Rated M: Strong violence, mild language, sexuality

Mistress of War

By Sinful Wolf

Chapter 1: Opening Skirmishes

Green grass swayed before the wind, the rolling hills that surrounded the field were dotted with trees. It was almost a peaceful scene.

“Hold the line. Do not falter, do not show mercy,” Nimue yelled out from atop her black mare named Leonas. Her sword glittered in the sunlight, her black cape and long, dark red hair fluttered in the wind. Her forest green eyes overlooked the field before her.

The soldiers of Volnoria stood in a perfect shield wall. The shields of the men in the first row overlapped, protecting their bodies whilst their spears as well as spears from soldiers in the second row poked out, waiting for the clash of steel and flesh.

She could feel their fear, knew there was nothing she could do about it until the blood was flowing. This was her third battle again the invading Vaxon Empire, and she knew the discipline of her troops would win out against their barbarity.

The enemy warriors were charging full on towards the shield wall. They wore little, their skin was painted with blue and red dyes, their long hair streaking behind them as they held their axes and swords above them. Their war cries reached her ears and she sat in her saddle and waited.

When the two small armies met she heard weapons crash against the steel reinforced wooden shields her men had, and heard the screams of wounded as spear tips broke through flesh. The fear was gone now, and only the elation that only battle could bring was gripping her troops.

The second row thrust their spears over the heads of those in front, stabbing at the enemy, while the front row simply held their mostly broken spears out, and pushed with their shields, trying to force the Vaxons back to make them more vulnerable.

The Vaxons however were not giving up so easily. With many of them drunk they thought little for their own losses and pushed against the Volnorian shield wall, blades crashing against shields and lopping off the tips of spears that impaled their bodies. Nimue watched intently, and saw what was going to happen.

“With me,” she said to the other soldiers on horseback, before kicking her heels into the flanks of her horse, and pulling the reins to direct it towards the right flank of the shield wall.

As her men held their ground, with Vaxon warriors battering against their shields, Nimue led the cavalry around the battle and formed them up in an arrowhead formation, herself at the point which aimed at the Vaxons. She looked behind her to ensure the troops were ready, her sword held above her head.

The right flank was starting to buckle; a man’s shield was weakened enough to be cleaved down the middle, and he fell backwards from the blow. The small gap was immediately exploited by the Vaxons who threw their weight into it, and the right flank exploded into chaos. Spears were forgotten as short swords drawn and stabbed into enemies that were suddenly all around.

Nimue let her sword drop and kicked her heels again, launching Leonas forward. The rumble of hooves pounding at the earth filled her ears. She brought her sword arm back, readying a swing, and once Leonas had crashed into the Vaxon ranks she brought it forward, feeling steel bite into flesh. Cavalry spears impaled the unwary enemy who suddenly felt fear. Nimue’s charged had slowed midway across the front of the shield wall into a brutal slog, her arm constantly swinging her blade, the other cavalry discarding their unwieldy spears in favour of the long swords that let them fight in these close quarters.

The Volnorian foot soldiers took advantage of the charge to reorganize the shield wall, fresh men from the third and fourth row to relieve the men in the first two. The fresh men stabbed with spear and sword, pushing the enemy back. They slowly started to march forward pushing them back to the cavalry.

The weary men who had just been relieved marched behind their comrades, thrusting their blades down into the wounded Vaxons who lay moaning on the ground.

“Pull back,” Nimue called to the cavalry once the spearmen had killed the enemy between them and the horsemen.

The cavalry turned and rode out of the vacuum they had left in their wake, slashing as they rode out from the chaos. Once they were free, Nimue reformed them for another charge. The shield wall moved forward, spears pointing outwards as the Vaxons started to waver.

As the spearmen met with the enemy once more the cavalry began skirting the edges of the Vaxons, blades flashing through the morning air and spilling more blood across the ground.

It didn’t take much longer before the Vaxons broke and began to flee the field. Nimue didn’t pursue very far, wary of skirmishers hiding in the wood line the enemy had run into.

“Hail Volnoria! Victory is ours tonight brothers,” lieutenant Isca called out to the tired soldiers gathered around the large campfire.

A cheer broke out around the camp as men raised wineskins before drinking back in a toast. Isca looked around, taking note of the men cheering at the five other campfires to his words. He grinned as he took his knife, and reached over the flickering flames to cut off a portion of the sizzling pig they had cooking.

“Eat, drink, be merry. Tomorrow we march back home,” he said, and the men cheered once more.

Wine was poured, and the roasting pigs were carved up whilst still on their spits. Men began to sing as they fell steadily deeper into a state of drunkenness. Servants who followed the small band went about the camp tending to their duties and ensuring that the wine continued to flow from the few supplies that they had taken with them from the city of Caer Faeris.

Isca left the glow of the firelight, walking past the tethered horses and into the darkness of the night. It didn’t take him long to find Nimue, kneeling in the grass, her sword laying bare across the ground before her. As he got closer to his captain he could hear her whispering in the old language of Avilonis. He didn’t know what she was saying, but Isca knew that Nimue was praying to the Gods. He stayed back, giving her space.

When she was finished Nimue stood and sheathed her sword.

“Another great victory captain,” he told her.

“It was not Isca, and there is no need for such formalities between friends,” she said turning to face him.

“Not a great victory?” Isca asked, slightly confused.

“No. We’re a small band, they were nothing more than a forward force. Nothing was settled, nothing lost, nothing gained. It was simply a clear victory. We beat them, we killed them,” Nimue said as she walked closer to his friend.

Isca merely grunted in response, and fell in step beside her as she started back towards the light of the fires. Once inside the glow again he relaxed a little knowing he was safe from any evil spirits that may be roaming in the darkness.

Nimue stood near the largest fire, the one that Isca had been speaking beside not too long ago, and spread her arms wide.

“Tomorrow we march home. Then we prepare for the real battles that will be waiting for us. The Vaxons are about invade with full force and we will be ready to show them what true warriors can do. Shed their blood, defend our home, and reign in the glory of the great victories that we will gain,” Nimue said, throwing a glance Isca’s way at the last few words.

More cheers from the drunken men, and Nimue sat near the fire, accepting a wineskin of her own. She did not cheer, she did not gorge. Captain Nimue knew that a time of great bloodshed was coming, and that not all sides had been decided yet.

Dervel looked over the map of Volnoria spread across the wooden table before him. His large hands gripped the edge of the table as his lieutenants placed painted wooden markers across the map to signify armies. Orange was for the Volnorians while the blue was Vaxons.

The blue definitely outnumbered the orange, and Dervel could only frown.

“Our forces may be outnumbered sir, but we are much more disciplined. We have just received word from Captain Nimue on the western front that her band has successfully repelled another raid,” Lieutenant Arnoth said with a smile.

“That is just a skirmish. We have yet to truly test the Vaxons, and Nimue knows that as well as I do,” Dervel said without looking up from the map, taking off a blue piece situated in the foothills nears the Dorian mountain range, where Nimue was stationed at the moment.

“In that case, isn’t it risky to be going after an unknown enemy with such a small band sir?” Lieutenant Heloth asked.

“Never doubt Nimue’s decisions. While it may seem stupid she will read into more. She needed to keep the rest of her army behind in Vaxile in case the Vaxons attacked while she was gone,” Dervel explained, patiently, to his lieutenants.

“Yes sir,” Heloth said, snapping his heels together.

Dervel ignored it, and stared at the map. The war that the Vaxons were bringing would usher in a new Era for this part of the world. Dervel just hoped that he was ready.