***

  Danyais ran the numbers through his head for what must have been the hundredth time today. The Loudas army was twelve thousand strong, with three thousand dead or injured. He sneered at himself, thinking about the battle they fault recently, thinking it was pivotal for their victory and a way to force Sukkan to the negotiation table. Little did he or his advisors know that what they fought was just the tip of the Sukkan army, an expeditionary force.

  After the battle with the forces under the control of Prince Uthman, the Loudas repositioned themselves to the higher ground they intentionally left unoccupied for the trap they set for the Sukkan army. Using the swords and spears stripped from the dead, King Danyais had his men bury them in the ground with enough of the blades or spear tips exposed. The crudely formed break would offer some protection from the oncoming men or a cavalry charge. Danyais sighed inwardly. He knew that even if he had an entire month to prepare defenses, coupled with the apparent strategic advantage of the hill, it would still not be enough. Nothing could offset what was in front of the Loudas’ army right now. There were at least a hundred thousand men of the Sukkan army plotting their demise. The Sukkan army had to be the largest ever fielded in history, that he knew of. Even when fighting the Dread horde, seeing what seemed to be an endless tide of twisted human mixed with animal flesh, he did not feel this helpless.

  “My King, let me start to kill the prisoners now? If they revolt and fight at our backs when the fighting starts, it will be a grievous blow to us,” Lord Elton Cenarus said, catching Danyais by surprise for suggesting such a gruesome tactic.

  Danyais did not know if Cenarus asked because it was sound military advice or if his suggestion was malicious. Danyais did not want to believe anger impeded Cenarus’ logic, since it was the lord’s lands that had bored the brunt of this conflict over the past few years. Other nobles nodded their heads in agreement with Lord Cenarus’ plan. If the numerical advantage the Sukkan army held over Danyais’ forces was not so drastic, then King Danyais may have agreed to put some thought into issuing the deaths of the prisoners to prevent such a possible outcome.

  “No, we will not become such monsters,” King Danyais said with his back turned to them. If they revolt when the fighting starts, those five thousand men will only make things go quicker, but their king could not voice such an opinion.

  They originally planned to retreat, but when the scouts returned and reported, the Sukkans had cut the river crossing at Hemway off and have already dug in. The scouts estimated at least five thousand held the crossing. Not enough to stop them but enough to delay them while Sukkan’s primary force attacks from the rear, an almost ironic repeat of how they took Prince Uthman’s forces. Their only option was to hold on to their only strategic advantage of the hill.

  “What of this Fade Gate to Dragon crest?” Lord Frennick Mutan asked, a skinny noble with a bandage wrapped around his head. Mutan had two daggers with crow heads on them tucked into his belt.

  “Impossible. Lord Zander set flame to the gate in Dragon Crest,” Clyden said to the war council. In truth, Clyden could never use magic again, and only the King knew this secret.

  For three days, both armies sat still, doing nothing but eyeing each other. With the appearance of the Sukkan army, the burial process for the slain warriors left on the battlefield was halted. The bodies fester under the summer sun of the Kimmer Sea Plains. The putrid smell lingered in the air, making breathing almost unbearable. Carrion birds returned unchecked, in greater numbers attracted by the smell of rotting flesh, and gorged themselves to the point that they could not even fly, but tittered about the ground as if they had just emerged drunkenly from a tavern.

  On the morning of the fourth day, a detachment from the Sukkan side comprising of twenty cavalrymen escorting thirty horse-drawn carts laden with barrels rode towards them. About a hundred feet from Loudas’ defensive lines, they came to a stop. There were three riders out front, and the man on the left held a large half-white and black flag. The flag symbolized the men riding towards the Loudas army wanted to parley and meant no aggression. A man to the right of the truce flag carried the scorpion flag of Sukkan. In the middle of their formation was the lord of the Valgrazo province located in the northern portion of Sukkan. The black ram from house Alzin was embroidered on his tunic. The Loudas army sent five men to meet the Sukkan parley, led by Lord Mutan.

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  Lord Mutan rode in front alongside another man carrying their own white and black parley flag. When they were close enough to speak to each other, Lord Mutan raised his hand.

  “I am Lord Mutan. What do you wish to speak about?” he asked.

  “Greetings, Lord Mutan. I am Nicco Alzin, Lord of Valgrazo, a province in the north.”

