[hider=Betrayed: Part II]
[right][h3]General Hycis - Keraam South Coast[/h3][/right]
[hr]
General Hycis slumped in his saddle, his body jolting with every staggering step his mount took as they hurried southward. All around him, everything but their weapons abandoned, stumbled remnants of his once proud army. Their uniforms were dirty and torn, much of their armour was missing, and nearly all were wounded. A far cry from the mighty force that had landed a mere three weeks before on the coast of Noiba with banners flying and trumpets baying.

Hycis himself was wounded, half his face covered in a bloodied bandage that itched something fierce. An arrow had slashed down the left side, nearly taking his eye, and slicing off the bottom of his ear. A mage priest had done his best to staunch the bleeding by binding the wound and applying a healing spell, but he had refused any further help, insisting that the more gravelly wounded receive proper treatment.  The bandage and charm had done much to staunch the bleeding but did nothing for the searing headache and itch that never seemed to diminish. Even now, he wanted to scratch it the itch, to pick at the forming scab, but restrained himself, it would do no good and the mage priest had warned him of possible infection. 

The narrow track his army now retreated down was one of two, both little more than cart tracks that led toward the sea. He had seen the remains of several small villages and suspected that this part of Noiba had been largely abandoned during the previous war. Little more than foundations remained now, maybe a broken fountain to hint at a town square. Of the wood and paper houses so famous among the Iba, there was no sign. Only once did they come upon a stone structure, a small castle with one entire wall gaping whose gatehouse stood empty, the gateway and upper arrow slits making it look like some monstrous head half covered in green ivy. 

He felt tears prick the corner of his eye as he thought about what had occurred. The Iban had stolen the march on him, arriving rested and ready when his elves were exhausted and bloodied. Only the determined and spirited rearguard action of the remaining elven cavalry had kept the Iba from completely rolling over the survivors. That rearguard was led by his eldest son. The two has clasped arms before the cavalry rode away, pledging to meet again at the main army. Both men knew it was a façade. They would be lucky if any of them returned home. 

Camp followers mixed with the retreating soldiers. Blacksmiths, cooks, laundry folk, the families and his soldiers, all of them pushing south through the thick forest in hopes of reaching the sea, and so too the navy. Younglings were among the crowd, some crying, some to tired to cry, others simply lying down at the side of the roadway despite their parents pleas to continue. Those who did not move under their own power were left for the advancing Iba. Hycis was under no illusions. The Iba would not be taking prisoners. 

A sudden cheer and the sound of steel echoed through the trees and the crowd surged forward, eager to escape the pursuing enemy. Screams, shouts, and cries for help seemed to come from everywhere as small parties of Iban troops slipped through the wood and ambushed the column at every opportunity. They largely left Hycis alone, his bodyguard was well armed and relatively fresh. The light troops who stalked them now chose to attack easier targets.

Hycis turned his head wearily to watch as an elven soldier, his hand severed at the wrist, struggled to tie off the stump with a belt. He made eye contact with his General and offered a solemn nod as he took the belt between his teeth to pull it tight. Hycis wanted to go to the soldier, offer him his aid, but knew it was pointless, there was nothing he could offer the soldier. The elf was going to die. He knew it, and the General knew it, it was only a matter of time.

 “Samurai!” The cry came from close at hand and Hycis sat up in his saddle, dragging his blood crusted sword free as he wheeled to face the cry. A small group of the red armoured enemy crashed out of the wood on foot, their battle cry “Ibaaa!” ringing in his ears as they fell upon a unit of elven infantry. 

The skirmish was short and vicious. The samurai retreated into the wood before Hycis and his bodyguard could mount a proper charge, leaving a scattering of dead elves with twice as many wounded. The enemy didn’t lose a man. It was a pattern that had repeated itself a hundred times in the past twenty four hours as the elves pushed south. They were permitted no sleep, no rest, not even the time to take a piss. If you stopped, you died. Archers stalked the column at every turn and anyone who halted made an inviting target. 

“Father.” The gentle voice of his eldest surviving son. A canteen was being held out to him and he gratefully took it, swallowing down the lukewarm water without complaint. This at least they had plenty of. Seikatsu was a land of endless streams and small brooks that an elf could use to refill his canteen. A small mercy he supposed. 

“Thank you.” Hycis passed the container back after splashing some on his face. An aide was dispatched to find more water further up the track. He too was exhausted but to stop was to die.

“Samurai!” The cry again and this time the enemy came to close. They burst from the trees to charge into a small knot of heavy infantry. A close quarters fight began in earnest and Hycis saw an opportunity for some small revenge. 

His sword was still drawn and he raised the point even as he urged his tired mount forward. The beast tossed its head but managed to lumber into a quick trot. He felt his lips peel back from his teeth like some feral beast as he gave a formless scream and charged.

A samurai looked up just as Hycis’s mount caught him under the chin with one huge horn, tossing the human like a ragdoll into the wood. Another Iban rolled desperately away before lunging to his feet and straight into Hycis’s sword thrust. The blade smashed the faceplate of his helmet and split his upper lip all the way down his jaw bone. Hycis had a startling view of a pale face, black hair plastered to the forehead with sweat, eyes bulging wide even as the man opened his mouth to scream. He vanished beneath the hooves of the bodyguard before a sound could come out.

