The Huixtlan Campaign - Chapter Five - The Battle of Huixtlan

Previous chapters in this campaign: Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four 

 

Welcome back all! In today's Tales from the Auld World, the Huixtlan campaign comes to a head. The survivors of the temple raid stumble out into the sunlight (Captain Hans who stole Ticotl's feather cloak perhaps stumbling more than the rest due to the confusion of the new voices in his head). Ahead they see the other half of the Imperial expedition led by Oranje, but getting to them will mean running the gauntlet, as Lizardmen approach from one side and the remaining Elves from the other. All the actors are gathered; the stage is set for the decisive battle of the campaign...

 

The Battle

Emerging from the temple at Huixtlan, Timon mounts the War Altar and puts his surviving men to the arduous task of pulling it beneath him.

At the other end of the battlefield, Von Oranje and his remaining force rush to the rescue.

The rescue will not be an easy one however, with High Elves to the left of them and Lizardmen to the right. Into the valley of death they ride! 

Battle lines clash and things look desperate for the Empire at first. The Bastiladon does for two demigryph knights as Captain Melanie and her greatswords are brutally crushed beneath the bulk of a Stegadon. Saurus hack apart the volleygun too, though Von Oranje has cunningly positioned himself for a flank charge. 

Elven honour extended to Von Oranje but not Timon and his survivors. They are brutally shot to ribbons and the War Altar is abandoned as the priest flees towards Empire lines.

In an unlikely event none other than Feriath emerges from the belly of a great lizard as it was about to devour the free company (the stegadon later did just this!). The Lizardmen are shocked by this development but Von Oranje is not, he sees his chance and smashes into the saurus, Petunia eats her fill and he breaks the unit creating a path of escape for the Empire.

 

After the Battle

Feriath lay in the darkness and wondered, not for the first time, if this was death. Then the world shook, or some noise of the jungle filtered in, and he remembered he was in the belly of the beast. How he had survived being swallowed was a mystery. Likewise whether he should expect death to arrive at any moment, or to be belched out to face another fate, good or bad. He was in the hands of the Gods now; his own or those of this strange land he did not know. He still believed he had been brought here for a purpose, but he was no longer sure it was one that would end well for him. It was just as likely he was to serve as a cautionary tale about recklessness. Not that he regretted charging in to face the terrible lizard. His sacrifice had allowed Maeven to escape, and hopefully Eolas too.

His contemplation was interrupted as the foul smelling liquid in which he lay began to swirl. Then with a sudden surge he was swept along, swept into blinding light, and he collided with hard earth. Slowly his vision cleared. He was lying on his back, facing the huge lizard within whom he had so recently been a passenger. Without a further glance at him it turned, and its earth-shaking strides carried it into the jungle. In the same direction Feriath thought he saw a pillar of fire towering above the canopy, but before he could be sure it vanished out of sight.

The sounds of battle were all around him. Rolling over, he saw in the distance a monolithic temple of many levels, and before it Humans and Lizardmen locked in mortal combat. He saw Elf bodies lying there too.

After a few attempts, owing to the slickness of the lizard’s internal juices and his own weakness, he managed to stagger to his feet. A group of the smaller Lizardmen rushed by. He couldn’t see any other Elves still alive, and in any case he was mindful of his oath to Von Oranje, and the fact he wouldn’t be of much use to anyone in his current condition. So he fell in behind the Lizardmen, wondering where on earth they, and fate, would lead him next.

Epilogue - Flight to the Ships

As the dust settles in front of the temple only Von Oranje, a wounded Timon, and the champion of the demigryph knights have a chance to make it back to their ships. Each of them carrying the bounties of the Huixtlan temple and pursued by Lizards and Elves alike.

Ticotl rides the gore soaked Stegadon after the fleeing men, saddled with him are captives from the previous battles - Drakon, a wizard lord, and an engineer lost in the jungle when Von Oranje first landed. 

The three Empire characters have to make it through the pass at the top of the battlefield, after which they will be in range of their ship's guns and able to safely make it back to their home.

What is left of the elves look to do their part in denying the humans their bounty, cutting off the central path.

Of the over a hundred that landed on Lustria's shores, but three seek to make it to ship and be made rich by its treasures. They will have to avoid the dense jungle, which has killed so many during this campaign.

