The wind was carrying a bitter cold from the north. The leaves left the trees and scattered on the ground as the forest gave way to a grassy plain. The grass was beginning to brown, and the distinction between the grass and the dirt road that led to Castle Fenn was slowly fading. The only sign of color was a small brook that cut across the road and was covered by a bridge.

  The army wasn’t moving as fast as Aeolwyn would have liked. The snows would come soon, and if they didn’t reach Castle Fenn before then, too much of his army might freeze to death to conduct a proper siege. But now that they had cleared the forest, he hoped they would be able to quicken the pace and reach the castle before the first snowfall.

  After being stuck in the forests for so long, the slightly rolling hills of the plains was a beautiful sight, even though the flowers had all died, and the grass was browning. Far in the distance a farmhouse had shut itself up against the cold and the thick smoke from the chimney was the only indication that the building was still occupied. It was as picturesque a scene as Aeolwyn could remember.

  Trint, the street urchin told them that they were called the Fields of Velaney, and they were the most beautiful fields in all of Laryndor. Not before this day was over. After today, they would only be remembered as the Fields of Blood.

  Across the other side of the bridge five horsemen sat in two rows. Three, in battered chain armor, each held long spears and wore swords at their hips sat in the back row. in front of the three, the man on the left carried a banner that held the lake and oak sigil of the Fenns. The one to the right, a grizzled old warrior in battered chainmail sat looking bored.

  Waiting about a hundred yards behind these men was a massive army organized into 6 companies. Each company bore its own banner and stood at attention in rigid rows. The three forward companies all held the longest spears Aeolwyn had ever seen. He shuddered, imagining a cavalry charge crashing into spears that long.

  Before long, he would have to.

  “Galafar, deploy the men. Standard 3 by 2 formation. Wagons on the flanks.” He kicked Sefalus into motion. “Count Wollams, you’re with me.” He didn’t have to look back to see that his personal guard had followed.

  He had learned from Sir Jom many years ago that it was common for the two generals to confer before a battle was fought. There would be blusterous talk, offers for mercy if the other surrendered, and threats for absolute destruction. He and his mentor had practiced it many times.

  He heard Galafar shouting orders as he and the count rode the short distance to the bridge. Aeolwyn halted his horse halfway across the bridge. He would be damned if he was going to put his group at a disadvantage because the narrow bridge was at their backs.

  It was all part of the game. There was as much strategy with the parlay as there was with how they were planning to form up and deploy their armies. In the case of the bridge, their general stopped on the far side of it to see how Aeolwyn would react.

  Aeolwyn waited while the opposing general watched him. The general was testing his patience by not moving. Again, probing his experience in these matters. The first to move gave up an unseen advantage by capitulating to the other’s choice of location to conduct this meeting. Aeolwyn wouldn’t budge though. The opposing army already had two advantages: it was slightly larger, and the men were familiar with the terrain. There was no way he was going to give them a third.

  The opposing general finally gave up waiting and kicked his horse into motion. It slowly sauntered across the bridge and stopped halfway, just a few feet away from Sefalus. His bannerman and guards followed behind.

  He turned to Count Wollams, deliberately ignoring Aeolwyn. “Greetings, general,” he said. “I am Lord Fliree, and I demand to know the meaning of this invasion.”

  Count Wollams said nothing. He just slowly shook his head and pointed a gloved finger at Aeolwyn. That pleased Aeolwyn. Wollams had a tendency to try to usurp his authority when they were devising strategies. It was rare for him to defer to Aeolwyn.

  Lord Fliree didn’t appear to be surprised when Wollams told him that Aeolwyn was in command. Perhaps news of the Boy General had already filled his ears. If that was the case, then him addressing the count was a deliberate action on his part. Just another part of the game.

  “Well, boy?” Fliree demanded.

  Aeolwyn smirked. Fliree was trying too hard to push him off balance. It wouldn’t work. If there was one thing that Sir Jom had drilled into his head over and over, it was to keep your head when the enemy tried to prod you into making a mistake.

  “Oh! Were you speaking to me?” Aeolwyn asked.

