The River of Blood.
Davien tactics do not abide any rule of honor, or any sense of formality, or rigor of discipline. Their soldiers, to a man, are wily, cowardly things, and their measures in combat are like that of the animal, howling and striking and running with all the glee of men posessed.
So did Zerinus find himself in their homeland, his soldiers encountering little in the way of real resistance, and instead suffering nightly and incessant ambushes. Sometimes one upon another, as if the first was naught but a diversion to draw attention from the second.
Sentries would be found, their blood scattered in wide arcs and circles, the men responsible long gone. When caught and questioned, they smiled, sometimes even laughed; often entreating the men who captured them as close friends. A few made the mistake of loosening their guard; the manacles they first bound their cpatives in proved unusually effective as weapons. Several had their skulls caved in by such improvised weapons, or were choked to death before the Davien, with not so much as a sound, slipped into the night, only to strike again.
Zerinus long ago exchanged manacles for ropes, and then for the end of a sword. It was his very strong opinion that the Davien were not of a race of upright being, but some fell creature, spawned, as it was said, by the roan and muddy soil carried by the river that cut through their land like a knife.
Finally, after many months of long toil and forced march in the desert, only resupplying through convoy trains and through shipped food and water, did they reach the first settled town. Zerinus chose, in his wisdom, to wait for the break of the next day to lay siege; maps extracted from what few Davien were willing to talk suggested a river must be forded before they could reach the walls of the city, not some 2 miles ahead.
It was near dusk when the glint of their weapons was first visible. An alarm was raised, all the men had a fervor in their hearts to be met in real battle, to finally test the mettle of this, so slipper of an enemy.
The force they were faced with was small, but Zerinus, being a man with little desire for risk, committed his men to the task; three whole columns of infantry, their weapons glinting and armor polished to a mirror sheen, advanced.
Against such an overwhelming force, the roan men, with so small a number, were little but fodder. They quickly broke, falling to rout, and the men advanced, eager to exact revenge for their endless tribulations and receive the bounty each Davien carried; bracers of gold, chains and hoops of silver and fine silken cloth.
They embarked down a hill in hot pursuit, and it is only then that Zerinus grew wary, and called for a halt. But the leeward side of this ridge was steep, and slick. The first men who tried to stop fell and were trampled by others who were carried on by the weight of their equipment, or were unwilling to heed the order in the sight of such bounty and so haggard by frustration.
The first men who fell upon the river bed did so at a great pace. Their boides sunk, even up to the waist at times, into the muddy earth, their torsos carried forward by the onrush of men now moving too fast to stop. And yet, they had seen the Davien cross this very patch of land mere moments before.
Many men cried treachery, sorcery, that mystics had been roused to turn the earth to mud, Zerinus’ keener eyes, even in the falling dusk spotted the true cause. the Davien had build earthen fords in the riverbed, only as wide as a man’s gait. He ordered his men onto the fords, but even as he did, the sound of arrows filled the air. The Davien had made such a contrivance; with their true numbers massed at the opposite bank, hurling missiles and making rude entreatments to the men so assailed. They called to Zerinus, as one man, shouting a chant in their tongue, and then in the speech of Sarganus; Zerinus’ own home tongue.
“Only 2 miles!” they roared, boastingly.
Only then did their deception show through. Each Davien that gave up the lay of the land mentioned the river they now found themselves mired in, as being only 2 miles from the city, and thereby so much further away.
The men on the river were forced to make an arduous climb up the steep bank, or suffer the missiles of the Davien assembled opposite them, those that tried to pass along the fords were struck down by roan men with spears at the other end.
Still, the master of his forces and a skilled commander, Zerinus organized his men and pulled them from the brink of rout, driving them up the bank by roaring his own invectives to them, calling them hasty children for not following his order. Spurred by their shame and further by his order that any man with an arrow in his back was to be left in the desert with no care or burial, they reformed, and retreated in force up the hillside, though at some great casualty.
But the sun was still in the sky, and Davien warfare knew no niceties.
Only as they retreated, did they see the flames of the camp, their supplies, the few men left garrisoned slaughtered by forces that seemed to appear out of nowhere and equally quickly vanish into the desert.
Of the ones left, several had words carved into their back by a knife or such a weapon.
“Altesh Take Your Blood.” It read.
There was no rest for the men. By night, as if by some spell or other trick, Davien would appear on the heads of dunes, shouting calls, hurling single missiles into the camp, killing sentries and rousing the men to action only to evaporate. Hour by hour it continued, Zerinus and his men clashing as to what to do. The men wanted to seek these assailants out, but Zerinus was wary of another ambush like the one they had just barely weathered.
