Short story # 7 - War - A Tale of Gràís D’hè MàcBhàtàr

The days leading up to this conflict had been an endless whirlwind of strategy, preparation, and the sharpening of blades. Gràís, though confident in her abilities, could not shake the weight that had begun to settle over her like a dark cloud. She had trained for this moment, learned the art of war from the finest warriors and tacticians in the land, spent many a vision with her future self, Deanna, learning all she could of being a warrior with hundreds of thousands of years and more of experience. But now, as the specter of battle loomed ever closer, she felt an unfamiliar tightness in her chest - a knot of anxiety that would not relent.

Gràís stood on the parapet overlooking the Llamdan forces as the moved into formation beneath the rising sun. Seeing them ready, she descended to the courtyard below. Her father, King Antor, was already armoured and surveying the troops with the same steady gaze that had led them through many trials. He caught her eye and gave her a nod - a silent reassurance. But even his confidence could not quell the storm of uncertainty raging inside her.

The enemy forces had been probing the borders of Llamda and Valoria for weeks now, launching small raids and skirmishes that left a trail of destruction in their wake. These were no ordinary foes. They were shadowy figures, their forms flickering like the edge of a nightmare, and their tactics were unlike anything Gràís had seen before. They moved silently, appearing out of nowhere and vanishing just as quickly. The unknown nature of their enemy only deepened the dread that gnawed at her.

"Gràís," her father's voice broke through her thoughts as he approached her. He placed a hand on her shoulder, his eyes softening as he looked at her. "You have trained for this moment. You are ready."

She nodded, forcing a smile, but the truth was, she didn't feel ready. Not for this. Not for what was to come.

As the first horn sounded, signaling the start of the battle, Gràís and her father moved quickly to the front lines. Marlinus and his newly formed Magi Circle stood at the rear, ready to unleash their magic upon the enemy. Elara and Aryndra had remained back in Rhadon, working tirelessly to secure more alliances and rally support. Everyone had a role to play, and Gràís knew she had to fulfill hers. She had to protect Llamda.

When the enemy emerged from the mist, they were like shadows given form, flickering in and out of view as they advanced. Their movements were disjointed, unnatural, and their eyes - if they even had eyes - glowed with a cold, unearthly light.

"Hold your ground!" Antor's voice boomed across the battlefield, and the Llamdan forces stood firm, their shields raised in unison.

Gràís drew her swords, the weight of them familiar in her hand, but today they felt heavier than ever. She could feel the tension in the air, the anticipation before the clash. The silence was deafening, a moment suspended in time before the storm broke.

Then, with a resounded crash, the two forces collided.

Gràís swung her blades with precision, cutting down the shadowy figures that advanced, the edges of Talmuth glimmering with energy. The sound of metal against metal rang out across the field, mixed with the cries of battle and the eerie whispering of the enemy forces. Her heart pounded in her chest as she fought, each strike of her swords a desperate attempt to push back the darkness.

Beside her, King Antor was a force of nature, his sword, the original Talmuth, moving with deadly efficiency as he cleaved through their enemies. Gràís fought valiantly, matching her father's skill with every swing of her blade. She could feel the heat of the battle, the adrenaline coursing through her veins, but beneath it all was the gnawing fear that this was only the beginning.

Looking around, Gràís quickly saw their soldiers being pushed back. It was quickly evident that the only two making any progress were her and her father. The weapons of the rest of their troops had very little effect on the shadowy enemy. At most, the things would hiss, hesitate for a second, before pushing onward again. Narrowing her eyes, Gràís realized that the magic in the blades of both her and her father was what was working so well. With a loud shout she got the attention of Marlinus, pointed to the difficulty the Llamdan army was having, then to the shadowy figure that vanished into wisps of smoke when her father struck it with his blade. Marlinus frowned, looking at Antor and Gràís as they fought to hold back the enemy, then to the rest of the army. Nodding, he turned to his Magi Circle, issued some commands and a joint incantation rang out. Upon the last syllable, the weapons of every soldier suddenly flared with energy, and Gràís shouted loud enough for her soldiers to hear. "Be not afraid, your weapons are being enhanced. Now fight for Llamda, fight for King Antor and drive this enemy from our land."

With a cheer the Llamdan forces pushed forward, their weapons now having an affect on the shadow enemy. The battle raged on for hours, and though Gràís fought with all her might, she began to see the cost of war unfold before her eyes. Soldiers - friends, comrades, fell around her, their lives extinguished in the chaos of battle. She saw the light leave their eyes, felt the weight of their loss with every passing moment. Her heart clenched as she watched them fall, knowing that their lives were here responsibility now.

