The Battle Has Ended:
Being the Journal of Praxo-Lieutenant Fliefus Hamdum na 'Attenarillo of the Solomaine City Guards
Fortieth Day of the Third Month of the Year 5833:
The battle has ended. And we have failed. I have lost all my previous battlefield reports in the final fight, but I feel I must continue, even if no one is ever to read this, my final entry of the saddest tale ever known to mankind.
I can't help but feel the world is ending. The powers of evil have overtaken the powers of good. It was an outcome I never felt could have occurred, based on my faith in the gods above. But how can I still believe in the gods' protection of Solomaine, when I have seen my best friend's head hewn from his body and the finest man I've ever known shot down with arrows through his heart, his arms, his legs and his eyeballs, just as he yelled, “We shall never surrender.”
I will try to recreate what led us to this place. I say we, although only I and Major Thomhowll of five hundred proud men have survived; I with a slight head wound and a broken leg and Major Thomhowll near death shivering by my side. We had come to this godforsaken place at the orders of the Vice Lord of Solomaine, and how I wish I knew what goes on in that fair city. I could not bear it to know that it had been overrun, I simply must pray and believe that my daughter and my mother still survive in their cozy hideaway where we spent so many hours of happiness in the months ere I marched off to the field of battle.
As I had written, the Vice Lord of Solomaine, his Majesty Gra Par Nafel, ordered his City Guards to join with the armies of Parnafel and the Glyphulian Rangers to defend the plains of Bekkanakomot and Fiester against the Crygian onslaught. The general whose command we fell under, a proud and stupid Parnafelian, ordered two of his foot units, along with the mounted Solomaine City Guards, to form a surprise attack force on the Crygian stronghold of Pelosio. We must have rode over one hundred miles through empty, arid wasteland toward the Hast Sea, on which Pelosio is an important port, known for its exportation of oysters and spices. But the complete lack of any cover for miles and the deep tiredness felt by all the men, even those of us on horses, took away any element of surprise as we moved toward the city. We were greeted by a force of at least five thousand Crygians.
And my hand shakes as I think of the death that was spread by those soulless scum. I can still not understand how the sun rose this morning, how the farmers continue to plant their fields and the ships in the distance continue their placid way into Pelosio Bay. There is simply nothing left of what is good in this world. All the learning, all the beauty that was our everyday way of life in Solomaine will simply be crushed by these wretched barbarians.
I have noticed, though, from my current vantage point just under its walls, that the city of Pelosio must at some point have employed foreign masons more highly skilled in the art of brick-laying than any foul Crygian could ever manage. The battlements contain quite amazing and complex brickwork, reminding me of the famous Na Tramell Armory in central Solomaine.
I must pause, for the nurse has come to change my bandages. She, at least, has avoided the careless barbarism of so many Crygians. Her touch is as gentle as it is wholesome, and I feel I shall soon be well if I stay under her care.
. . . . .
Oh, woe! Woe! Woe! My tears are running hot and fast as I write this. I can hardly see the page, the ink, this putrid tent, nothing, nothing. For I have heard that Solomaine has fallen. My nurse was too kind to say so, she only said that things were going well for the Crygians. But two of their murderous slime soldiers speaking in a loud voice outside this prison of a tent spoke in a gloating way of how their brothers in arms were looting, defiling and destroying the glories of my beautiful and fair city. If I heard them correctly, our battle was only a minor one in a great and stunning loss for the powers of Parnafel and Solomaine. On the planes of Bekkanakomot and Fiester, our forces have been completely routed and even the famed Glyphulian Star Sword has been lost. I hate to think of the fate of so many of my comrades whom I left stout, fearless and ready for battle, lying prone and lifeless on those cursed plains. I heard these evil wretches, too, speak of a Solomaine City Guard General who traitorously turned to their side at the last moment and ensured the victory. This I cannot believe; I almost feel it was spoken in a louder voice for my benefit, but I know each and every one of the generals of our proud City Guard, and not one of them, not a single one, could ever be so vile as to side with the Crygians.
But to think of my city, of my Solomaine, under their viceful and soiling hand. Our fair towers, built of the famed Solomainey Limestone, that is more silver than gray and that, paired with the skill of our artisans, makes the battlements and stout walls seem lighter than air. And the quiet promenade along the river, lined by the fair houses of so many of my friends.
And, o ye gods, my mother and my daughter, how could I have forgotten them! What fate awaits them at the hands of such a murderous crew? I, they can smite, they can stone, they can break my back and my spirit, but, but ...
I must pause, for I see now that Major Thomhowll is attempting to rise from his bed. The nurse has been especially mindful of him, and she has truly worked miracles in bringing him back to life, for I have never seen a man with so many wounds deep into his muscle and sinew who has walked off the battlefield alive. The poor man, he does not realize that the battle is over, he keeps reaching for his sword that is not there, and he is muttering in his pained and vivid fever that we must regroup and reform and attack their weak flank. Sometimes, he grows quite vicious, and I must hold him down, but the nurse does not seem to frighten and simply goes on mixing her salves and ointments and dressing his wounds.
