Alliances

Silence. The sunrise was only a few minutes away and it seemed as if the world was holding its breath. Balir slowly let out his own and looked around at the rows of men and women beside him. So many young faces. The recent battles had taken their toll. And lives. Most of those who were left were either too young or like Balir, too old to be standing here.

He looked down at Elvar. The bear’s fur was as white as it had always been, but now age had added some thin patches and matted strands here and there. The steady up and down of his friend’s back soothed Balir like it always did. Elvar had been beside him since Balir could stand on his chubby little legs. Balir and Elvar, Elvar and Balir. Never was one mentioned without the other. The long years of training had forged them into an unstoppable unit. They had been well regarded as part of the Walhari Ice Riders.

The Walhari, his brothers in the far north. They had not come to help. The alliances were broken. Balir’s gaze was drawn to the line of trees in front of their sad crowd of ‘fighters’. The Cerulean troops would arrive through the woods, they had no other entry point into the valley. Maybe they could hold them off long enough, so that the others, who had stayed behind, could escape over the mountains. Or die quickly, Balir thought darkly.

Elvar jerked towards the trees and the hairs on his neck stood up. Balir looked at him and asked: “What is it, old man? What do you sense?” A huff. “Death”, the bear growled. So the Ceruleans had arrived early. Balir had hoped that he would see the sun at least once more. One by one, little torches showed up in the distance. He could hear a collective murmur from the crowd around him. Like a serpent that was crawling out of the woods, the line of torches grew and straightened out in front of them.

He would have to take charge, the others were clearly too frightened. And not trained well. Or at all. Farmers, blacksmiths, traders. Simple people mostly. But determined to defend their families. Only a few soldiers like him left. Balir didn’t have to direct Elvar much to guide him to the front. He turned around and looked back at their own little troops. How do you motivate people to go to their death? He wasn’t certain he could. But what choice did they have? “This is it”, he bellowed. “I know fear overwhelms you,” he let his eyes wander over stricken faces. “but we have to stand and keep the cerulean tide at bay! Even for a little bit. Our families need time to escape. You are the last- ” Balir could not finish, as arrows started to hit the wet ground in front of them. He turned Elvar with a jerk. The enemy was charging. With a shout and followed by his men and women he too charged forward into the battle that would be their last.

The first enemies died fast with a strike from his broadsword. Grunts and swears and blood. So much blood. This was his life, it had always been this way. Balir jumped off Elvar, dropped his heavy weapon and instead drew his two Walhari blades. With those lighter, curved weapons, he twirled this way and that, like a deadly whirlwind, cutting through enemies. Roaring, Elvar used his long claws and fangs to tear apart limbs and heads. His snout dripping with deep red liquid, his fur getting darker by the second.

Slowly but unrelenting, the enemy troops were encircling them. Bleeding from several wounds, both Balir and Elvar were back to back now, one slashing and hacking, the other ripping and crushing. The clangs of metal on metal gave way to screams of pain and cries of retreat from the defenders. An ax hit Balir across his ribs, a deep wound. So deep it made him drop to his knees and let go of his blades. A shattering roar from Elvar. He was fighting to defend his fallen friend now. Balir was lying on his back in the dirt, blinking into the sky. Around and over him, death and killing, shredding and gore. The first gray streaks appeared on the horizon. One last sunrise after all.

His breathing was getting sluggish, Balir was near unconsciousness when the sound of the familiar war drums started. The last thing he saw and heard before his eyes closed, was the white shapes and howls of the Ice Riders charging out of the woods, his old companion battling above him. Some alliances apparently were too strong to break. The Walhari had arrived.