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Kenneth was perched on a low branch, watching the sky through the canopy, his breath escaping in clouds of thick mist. The cold and the sunless, overcast sky they'd endured the last few days was eating at him, making waiting for Jellen's forces even more difficult. Out of sight to his right and left, he knew his lieutenants also watched for signals from the other quadrants, or for any sign of the Sorcerer Lord.
Every Captain waited in their quadrant with their contingent of men, divided into tight cells commanded by lieutenants, rotating watch shifts. Each had their commands, and was essentially on their own. The organized ambush techniques of silva bellum lent themselves very well to the forest setting and the small town, but it made large-scale coordination very difficult. Now was the time to trust his men and their training. Retreat would be almost impossible once battle began. Kenneth took a breath, realizing this was the first true test of their strength. Striking down Jellen would be a powerful message to the dark lord, and would bring the full force of the sorcerer king down on them.
A mute flash, almost indiscernible if one didn't know what they were looking for, lit the sky for an instant. One of the quadrants was engaged in battle. An instant later, the forest was swarming with dark robed men and women, sorcerers. Kenneth loosed the first arrow, striking one elven dead, and his men fell upon their targets. The forest erupted into movement, the sounds of fighting and the screams of dying filling the air.
The smell of engaged spell components and the repugnant taint of sorcery flooded Kenneth's senses. He fought the nausea that suddenly struck him, but he loosed again and again; he couldn't relent. His rigorous training had paid off, and he was one of the few archers they possessed with enough skill to fire with fair accuracy into battle. His wings would have been a hindrance in the tightly-packed skirmish below; he had no room to open or maneuver them. Every dying cry of a sorcerer knotted his stomach, but he fought past it. "For my father. For my mother. For my uncle. For everyone," he hissed through is teeth, killing again and again. "For everyone you have ever massacred!"
* * *
Jellen held back, listening gleefully to the turmoil of the battle raging in the trees. "Ah, splendid. I had hoped that he would understand the pattern."
"What pattern, lord?" Vesakan said, yawning into her hand. Her ebony hair had been pulled back and covered with a black and steel helm.
"You delivered my instructions to all of your men? No fae is to be killed. I want the cub captured alive and delivered, in whatever condition, to the dark lord's dungeon," Jellen ordered, ignoring her question.
"Yes, Lord," she responded, casting him a bored look. "They will be rounded up and questioned until Kenneth is uncovered." Her elvish eyes, stained black from sorcery, were cold, unaffected by the massacre she was orchestrating at Jellen's bequest.
"Good. He is my only concern. Kill the rest. I don't want the pathetic inhabitants of Faiden believing this rabble ever had a chance," Jellen scoffed.
"They number greater than twenty thousand, my lord," she informed him, steadying her nervous horse with an impatient snap of the reins.
"Yes," Jellen smirked, glancing over at his commander. Even he had to admit that she was fair, but her beauty had been twisted by the Power, and her dark, fierce armor was unflattering on her pale skin and light frame. "I summoned more than half of the forces stationed throughout the human and elven territories. Reinforcements await in all directions to close in." He produced a parchment containing a list of names and ranks. "Here are the troops that await your direction."
After perusing the names, she looked up, surprised. "Lord, this is—"
"I realize that it is a waste, but I intend to overwhelm them, Commander. I want this foolish attempt to be an embarrassment to the entire human population of Faiden. Three of our sorcerers to every one of the rebels should be sufficient to end this quickly, correct?"
"We'll lose thousands of men, Lord. The taint will devastate the countryside," she informed him obediently, though her tone held no hint of remorse.
"All of that is acceptable if it releases us from this verdant prison." Jellen smiled malevolently at the forest below. Though he knew that Vesakan belonged to the dark lord, he was sure she would follow his orders completely. Jellen almost regretted his quip about their verdant prison, but she would not be able to tell the dark lord anything that he did not already know. Jellen was tired of this duty. "If need be, burn the forest down around friend and foe alike. I want all of the rebels dead by sundown. Send me a missive when the cub has been captured and is on his way to the dark lord."
"Do you not you wish to question him, Lord?" she asked.
"Why? His army will be crushed. He will no longer be a threat to anyone. I wish to deliver him, alive, as a trophy to the dark lord. Let the dark lord do as he will with the would-be general."
"Yes, lord. It shall be done."
* * *
Kenneth's quivers were empty, and he cast his bow aside, drawing his short swords. He dropped down into the fray, screaming with rage. So many had fallen, but Jellen's forces never thinned. Not long ago, Kenneth had thought his men were becoming the majority, but Jellen's forces had suddenly doubled, closing in with a second wave. This had been no surprise attack. Jellen had known they were waiting. Even if they attempted to retreat, they were boxed in.