  “Are there any other boys here?”

  Was the general angry already? He was acting like it. Maybe he was upset that an army had woken him from his bed at this early hour. Good. That would play into Aeolwyn’s advantage. It was his turn to goad his opponent.

  “If you wish to speak to me, I will answer to either Highness, or General. Not boy.”

  “You’d be Prince Aeolwyn, then?” The general managed to make a question sound like an order. His mannerism told Aeolwyn all he needed to know. His disrespect indicated that this was going to be an easy victory for him.

  Aeolwyn nodded. “I am.”

  “There needn’t be any bloodshed today, boy. I’d hate to spark a war because I killed a prince. I will give you two hours to turn your army around and go home.”

  Count Wollams laughed out loud. Fliree scowled at him, but the knight couldn’t help himself. He nearly fell off his horse with his guffaws.

  “What’s so funny old man?” Fliree’s bannerman demanded.

  “Him.” The count said, pointing at the general. “Thinking he can kill Prince Aeolwyn. I know your reputation General Fliree, and it’s you who should be turning back.”

  While the count was laughing, Aeolwyn studied the Fennish army’s formations. It was clear that they would be content to wait for his army to make the first move. With the massive number of pikemen in the front ranks, they were expecting a cavalry charge as the first volley.

  That would be the normal order in battle. The archers would open with volleys of arrows to soften up the front ranks while the cavalry would charge the positions. With his limited number of knights, Aeolwyn didn’t think that made sense. He didn’t have enough to break through their line.

  He would have to charge with the infantry. Those long pikes would be more difficult to wield in close, hand to hand combat. He could keep his knights in reserve. Once the front ranks had been broken, he could send the cavalry in to mop up.

  “Are you going to allow such disrespect from your bannerman, prince?”

  Aeolwyn grinned. “He’s not wrong, general. We will be leaving this field today, but it will be past your graves—unless you offer to surrender here and now.”

  Fliree shook his head. “Suit yourself,” he said and turned his horse. His men scowled at Aeolwyn before following their general. “Arrogant boy,” the general muttered as he rode away.

  “Well done, Highness,” Wollams said as they rode back to their army.

  Aeolwyn wondered if Sir Jom would have agreed with that assessment. Some battles could be won or lost at the parlay, but he didn’t feel as though he gained any advantage. More importantly, did he give General Fliree any advantage? He didn’t think so.

  His army was still busy gathering into their formations as they returned. It wouldn’t take long, as they were already mostly sorted into their companies and knew where to go. His squires were busy helping the few knights he had get into their armor and mount their horses. He wished he had more. They could be a difference maker on the battlefield. Especially against Fliree’s army. Besides the general, he didn’t see a single knight among them.

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  Unless they were holding them in reserve somewhere out of view.

  “Egne!” He called. His friend was already nearby. “Hold the mages in reserve. Unleash them on my command, unless you see their cavalry charge out of the tree line against our flanks.”

  He didn’t want to deploy the mages yet if he didn’t have to. If he had his way, he would keep them a secret all the way to Fenn Castle. The less the Fenns knew about his secret weapon, the better. They would come up with a defense or form their own mage corps eventually, but he wanted to hold this advantage as long as he could.

  “Count Wollams,” he said. “We are going to close with the infantry. Keep the knights in reserve until we can soften up those pikemen for you.”

  “Your Highness, I demand the honor of the vanguard.” Wollams said. His deference had ended the minute they were out of earshot of the enemy general.

  “No. You’ll be spit like pigs against those pikes. Let the infantry go in first.”

  Wollams shook his head and stormed away. He knew Aeolwyn was right, but as a knight he was obsessed with the idea of valor in combat. It was going to be his undoing. Aeolwyn didn’t care if the man was angry with him as long as he obeyed orders.

  “Men!” Aeolwyn shouted as soon as they were in their positions. “Today we avenge our comrades who died in Fort Camulan!”

  The men cheered, waving their weapons into the air. Others relayed his message to those out of earshot. More cheers erupted as the men further away got the message.

