Page 70 of To Kill a King
The sun was barely a finger’s width above the horizon thirty minutes later when Zadé sat astride her white gelding at the top of a small rise to the north of the camp, directly to Cressida’s left. King Enorathil and his general were on her aunt’s other side.
Raising his sword aloft, he pointed it at the humans, scurrying about their camp in the early morning.
Zadé grinned, flashing her fangs. Today was going to be fun, and assuming everything went as planned, they should be home in time for Samhain. Then she could have all the fizzleberries and spiced pumpkin she wanted.
Roland met Lady Brightleaf’s gaze. She nodded once.
“Charge,” he said. Cressida’s magic amplified his voice so it echoed across the valley.
Behind them, two horns sounded, the blending of their tones startled birds from the nearby trees. As one, the elven host surged forward.
Zadé’s chest swelled with pride. Despite two weeks’ of hard marching, the army’s precise ranks, even the matching angles of their weapons boasted the high level of training. The silver of the moon elves’ uniforms glittered in the morning light just as much as the gold on the sun elves’. The humans would wet themselves.
The synchronized stomp from thousands of boots shook the ground. Zadé nodded as the northern and southern battalions broke off, circling around to ensure the opposing infantry would be funneled directly into their main force.
“Many are going to die today, all for the stupidity of the Cerels,” Cressida murmured.
Roland shrugged. “What do we care? They’re only human, their lives are but a blink of an eye. This is what they get for allowing the Cerel family to occupy their throne.”
Cressida raised her eyebrow. “The human peasants have no more say over who rules them than your subjects do.”
King Enorathil huffed as his cheeks turned red. His face contorted in a grimace as he turned his mount to face them. His voice raised, carrying to the nearest soldiers. “Are you comparing me to that human filth?”
Zadé bit the corners of her lips to hold back the snort. While Roland wasn’t nearly as evil as King Cerel, his lack of patience and mercy was legendary. As was his ego. And only someone of equal status would be able to draw the comparison to his face and without consequences. Someone like Cressida Brightleaf.
Cress turned her attention pointedly to the battlefield. “Of course not. But it is the curse of the commonfolk to suffer for the choices of their rulers. A pity.”
Zadé peeked at her aunt from the corner of her eye. She’d have never guessed Cress felt the same way about Roland as she did.
Lady Brightleaf caught her gaze and winked as the sun elf king turned back into position.
The lead weight in Zadé’s gut evaporated. Perhaps playing this politics game wouldn’t be so bad, after all. She focused on the army in front of her.
The elves were halfway across the field, the human troops scrambling to meet them.
Zadé’s gaze scoured the human camp, searching for a figure she knew wasn’t there. Their king would hardly be present at his own battlefield. He was a coward that way, leaving the work, and the risk, to greater men and women.
The two armies met. The clang of metal on metal echoed across the valley. Arrows hissed as they peppered the ground from above. Zadé grinned. Elven armor was superior quality, and few of the projectiles would find their mark. The humans, however…
Something large and round erupted from the distant encampment, landing with a thunk in the middle of Sun Elf Regiment Two. Thunder split the sky as the area was obscured by flames.
The relentless breeze carried the smoke back to the humans, revealing a blackened crater several yards across.
“What in the name of Light was that?” A gnawing pit opened in Zadé’s gut, chilling her blood. Screams from the injured and dying assaulted her ears.
No, no, no! This wasn’t supposed to happen.
Cressida’s eyes were wide, her jaw slack. “What is this devilry?”
Her soldiers scattered. Chaos broke out on the battlefield. “Reform the ranks!” Zadé called. Behind her, the horn echoed the command, bellowing over the field.
Another black ball landed amid Regiment One to the north, exploding on impact.
“Valek!” Without thinking, Zadé drew her sword, spurred her horse and plunged into the fray.
“Niece! Wait!” Cressida’s voice was lost in another explosion.
The army was falling apart. The smell of rotten eggs and smoke bombarded her senses. She relied entirely on her mount to guide her through their fractured forces.