War on the Wind - (Closed)

A frown settled on Robert's lips as the thought of his nightmarish dream last night came back to him. The two decaying bodies stared longingly at him, as if trying to plead with him to bury their remains. Flesh stretched across the bones made the bodies of his two dead comrades seem almost ghoulish, demonic in appearance. Maggots gorged themselves on the scant amount of flesh available, a white pox amongst the brownish pink meat. Then the bodies, not stripped enough of flesh to be called skeletons, began to writh. Almost urgent in their pleas now, the guilt he felt swelled, but... he couldn't grant their wish. How could he? If he buried them the enemy would know someone had survived. It was all but shouting out he and his comrades were alive. He'd tried to explain that to them, and they'd stilled. For a moment, just a fleeting moment, he'd actually thought they'd understood. Then with a banshee like scream the two bodies had launched themselves at him and he'd woke with a start. He mouthed a word of apology into a gentle breeze that had kicked up in the gorge.

"Robert," called William, pulling him out of his private thoughts. Now his face was stern, betraying little of the lack of sleep he'd gotten last night, or the guilt and sadness from the deaths of his friends. "We've spotted the mouth of a cave up ahead. Could be something in it."

Gazing into the distance, he just made out the dark void in the side of the gorge wall. It wouldn't take long to reach it, and Robert abstained from thanking the gods for its location before he knew if it was occupied or not. If not, it would shelter them from the cold tonight as well as allow them to bath in the River Drago that snaked through the gorge floor. They needed to get back to the fort, they also needed to make sure to be wary of passing scouts. Already two had passed their way this morning, missing them by mere seconds as they hid within bushes, sometimes within the river.

"Take three others to scout it out, then report your findings back me as soon as possible." Robert watched as William took Izaac, Christian and Joel ahead of their procession to scout out the cave. He only hoped the two brothers wouldn't get into any competition with one another that would cause them to slip up. A smile appeared on his face at the thought of the two youngest members of his squad, but it faded as quickly as it had appeared. The dream. He'd woken that night drenched in sweat, the decaying bodies of Anthony and Simon vivid in his mind. But he knew he'd had to avoid burying them. If they were buried, or no bodies were visible, then the enemy would be more likely to suspect survivors had passed this way.

Once again he found himself forced from his thoughts. "It looks empty. Goes back pretty far though, so we couldn't scout it out fully," reported William, a glimpse of hope showing on his face.

"Hey, Robert, what is it that Christian and Joel are suppose to be doing exactly," asked Heather, amused but confused as she glanced to where the two men resided.

"Nothing..." William replied in Robert's stead. He was the one who'd told them to wait whilst he reported to Robert. Now he too was confused by the two men jumping and waving, pointing in their direction. Izaac had his hands cupped to his mouth, but his voice sounded distorted.

"SCOUTS!!!" Bellowed Gareth, his heavy voice causing the word to reverberate through the gorge.

Realisation of what the three had been trying to do dawned on Robert as he whipped round, heart drumming at the thought of the enemy catching them. Dozens of large forms flew towards them in the sky. From this distance they looked like birds, but no one here was naïve enough to believe that. "Get to the cave!" he ordered, already beginning to run. He glanced over his shoulder as something sailed passed, inches before his face. An arrow pierced the dirt. "Quicker!" The desperation in his voice caused everyone to pick up the pace. He heard someone let out a yelp. They'd probably seen just how close the Volucris were now. Yes, there was no doubt that it was the enemy who bore down towards them. Violet wings, yellow bodies, and streaming violet hair. There could be no mistake.

Arrows peppered the ground they ran, the last few feet being the hardest. One man went limp as an arrow embedded in his skull, disappearing from sight as Robert could only grimace at the loss and race into the cave. Only two men were still running now, and Robert hardly registered the three bodies that lay crumpled on the floor as he urged the men on. Inches from the cave, a flurry of feathers and a strong gust passed before the cave snatching one man from sanctuary. A scream that ends in an abrupt silence is the only ... of the man's death, most likely plummeting from the sky.

The man who'd made it sat exhausted, sweat drenched and coughing from the run of desperation. He sat facing the entrance, back towards the others. One second he was wheezing, another set of coughing fits coming on, the next, he was silent, head slumped. It was only when his body toppled over that anyone caught sight of the arrow that protruded from his chest.

"Here they come!" Gregory warned, his eyes slightly wider than normal at the sight of Volucris landing.

Robert scanned the cave. It was about eight men wide. "Christian, Joel, get those rocks piled up." he indicated several clusters of rocks further into the cave with a point of his finger. "If they want to use their arrows, at least we'll have some means of protection, however slight it may be." He began to move forward, not taking his eyes away from the snarling Volucris that approached on foot, scimitars drawn. "Ariel, Gregory, how much men do you have left?"

Ariel was the first to answer. She held the hilt of her sword, ready to bring it forth at a moments notice if needed. "Seven."

"I've got nine," stated Gregory.

That's twenty four, thought Robert, calculations worked out in his head. "Gregory, get your squad lined up in a row five feet behind me. Choose one person to help with the piles of rocks," he ordered, then wasted no time continuing. "Ariel, get two of your men to help with the rocks, whilst the rest of your squad stand ready to engage the enemy on my command." He didn't see Ariel nod in acknowledgement, but the rustling of feet told him what he needed to know. "Gareth, Heather, Rachel and William, with me. Remember to leave space between one another. Izaac, take up position with Ariel."

"Robert, I can fight," complained Izaac, hurt he'd been left out of the frontline.

"Not this time," replied Robert sternly. "Stand with Ariel's squad, and stay alert." Izaac didn't argue, knowing that the decision was made, and that was final. He still walked with a slight limp, and he could understand why he wasn't yet to fight, but it still frustrated him.

"I fear you may get the chance to fight soon enough," Gregory whispered as Izaac walked passed. The volucris were nearing.

Eyes as black as the abyss locked onto them. Teeth, sharp and fang like, craved for their flesh. Scimitars, deadly, begged to cut through skin, flesh and bone. A series of screeches clawed at their eardrums as the volucris screamed their battle cries and charged. Robert readied himself. "Draw your blades and steel yourself... this is going to be one bloody hard battle!" With that, he pulled his alesensis free and was met with the sound of eighteen swords being drawn by his comrades beside and behind him.