I shall continue writing tomorrow, gods willing, but I know not why, for all is useless now!
Forty-First Day of the Third Month of the Year 5833:
I spent a fretful night grasping my hair and rending my nightshirt and cursing the broken leg that prevents me from rushing out of this horrid tent and die at least a man in futile battle, even though I have no weapons but my bruised and chaffed hands. The nurse came in at sunrise and must have found me a frightful sight, for at first she was taken aback and stepped out of the tent when she saw what she must have thought a feral look in my eyes. But she soon collected herself and returned, this time with one of the sallow guards to accompany her as she proceeded to change Major Thomhowll's bandages.
“You may not be afraid of me, mademoiselle,” I spoke to her in Parnafelian, for I could not speak the guttural Crygian tongue, and I felt she certainly was not familiar with our beautiful Solomainmut. “We of the Solomaine City Guards are pledged to chivalry, unlike the hounds in your lawless army.”
She stared at me and, at first did not respond, but then with a pluck I found surprising in her, she laughed a low and bitter chuckle.
“Many friends of mine, sisters who have tended to the sick and the hurt throughout this witless war, and I might add tended without regard to whose life they were saving, could tell you something about the chivalry of the Solomaine City Guards.”
I was taken aback that she, who had so far avoided these mind-bending taunts, should try to turn my wits with her baseless lies against my comrades, when I lay prone and at my weakest point.
“Mademoiselle,” I responded with heat, “I feel it unfair of you to attack my honor in such a base way. For when you attack the honor of any Solomaine City Guards you attack the honor of each and every one of us.”
She turned away, and if I am not mistaken, she muttered in Crygian, “Believe what you will,” as she continued to tend to Major Thomhowll, who was now beginning to emit pitiful low moans.
As this was the first time she had spoken at length and unguardedly to me, I decided to see if I could press her for some more reliable information than that I had overheard from the listless night guards.
“Mademoiselle,” I ventured after a slight pause, “I don't believe I have had the pleasure of addressing you by your name.”
To my surprise, she turned to me in a frank and gracious way, and replied, “I am Nurse Bleehune of Felono. It is my pleasure to help you recover from your war-gotten wounds, though you are a prisoner here now.”
“I am pleased to meet you, Nurse Bleehune. I am Praxo-Lieutenant Fliefus Hamdum na 'Attenarillo, and I thank you for your consummate care,” I replied, attempting to manage something of a courteous smile. “Could you help me even more, by telling me a little of what fate awaits me outside this tent?”
She looked away, and more quickly wrapped a bandage around Major Thomhowll's arm. I did not dare to speak or to press my point, so I sat quietly, staring with scorn at the dumb guard who stood near the flap of the tent, and who I could tell had not understood the Parnafelian in which we were holding our conversation.
“They have warned me not to supply the prisoners with any information,” she said with hesitation. “I dare not tell you what could help you escape or sabotage our camp.”
“But perhaps you could confirm what I have overheard your very own guards saying, in their drunken witlessness, just outside my tent. For I will believe it from you, though I cannot bring myself to believe it from them.”
She did not say anything, but continued to look away, concentrating on holding Major Thomhowll's head down as she pressed some golden colored balm to his lips.
“Please tell me, Nurse Bleehune, I must know or I shall go insane,” I pressed on, “Please tell me if it is true that our battle here has been completely lost. That no regiments from our side are marching toward Pelosio as we speak to carry on the fight.”
She did not say anything, but I thought I saw her nod just slightly. I knew I had to continue, though my heart told me I should not.
“And is it true that the great battle between the Crygian foes and our wondrous Solomaine and Parnafel Alliance has been ended, and not in a way a man could be proud of; that a traitor has turned the tide and that now all is lost for our side?”
She nodded again, but this time she spoke in here quietest tone, and again in Crygian, so quiet that I was not sure I heard correctly, “That man was no traitor, but a hero.”
My heart quailed and I felt a sudden pain shoot through my body from my broken leg, but I knew I had to ask the question that was burning on my lips. I turned to her, and try as I might I could not keep the tears from my eyes.
“And is it true, Nurse Bleehune, that the city of my youth, that fair star of the sea, my Solomaine, is has fallen into the infidels' hands along with all of Parnafel.”
To my surprise, she turned to me and looked me straight in the eye. After a pause, she spoke in the clearest Solomainmut.
“Yes, your city is now under the control of the Crygian Chancellor. And the evil men who ruled your star of the sea and brought so many innocent souls to such cruel and untimely deaths, they have been bound, quartered and thrown in the river, until it ran red with their vile blood.”