  “I know who you are, Lord Nicco. We are neighbors though we have never met. Is it not shameful that we must meet under these circumstances?” Lord Mutan said back politely. Lord Mutan was chosen for this parley explicitly because the two were neighbors.

  “As you say, it is indeed regrettable, Lord Mutan. I bare a message from her Majesty, Queen Shevannis Hoshi Sukkan,” at the mention of Shevannis’ name Lord Mutan’s eyes only widened a little, but it was hard to tell because his bushy eyebrows did not budge much, “She wishes to offer these barrels of oil for you to burn the bodies of our brave soldiers. We would do it ourselves, but your army is between our fallen comrades and us. She swears, and thus do I by all the Gods, no one from Sukkan will attack or approach while you tend the dead for us,” Lord Nicco said, kissing the fingertips of his hands and raising his hands to the sky. The customary gesture for such a pact.

  “We will accept and carry out her Majesty’s requests. The brave dead certainly deserve the embrace.” Mutan said, bowing to him.

  “Thank you, Lord Mutan. I will express your favorable reply to my queen,” Nicco said. “If I may trouble you, Lord Mutan. My son, Arnicco, was part of Prince General Uthman’s guard,” Nicco paused. The fear of the father melted away the honor on the noble’s face.

  “Your son is resting in my tent. We are neighbors, after all. Arnicco is wounded, but I am told he will live and recover. You still will have many grandsons,” Lord Mutan spoke as a father now and not as a warring adversary. “I promise you this. Before the fighting starts, I will bring your son to you. Even if we war, I will ride him through the battlefield myself to you,” Mutan kissed his fingertips, raising his hand to the sky, showing Nicco the seriousness of his oath.

  Not saying anything, the Lord of Valgrazo put his right hand to his heart and bowed before turning to ride away. The Sukkan soldiers riding on the carts with the barrels got down and ran back to their camp, leaving the horse-drawn wagons laden with the oil barrels for the Loudas army to retrieve.

  ***

  King Danyais walked through the battle-scarred field where many of the dead Sukkan and Loudas soldiers still lay together in a peaceful death. The Nobles of Loudas walked behind him in somber silence. He held a torch in his hand.

  “I am jealous of you all that lay here. You all have cheated and obtained peace while robbing others of theirs. Your families cannot be here to grieve you, but I will record the Battle of Kimmer Sea Plains in history so they will know of your courage and bravery. I only ask this in return. Send us peace,” King Danyais said, touching the torch to a black line of oil leading to the mounds of men. Towards the end of the fourth day, black smoke covered the Kimmer Sea Plains in darkness as the bodies of men burned in the valley beneath the hill.

  Early in the morning on the fifth day, the Loudas’ camp was in disarray. In the middle of the night, Lord Mutan left, leaving a note behind saying he had an obligation to fulfill, and took Lord Nicco’s son to his father. Many of the nobles sat around in the early morning hours near the cliff’s edge. They looked at the field below where the large funeral pyres were smoldering. Some of those sitting there with King Danyais said Mutan abandoned them or was trying to accrue favor by returning the Black Ram’s son.

  “My King, I have no love for the Crow-rat,” Lord Elton Cenarus said, using the nickname he gave to Lord Mutan years before because of a personal grudge. “But I will thrash any man here who says Mutan has turned in any way,” positioning his large double-bladed battle axe in front of him, the tips of the wings digging into the ground. His massive hands were resting on the pommel of the hilt. In the recent battle, Lord Mutan rallied the Crow daggers and saved Lord Cenarus and his men.

  “Fear not, Lord Cenarus, the Crow only flies on my orders,” King Danyais said. The other lords looked at their king with questioning eyes. “At yesterday’s parley Lord Nicco said something interesting to Mutan. Nicco said Queen Shevannis sent the barrels of oil.” The other nobles had the same questions written on all their faces.

  “Queen?” Lord Hansilo Tyrus of Oak Dragons asked, the question everyone wanted to say. Lord Tyrus governed the western lands of Loudas for Danyais.

  “I had the same look and question you all have now. When he told me of this yesterday,” Danyais said. “I sent Lord Mutan to see what has happened to King Uthman late last night under the pretense of returning Lord Nicco’s heir. I just did not expect he would ride out alone and really take Lord Nicco’s heir with him. With any luck, he should return this afternoon. Now, if you all will, please excuse me.” The nobles bowed as they exited from Danyais’s presence, ending their morning meeting.

  ***