Foe after foe fell at Kenneth's feet, their blood coating his chest and arms. A sick feeling swept over him, and his body took over the swift and efficient slaughter. Though he'd never wielded a weapon against a true foe, he felt as though this was not the first battle he had been in. This was not the first time he'd taken life. His arms knew the warmth of blood and were accustomed to the sensation of metal rending flesh and bone.
A blast of energy struck his right side, tearing his white wings to tatters. He screamed, his short swords slipping from his fingers. How had he gotten surrounded? Where were all of his men? How long had he been fighting? He was surrounded by dozens of dead sorcerers.
He fell to his hands and knees, vomiting violently, suddenly too weak and sick to move. A cheer filled the air, and Kenneth was hoisted over someone's shoulder. He tried to struggle, but his limbs wouldn't obey. He could suddenly feel the taint of sorcery sickness overwhelming his body; in the back of his mind, he knew he was already dying.
* * *
It was long dark when Kenneth swam into consciousness. He retching again as laughter echoed all around him, and he forced his thick eyelids open. He was hog-tied, with his wings staked savagely to the ground. All around him, scores of fae in the same condition moaned and sobbed in misery. The small movement of lifting his head had cost Kenneth, and he groaned as painful waves of nausea rocked him. The agony in his body, wings, and head was devastating, and he found himself wishing for unconsciousness again.
An elven sorcerer loomed over him, chuckling, his black armor glistening with blood. "Sorcery sickness is miserable, isn't it? Fae are more susceptible, but you seem particularly vulnerable to it. Lucky you." He laughed and crouched down, turning his head to meet Kenneth's gaze. "We drew some sorcery out of you so you wouldn't die right away, but it will get worse, a lot worse." His eyes twinkled with sadistic pleasure. "You'll go mad from the pain long before you die." He grinned, his eyes shining with hatred and malice. "Tell me which of your comrades here is General Kenneth Greywolf, and I will set you free."
Kenneth spat blood in the sorcerer's eye and was rewarded with a hard boot to the side and head. Before his vision faded to black, he retched again.
* * *
Kenneth awoke to the wretched sound of screaming. A dozen feet away, several sorcerers were cutting one of the captured fae's wings into tight ribbons as glowing energy seeped from the wounds like iridescent blood.
"Which one is Greywolf?" they asked their victim. "Which one is the general?" The fae screamed and writhed, but didn't answer.
Tears stung Kenneth's eyes and pounding erupted in his temples. What could he do? Could he stop what was happening? How had he brought this on his men? How had he been so foolish? "Stop!" he yelled, unable to lie idly by and let them torture a fae who'd put his life in Kenneth's hands. "Leave him alone! Let them go, and I'll tell you where the general is."
Every head turned to look at him, prisoner and sorcerer alike. "I don't care what you do to me or to him. He got us into this mess. Promise that you'll let the others go, and I'll tell you."
A sorceress in glistening, black armor walked over to him and crouched to meet his gaze, stroking his hair ever so gently. "Why wouldn't we just torture you for it?" she asked sweetly, her smile dark.
"Because I'll lie," Kenneth snapped. "Promise me that you will free the others. Swear it, and I will tell you truthfully."
"Hm." She seemed thoughtful for a moment, then nodded once. "Very well. As commander under Lord Jellen, appointed by the dark lord himself, I will grant your request. Tell me which one of these miserable creatures is your general. You and he will be tortured to death, but the others I shall set free." She smiled at Kenneth's suspicious glare.
"They will be released into this world without any scars other than what they bear now. I will even release the human prisoners on the other side of that thicket. I swear it upon my life and office. It is a generous trade for one miserable general." She stroked his cheek, her gaze sultry and taunting at the same time.
Kenneth swallowed and nodded, accepting his fate with eerie calm. "I am General Greywolf."
"So young?" she mocked.
"I'm twenty-one!"
She smiled. "Relax; I believe you." She patted his cheek. "I've been suspecting for some time that it was you. I heard something about two sets of wings."
She leaned down to kiss the flesh her fingers had just caressed. "Such a noble sacrifice for your men, General." She stood and faced her own soldiers. "This is him; kill the rest," she calmly ordered.
"No!" Kenneth screamed, thrashing to free himself from his bonds. His wings tore, the stakes passing through the open wounds.
She turned and absently lifted a hand toward him, black energy crackling from her fingers and into the broken flesh of his wings. "Perhaps a bit more sorcery will help you to calm down, General."
Kenneth screamed in pain, collapsing on the bloodstained ground. As the world faded, he heard her voice commanding her men over the dying screams of their prisoners. "Make sure that I did not kill him. The dark lord will want to play with his prize."