The next morning, he was greeted by his scouts in a utter panic. From both sides a sizable force encroached.Under the cover of darkness and the distraction of the Davien night-raiders, the assembled force on the bank, along with 1 column of light cavalry and infantry, had crossed the river through some other means, and had circumvented their position. To their south lie the river, impassable by men and material in any great number. To their north and east lie a sizable force with cavalry skilled in chasing routed men down, and to the west waited the desert and then the brackish ocean.
A parlay was made, and it was Zerinus, his Lictors, and his secretaries, who conveyed themselves to this meeting.
They were met by equal numbers, men in exotic clothes, with bangles and other trappings of Davien status and wealth, save for one, who was a tall and swarthy sort, his unkempt hair seeming almost wild. He wore armor akin to the Legionares own, but also had an gold collar around his neck.
So spoke this man, “Lo, Zerinus. I am Altesh sen Daveis tal Daveis, breaker of chain and yoke, son of the light, sire of no Davien and patriarch of all roan men. Where my people’s strength has shattered fetters, it has become gold, where we have rent chains, they have become silks, where my people’s blood has spilled, so nothing shall grow. So, speak, oh Zerinus, so that I may hear your reason to tread so heavily on this land.”
Zerinus knew of the man who spoke, Altesh, the leader of the rebellion, a man who must have been many years his senior, yet to all eyes there, did not look anything but the same age as him. He inquired, in as plain a speech of a soldier, of the mans youthful appearance, and his attire, which contrasted the rest of his men.
So spake Altesh; “For my attire, I carry a blade, stout armor, cloths which suit my temperament, and this gold collar; a reminder to all that I was once the slave of men like you, and now am instead a willing slave of my people. Unlike your masters, your kinds and emperors and petty men, I serve ll my people, and their interests are my own. Mark, now, Zerinus, my people, to a one, desire no further strife or bloodshed, even upon your own brow. Take stock and know that while we may not desire your blood, we will gladly offer it so long as your sword points to our flesh. Turn away, Zernius, and no shadow, no spirit, no roan man will harry you. You will find safe passage and I will give you guides to return from whence you came, unharmed. No man will fault you for being so brave as to come only 2 miles from death, for who among them can say they have traveled so far to stop at only 2 miles?”
Zerinus inquired, again, to Altesh, “And what of your youth; for it is known that you are many years my senior, and I am a man of venerable age myself. Yet you appear to be no older than my youngest Lictor, who ages 26 this year.“
Responded he, “My youth is of no artifice or trickery, I know not how I posses it; but why I have held this body to well is clear. It is to drive you and your men out of this land, oh honorable and brave Zerinus. And when you flee, if that is to break the spell and all my years are to come for me, then so be it; for you will be gone and my people will be safe. So again, I say unto you, to turn back Zerinus, turn away in peace and receive a safe passage home.”
Zerinus, incensed by this mans long speech and treacherous guise, spake thus, “Mark you, your disrespect and trickery now, Altesh, or so-called. Your host holds naught but cowards, your Davien flee in battle and hold no rank nor have no love of glory. What, then would you suggest will occur when my men, so sharpened by our trials, and desirous of your blood to slake our thirst, will prefer to reach to yours with sword and spear? Will your roan men run, as they always have, then; and flee until there is naught to flee to?”
Suddenly there was as if a fire in the breast of Altesh, his visage glowering even in the day’s sunlight, “If you seek to slake your thirst, then I will respond in kind from the blood of your brow, and all will remember your foolishness for choosing this moment to doubt the word of the Davien, when you so wholeheartedly believed them before.”
Zerinus, knowing his defeat if the host of Altesh were to give even half a fight, for the last nights excursions had filed their nerves thin and had weakened their bodies with effort of battle, was all but assured, was possessed by no small aspect of Urseus, protected as he was, by the anger in his heart and the entreatment of his Lictors to return and ready for battle. He accepted the terms of Altesh, to return whence he came, with aid of a guide who would convey them to the edge of the wastelands at the terminus of Davien territory.
Of the men that engaged the excursion, not even 1/10th remained, including the wounded; and so Zerinus returned, and so great was his sorrow at his loss and frustration at his failings, that he entreated a return to Davien lands to his heir, before, in repentance and sorrow, took a brand of iron and bore it unto nine of his fingers, so that they were scarred in rememberanc eof the 9/10ths of his men he had lost. Those who were left, roused by his gesture and mourning of loss, pledged their own sons to Zerinus’; swearing to return his loyalty and pay the debt of blood owed by the Davien.