As Von Oranje looks on, Timon and the demigryph champion manage the unlikely feat of slaying the Stegadon and in doing so free Drakon and some others. Together they charge through the elves and make it back to their boats, capturing Ticotl on the way! Von Oranje spent little time fighting and made for the ships, Feriath caught up to him, but due to his oath he did not attack. Instead the elf channelled the winds of magic and destroyed the sword the Empire general had stolen from him. 

The undergrowth fought Feriath, sometimes literally, as he forced his way through the dark jungle. He could smell the sea somewhere ahead. His Lizardmen guides had fled at the approach of the surviving Humans and their monstrous mounts, but it didn’t take a genius to realise the Humans were heading for their ships. He emerged into the mouth of a valley between towering cliffs of overgrown rock. He could see the pitifully few surviving Elves forming a line and pouring arrows into the equally ragged remnants of the Human army.

That damnable Von Oranje spurred his Griffon and the beast soared over the line of Elves, landing not far from Feriath. He saw his father’s sword clenched in the Human’s hand, and for a moment he forgot the battle, forgot his oath, and felt the urge to hurl himself at his enemy, suicidal though it would be. The Feriath who had first arrived in Lustria would have done it anyway, but he knew now he hadn’t been called here to throw his life away for useless honour. Not while there were others he could save.

Still, there was one thing he could do to spite Oranje before he escaped. If he couldn’t reclaim the sword, at least he could make sure his enemy wouldn’t have it either. Raising his hands and his voice, he called out words of power, and had a moment of satisfaction, though not a little sorrow, as the blade blazed red hot in Oranje’s hand, and the Human, cursing, dropped it to lie in a melted heap.

Then his Griffon bore him on, and Feriath started towards where his surviving followers were now engaged with the enemy. Going to their aid would be breaking his oath to Oranje, but there were more important things than honour. If he could save even one of the other Elves, his miraculous survival so far would not have been in vain.

 

Ticotl gazed glumly through the bars of the cage, to where the Humans milled about the ship, some raucously displaying their trophies, others staring with empty eyes at the receding shores of Lustria, thinking of the many comrades they had left fallen there. Ticotl didn’t even have the comfort of the cloak of feathers and the voices of the priests gone before that came with it. Perhaps that was for the best though. He didn’t think their opinion of him would be very favourable at the moment.

Where had it all gone wrong? After he had regained his senses in the temple, he had leapt on one of the great thunder lizards and raced to cut the Humans off before they before they reached the coast. But the beast had panicked before one of the Human’s steeds that was half its size, throwing him right into the path of his enemies.

He didn’t know what the Humans were planning to do with him. Looking around at the other caged animals, he wondered if that was all they thought of him. Maybe that would cause them to underestimate him, he thought with a sudden flash of hope, and if he bided his time he might find his moment to escape.

And there was one other cause for hope, he thought, as his eyes lighted on one of the Humans with the cloak of feathers draped over his shoulders, a look of confusion on his face such as Ticotl himself had worn when he first heard the voices in his head. Perhaps help would soon be coming from a most unexpected quarter.

 

 

It was not long before dawn, and as Feriath sat and looked out over the dark sea, he felt its emptiness fill his exhausted form. The Lizardmen had returned after the battle, seemingly as stunned as the Elves by all that had happened, but after some tortuous gesturing Feriath had come to understand that they were going to lead the surviving Elves back to their ships.

It would be a sorry few who returned to Ulthuan though. Many more were dead, and others, including Maeven, were still lost somewhere in the jungle. Few of the Humans would return to their homes either, but it was mostly their leaders who had survived, and he suspected they would regard their expedition as a roaring success, little caring for all the lives they had sacrificed on the altar of Lustria. No such luck for him, thought Feriath, as he watched his surviving troops bear the bodies of their fallen friends onto the ships.

He wished he could help them, but he barely had the strength to stand. Still, he forced himself to his feet. He had one casualty of his own to carry aboard. Tenderly he lifted the twisted remains of his family sword, silently apologising to his father and all his ancestors before him. He hoped they would understand. Some of these Elves wouldn’t be here if he had gone to reclaim the sword from Oranje’s clutches. And if they didn’t understand, then to hell with them. He may not be the reckless youth he started this journey as, but he was still a youth, and some things needed changing for the better.

A line of comets streaked overhead to vanish into the rising sun as it turned the seas of Lustria red. He hefted the sword as high as he could into the light, smiling suddenly with an absurd sympathy for the tortured metal as his own body ached at even this small effort.

“You and I will be both be reforged,” he said.