2 Open Maul

Auron sat on his horse, watching as the troops of Calmen retreated. The prince, Wreag, had been the first to turn tail and flee. The sight of him leaving his men and running away disgusted Auron.

It was just as his father, King Harress, had said. Prince Wreag was nothing but a coward who hides behind his father's skirt. He was nothing compared to the men and women who fell in battle.

Friends, families, and loved ones had carried most of the dying and dead off the battlefield and few bodies remained. As the last of the Calmen troops dragged their loved ones off the battlefield, Auron ordered for the remaining dead soldiers to be moved off the battlefield, and the injured were to be made comfortable and, when possible, nursed to health.

Hours passed as the troops first started sorting out who was dead, who was alive, and who wouldn't survive the night. Auron, a strong believer in working alongside his men in any way that would be allowed, monitored his soldiers progress. He had originally wanted to jump in and physically help his men, but was quickly stopped by his lieutenants.

"What if one of them is feigning death or an injured soldier takes it upon himself to kill you, my lord?" Balms asked, his face contorted with concern as he eyed a young man being dragged out to the healing tents. "What would we do without our prince? If you were to die, we would not only be down a man, but we would also suffer the loss of our strategist."

Auron hated the thought of leaving everything to his men but saw the logic Balms was trying to point out. It wouldn't be unusual for an enemy army to slip an assassin in among the dead or dying. In fact, it had become quite the norm for high ranking soldiers to be killed when helping their troops that most countries do not allow their men to go near the dead, in case one were to be hidden.

A sigh escaped Auron's lips as he rode his horse along the battlefield, examining the dead and injured for any signs of attacks. As he rode up to the lines of the dead, some from both sides, Auron couldn't help but think of how foolish this was. So many lives lost and for what? An apology? Auron scoffed and muttered into his beard about how he would get the apology, a habit he picked up during his time on the road.

As Auron reached the last pale-faced man in the line, he started to turn his horse towards camp, ready to ride off and, hopefully, find a hot meal waiting for him. He hadn't taken more than a few strides when he heard a small moan coming from the line of dead. Auron peered at the lines, unsure of if he had really heard the small moan or if it was all in his head, but before he could make a decision as to his mental state, the moan came again.

Auron dismounted his horse and held the reins tight in his grasp. His eyes lingered on the bodies for a moment, looking for any sign of movement before peering around to see exactly where his soldiers were. His soldiers were too busy with the dying and wounded and wouldn't have had the time to look over the dead, much less make noises to fool the prince.

Eyeing the dead once more, Auron began walking up and down the line, examining each facial features with great care; if the moan had originated from any of them, their faces would have an expression to them or at the very least, some color. When he reached the end of the line and it had appeared that there was none still living, Auron began to question what he had heard.

"Am I losing my mind?" Auron asked himself as he stared into the blank face of a young man, no more than fifteen of age. "The dead don't moan, especially twice. Am I just hearing things?"

Auron eyed the lines, in total four hundred had fallen, two hundred and eighty-six from Calmen, and two hundred and fourteen from Thermalk. It was a depressingly high number and only raged Auron more at the thought of Wreag running from the battle with his tail tucked between his legs.

Ready to leave the battlefield and return to his tent for a meal and some semblance of rest, Auron began to mount his horse once more. With one foot in the stirrups, he paused, another moan came from the lines and this time he was sure he heard it. Dismounting from his horse once more, Auron peered closely, close enough he would feel the slightest breath, at the faces of those lined up.

It was there, fourth row, two from the right, that he found the source of the moans. A middle aged man weakly clutched at another body, a woman, Auron realized. The woman couldn't have been more than eighteen, in fact he would bet his crown that she might have been younger.

Auron, after unsheathing his dagger, walked over to the man and gently lifted his arm. "It's alright, mate." Auron said as he knelt down,half expecting the man to lash out and half expecting him to continue grieving over the woman, whom he assumed was the man's daughter. "You will be able to see your daughter's face once more soon enough."

The man's eyes fluttered open and stared blankly at the evening sky, his mouth moved slowly and his breath came even slower, it was clear he was not long for this world but he was still attempting to say something.

"Don't speak." Auron said as he inspected the man's body for wounds. Auron quickly found what he was looking for and winced. Moving from the middle of the man's chest to his belly button was a large gash. At first, the prince didn't spot the gash, as the man's armor hid it well, but after seeing it, he knew his previous statement, one that was meant more for comfort, was closer to the truth than he had intended.