  “You are well trained and well-armed. You’ve been battle tested, unlike those fools on the other side of the brook. Keep your shields together and watch for those pikes. They won’t trouble you once your inside their range.”

  He paused, unsure of what to say next. The proper thing to say was, “For Camulan and the King,” but that felt inappropriate considering that his brother was still trying to kill him and hadn’t ordered this invasion.

  “For Prince Aeolwyn!” someone shouted. He thought it was Galafar.

  “For the prince!” others echoed.

  “March!” Galafar called out.

  Aeolwyn wanted to be with the men in the shield wall that would be the first to make contact with the enemy. He felt like he should be leading from the front of the battle. But he was the general, and his responsibility was the overarching strategy. He couldn’t concern himself with the individual skirmishes. That’s what his captains and corporals were for. He still felt like a coward. His men would be sacrificing their lives for him, and he should be willing to do the same.

  But they were depending on him to keep them alive in other ways, so he contented himself to stand between the ranks of companies as they marched past, giving them all encouragement.

  As his army closed, the enemy archers began to take potshots at his group. His men were well trained, and he wasn’t worried about their volleys. Occasionally his men grabbed one of the stray arrows and send it back, more as an insult than actually trying to hit something.

  Lord Fliree had chosen his battle spot and wouldn’t move. He would wait while Aeolwyn’s army closed the gap. Aeolwyn would have done the same thing in his position, though the Fenns’ position had no tactical advantage to any other spot on the battlefield, except that they forced his army to cross the brook, which could have been a dangerous proposition if it had been raining.

  But the weather was clear, if cold, and they made it across with no issue, except for dealing with the increasing number of arrows heading their way. Their shields held though, and the men stayed strong.

  Then, just as the army was getting close, the worst thing that could happen, did happen. Count Wollams in his lust for glory broke through the lines of infantry with his knights and charged. Behind him, two dozen squires and pages, unarmored but carrying spears followed.

  It went exactly as Aeolwyn had expected. The arrows that had been falling on well-defended infantry changed their tactics and started picking off the unarmored squires. Then the few armored knights crashed hard into the hedgehog line of pikemen. One of the knights was pierced straight through and fell from his horse, taking the pike down with him.

  Another’s horse hit the collection of pikes hard and plowed into the row of shield men at the front, grinding to a halt. The horse’s rider flew over his dead mount to land atop the pikemen. He disappeared behind their lines. The last surviving fully armored knight turned and fled but was killed when a lucky arrow found its way between his shoulder and his neck, killing him instantly.

  Count Wollams, whose horse was slower than the others realized what was happening, turned to flee, but his horse was cut down underneath him. He ran back towards the infantry for protection. Lucky for him, the arrows fired at his back bounced off his plate armor.

  And that quickly, Aeolwyn’s few remaining knights were completely destroyed. Gods damn that man! Why hadn’t he listened to orders? Now Aeolwyn had not only lost every knight in his company, but most of the squires and pages as well.

  Galafar and Egne looked at him nervously. Aeolwyn shook his head. He wasn’t going to change his tactics simply because he had suffered a loss. This was war, and there were bound to be losses. He just didn’t expect it to be caused by a man he trusted.

  “We keep to the plan,” he said. “Let the infantry break those pikemen. As soon as a hole opens, instead of the knights, we’ll send more soldiers through to cut them down.”

  He paused as he saw how far apart the two armies still were. The pikemen were better than he expected, and he could see them maneuvering their weapons to be ready to skewer some of his infantry. They needed to put them off balance when they thought they would get a good shot in.

  “Signal double time,” he told Galafar, who nodded to the trumpeter beside him.

  The man blew a quick series of notes on his instrument, and just as the men were closing within striking range of the pikemen, the jumped into motion. The front ranks batted away the mistimed strikes and knocked the pikes out of reach. At the same time, they ran headlong into the army with a deafening crash. Swords banged against wood and steel, and men began crying out as they were struck and killed.

  In the rows behind, archers fired their volleys beyond the front ranks of the shield wall and into the ranks behind. Most got their shields up in time, but some didn’t, leaving holes behind that were quickly filled up.

