PRINCE OF FOOLS: CHAPTER THREE

i. A Nightmare in the Early Dawn

The Prince's Army Faces Its Fate.

For the first time in three generations, war had finally come to Borea. And they were ready. 

Not a single man of the Prince’s vast army ever admitted they were afraid, yet every single one of them did their best to bathe themselves in torch light as they formed a long line of defence with their shields. With their backs held firmly along the river that led them so far north, they looked past the darkness for what to come. In the distance, the Prince had a ridge marked by two torches. They cast a silhouette of arms and legs. The shadow of a small head rested midway down the shaft of the Prince’s spear. 

Between the Prince’s men and the body of the boy, a raging set of yellow eyes sparked in the darkness. The same glowing yellow eyes that haunted the Prince’s dream every night since crossing over the mountain. Then like stars from the setting sun, more yellow eyes began twinkling in the dark before the dawn. Each set glowed with the same pale yellow hue that haunted the Prince’s dreams. He never forgot the Borean who started this all. The man who dared to defy him. The one who stared at him from his own palace walls as the Prince watched his house turn to ash. The one who made him know fear.

The thick fog seemed to rise with each horn blow until it reached the men’s waists. What made matters worse for the army was that the sounds of the horns seemed to echo in all directions. Only the most disciplined soldiers kept their eyes forward, as the mercenaries swung their heads around recklessly in search for the source. Eventually one of the few generals who remained, saw why the line of mercenaries was in such disarray. If a horn came from the far left flank, then a few men from the furthest right flank seemed to disappear into the fog. 

No amount of training can prepare a man to be brave when faced with a living nightmare that was carefully crafted by Pagans and Witches since time in memorial. The clandestine and slow introduction of twisted mushrooms and poppy seed milk into the soldiers rations had caused a malady of weird side effects. Some of the men’s bowels felt as if they were twisting and turning shards of glass through their large intestine. When they weren’t squatting on the ground, relieving themselves they were doubled over in pain. It almost seemed like the right flank had it worse than the left. That is until one of the men began to scream and shout about the demons that were laughing in the deep fog beneath his feet. Soon the sounds of the maddening screams from the right flank became louder than the constant moans, groans, and explosive diarrhoea emanating from the left flank. The front line, remaining strong and unaffected from either the madness or the shitting of one’s pants. Every man who could still stand at attention began losing confidence in the idea that they would all live to see their homes again. 

Never underestimate a culture bred by war since time in memorial. Time, patience and the environment can all have a role to play.

“They’ve broken the lines!” Shouts a voice from the safety from the rear. 

ii. Strong Men Take Aim

“READY! AIM! HOLD! RELEASE! READY! AIM! HOLD! RELEASE! READY! AIM! HOLD! RELEASE!...” Repeated the newly appointed Admiral -- who also had a meteoric rise to power, being only the second youngest General to be appointed to Admiral of the Sultan’s army. 

Each volley of arrows burned through 5% of their supply as every one clattered off of the rocky Steppes or pierced the pedals of a delicate meadow flower. This New Admiral knew little of war and he was afraid; for the only person hand-picked by the Sultan to lead this army to Borea abandoned his station and left with the Young Captain. The Old Admiral didn’t give it a second thought. 

Meanwhile, outside the comforts of the Prince’s tent, a Mercenary looked around in sheer panic for the oncoming wave of Borean soldiers but the fog was so thick that he could only see a few rows of men before the dense mist soak up his feet, claim its way past his legs before and it stopped just at his waist. Then something brushed against his leg. He looked down. A small Creature covered in black muck and fresh blood, blew a handful of dust in his face -- the sleeping powder had been designed to blend naturally with the wisps in the fog. The chopping of an achilles turned out to be easier than the felling of a young oak sapling that even a child could do it. 

The Mercenary didn’t feel a thing. All he could do was watch as his face fell into the blood and muck of the soldier who was crouched down beside him. The last thing he saw was the Creature smile. The other Mercenary beside him watched it all unfold like a nightmare. The Creature turned and caught him staring. Looking deeply into his eyes, the yellow eyes never broke its gaze as the Creature silently removed the fallen Mercenary’s scalp before blowing dust into his.

BLAAARMMM! The long deep drull of horns sounded from every direction. For the first time in their lives, every Soldier and Mercenary saw the world turn in slow motion. A long silence followed as the fog dissipated with the midday sun. It seemed like every man who was forced to drop his load died not from the excruciating pain of gastrointestinal poisoning but from a slit throat. Then men who were driven insane either leapt into the Yenisei River or ran towards the rising sun as it swept its way along the rocks and craigs of the vast Steppes.  