"… not… dead…" the man managed to whisper. His voice was harsh and strained, as though he had just spent a week in the Sanawa Desert.

Auron's brows furrowed for a moment as he looked the woman over. An arrow had pierced her chest, the shaft protruding from her breast plate. Auron turned back to the man, ready to crush his false hope but it was no use. In the time it took Auron to check on the young lady the man clutched at, he had drawn his last breath.

"May Elise guide you to the soldiers' paradise." Auron reached up and closed the man's eyes. Bowing his head, he whispered a soft soldier's prayer over the man.

"The Gods and Goddesses as my witness," Auron said as he stood up, "I will make that foolish Prince Wreag pay for all the deaths here today."

Auton turned to walk away but spared one last glance at the young girl and froze in fear. It was but a moment but for the rest of his life, Auron would swear that he saw Cassandra, the Goddess of fate, hovering over the young girl. In Cassandra's hand was an arrow, the tip covered in blood. Just as quickly as she appeared, the Goddess then disappeared leaving behind a few words that echoed in Auron's head from that day forth.

"To keep your word to us, the Gods and Goddesses of this world, I offer you your most important person. Keep her safe so that she may one day save you and your kingdom."

As the words were spoken, the ground beneath Auron's feet began to shake and open up, swallowing everything around Auron, save for Auron and the young girl who had been shot with an arrow. Screams of alarm ranged out from Auron's men and the wounded alike.

Auron paid them no heed, his attention was fixated on a single person, the young woman whom he had believed to be dead now breathed. The arrow that had lodged itself in her chest now lay on the ground, as if the Gods themselves had removed it with great care. Auron had no clue how long he stood in stunned silence staring at the young woman but by the time he came to his lieutenant, Balms, was by his side.

"My Lord!" Balms screamed, shaking Auron vigorously as if to wake him from slumber. "Are you okay, my Lord?"

Auron, pulling himself out of his trance-like state, turned to Balms and attempted to speak but found his throat parched and his lips dry. He closed his mouth and worked saliva down his throat to help with the scratchy feeling before wetting his lips and trying once more.

"Balms…." Auron flinched at his own voice and sucked in his breath. He sounded unnatural, his voice strained even more than the dying man he had been previously talking to. Just how long had he been in that trance-like state and, for Gods sakes, where is his water skin when he needs it?

"My Lord," Balms said, snapping his fingers at someone standing behind Auron, "don't speak. You're as pale as a ghost and have been standing in this very spot for hours."

"Hours!" Auron tried to yell but his voice only came out as a weak whisper.

Balms shoved a water skin into Auron's arms and nodded his head grimly. "We kept calling out to you but…." Balms didn't continue, nor did he need to. Auron already knew that if Balms hadn't shaken him when he did, he might have stayed in place for days and not even notice.

"Why didn't you try to shake me prior to now?" Auton asked as he greedily wet his parched throat with the contents of the water skin.

"We couldn't." Balms said, his voice seemed shaken and his hands began to tremble as he pressed on. "The ground had opened up and swallowed everything around you, my lord, and we couldn't get to you until we had built a suitable bridge that would hold a man's weight."

Auron stared at Balms for a moment, perplexed until he remembered what he saw and felt. For the first time, Auron was unsure of his footing and slowly turned his upper body to face behind him. There was a ten foot gouge in the ground where the bodies of each army once lay and above that was a makeshift bridge made up of a single tall oak tree that had been split in twine, the bridge Balms and his men had spent hours making. On either side stood at least twenty men, prepared to hold the makeshift bridge steady for however long was needed.

Auron breathed a sigh of relief, he had been worried some of his men may have fallen into the dark pit… or maybe it wasn't that deep. Auron couldn't tell with the moon being his only source of light at this moment.

"Did any of our men get hurt when the ground split open?" Auron asked as he carefully approached the young woman.

"No, my lord, but…." Balms seemed to hesitate as if he wasn't sure if what he had to say next was necessary or not.

"What is it, Balms?" Auron demanded, exhaustion had already set in before the ground split open, but now it was something more, he had no patients and very little temperament.

"Your horse, my lord," Balm said in a slow, calm voice, "when the ground split open, it took your horse."

Auron winced at the sudden realization of his loss, his horse wasn't just any horse, afterall. He had been bred specifically for war and was stronger than any other steed, faster too. Losing his horse would put Auron at a great disadvantage if Calmen decided to continue this war.

Auron started to think about how he could replace his horse when he once again remembered the words spoken to him. "Maybe," he said as he lifted the young woman up in his arms, "I won't need a horse."