  With the pikemen unable to maneuver their long weapons in close combat, his men went to work, bashing down shields and stabbing into the gaps with their swords. The Fenns were slow to draw their own short-range weapons, and the line was already starting to break.

  He could hear the opposing general shouting commands to his men to fill the gaps that were already forming in the shield wall, but their pikes were getting in the way. The long weapons were getting tangled up in their neighbor’s swords as they were dropped.

  Now was the perfect time for a cavalry charge. With a gap starting to open up, the armored knights would crush the defenders. But it was too late. Wollams had ruined his chance at a quick rout.

  “Open the gap and send the back ranks in,” he said.

  More trumpet sounds and the men behind plunged through the gaps created in the front lines. The five companies worked like a well-oiled machine. They had been battle-hardened and drilled to perfection.

  Despite the larger size of the Fennish army, they hadn’t been at the battles of Lannic and Tinar outposts. These men had been far behind the lines and didn’t have the same experience with fighting and dying as Aeolwyn’s men had. Their lines collapsed quickly, and men began to break and run. Aeolwyn’s archers picked them off as they fled.

  And just like that it was over. The enemy’s army was fleeing. Even the general, having seen the tide turn so quickly ran off like a coward. Aeolwyn would really have liked to test himself against the other general’s steel. But if his combat skill was anything like his battlefield skill, it would have been an unfulfilling fight.

  ***

  After the battle, the men rounded up the survivors of the battle and made them prisoners. Instead of dragging all these men with them, he ordered them stripped of all weapons and clothing, and set them free, naked, but alive.

  Others combed through the bloody battlefield, looking for men close to death and easing them along their journey. He toyed with the idea of sending a detachment after the general but thought better of it. They could easily have regrouped further on and Aeolwyn didn’t want to risk losing the men.

  He did send some scouts ahead, though. That was something he should have done sooner. He didn’t like that he was surprised by General Fliree’s army. He would have liked to have been able to choose a tactic that wasn’t as bloody as this one.

  Count Wollams had been found in the back of the lines trying to steal a horse. He was battered and bruised, but unhurt, if you discounted his shame at losing all of the knights in an ill-conceived quest for glory.

  He was brought before Aeolwyn in chains, stripped of all his armor and weapons.

  “I beg forgiveness, Your Highness,” he said, kneeing before Aeolwyn.

  They had set up camp on the opposite side of the battlefield, with men set out as sentries. He was not going to allow the general to surprise him with a midnight attack on his camp. He ordered his men to stay ready, sober and with their arms and armor on. An unpopular choice after a battle, but he needed them ready in the event of a counterattack.

  He sat in his large tent, surrounded by his friends, his guards, and Count Wollams, who was pleading for his life. Aeolwyn really did want to grant this man mercy. He had come to rely on his advice and knowledge. But he couldn’t. Insubordination and disobedience outside of battle was one thing, but doing so on the battlefield was a whole different matter. Count Wollams had cost him dearly today.

  “You’d said I would have to make hard decisions, count, and this is one of them,” Aeolwyn said.

  “Please, Your Highness. I made a mistake.”

  “One that destroyed our entire company of knights.” He felt the anger start to flow through him again as he thought of all his dead men that lay on the battlefield. “You chided me for my soft heart, and I want to grant you mercy, I do. But this is unforgivable.”

  “Aeolwyn, please,” Galafar interrupted. “Give this man mercy.”

  Aeolwyn shook his head. “It was a foolish mistake, count. You disobeyed a direct order from me that could have cost us the battle. How can I ever trust you again?”

  Count Wollams broke down in tears.

  “Take him away,” Aeolwyn said. “Make your peace with Laryn, count. In the morning, I will take your head.”

  The guards grabbed Wollams and pulled him away as he begged for his life. It broke Aeolwyn’s heart to hear the cries. He didn’t want to execute him. He wanted to exile him, but he couldn’t. Wollams knew too much about Aeolwyn’s army and the mage corps. He would be welcomed back to Alfyn’s court with open arms if he carried that knowledge, and that could be devastating for Aeolwyn.

  He had no choice. The count had to die.