaps, some of us will make it back.”
Donovan and Akenji both began to argue with her.
“I am the most skilled warrior here,” said Donovan angrily. “If I am in the assault group then it will have a better chance of success.”
Akenji agreed. “Yes, that makes sense. If we make a group of our best warriors—myself, Donovan, and some of the others—then the group that engages will have a better chance of succeeding. With you leading the others from the side, we’re sure to break them up and slow them down. It could work,” he insisted.
Alayna listened patiently to their arguments, but would not budge in her decision. The assault group would not come out alive, and she would not stand on the sidelines and watch her “sons” die.
“We’re doing it my way,” she finally commanded. “And I will accept no dissension!”
Donovan and Akenji were not happy with the decision, but knew there was nothing more they could do to convince her.
“We’ll cover you as best we can,” promised Donovan.
Alayna chose only five men to accompany her in the attack. “We’ll be more maneuverable that way,” she lied. The others went with Donovan and Akenji to get in position on the flanks of the slaver’s army.
When they were in position and ready to attack, Alayna turned to the five men she had chosen. “You are brave, my boys, and I am sorry for having to lead you to your deaths, for none of us are likely to come out of this alive. I am so proud of you and your lives will not be lost in vain. Those Elven women will have you to thank for their freedom and their lives, and so, hopefully, will your brothers. Be strong. Fight hard. This may be the greatest battle of your lives.”
With that, Alayna ran into the enemy lines, swinging her Elven saber with deadly precision. Her five Rangers, inspired and honored to serve, attacked as though they were possessed, and Donovan and Akenji’s groups opened fire, picking off soldiers as they tried to encircle Alayna and her men.
As Alayna had hoped, the soldiers were completely caught off guard and disarray quickly spread throughout the ranks. Men scattered, unsure of who to attack first, or even where the side attacks were coming from. Alayna knew their advantage wouldn’t last long and called out for her men to fight hard while they had the chance.
Word of the attack eventually reached Garock the Strong and, assuming that the Royal Army had caught up with them, he swiftly gave orders for the soldiers to reform and hold their ranks. He walked back to the rear lines and saw that it was not the Royal Army causing all the problems after all, but a mere handful of pesky Rangers.
“Hold formation,” he ordered again, and he began walking through the lines and handpicking fifty of his best-trained men. Garock personally led the men forward through a fearsome barrage of enemy arrows. At the order to charge, the fifty men roared toward Alayna and her five men. It wasn’t long before the first of the five Rangers went down.
Forty minutes later, Alayna was the only one remaining. She was surrounded on all sides. A soldier attacked from behind; she quickly twirled aside, bringing her saber up around her and thrusting it into the eye holes of the soldier’s helmet. She dropped his limp body in the path of her next attacker, causing him to stumble. The man regained his footing, then lifted his weapon above his head and swung it downward, aiming for Alayna’s head. At the same time, another soldier lunged for her. Alayna timed the attacks and deliberately walked into one, reaching up to grip the attacker’s wrist with one hand, while jabbing her saber underneath the man’s helmet and slicing into his unguarded throat, twisting the blade and ripping it out. She twisted the man’s body into the path of her other opponent’s blade, and while his blade was embedded into the dead man’s body, she skillfully sliced into her enemy’s exposed neck.
Alayna looked around her to find that all the other soldiers had fallen back. She took advantage of the lull to catch her breath and prepare herself for a renewed attack. A giant of a man made his way toward her, armed with a shield and a double-bladed ax. A fresh wave of arrows rained down around him, but he fended them off almost casually.
“You must be the commander,” he growled, eyeing her coldly. “It’s a shame that you’re such a skilled warrior because now I have to kill you and I’d really much rather have you in my bed. But I guess we can’t always get what we want, can we?” He gave her a grotesque smile.
Out of nowhere, he began swinging his blade in a furious, chopping fashion, leaving her no choice but to spend all of her energy defending herself, dodging his blows and twisting out of his path. She was tiring and knew that if this went on much longer, she would die. A small part of her welcomed death and the chance to join her mate, but she didn’t want to go this way, at the hands of this monster who had brought so much misery to her people.
With renewed determination, she began to back step and circle around towards the other men, putting them on her flanks. The soldiers tried, as she hoped they would, to capitalize on the opportunity for a quick kill. One soldier charged her from the side; Alayna stepped back and let the oncoming man occupy her former space. The man stepped in just in time to meet a furious barrage of blows from Garock’s ax.
When Garock realized what he had done, he cursed the bumbling fool’s idiocy. A moment later, he was blocked again by another soldier, and then another and another. He threw his soldier’s bodies off of him furiously and yelled out, “Enough! She’s mine.”
This Barbarian has a modicum of intelligence, thought Alayna, and she knew this was not to her advantage.
Garock rushed at her again with a ferocious shield slam, knocking her to the ground. He followed through with an ax blow that narrowly missed her. As she rolled away, she twirled her legs, kicking Garock in the shins and causing him to lose his balance. She hopped to her feet, now on the offensive again, and began a flurry of thrusting sword attacks to his momentarily unguarded flank. Garock recovered his balance and shifted his shield just in time to meet her oncoming attack. He hit her with another shield slam that flattened her to the ground, then brought the rim of his shield down on her head, leaving her dazed and wobbly.
Alayna began to fight frantically, then. She had blood in her eyes and could not see clearly. Garock’s shield slammed into her, knocking her down once again. She rolled away and barely missed being hit with yet another crushing blow, and kicked Garock’s shin again. This time, though, he had braced himself and her efforts had no effect. Garock countered, bringing the shield rim down on her sword arm, causing her to drop her weapon. Garock tossed his shield aside, picked Alayna up as though she were a child, and headbutted her with his helmet, instantly breaking her nose.
Alayna was knocked nearly unconscious, but began fumbling around for her dropped blade. She knew she was about to die—she just wished that it didn’t have to be by this creature.
Garock towered over her with his ax and said, “You know, it doesn’t have to end this way. I’ll spare you if you promise to be my personal whore. It would be a shame to waste such a pretty and feisty little thing like you.”
Alayna looked up at him and remembered one of the Elven Proverbs she was taught as a young girl. “It is better to die doing what one loves, then to live doing what one hates,” she quoted. Then she spit in defiance at Garock’s offer and closed her eyes to avoid seeing the final blow as it came down on her and severed her head.