To be continued ...
Fortieth Day of the Third Month of the Year 5833:
The battle has ended. And we have failed. I have lost all my previous battlefield reports in the final fight, but I feel I must continue, even if no one is ever to read this, my final entry of the saddest tale ever known to mankind.
I can't help but feel the world is ending. The powers of evil have overtaken the powers of good. It was an outcome I never felt could have occurred, based on my faith in the gods above. But how can I still believe in the gods' protection of Solomaine, when I have seen my best friend's head hewn from his body and the finest man I've ever known shot down with arrows through his heart, his arms, his legs and his eyeballs, just as he yelled, “We shall never surrender.”
I will try to recreate what led us to this place. I say we, although only I and Major Thomhowll of five hundred proud men have survived; I with a slight head wound and a broken leg and Major Thomhowll near death shivering by my side. We had come to this godforsaken place at the orders of the Vice Lord of Solomaine, and how I wish I knew what goes on in that fair city. I could not bear it to know that it had been overrun, I simply must pray and believe that my daughter and my mother still survive in their cozy hideaway where we spent so many hours of happiness in the months ere I marched off to the field of battle.
As I had written, the Vice Lord of Solomaine, his Majesty Gra Par Nafel, ordered his City Guards to join with the armies of Parnafel and the Glyphulian Rangers to defend the plains of Bekkanakomot and Fiester against the Crygian onslaught. The general whose command we fell under, a proud and stupid Parnafelian, ordered two of his foot units, along with the mounted Solomaine City Guards, to form a surprise attack force on the Crygian stronghold of Pelosio. We must have rode over one hundred miles through empty, arid wasteland toward the Hast Sea, on which Pelosio is an important port, known for its exportation of oysters and spices. But the complete lack of any cover for miles and the deep tiredness felt by all the men, even those of us on horses, took away any element of surprise as we moved toward the city. We were greeted by a force of at least five thousand Crygians.
And my hand shakes as I think of the death that was spread by those soulless scum. I can still not understand how the sun rose this morning, how the farmers continue to plant their fields and the ships in the distance continue their placid way into Pelosio Bay. There is simply nothing left of what is good in this world. All the learning, all the beauty that was our everyday way of life in Solomaine will simply be crushed by these wretched barbarians.
I have noticed, though, from my current vantage point just under its walls, that the city of Pelosio must at some point have employed foreign masons more highly skilled in the art of brick-laying than any foul Crygian could ever manage. The battlements contain quite amazing and complex brickwork, reminding me of the famous Na Tramell Armory in central Solomaine.
I must pause, for the nurse has come to change my bandages. She, at least, has avoided the careless barbarism of so many Crygians. Her touch is as gentle as it is wholesome, and I feel I shall soon be well if I stay under her care.
. . . . .
Oh, woe! Woe! Woe! My tears are running hot and fast as I write this. I can hardly see the page, the ink, this putrid tent, nothing, nothing. For I have heard that Solomaine has fallen. My nurse was too kind to say so, she only said that things were going well for the Crygians. But two of their murderous slime soldiers speaking in a loud voice outside this prison of a tent spoke in a gloating way of how their brothers in arms were looting, defiling and destroying the glories of my beautiful and fair city. If I heard them correctly, our battle was only a minor one in a great and stunning loss for the powers of Parnafel and Solomaine. On the planes of Bekkanakomot and Fiester, our forces have been completely routed and even the famed Glyphulian Star Sword has been lost. I hate to think of the fate of so many of my comrades whom I left stout, fearless and ready for battle, lying prone and lifeless on those cursed plains. I heard these evil wretches, too, speak of a Solomaine City Guard General who traitorously turned to their side at the last moment and ensured the victory. This I cannot believe; I almost feel it was spoken in a louder voice for my benefit, but I know each and every one of the generals of our proud City Guard, and not one of them, not a single one, could ever be so vile as to side with the Crygians.
But to think of my city, of my Solomaine, under their viceful and soiling hand. Our fair towers, built of the famed Solomainey Limestone, that is more silver than gray and that, paired with the skill of our artisans, makes the battlements and stout walls seem lighter than air. And the quiet promenade along the river, lined by the fair houses of so many of my friends.
And, o ye gods, my mother and my daughter, how could I have forgotten them! What fate awaits them at the hands of such a murderous crew? I, they can smite, they can stone, they can break my back and my spirit, but, but ...
I must pause, for I see now that Major Thomhowll is attempting to rise from his bed. The nurse has been especially mindful of him, and she has truly worked miracles in bringing him back to life, for I have never seen a man with so many wounds deep into his muscle and sinew who has walked off the battlefield alive. The poor man, he does not realize that the battle is over, he keeps reaching for his sword that is not there, and he is muttering in his pained and vivid fever that we must regroup and reform and attack their weak flank. Sometimes, he grows quite vicious, and I must hold him down, but the nurse does not seem to frighten and simply goes on mixing her salves and ointments and dressing his wounds.
