Storm's Shadow

[Scriptorian]

As a writer, I suffer from chronic worldbuilding, that is, I can't write until I have the world perfect in my mind. So, in order to practice writting, I decided to steal Sanderson's worlds.

 

 

This is just the beginning to a story idea I have concerning a low-ranked lighteyes who, in his words, is terrible at being a lighteyes.

 

           

            “The land breaks! The light dies! The shadow reigns!” A rasping voice cried out beside Elethel. The man, a dark-eyed solider, died with an arrow in his throat.

            Elethel’s heart pounded thunderously as he sent an arrow through the chest of a spearman who had gotten frighteningly close. The din of battle seemed strangely muted compared to the drumming in his ears.  With barely a conscious thought, he fired another arrow at the approaching wall of soldiers. He and his entire squad of darkeyed archers were about to be overrun.

            His breath came in short, ragged gasps. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Why were none of Highprince Rioin’s spearmen between them and that sea of green? Elethel commanded a unit of elite longbow archers, assigned to take out specific targets, mostly enemy officers. Occasionally they were called on to soften the enemy’s infantry. Never getting close enough to be in any real danger. Certainly not this close to an entire contingent of spearman.

            Something must have gone wrong. Why had Roion’s line of infantry broken so suddenly?  Whatever the reason, he and his squad had been left stranded and exposed, trapped on the rock formation where they had taken up position. Enemy arrows had started peppering their position; Elethel’s horse had already been shot from underneath him, and his second had just died, an arrow to the throat. Sadeas’s entire army seemed to surge closer, sensing easy targets.

            “Continue fire!” Elethel yelled, trying to put authority into his voice. His men were likely as panicked as he was, but a lighteyes should be courages, even when he and his men were about to be slaughtered. Elethel had never been any good at being what a lighteyes should.

Had he made some tactical error? Did he miss an order to retreat? Almighty above, who had thought to put him in command of an entire squadron? He’d always seemed to fail miserably when others had given him responsibility. At least he was consistent.

Stormfather! There was nowhere to run, not unless the rest of their army could manage to retake the lost ground.

            He kept firing, hands unnaturally calm, despite his terror. Draw, pull back, and release. He didn’t miss often. In other circumstances, the rate at which he was ending life would have amazed and sickened him. But for now, he fought for his life, and his men’s. The deadly effectiveness of his squad was manifest in how many spearman were dying from their arrows, but there were simply too many enemies, and too few men left in the squadron. The spearmen were gradually gaining ground.

            Elethel reached for another arrow, and he felt his blood chill. His quiver was empty. The battle had gone on much longer than it was supposed to. There hadn’t been a need to resupply earlier. He glanced back at his men, most were older than him, some by a decade or more. Many had also exhausted their quivers and had their knives out. They squeezed back against the unyielding stone, as if it could shield them from the oncoming slaughter.

            Elethel apprehensively drew his sword from his belt. He was at the front of his men. He would die first, but he would die like a true lighteyes warrior, sword in hand.

            He grimaced. He barely knew how to hold the weapon, let alone make some great last stand. He never liked the idea of personally cutting into another man; such qualms would now expedite his death.

            The enemy soldiers drew nearer. He heard thunder in the distance. Was that a highstorm? He frowned despite himself and looked up past the enemy soldiers. The horizon was cloudless.

            Battle-shock, he thought. I’m just hallucinating. He gripped his sword tighter. The thunder got louder.

            “Sir!” one of his men suddenly cried out from behind him. Elethel was about to turned when he realized Sadeas’ spearmen had turned to the side, no longer focused on his squadron.

The “thunder” boomed as suddenly Highprince Roion’s cavalry charged into the line of spearmen, sweeping them aside like leaves in a highstorm. The enemy line shattered as Roion’s grey-clad lancers crashed through their flank.

            His men cheered. They had been saved.

Elethel felt numb. His arm fell limp and his sword-point hit the ground. The enemy soldiers, now faced with a full cavalry charge, had already forgotten the stranded archers.

            It was a brilliant move. Cavalry cut a swath through the enemy ranks, and Roion’s infantry, now back in formation quickly filled in the cleared ground. Sadeas’s advance had been halted, and his forces had been caught completely off guard. It would likely mean the battle. Truly brilliant.

            All it cost was an archer squadron as bait.

 

Thoughts and reviews are welcome!

[Peng the Just]

I love how it shows how the highprinces are about the big picture and don't care about the lives of a few