As the sun began to set, the enemy forces began to retreat, their shadow forms dissipating into the mist. Llamda had held its ground, but the victory felt hollow. The battlefield was littered with the bodies of the fallen, and the air was thick with the scent of blood and ash. Gràís stood amidst the carnage, her swords hanging loosely in her hands, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

They had won the battle, but at what cost?

Gràís used her magic to return to the citadel that night, her leather vest and arms stained with the dark ichor that had come from the shadows when they were falling, and her body aching from the fight. She barely registered the steps she took as she made her way to her chambers, her mind replaying the horrors of the day in an endless loop. Every face she had seen fall haunted her thoughts, and the weight of it all pressed down on her, threatening to crush her beneath its unbearable burden.

As she entered the dimly lit room, she found Elara waiting for her. The moment their eyes met, Elara rushed forward, wrapping her arms around Gràís and pulling her into a tight embrace.

"You're safe," Elara whispered, her voice filled with relief and concern.

Gràís collapsed into her arms, the weight of the day's events finally crashing down on her. She buried her face in Elara's shoulder, her body trembling as the emotions she had been holding back came pouring out.

"I... I didn't realize how hard this would be," Gràís whispered, her voice shaking. "I thought I was ready, but... the lives lost today... they weigh on me."

Elara stroked her hair gently, her touch soothing and familiar. "You did everything you could, Gràís. War is never easy. The burden of leadership is heavy, but you carried it with strength and grace. Those who fell today knew the risks, and they followed you because they believed in you."

Gràís pulled back slightly, looking up into Elara's eyes. "But I was supposed to protect them. I was supposed to keep them safe, and now they're gone."

Elara cupped Gràís's face in her hands, her eyes filled with understanding. "You can't protect everyone, my love. War is brutal and unforgiving, and sometimes, no matter how hard you try, people will die. But that doesn't mean you've failed. You led them with honour, and you fought for them. That's all anyone can ask of you."

Gràís shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. "I don't know if I'm strong enough for this, Elara. I don't know if I can carry this weight."

Elara leaned in, pressing her forehead against Gràís’. "You are strong enough. I know you are. And you don't have to carry this alone. I'm with you. Always. Whatever comes, we face it together."

Gràís closed her eyes, letting the warmth of Elara's presence wash over her. For a moment, the horrors of the battlefield seemed distant, held at bay by the comfort of Elara's arms. She took a deep breath, her body slowly beginning to relax in Elara's embrace.

"I don't know what I would do without you," Gràís whispered.

"You don't have to know," Elara replied softly. "Because you'll never have to be without me. Now I think it's high time we got you a bath."

Gràís chuckled softly and let out a shaky breath, feeling the last of her resistance melt away. She rested her forehead against Elara's, her eyes locked on those of the woman she loved and she allowed herself to gather comfort from the strength of the arms around her.

Later that night, after a long bath and more time spent in the company of Elara, Gràís fell into a restless sleep, her body weary from the fighting but her mind refusing to stay quiet. The horrors of the battlefield, the cries of the wounded, and the sight of her fallen comrades haunted her even in her dreams.

In the darkness of her slumber, the battle replayed itself over and over again. She saw the strange, shadowy enemy emerging from the mist, their eyes gleaming with that unearthly light. She heard the clash of swords and the sound of her soldiers shouting orders. She watched herself fight, her swords flashing through the air as she cut down foe after foe, but for every enemy she struck down, she saw another comrade fall - someone she had sworn to protect.

Blood and ichor soaked the ground beneath her feet, and Gràís felt her heart grow heavier with each passing moment. She could feel the weight of guilt pressing down on her, threatening to crush her. She had led these men and women into battle, and now their blood was on her hands. How could she ever carry the burden of their deaths?

As the dream shifted, Gràís found herself standing alone in a vast, dark battlefield. The bodies of the fallen were strewn across the ground, their faces pale and lifeless in the cold, gray light. She could see their eyes staring up at her, accusing, as if asking why she hadn't done more, why she hadn't saved them.

She sank to her knees, her swords falling from her hand as tears welled up in her eyes. The pain was unbearable, a hollow ache that spread through her chest and into her very soul.

"I failed them," she whispered into the silence. "I couldn't save them."

And then, through the fog of her despair, a familiar presence appeared - one she had felt before in her dreams, but had never fully understood.

Deanna.

Gràís looked up, and there she was, standing before her like a beacon of light in the midst of the darkness. Deanna was tall and strong, black/brown leather vest and form fitting trousers, her body covered in runic tattoos, scars marking her skin - a testament to the countless battles she had fought. Her long gray-brown hair flowed around her like a mantle of wisdom and power, and her eyes were filled with a deep, timeless understanding.