Hycis was through the skirmish in an instant and he pulled savagely on his reins, trying to turn his mount for another charge, but the fight was over. The small party of samurai had been slaughtered. A moment of joy in the falling darkness as his men cheered their small victory. It was something. But it was not enough. It would never be enough. For them, it was to late. 

He was thirsty again and looked around for the elf sent to fetch him more water. It took him a moment to find the soldier and when he did, the small joy he felt left him. The elfs body lay half submerged in a nearby stream, a spear sticking up from his back like the mast of a ship. The generals canteen lay in the bloodied water nearby, slowly filling with the reddish liquid. He didn’t have the energy to even curse. He turned and rode away.

It did not take long for darkness to begin to close in. As the sun dropped below the horizon the air instantly began to cool. A small price to pay for the shadows that spread across the land. The Iba did not come in the darkness. No commander with any experience was going to send  small units of men to wander around the forest in the dark.

The pursuit, however, did not end. All the Iba had to do was follow the trail of dead and dying elves that had simply given up. From time to time furious clashes would erupt between the elven rearguard and the Iban vanguard. It was savage close quarter fighting, illuminated by the occasional torch or spell that lit up the heaving black masses of men and elves. It was as though the bowels of hell disgorged the damned. Those who would survive that terrible flight through the woods would never cease to dream of it, waking in cold sweats during the deepest darkness. 

Hycis saw little of it from his position near the head of the column. The elves had better night vision than their human enemies but a bright moon broke through the cloud to cover the landscape in a pale glow. Even so, the Iban attacks were cautious and only in great strength, as they probed forward. The darkness was no friend to anyone and more than a few soldiers were killed by their own side in the confusion.

For those elves able to move under their own power, the darkness was a blessing in disguise. They could see well enough to move with confidence along the narrow tracks and so a small distance eventually grew between the main body of the elves and that of the enemy. Those who could not walk any further were left behind. Hycis did not need to see what happened to know they would be killed when the Iban found them. 

He wept in the darkness, his tears hidden from his soldiers and surviving sons by the veil of night. High General Neldor had entrusted Hycis with the best troops he could provide, and the best officers he had at hand. It had been a gamble and both elves knew it. The dice had come up against them. He ground his teeth even as he cuffed the tears from his cheeks. If he escaped, he would crush the Iba and leave none alive.

Perhaps it was that anger that sustained him through the cold of the night, wrapped only in his cloak and blood caked armour. What little food that remained was doled out among the bodyguard, Hycis insisting his soldiers eat before him. Their gratitude was pathetic to behold but he could not help but smile to himself. With such soldiers, he might have conquered the world. 

The very first glimmer of pink on the horizon brought with it a new breeze tinged with the smell of salt. Hycis felt his heart surge. The sea! The exhausted refugees around him smelt it as well and their footsteps became more confident and they hurried forward. If they could make the coast, they might be able to march east to their ships. He did not think they were far. The coast in this region was one huge white sand expanse, it would not be hard to escape now.

The trees around him began to change now. They were getting shorter, more windswept, proof that the sea was not far away now. The dirt beneath his mounts hooves gradually turned from to sand and the moss of the forest to scrub grass. The cry of gulls and the thunder of waves upon the beach carried to him with the wind. 

He paused, listening for any sound of pursuit. Silence, or the type of silence one could expect from thousands of shuffling feet. But there were no screams, no shouts, no clash of steel. Perhaps the Iban had turned back, or at least waited out the night. It had bought him some time. Perhaps enough to save this tiny remnant of his army. 

“Make way for the General!” The shout preceded him as he rode through the throng toward the sea. The tired survivors parted willingly and he felt himself lighten with joy as the blue ocean at last replaced the endless forest. 

White sand stretched out on either side of him as far as he could see and swarms of birds dove and darted above him. At first he thought that the beach was covered in small black rocks, some larger boulders beyond, and that puzzled him for he did not recall any such beach when they had sailed past here a few weeks before. Perhaps this was a deep bay he had not seen? 

Then, with growing horror, he realized that the rocks on the beach were bodies and the black shapes out to sea were ships, great ships whose hulls jerked and shook beneath the waves that hammered them against the sand bars. A few broken masts rose from the water here and there, the ragged remains of sails flapping uselessly in the breeze. He recognized the shape of the hulls, the deep keels and long swept back sterns. He would never forget them.
He dropped from his mount, his thighs so chaffed her could barely walk, as he staggered down to the waters edge. A groan of despair escaped his lips. The dead who bobbed and jerked with the oncoming waves like grotesque marionettes were elves. Thousands of them, as far as he could see in every direction, the white sand covered in the lifeless shapes of the dead. It took him a moment to realize that some were humans, but they were few, so very few. He wanted to ask how. He wanted to scream, to kick his feet, to tear his hair.

An elf nearby was staring at the sky with a look of surprise on his face. A flatbow bolt stood had taken him under the chin, cutting his helmet strap in the process. The blue features were bloating already, soon he wouldn’t look much like an elf at all. Hycis, his hands in the sand, tears running down his face, finally looked up and out to see. Ships were rounding the headland, low ships driven by oars, and above them, snapping in the wind, were the red dragons of Akaiba. He had found the sea and it belonged to the enemy. He was trapped. 
[/hider]