The Princess of Feathers and Magic.

Harper looked out across the battle field and wiped off the mud and magic from her face. The center was holding. The front line looked strong and it appeared they were finishing the last of the brigade that decided to try and get past them by brute force. The left flank was failing. They couldn’t keep up much longer under the pressure of the Lenti army. Her Harpies have been out here since dawn and they haven’t gained any ground. The left flank needed reinforced and the line reformed. She grabbed a shield off the Lenti soldier she just felled and sheathed her sword. They had to stabilize and reform the line before their enemy capitalized on the opening. Harper got into her defensive stance and started running for the broken line using her shield to bash her way across the battle field. She could sense her comrades following her lead. The closer she got a battle cry began to grow in her belly and by the time she arrived she bashed her way straight to the line and let loose the cry along with her sword. Every enemy before her hit the ground. One by one the Harpies began to arrive and fight by her side until all five were present. They formed a guard position with her in the middle. She slung her shield over her shoulder and put up her sword once more. Harper slammed her hands together and gritted her teeth. The summoning of her magic only took a moment. When the palm-sized obsidian stone materialized in front of her face she grabbed it and started leeching the life force from every Lenti soldier she could touch. She couldn’t stop until the stone was filled to the brim. Every life she stole and stored until it was fully charged. A pulsing light emanated from the stone and she took up her place in front of the enemy. Harper enveloped the stone in both her hands and began her chant.

“O Great Stone Mother, guide us and protect us with your unwavering strength.”

After her third repetition she yelled, “Get clear!” Harper ran to the front line so her people wouldn’t get caught in the magic. The obsidian stone cracked, the stone fractured into two pieces, and a gray fog erupted from the two halves. Her comrades ran behind her as the fog spread like wildfire and trapped the Lenti army in a hazy prison. The brigade that was destroying their left flank stopped in a fog induced coma and all their Lenti weapons crashed to the ground. It was over for them. Harper recited her chant backwards and the fog, along with the Lenti soldiers she trapped, started to filter back into the obsidian stone. When the magic was complete the stone turned to dust and a great wind scattered it to the four corners. Harper swayed on her feet and her Harpies gathered close to support her. A new stronger line began to form on the left flank and it marched in formation toward the enemy encampment. Finally, some ground has been gained.

Adelaide, her second-in-command, stretched out the black shiny wings that each one of the women in her squad were known for and picked her up. Which was just fine by Harper because she couldn’t stand on her own right now. That last bit of magic spent her reserves and she needed to rest. Adelaide flew back to the tent and laid her down on the cot. Right before she passed out she heard Adelaide demand a report from the battlefield messengers. All three messengers ran from the tent to get updates from the Lieutenants.

When Harper woke she spied all her Harpies standing around the map table discussing the days events. She glanced out the tent flap and found that evening had fallen and the shadows cast by the large tents had become longer. Did she really sleep through the afternoon? 

Harper sat up and croaked out, “Water.”

A flask of water was immediately put into her hand and she drank it all down then requested another. When the second one was gone she felt able to stand and join in at the map table.

“What happened?”

“After your display of some very impressive magic, and subsequently went out of commission, we were able to gain some ground and advance half a mile down the battlefield. A storm rolled in and clouds covered the area. The fighting began to die off and both sides retreated. But we didn’t let them recover any of the ground we just won.”

“Excellent. Do we have the latest numbers?”

“Not yet we are waiting to hear back from the Lieutenants on the final tally.”

“Thank you, Adelaide, for your assist.”

“It is my honor, Majesty.”

The Harpies resumed their conversation and Harper strode toward the tent opening. She grabbed a cloak on her way out and wrapped it around herself as she made her way through the camp. She needed a bath. She could feel the gritty remnants of her battlefield excursion all over her body. Not to mention the oily essence of the magic she used. Her magical well was refilling but it was going to take most of the night. Her reserves went deeper than the average magic user because of her bloodline and it always took her longer to refill. The royal bloodline of Amaria was known to have an extensive store of magic. All the royal kingdoms wanted to bind their bloodlines with her through marriage. Her mother, the Harpy Queen, had been suggesting every eligible bachelor from neighboring kingdoms for her to wed. That was before the war of course. Once this war started she requested to be sent to the front lines but her father, King Randolph, would not allow her to go. She finally got fed up and left with the latest supply wagon being sent to the front. Her father did not approve and sent the rest of her Harpies to guard her and provide backup. The only instruction he gave them was to keep Harper alive. Harper reached the hill that overlooked the field. So many dead. So many wearing the colors of the Amarian Army. She could still make out the cobalt blue uniforms with the gold detailing. She didn’t dare look at the faces. It was too much. The clouds coming from the east were beginning to grow darker. It was going to rain. She could smell it in the air along with all the mud and blood. Out of the corner of her eye she spied the messengers heading back to the war tent. She wanted the numbers today. The numbers of the dead. As she headed back toward the tent the first raindrops fell and hit her face. She took her time making her way across the camp. She didn’t want her Harpies to be able to tell the rain from her tears.