Gràís had seen her before in dreams, glimpses of another life, another warrior. There had been one other time where Deanna had helped her come to terms with the nightmares of future lives and dangers, but that had been years ago. Once again, Deanna felt more real, more present than any regular dream, as if she had crossed the threshold of time and space to stand here with her.

"Gràís," Deanna spoke softly, her voice carrying the weight of millennia. "You are not alone in this."

Gràís shook her head, her tears falling freely now. "I led them to their deaths, Deanna. So many lives lost. How can I carry this? How can I go on knowing that I couldn't save them?"

Deanna knelt beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. Her touch was firm, but there was a gentleness to it that brought a small measure of comfort to Gràís' tortured soul.

"I know this pain," Deanna said, her voice steady. "I have felt it too, more times than I can count. War is a cruel and unforgiving thing, and it leaves scars on all who endure it - not just on the body, but on the heart. I have seen worlds fall, people I loved torn away from me. I have faced battles that seemed endless, fought wars that felt unwinnable. But through it all, I have learned one truth."

Gràís looked up at her, searching Deanna's face for answers. "What truth?"

Deanna's eyes softened, and she spoke with the weight of experience behind her words. "Life is struggle. It always has been, and it always will be. There will always be battles to fight, enemies to face, and lives that are lost along the way. But that struggle is not meaningless. We fight for others. We fight to protect those who cannot protect themselves. We fight so that others may have the chance to live in peace, to build better lives. It is never easy, but it is important. And it is always worthy."

Gràís closed her eyes, letting Deanna's words wash over her. "I don't know if I'm strong enough to bear this burden."

"You are," Deanna said with certainty. "Where do you think I get my strength from. I am you after all. Strength is not just in the swords you wield or the battles you fight. It is in the heart that carries on, even when it is heavy with sorrow. It is in the choice to rise again, to fight another day, knowing that the struggle is worth it. You carry the weight of leadership because you care, because you understand the value of life. That is what makes you worthy of the title warrior. That is what makes you strong."

Gràís opened her eyes and met Deanna's gaze. There was a quiet determination in Deanna's hazel eyes, a fire that had been forged through countless crucibles, and in that moment, Gràís realized that she, too, carried that fire within, and that it was her own fire she saw, now, in Deanna. It was not the absence of fear or pain that made a leader; it was the willingness to continue in spite of it.

"Thank you," Gràís whispered, her voice trembling. "I... I think I understand now."

Deanna gave her a small, reassuring smile. "You have a great destiny ahead of you, Gràís. You will face many more battles, both on the field and within yourself. But remember this - every life you protect, every victory you achieve, every step you take toward building a better world, it all matters. And you are never alone in this fight."

Gràís felt a warmth spread through her chest, a spark of hope rekindling within her. She wasn't alone. Deanna had faced these same battles, these same doubts, and had come through the other side. If she could do it, then so could Gràís, since they were essentially the same person.

As the dream began to fade, the battlefield around them dissolving into mist, Deanna's voice echoed in Gràís’ mind one last time.

"The fight to save creation is never-ending, but it is always worthy. You are worthy, Gràís. Never forget that."

And with that, Gràís awoke, the weight of the battle still heavy on her heart but no longer crushing her. She felt a renewed sense of purpose, a determination to carry on - not just for herself, but for those who had fallen, and for those who still lived.

She would fight for them. She would fight for a better future.

Because that struggle, as Deanna had said, was always worthy.

As the war raged on and the enemy continued their relentless assault on Valoria and Llamda, Gràís found herself more often than not at the front lines, her swords always at the ready, her mind constantly strategizing. The shadow figures that filled the enemy ranks now included humans - deserters, mercenaries, or perhaps even those who had been coerced into fighting. Each day was a battle for survival, both for her and the men and woman under her command.

Gràís took charge of Valoria's defense at the border, while her father Antor defended Llamda. The battles were intense, the clash of heavy horse and infantry echoing across the fields. She had to use every ounce of her training and tactical skill to hold the line - deploying lancers at the right moment, coordinating the movements of her infantry, and anticipating the enemy's next attack. Each day was a gamble, and though they held their ground, she knew the enemy would return with greater force.

As much as she fought for her kingdom, she fought for something else - someone else. Elara remained in Llamda, far from the battlefield but deep in her own battle to maintain alliances and secure reinforcements. Elara's connection to Valoria made her a vital diplomatic force, and her presence alongside Queen Aryndra was a symbol of unity and strength. But the separation weighed heavily on both of them.