The large fire at the centre of the Prince’s tent had been keeping him and his elephant warm all night. He did request additional torches to keep him free from the shadows. From the Prince’s perspective, the entire tragedy of the night unfolded like a huge play on a grand stage that contained its very own river. Wrapped in a huge blanket with a defeated look on his face, the Prince kept so close to the fire that the heat reminded him of the desert sun back home. 

“Children!” The Prince shouted wildly at the few generals who remained. “They send children? Their insults know no limits. This is not how a man conducts war. I didn’t know these Boreans were such cowards. And speaking of cowards. Where. Are. THOSE TRAITORS?!

The bodies of five Boreans laid at the Prince’s feet, compared to the thousand dead soldiers who were dumped into the icy clutches of the Yenisei River. None of the very few remaining Generals had the courage to let the Prince know that the tents that held their machines of war were now on fire and all of their supply tents were raided by the light of early dawn. As far as the scouts could report there were no signs of a city, fortress, or village anywhere near them. And the Admiral, who began his illustrious military career as a young Captain, had reached the boats promised by the Northern Queen -- all of his men were accounted for. 

What once was a calm and idyllic river that lapped upon a meadow’s shallow shore now burned with a raging white hot roar.    

iii. The Prince and His Many Gifts

The morning seemed to drag on for days. The shock of the attack was quickly being replaced by the fatigue of standing ready for war. With the Prince’s army set strategically with their backs against the Yenisei River, which this far north had a breadth of at least half a mile wide and too cold to cross without the aid of a boat. Using this tactical advantage, the Prince set his frontline to overlook the endless steppes that seemed to stretch on for miles with only a few trees and rocky crags to offer refuge. The Boreans would be forced into a direct attack against what the Prince thought was a force of 20,000 men. Confident in his position and strategy, he took what was left of the oil lamp reserves and hid them at varying distances along the vast steppes as a surprise for the impending Borean army. The mercenaries protested the move, as the cold northern air began to trump their want of warmth over gold. A culling of the dissenting voices and the addition of their bodies to the Prince’s defensive line of corpses quickly silenced the protests.

Slowly the afternoon sun pierced through cloudy skies, releasing the morning fog that stalked the heels of the Prince’s army. The shield wall along the front line was dug firmly into the ground as the pikes of the dead ripened in the heat. The Prince, set high amongst his war elephant, easily looked over what was left of his men. Despite all the setbacks, it was still a force that could easily lay siege to any city in his father’s kingdom. And the Prince took comfort in that. 

After what felt like to the soldiers as the longest afternoon in their lifetime, the sun finally began to set. Far off in the distance of the steppes a torch was lit. 

“Sharpen every last spear. I want a perimeter of heads, limbs and guts of every last Borean and traitorous deserter to encircle our camp. And ready those damned catapults. We didn’t drag them to this living hellscape to have them sit in boxes!”

“My King,” said one of the Generals. “The Captain, the one you promoted to Admiral, was responsible to have them ready, but no one has seen him along with the two dozen other deserters. Perhaps we should rethink our position against these Boreans and retreat south until we can properly assess...” The General’s head bounced and rolled into the Prince’s brightly roaring fire pit. 

BLAAARRRMMMMM... 

The Prince casted aside his large blanket to reveal his full battle armour. “Ready my elephant, and set-up those damned catapults. If there’s no city for us to lay siege on then we may as well send their dead back to them. We may as well show these savages the type of men they are dealing with.” 

The Prince was securely surrounded by his men. He stood on the boggy shores of the Yenisei, sword drawn, ready for war. His Captain, and half of his Generals were nowhere in sight. He could feel the fear of his men in the back of his throat. They were uncoordinated and scared. The remaining Generals did their best to keep the men in formation. The mercenaries were corralled into the front lines with nothing but a shield and a sword.

The cold wet Earth took hold of the mens’ boots as the night of the frost bit strongly at their spines. Then something unexpected took place in the wet and rocky meadow that separated the Prince’s army from the Boreans began to fill quickly with a dense morning fog. It was a magical sight that only reinforced the fear the men had in such a cursed land.

