Gibson took them around the battlefield at a ruck march; Between trees and where snow had piled up, they kicked piles of it over and stomped roots on their way over to father's position. Once they reached him, he was not the most pleased to see her among their number.
"Gibson, you're tying my daughter up in your schemes?" he growled.
"Your daughter has a gift, sir," he said, "Chimi, look straight at your father and describe the battlefield to the right."
She focused on dad, "Platoons one to three are locked in combat with the Reis, the Reis are being forced back by the barrages of magic and physical attack that they were not prepared for. A rotation occurs with every Leshii that is put down. The archer batteries to the left and right of the field operate in a rotation every arrow shot, with armed guards stood at the back."
Dad nodded, "I thought so. What is your play?"
"We should hit the Vileroots early, with your blessing and salted blades," he said, "The hive mind is still young and developing, if we can cause enough damage, it will panic, once that happens...." he gestured.
Dad nodded briefly, "Eleanor."
"It is a sound plan," she said, "Chimi will be fine."
He looked down at the ginger mage, "Do you say it is sound because they have Chimi with them or because the Reis is piss weak?"
"Both," she smiled, "And we'll get to see something special."
"What might special involve?" Gibson asked, "Your breasts?"
"Gibson," Dad said.
"Crass young men such as yourself either end up as useful idiots known as short-term heroes or simply useful idiots seduced by the squeeze of bosom in a corset. I am wearing no corset, and I hope you're not a fool, Gibson."
"They do not make coffins for mavericks, High Mage." Gibson swung around, "Blades of Emmerlaine, we have our assignment!" He pointed to the Reis-stained land, "Let us raze some black tar oaks," he said in a vicious, loud whisper.
"Take these," Eleanor stepped forward with a sack held out to them, "At your request, Gibson, I have prepared bound materials to eradicate the Reis. But remember, this is high risk, high reward."
"We've got Chimi's eyes," he said, "She will safeguard us, and we will guard her with our lives."
Chimi tugged on her helmet as the other members of the unit muttered until Lloyd cleared his throat.
"Hendricks, ride with them and inform Hammond. Send two scouts in to inform Gibson of current updates, then get them back to me."
"Let it be done." Hammond rode off, "Godspeed to you, you bluntheaded lunatics."
"March!" Gibson led them over the trampled snow toward the battlefield where cries of battle were heard just under the hoarse throat of a captain giving orders to his men on horseback. She felt the gold air against her face and only noticed the sweat when she remembered feeling uncomfortable.
She was here, among her brothers and sisters of Emmerlaine, on a mission, on special orders. She could not make critical mistakes that would have her stood down, no. She would not sit down. Even if she was forced to lead training or do logistics. Her birth had to mean something.
An enormous root whipped, she heard shields crack from the weight of the strike. Javelins rained from both sides as the front lines performed an orderly retreat with mages turned up to eleven. Chimi glanced to the side to see Eleanor sitting on her horse, no emotion on that face, and her father had her fixed with a glare. Eleanor nodded, her eyes fixed on Chimi, and she mouthed the words: Show us, child.
Her grip on her spear tightened, she marched to battle, toward the faes that with a closer look at these Leshii she noticed faces. Faces with teeth that went all the way around the bark, too long, too fine, too many rows. Tiny eyes in comparison, her stomach clenched. She swallowed the fear. But these Leshii weren't like the loner that she had engaged with before. These creatures were battle-hardened, mutated, corrupted life forms that had no doubt, purely sought to kill.
They reached the front lines where Hammond stood at command, Hendricks rode past them to their right back toward Dad's rearguard.
"If we gonna get you's in, you's win, understood?"
"Victory or death," Gibson said.
"As your late father would say, Gibson." Hammond corrected the man.
Gibson nodded, "Not yet, sir."
She knew the words, and she'd say them with him. She tugged on her helmet. The time has come, Chimi. Remember, this is it. This is the moment. She rolled her shoulders.
