41 Act III: Make Love, not war | The aftermath, part 1
Alessia knew when to step away and merge with the shadows. She knew this time was now even before Ginevra's body fell to the ground.
So when it did, Alessia's spell was already complete. Dark purple smoke poured out of her palms—unreal, but still completely opaque to the light. It spread in a line, following Alessia's will, blocking the line of sight between Nuvoloso's and Oliveira's troops.
"Soldiers! Do not panic! We shall retreat together! Take those who can't walk—leave no one behind!" she shouted, doing her best to save those who still could be saved.
Too few for her liking. Too few...
Only a half of Ginevra's original troops, in Alessia's estimate, still were in condition to walk; from those, about a half heard and listened to Alessia's call.
But this was something, and soldiers followed Alessia when she led them away from the fight and into the forest. She had a plan in her head: they would return to camp, then make a turn and walk around the forest to return to the Nuvoloso border.
The dark shroud of Alessia's spell prevented archers from shooting their backs and gave pause to the soldiers sent by Gianni in a chase.
Then Alessia felt a forceful tug on her spell. She gasped as someone tore part of the reins out of her hands and used them to punch a hole in the shroud, opening Alessia to the view from the other side.
An interloper! Someone knowledgeable enough in Illusion school of spells to interfere with her shroud.
She followed the thread of mana from her spell to its origin. There, Alessia saw a gray-haired man with a cane in his hands and a cruel smirk on his face, standing on a fallen tree trunk behind the line X1 his troops.
Alessia hated him from this very moment. As if she didn't have enough problems already!
She raised her palms and brought them together with a clap. Following her gesture, the walls of the purple smoke pressed together, filling the empty spot like water.
Then, still keeping the tight hold on her spell, Alessia turned in her original direction and kept running.
The other illusionist pulled on Alessia's magic again. This time, she was ready to meet him and kept a tight control. But then he repeated the tug once again, and by then, Alessia was far enough away that her control over the spell began to slip on its own.
But she was also far enough from the battleground that it didn't matter.
Alessia glanced around. Rows of soldiers jogged or walked near, some on their own, some carrying their comrades—all dirty, bloody, covered in sweat and with their spirits lower than the forest floor. A few made makeshift stretchers out of cloaks and spears. It was hard to count them with all the trees around, but at least fifty. At most-a hundred. Several knights, but no second-ranked mages.
Alessia closed her eyes, pained.
"Just keep going, she said for the nearby soldiers to hear. "Keep going. The camp will have horses, healers, and help. And then we will all go home. This war is over. Enzo Nuvoloso tried to bite of a piece of a pie, but his teeth hit a stone"
Even that power-hungry man would be wise enough to not try to attack after such a loss. He was just too vulnerable at the moment.
"What about Lieutenant DiNapolir a soldier near her asked. "Have you seen him, Lieutenant?"
Alessia shook her head. "He's a resourceful man. If he's still alive, hell find a way to get to us."
She felt another, much more powerful than the previous ones, tug at her spell. This time, Alessia didn't resist, letting it unravel. They were far away now to be safe.
But Alessia knew that this all wasn't over yet. Not in the eyes of power-hungry men like Enzo.
***
Silvio shrugged and sent Gianni a small smile. "As you can see, I was too late. This woman is a formidable illusionist."
"Let them run." Ignazio made a dismissive hand motion. 'Really! Let them run with their tails between their legs. Now that's a strike that will make Enzo apologize profusely for his attack!"
Gianni gave him a level stare.
"Do I smell spirits from your breath, Vespertino? It would explain why you put 'Enzo' and 'apology in one sentence'
Ignazio grinned. "No spirits, only my home-brewed medical concoction. And speaking of medics, more than one of us is bound to visit them:
This much Gianni agreed with. The fight had barely ended.
Gianni ordered to march to the edge of the forest and make camp here, away from the battlefield. The healers triaged the wounded, and both Gianni and Ignazio agreed their wounds weren't in priority as much as taking care of other things.
The fleeting enemies, his own soldiers. Now that there were no former ones left, Gianni concentrated his attention on the latter. Dousing the forest fires, gathering and counting the dead—so they could be later buried near their own homes—spreading resources, taking note of soldiers that performed well enough for a special reward, gathering corpses, making camp...
The healer came to Gianni's tent, sewed his wounds and told him to try keeping walking to the minimum. Gianni took a crutch and ignored the prescription. There would be time to rest and recover when their army returns to Sanremo di Mare.
With his leg aching like mad, the long, tiring but necessary work grew even longer and more tiring. Normally, Federico would've been the one to arrange most of this, but now the man laid in the hospital tent, somewhere between life and death.
Gianni stopped near to hear his prospects. They weren't good.
At least, all that distracted Gianni from talldng with his son. He was almost glad to have it. He really didn't know what he would say. What would he ask?
Even now, the rumors of demonic power spread through the troops like wildfire. Gianni did what he could to quieten them, but knew that it could only slow down their spread.
There was no stopping the truth. Gianni only once heard about magic like the one Cael showed today, and this magic belonged to vampires—bloodsucking devils.
So what else could Cael's power be than something straight from Hell?
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