I shall continue writing tomorrow, gods willing, but I know not why, for all is useless now!
Forty-First Day of the Third Month of the Year 5833:
I spent a fretful night grasping my hair and rending my nightshirt and cursing the broken leg that prevents me from rushing out of this horrid tent and die at least a man in futile battle, even though I have no weapons but my bruised and chaffed hands. The nurse came in at sunrise and must have found me a frightful sight, for at first she was taken aback and stepped out of the tent when she saw what she must have thought a feral look in my eyes. But she soon collected herself and returned, this time with one of the sallow guards to accompany her as she proceeded to change Major Thomhowll's bandages.
“You may not be afraid of me, mademoiselle,” I spoke to her in Parnafelian, for I could not speak the guttural Crygian tongue, and I felt she certainly was not familiar with our beautiful Solomainmut. “We of the Solomaine City Guards are pledged to chivalry, unlike the hounds in your lawless army.”
She stared at me and, at first did not respond, but then with a pluck I found surprising in her, she laughed a low and bitter chuckle.
“Many friends of mine, sisters who have tended to the sick and the hurt throughout this witless war, and I might add tended without regard to whose life they were saving, could tell you something about the chivalry of the Solomaine City Guards.”
I was taken aback that she, who had so far avoided these mind-bending taunts, should try to turn my wits with her baseless lies against my comrades, when I lay prone and at my weakest point.
“Mademoiselle,” I responded with heat, “I feel it unfair of you to attack my honor in such a base way. For when you attack the honor of any Solomaine City Guards you attack the honor of each and every one of us.”
She turned away, and if I am not mistaken, she muttered in Crygian, “Believe what you will,” as she continued to tend to Major Thomhowll, who was now beginning to emit pitiful low moans.
As this was the first time she had spoken at length and unguardedly to me, I decided to see if I could press her for some more reliable information than that I had overheard from the listless night guards.
“Mademoiselle,” I ventured after a slight pause, “I don't believe I have had the pleasure of addressing you by your name.”
To my surprise, she turned to me in a frank and gracious way, and replied, “I am Nurse Bleehune of Felono. It is my pleasure to help you recover from your war-gotten wounds, though you are a prisoner here now.”
“I am pleased to meet you, Nurse Bleehune. I am Praxo-Lieutenant Fliefus Hamdum na 'Attenarillo, and I thank you for your consummate care,” I replied, attempting to manage something of a courteous smile. “Could you help me even more, by telling me a little of what fate awaits me outside this tent?”
She looked away, and more quickly wrapped a bandage around Major Thomhowll's arm. I did not dare to speak or to press my point, so I sat quietly, staring with scorn at the dumb guard who stood near the flap of the tent, and who I could tell had not understood the Parnafelian in which we were holding our conversation.
“They have warned me not to supply the prisoners with any information,” she said with hesitation. “I dare not tell you what could help you escape or sabotage our camp.”
“But perhaps you could confirm what I have overheard your very own guards saying, in their drunken witlessness, just outside my tent. For I will believe it from you, though I cannot bring myself to believe it from them.”
She did not say anything, but continued to look away, concentrating on holding Major Thomhowll's head down as she pressed some golden colored balm to his lips.
“Please tell me, Nurse Bleehune, I must know or I shall go insane,” I pressed on, “Please tell me if it is true that our battle here has been completely lost. That no regiments from our side are marching toward Pelosio as we speak to carry on the fight.”
She did not say anything, but I thought I saw her nod just slightly. I knew I had to continue, though my heart told me I should not.
“And is it true that the great battle between the Crygian foes and our wondrous Solomaine and Parnafel Alliance has been ended, and not in a way a man could be proud of; that a traitor has turned the tide and that now all is lost for our side?”
She nodded again, but this time she spoke in here quietest tone, and again in Crygian, so quiet that I was not sure I heard correctly, “That man was no traitor, but a hero.”
My heart quailed and I felt a sudden pain shoot through my body from my broken leg, but I knew I had to ask the question that was burning on my lips. I turned to her, and try as I might I could not keep the tears from my eyes.
“And is it true, Nurse Bleehune, that the city of my youth, that fair star of the sea, my Solomaine, is has fallen into the infidels' hands along with all of Parnafel.”
To my surprise, she turned to me and looked me straight in the eye. After a pause, she spoke in the clearest Solomainmut.
“Yes, your city is now under the control of the Crygian Chancellor. And the evil men who ruled your star of the sea and brought so many innocent souls to such cruel and untimely deaths, they have been bound, quartered and thrown in the river, until it ran red with their vile blood.”
To be continued ...
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