“Upon this foggy morning, we finally kill the myth of the man who burned our homes and threatened our legacy as rulers of men!” Shouted the Prince from high atop his war elephant. Today we face erase the Borean scourge from history. You, my men, my brother in arms, will show these creatures what cold steel feels like. Today we...”

BLAAARMMM!

Fire erupted from the furthest ridge and spilled like a snake as it slithered its way towards the Prince’s encampment. Every oil drum they thought they hid amongst the Steppes breathed more fire into the grey afternoon air. Dark shadows of men and women quickly came into focus. The soldiers along the front were surprised by the old age of the Boreans who led the tip of the spear. The Prince didn’t understand the gifts he had brought to Borea. 

iv. A Line in the Sand Scrapes the Shore Clean

Finally, after months of travelling north with an army the Prince received what he came for:  a battle with sword, shield, spit and blood. And the elderly Boreas finally received what they’ve always wanted in life, a chance to die on the battlefield defending their homeland. The impact against the shield wall made it buckle, not break as the Prince’s first line of defence cut down grey old Boreans as if they were clearing a brush. The confidence this gave the Prince’s men didn’t last long.

“This time, victory is ours!” Shouted the Prince, as he stepped off his war elephant to inspect the line of fallen Borean warriors and what was left of his shield wall. Each Borean lay in a steaming pool of blood, guts and grey hair upon the frozen ground— a warm smile wraps around their lips. Then all of the Boreans left breathing, began to chant in an ancient and guttural tongue that shook the hairs on the back of the Soldier’s neck. Something else was coming.  

BLARRRM. BLARRRM. BLAAARRRRRMMMM.

The same ridge that bore the elderly Borean was once again full of bodies cloaked in shadow. Each one was armed with a sword or axe. None of them were old. Each one, man or woman, reminded the Prince of the Borean. For the first time since he left home, he finally realized how foolish he was. If a dozen of his best soldiers couldn’t beat a single Borean, what chance did he have against an army of 5,000?  

The Boreans rush into battle lopping off the heads and limbs of the Prince’s men in a single stroke. Looking forlornly at a battle he now knew was impossible to win. He watched helplessly atop his war elephant as every Borean who broke through his lines would leave a massive hole filled with deadmen. A single swing of a Borean axe claimed a minimum of three heads. Every moment of the battle seemed impossible to explain, and the Prince wouldn’t have believed it if he didn’t see it with his own eyes. His men were being slaughtered a dozen at a time as the sun finally began to set. And the worst was yet to come.

What the Prince saw next burned into his memory and would keep him up on nights when the weather turned cold. The last line of the Borean’s forces flanked the left and right sides of the battlefield with shields so large they seemed impossible to lift. Each one  when greased with the blood and guts of the living slipped effortlessly together. 

BLAAARM...

The long boats appeared almost out of nowhere, flowing south down the mighty Yenisei River. Ships so massive that the Prince couldn’t believe that the Boreans were capable of such a nautical achievement, as a dozen oars lined the side of each boat. What felt like a strategic move to keep their backs along such a wild river became another downfall for the Prince and his army. Thick ropes were hurled from the long boats by the strongest Borean of each tribe. The rope soared easily over the 200 yard spread that made up the Prince’s army camp and the army lines, and landed just behind the Borean shield wall. The ropes were then quickly secured to long poles that kept the massive wall of wood and iron together. To keep the boats from being anchored, other boats were used to tow the ones attached to the shield wall, as dozens of Borean Oarsmen posted their strokes along the right side of the river adding their might to the fierce current of the Yenisei. Slowly and powerfully rocks and roots, along with the living and the dead, were peeled from the battle ground and rolled towards the river, the massive Borean shield wall had scraped the Steppe clean of the Prince’s army in a matter of minutes.

Trapped and alone, all he could do next was watch helplessly as the rest of his father’s army was dragged into the Yenisei River. No matter how many men fell into their watery graves that day it never seemed to quench the Yenisei River’s thirst for bodies and blood. The Prince looked on in horror as it felt like the very land itself wiped his army from existence. For the second time in his life the Prince understood what it meant to be truly afraid of something, but these were his early days living in Borea. For the remaining years of his long life, rivers would always make him nervous. Part of it was how the roaring white water silenced the screams, the rest of it was when he watched the eyes of a thousand men drown all at once -- the Boreans didn’t afford him the luxury of looking away. They held the Prince’s head firmly as he watched, but all the Prince could think of was the cold, the smell, and what was going to happen next.