The Fall of Olia

 “It doesn’t count if you’re already planning your defeat.” Those were the last words my mother had said before she died. At the time, I had thought she was saying it to herself, telling herself not to accept defeat even as she was cut down by the enemy. Now I am not so sure. Perhaps she was saying it to me too?

“Commander Geonoff!” Someone yells as they barge into my tent. It is my first officer, Efrem Goulde. “They’re mounting an attack from the South!”

Snatching my helmet from the table beside me, I pulled it over my head, tucking my hair into the back. I started shouting orders as I emerged from my tent the way I had watched my mother do years ago. “Wake the soldiers! Arm the Gas Cannons! Get into formation!”

Soldiers everywhere jumped into action. Many of them had worked under my mother, and her father before her. I came from a long line of commanders and the name Geonoff was not an easy name to have. It meant years of tutelage, followed by years of weapons training, then combat training, and finally field experience. Nothing stopped a Geonoff until the fatal blow. Eight generations of Geonoff Commanders had died in the line of duty and I was not about to break that streak. It was an honor to give your life for the queen of Geratuda.

I could see the first signs of the enemy army emerging over the southern hills of Hierytid. Tall Blue flags emblazoned with a silver dagger stabbing through a pool of water preceded the Jeramine army. They were formidable; the only army to ever defeat three generations of Geonoffs.

“Let’s not make it a fourth,” I murmured to myself, mounting my Niserian horse. Her green flanks already shone with sweat as though she could anticipate the battle to come. “Ready!” I called, raising a hand to my soldiers. “Fire first round!”

A stream of blue spheres sailed over our heads, some so close I could feel their heat. The balls of gas arced through the air toward the advancing army as they crested the final hill across the valley from us. Noxious explosions sounded, loud as thunder, as the orbs detonated on impact. Enemy soldiers fell from their horses, writhing in pain, while their beasts scrambled away from the blasts.

“Ready!” I called again, already anticipating the other army’s next move. “Round Beta, fire!”

This time purple orbs sailed over the valley, cold as what I imagine being trapped under the ice must feel. These spheres arced upward, then spiraled downward in an erratic trajectory, aiming further into the enemy troops. There was no sound for a moment, as though all not even the wind dared to breathe. Then an explosion that shook the ground sent the Jeramine army flying in all directions. The sound of shouting men, screaming horses, and scraping of metal on metal echoed across the valley.

My soldiers stood in wait for my next command. “Ready,” I shouted again.

“Charge!” Someone across the valley cried, sword raised. He was horseless, but he and his men stood tall as mountains.

“Round Delta!” I screamed, then kicked my horse forward. A surge of bright red orbs followed me down the hill, hitting the enemies left and right. Their bodies disintegrated before they hit the ground.

My army mobilized behind me, charging into battle with a cry not unlike the howling of a thousand wolves. As army met army, screams emanated across the field, metal clanged, and sounds of ichor spattering the ground filled the air. I cut down men with my sword as easily as a knife through butter, vaulting over fallen bodies, and dodging enemy strikes.

Until my horse dropped underneath me. I instinctively pulled my legs up and jumped away from her, saying a silent prayer that she would die painlessly. I rolled to my feet and faced my attacker.

It was the Commander of the Jeramine. “You going to fight like a man, you coward?” He demanded, circling me.

I chuckled with a shake of my head, slicing an enemy down to the left. “No, Commander,” I spat at him, “I’ll fight you like a Geonoff!” I launched into the air, my sword arcing down, aiming for the soft part of their armor between the shoulder and the neck. My sword was met with his.

“What kind of Commander remains on his horse and cuts down enemies without facing them head on?” The Jeramine barked.

I gave him no satisfaction with a reply. I swept for the leg.

Blocking my blow, the Jeramine advanced, jumping right at the last second and swinging around at my back.

I parried the blow a hair away from my armor. I spun and grinned at him. “What kind of man aims for the back instead of facing his adversary head on?”

The Jeramine growled in anger and I saw my moment. I dove forward, feinted left, and pulled my short blade at the same time as I spun right, plunging it deep into the chink just below his armpit. My enemy fell before he could work up a full retort.

I turned to face the battlefield, realizing the Jeramine had distracted me and pulled me away from my soldiers and down toward the creek that ran at the East side of the valley.

A short sprint later, I was in the fray again, cutting down enemies left and right. But the enemy was cutting down just as many of my soldiers. I felt anger boiling toward the surface, my face getting warm. I pushed it down and shouted another order; “Round Omega Fire!”

By some miracle, my ranged troops on the hill heard my call and before long, ordinary arrows were replaced with black, smoking ones. Enemies began shrieking as holes appeared in their thick armor, melted away by the black arrows. My soldiers found these holes and quickly dispatched their foes.

We were winning!

But my distraction lasted too long. While watching the arrows fly, I neglected to notice a Jeramine sneaking up to the left. By the time anyone knew what was happening, I had a blade in my side, blood pouring down my armor. I did not cry out as I fell, no Geonoff cried out in their last moments. I watched the Jeramine that stabbed me run back into the fray at the same time as one of my soldiers emerged.

“Olia!” She cried, removing her helmet as she fell to my side. “Olia! I watched you fall!”

I reached a weak hand up to wipe tears away and shook my head at her. “It’s your command now, Nikola.” I coughed, spattering the front of her armor with even more blood. “A Geonoff doesn’t cry.”

She nodded solemnly and took my hand. “Mother…”

I squeezed her hand, silencing her. I nodded behind her as a Jeramine broke away from the fray to come after my daughter. She glanced at him and grabbed her sword. Before she stood up, I grabbed her wrist one last time, feeling the life fading from my body. “Nikola… It doesn’t count if you’re already planning your defeat.”