Author: Earnest DeCarrow
“Make believe whatever you want, but you know your army doesn’t stand a chance.”
Tristan hated how his older brother always had to find a way to win. They sat on the floor of Tristan’s room, looking upon a medieval battle on pause while they argued over which soldiers survived and which fell. This was the crucial final battle before Xavier’s forces broke through Tristan’s defenses and would be able to strike at his castle, so Tristan was not about to let his brother coast to another victory just to protect his feelings. Tristan had chosen the battleground carefully before engaging, making sure his troops had advantage in elevation on the hills of Green Tides (the pillows from his bed) and in cover via the sprawling Stone Forest (stacks of his old building blocks). Since Xavier’s Brotherhood of Fire forces did not outnumber Tristan’s Banner of Eagles, with both sides taking heavy losses in the preceding clashes, there was no reason the Eagles could not repel the over-extended, under-supplied Brotherhood.
Yet, the Brotherhood had magically produced fresh cavalry units that now flanked the Eagles atop Green Tides.
“C’mon, that’s not fair! You can’t create new guys and put them in the best spot!”
Xavier gave his usual devilish grin, “If you’d scouted maybe you would’ve seen them.”
Tristan hated that Xavier had a valid point. Their play had advanced enough over the years to establish rules of engagement. In particular, they allowed one another to always have secret units that could only be discovered by scouting, and they were each allowed to scout in two locations and then adjust troop placements before a battle. They prided themselves on what they considered a fairly mature way to play for their ages.
“Yeah, but that doesn’t matter, because you can’t have those guys!”
Xavier looked appalled, “And why’s that?”
“Because, because you’ve never had those units. You can’t just make new guys if they weren’t already part of your army, especially if you’re the invader.”
The devilish grin grew, “Maybe some of your guys flipped sides, wanted to be with a winner.”
Tristan was really fuming now. This was ruining the game. He quickly looked around the room for something he could throw in Xavier’s face. Spotting the bouncy ball, er, cannon ball by his foot, Xavier snatched it up and whipped it harder than he intended at Xavier. The throw was also more accurate than he was used to and struck Xavier right in the eye.
Xavier yelped and threw a hand up to cover the left side of his face.
“You little rat,” he screamed, “You’re gonna get it now!”
Tristan was already on his feet and scrambling from the room, yelling for their mom. Once Xavier was satisfied he still had an eye and it worked, he stood up, kicked over several of Tristan’s soldiers, and bolted from the room yelling, “I’m going to get you!”
As quiet once again settled in the room and in the absence of any inhabitants, the space transformed from child’s dwelling to a smoldering battlefield of misery and death. The world became that of the soldiers; they existed as but small pieces amidst a vast universe.
“Quickly, we must gather the wounded and as many of the dead as we can. I know not what granted us this reprieve, but we must not waste it.”
As the lieutenant directed men, he stole glances of the enemy doing the same, thinking, “The damned Brotherhood and their greed. Would be fitting for their dead to rot and feed the land to help rebuild what they have worked so hard to destroy.”
His disgust with the enemy gave way to the exhaustion and confusion racking his body that he hid from his men. The lieutenant could not understand how the battle remained so tightly contested. They had every advantage of the field, and he would never consider the Brotherhood to be superior of skill or strategy. Yet, they either had an answer or a way to best everything the Eagles threw at them. The last volley from the Brotherhood had been especially lethal, nearly taking out the Eagles’ entire right flank.
The lieutenant’s consternation was broken by a shout.
“Lieutenant, lieutenant!”
He turned to see a messenger from the rear, the hills, running his way.
“What is it, soldier?”
“Sir, a report from the commander. Brotherhood cavalry have been spotted in a left flanking position on the hills. You are ordered to pull back to the forest’s edge and provide a defensive wall while the commander repositions for the new threat.”
The lieutenant cursed and wondered aloud, “That cannot be! We identified their remaining cavalry on the front!”
The messenger shook his head and gave a resigned shrug, “The commander’s advisors believe these new soldiers may be Eagle defectors.”
This was something the lieutenant refused to believe, “Impossible! No Eagle would submit to Brotherhood rule and the destruction this land.”
