Shaken, their spirits were broken. Having witnessed a massacre happen before their eyes, they were glad that they have not fallen victim to the tides themselves. The vicious cavalry churned through the army until it was no more of shape but a lake of blood that joined the river currents. The comrades of their enemies fled, hurrying up a ridge defended by lines of spears and rifles that the horsemen were not so suicidal as to dare an attack on the main force. At the rear of the retreat, Adam pushed his men on, saving however many he could, but his reach and strength only went so far. Beside him, there were those who were cut down by straying cavalrymen seeking more thrill and those who were close to safety drew their last breaths fighting their wounds. A small squadron charged towards him and his century, and knowing that not even he could outrun them, he knelt and whipped his blade at them, slicing into the legs of a horse before its rider’s saber swept over his head, missing its mark by a hair’s margin. Then felled one after another in a fatal crash, dismounted and crushed under their steeds and companions who could not halt in time. Trapped, the survivors were picked off by a volley of arrows that fleeted over the captain who waited for a bear to emerge from the mist. Together, they climbed the ridge and were saved. The creature was without a master, and when its blood settled having abandoned the chaos, Wojtek realized it from the lack of weight on his back. Turning around and sniffing the air, he felt alone. His head was lowered as he walked down the path approaching the general whose veins twitched in anger and confusion. He had allowed and witnessed the death of his greatest soldier with not a blunder but simple misfortune. The guard that was most trusted and that he had watched grow had perished from his carelessness. The bear nudged his clenching fists that heated with boiling blood.
“General, if we stay here any longer, they will have our heads.” Florian reminded him of the direness.
The general could not utter a single word as if his tongue had been frozen. “Károly…” Warneńczyk mumbled in guilt that washed over him, returning a dark memory he longed to forget.
Florian turned towards the bridge as the closing phase of the battle commenced. Curtains of snow drew across the bridge where the shrunken regiment made their stand. Even with walls to their sides and allies to the rear, the enemies that they battled on a single front began to overwhelm them to the point of needless struggle. In an opening in the fog, the colonel caught a glimpse of a wounded archer laying at the end of the bridge, who had been dragged away from the carnage. But he was not yet certain that the Confederates could not harm him more. For that reason, he chose not to tell his general of his finding, pretending that he saw nothing. Out of desperation, the general’s grandson’s comrades had to forgo their orders, however in misery, as reality struck them. It was unlikely that they would ever be reunited or be saved as the channel of cavalry and infantry which divided them widened.
“If we retreat, gen’ral, we can hope that their attention’ll be diverted.” Adam projected his voice, marching up to his commanders. “They may be saved yet.” He shared his optimism.
Even the pessimistic Florian seemed to agree with his subordinate, surprised by his intuition. “Skowroński is right.” The colonel pinched his chin and faced the general. “You are the greater prize, the enemy cannot deny it.” Intent on using the old man’s name as bait, he sought to reel in the hunter for a second chance at victory.
“Then, we’ll fight ‘em on equal terms.” Adam pressed his fists together, confident that they would succeed.
Warneńczyk suddenly ushered out a sigh, as if he had been calmed by their words. His eyes drew awide from an obvious revelation but they were shut again as he took a breath. However, it was not his subordinates’ words that enlightened him. He had listened little to their suggestions but had heard enough from his heart to make his judgement. The colonel and the captain’s face lit up in anticipation of an order that could see their morale be revived but the general gave an unexpected answer.
Opening his eyes, he slacked his grip on the shaft of his scythe. “No, I have already surrendered them to death.” Warneńczyk coldly responded as if he had foreseen everything. “It would do us no good to linger.”
Among his soldiers, none had fled. There were only those loyal who quickly rallied around their general without a second thought yet of their twenty thousand they came with, mere thousands remained. The captain was astonished, almost disconcerted for he had not known this man to be the cold-hearted devil he was then. But in that moment, his tone, his poise, was like that of a demon, knowing no emotion except for in consideration of whether his move served him in his best interest. It was with the hardened heart of a survivor, seeking nothing but to survive, that eventually turned him away from the battlefield, from his grandson and all those he had favored. He simply walked off as if they had failed and had never existed. His men may have followed him unconditionally but there was one who refused to move out of unclarity.
Stunned by Warneńczyk’s composure upon declaring his intention, Adam took a step forward. “General, Lienz’s yer grandson.” He protested, as he always have, but this complaint was out of shock. “Surely, there’s an openin’ somewhere—” Adamant in his belief, he failed to see the problem with his plan.
“And how many men should I sacrifice to save one life?” Warneńczyk reminded him of his place as an officer and spoke to him with words that a general should speak.
Paused, the captain fell silent. He had not noticed the colonel’s similar calmness that told him that Florian had known of this man’s nature even before he was replied with an order to retreat.
Sensing that his captain was not yet convinced, Warneńczyk halted, his eyes stayed ahead, having the soul to have said, “I have another grandchild.” The general’s demeanor was neutral but it was demonic with ambitious. “She will suffice as my heir.” He mentioned, already intending to forget his other heir and let another readopt his mantle.
He continued onward with his loyalists as they have always done, abandoning those fated to be taken to the gods’ gates that day. After all, as they have said for themselves, they would give their lives fighting for a man such as he whose path was littered with corpses sacrificed for his ambition. Whatever was the price, he had paid the ferryman in advance who was to take him to paradise, despite that he was the devil. His columns withdrew from the battle, many hoping that the ridge would delay their enemy from giving chase. Stricken with guilt, Adam knew not what to do nor what to believe in. Perhaps there was some things he was unaware of that was beyond his understanding capable only of battle but not to reason for battle. Florian held onto his shoulder as he passed by, following his general faithfully with questions unasked. For him, it must have been easier to forsake the regiment, but for the captain, he was forced to abandon those he had fought to save twice in his life. There was not to be a third.12Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2ldsp8Th0x