"Relax, child," Lloyd said, "You'll do well with them eyes o' yours."
She gave him a stout nod.
Gibson turned to the group after the unit halted their retreat, "After the next swing, we're going to break their lines." he turned to Hammond, "Do you have a bow an quiver?"
"There's one spare on my horse, why?"
"May Chimi mount it?"
Hammond shrugged, "They're cast in fire and salt. Do not waste them." He tossed a sack at Chimi, she caught it with her shield arm. Unpacked it and took out an old bow and quiver, planted her spear swung on the quiver. Hooped the bow over and took her spear back up.
"Never let that go, understood?" Gibson said, "Everyone here dislikes you, Zitlaan's tongue. I cursed you, too. But we're locked in an endless war with no end in sight across the continent. You still exist and didn't die of all Emmerlaine's curses, so show us something and make us believe." He saluted.
She saluted.
"If you are going to attend this route." Hammond exchanged looks with Kennedy.
Kennedy got off his horse and led it over to Chimi, "If you fail, you holmgang," he said in a grunt. "My son is dead, fighting in the schisms your birth caused."
Chimi clenched the reins to avoid tugging on her helmet.
"But for now, my friends, we seek to end this day victorious. Blades of Emmerlaine!"
"BLADES OF EMMERLAINE!"
The root smashed against the wall line, spears lined with salt thrusted and pierced the root, the root shrivelled, then was severed by concentrated mage fire. Eleanor now rode toward them with her coven of mages, who hurled spells, bounded objects. Cast from tattoos on their flesh. From within themselves, they ignited and cast spells from the fragments of creation to sear and char corrupted trees.
Chimi tugged her helmet from the sideline as Gibson raised his spear and lowered it. The charge began. As a single unit with her at the rear on horseback. She nocked an arrow carved with a fire seal and fired at any roots that flanked them; they recoiled and were easily dealt with by a bow and a dash of fire from Eleanor behind them.
The Blades of Emmerlaine rode on into the thick of the Reis, where the ground became a mulchy mess of the tar these creatures excreted to birth more of themselves. The pungent stink made her want to wear a rag soaked in piss. She carried on, with this perspective, she could--- a root came directly from her left.
She had lost focus; she was too much of a blight. If only she had been born a man-Her helmet struck the ground when she ducked, a branch ripped into her cheek and brushed a few of her teeth with stinging cold and hot blood. She looked up and realised she hung on the side of the horse but still clutched her bow. One of Gibson's men had severed the branch and helped push her back up.
Focus, Chimi, keep your eyes up and shoulders back. When the fighting is done, you can rest.
She loosed an arrow at another branch on the flank. Shot two more, then another. She ducked under a branch that she barely saw--- which came from behind.
They reached the sacks of black pus that began to form into Vileroots. Gibson hurled the stones in the bag at the three hills of black tar that contracted and expanded. Black mucus bubbled out, and the stones went in. Chimi turned her head to see the entire Leshii and Lesnik forces emerge in force and turn to face them.
"THEY'RE ENGAGING!" She bellowed.
"ELEANOR!" Gibson shouted.
One of the girls played a horn.
"SHIELDS UP AGAINST THE BLOATS!"
She raised her shield like everyone else. The horse whinnied and trotted to the left. The blobs of Vileroots bubbled, made a pulsating sound. Then, imploded. The wind force nearly pulled her off horseback, she clenched the reins and kept her feet dug in, much to the horse's dismay.
Something gripped her leg; her instincts had her draw her broadsword and stab the root. The horse cantered forward with the rest of the Blades as they retreated into the depths of the Reis. Where black trunks of trees took form, where the source of it lurked, the Reisnik was the objective.
And she had to steady her breath, tighten the reins and ignore the stinging pain from her cheek.
She glanced back at the bonfires that started to consume the Leshiis as confusion broke out among their ranks from the destruction of their Vileroot children.
Cut the root, cut the heart. Father would say.