Again the messenger shook and shrugged, “They say the gods willed it so.”
“Then the gods play wicked games. Perhaps that is why we find this time to rest; they have their own quarrel to resolve before deciding our fates.”
The messenger remained silent, and the lieutenant had not expected a response. He looked to the sky in frustration. They fought hard to maintain control of the forest and make any Brotherhood advance costly, but now they were forced to give it all away.
He turned to the messenger and pierced him with a strong gaze to emphasize his displeasure but confirm the orders will be followed, “It will be done. Now go.”
The lieutenant sent the command out across the line to cease recovery actions except for a small contingent of stout soldiers, and the remaining force retreated back through the stone forest, leaving behind the scars of war.
“Now I know you two can get along. You’re brothers. You’re lucky to have one another. Xavier, Tristan apologized, and if he does that again, your dad or I will handle it. Okay?”
Their mom’s voice carried up the stairs with a strong tonal mix of consequence and love. Tristan managed to reach her before Xavier could mete out his brand of justice. After a lengthy mediation, Xavier calmed down and saw his brother deliver a sincere apology. They were forced to hug and then sent upstairs to either spend time alone or figure out how to get along. Now, the brothers returned to Tristan’s room to conclude the battle.
Tristan stopped just inside the door as he caught sight of the battlefield.
“What’d you do to my soldiers?”
Xavier winced as he remembered his act of passionate retribution.
“Just to a few. I’d say that’s small potatoes after what you did.”
Tristan fumed for only a second before accepting the situation, “Fine, but I’m setting them back up.”
“Sure, but where?”
Tristan turned to his brother with a confused expression, “What do you mean ‘where’? They’ll go back on the line.”
Xavier nodded and pointed at the battlefield, “Take a look, dummy. What line?”
With their reconciliation already on the rocks, Tristan did not immediately fire back at Xavier’s name calling, but he could feel his face redden with angry heat. Instead, he turned back to the battlefield and immediately saw that his brother was, unfortunately, correct. Tristan’s mind raced through what he remembered of the setup before assaulting his brother and sprinting out of the room. He knew the battle in Stone Forest was paused while they debated the flanking cavalry on Green Tides, and there was a clear path of destruction from whatever Xavier did in Tristan’s absence that only affected the right flank. The absence of the rest of the line was beyond confusing.
“I swear I left them in the forest. You didn’t see me move them, did you?”
Xavier looked from the battlefield to his brother and shrugged. He also swore everything was left in the forest when they paused, but he was still not in a mood to help ease his brother’s mind. He watched as Tristan stepped over fallen soldiers and the battlefield’s landscape, searching for his missing legion.
“What the heck?”
Tristan stared down at Green Tides, looking back and forth across the rolling hills. Curious to see what drew his attention, Xavier tip-toed around the battlefield, careful not to step on or knock down any soldiers. When he arrived at Tristan’s shoulder, it was Xavier’s mind that needed easing.
He elbowed Tristan, “When did you do that? Funny that you aligned your rear to face the flank when you wanted that cavalry off the field.”
Tristan was still stunned, “I didn’t! You were with me the whole time!”
Xavier knew his brother told the truth, and for the first time, he had no snarky comeback. The brothers stood shoulder to shoulder in perplexed silence, staring down at Green Tides and the perfectly positioned combat lines set to repel the Brotherhood’s flanking cavalry.
The lieutenant bolstered his men’s spirits as they waited for the impending Brotherhood charge from the Stone Forest.
“Hold fast, men, and may the clash of your swords beat out a song of just retribution! This is our home! Our blood shall birth the future or taint the spoils!”
A bassy chant accompanied by the clanging of swords against shields rose from the line. The men’s blood flooded with adrenaline, and they felt emboldened to the brink of feral violence.
“Behold, the gods watch our finest hour!”
The soldiers looked to the sky, raised their swords, and loosed an earth-shaking roar across the line. It was echoed from within the forest as the Eagles and Brotherhood vied for the gods’ favor and the destruction of their enemies.
Featured Image: Shutterstock 2444955689 (zef art)
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