Every night, after the day's bloodshed had settled and the battlefield lay quiet, Gràís would retreat to her tent and reach for the enchanted parchment. Her fingers trembled with exhaustion and anticipation as she wrote to Elara, pouring her thoughts and emotions into the letter. She imbued each word with a trace of her magic, a subtle essence that carried with it her feelings - her frustration, her pain, her love. She knew that when Elara read the letter, she would feel it too.

The replies came swiftly, as though Elara could sense when Gràís had written. When Gràís read her words, she felt the soft pulse of Elara's magic, a warmth that washed over her like a gentle embrace. She could sense Elara's concern, her longing, and her unwavering support. The letters were a lifeline for both of them, keeping them connected despite the distance.

One night, Gràís sat by the dim light of a lantern, she sounds of the night quiet but tense, the battlefield looming just beyond the camp. She unfolded a letter from Elara, her heart racing as her fingers traced over the familiar, beautiful handwriting.

"My dearest Gràís," the letter began,, "I know you are weary, and I wish more than anything to be by your side. But I sense your strength even across this distance, and I am proud of you. You have always been my warrior, but now I see you as a leader - one who bears the weight of many kingdoms. Do not let that weight crush you, my love. Remember that I am with you, always."

Gràís closed her eyes, her hand resting over the letter as Elara's magic pulsed through her. She could feel the warmth of her love, the steadiness of her support. And in that moment, the battlefield seemed far away.

Their letters were not the only think keeping them connected. The rings they wore, forged with ancient magic, allowed them to share a telepathic bond. Whenever the longing became too much, whenever Gràís felt the crushing burden of war or Elara was overwhelmed by the weight of her responsibilities, they would reach out to each other's minds.

Late one night, after an especially brutal day of fighting, Gràís lay on her bot, staring up at the fabric of her tent. She had just sent off another letter to Elara, but her heart still ached for her presence. Closing her eyes, she focused on the bond between them, and she felt the familiar warmth of Elara's mind touch hers.

"Gràís?" Elara's voice echoed softly in her mind, filled with tenderness.

"I'm here," Gràís replied, her voice weary but filled with love. "I miss you."

"I miss you too," Elara's thoughts caressed her like a soft breeze. "Are you alright?"

Gràís hesitated for a moment before answering. "I don't know. Today was... difficult. We lost so many, and the enemy just keeps coming. I don't know how long we can hold the border."

Elara's presence grew stronger in her mind, a soothing balm to her frayed nerves. "You are stronger than you think, Gràís. I can feel it. You've held them off this long, and you'll continue to do so. Your people believe in you. I believe in you."

Gràís exhaled slowly, letting the comfort of Elara's words wash over her. "I don't know what I would do without you, Elara. You keep me grounded."

"And you keep me hopeful," Elara replied gently. "We will be together again soon. I promise."

Gràís allowed herself to smile, her heart lightened by Elara's reassurance. "I can't wait to hold you again."

"Neither can I," Elara whispered. "But for now, rest, my love. You need your strength for tomorrow. And remember - I am always with you, even across the distance."

With Elara's words lingering in her mind, Gràís finally allowed herself to drift into sleep, the sound of her lover's voice keeping the nightmares at bay.

The war continued to grind on, for weeks, and whenever she could, Gràís would return to Llamda, though the visits were brief and far too infrequent for her liking. The war demanded her presence on the front lines, but those stolen moments of peace with Elara were what kept her going.

One evening, after weeks of relentless battle, Gràís rode into Llamda, her body aching with exhaustion. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow over the citadel. She dismounted her horse, her heart racing as she made her way toward the citadel, eager to see Elara.

Elara was waiting for her in their chambers, her face lighting up the moment Gràís stepped through the door. Without hesitation, she rushed forward, wrapping her arms around Gràís and pulling her close.

Gràís melted into her embrace, burying her face in Elara's neck. She inhaled deeply, savouring the familiar scent of her skin, the warmth of her body pressed against hers. For a moment, the war faded away, and all that mattered was this - Elara's arms around her, their hearts beating in sync.

"I've missed you so much," Gràís whispered, her voice hoarse with emotion.

"And I you," Elara replied softly, pulling back just enough to press a gentle kiss to Gràís' lips. "Are you alright?"

Gràís sighed, leaning her forehead against Elara's. "I don't know. I'm so tired, Elara. Every day is a struggle just to keep the enemy at bay. But being here with you... its the only think that keeps me sane."

Elara smiled gently, cupping Gràís' face in her hands. "You're doing everything you can, my love. I am so proud of you. And I'm here - always."

They spent the evening together, cherishing every moment, knowing that their time was fleeting. They spoke softly, sharing stories of their days, their worries, their hopes for the future. And when the weight of the world became too heavy, they simply held each other in silence, drawing strength from their connection.

As dawn approached and Gràís prepared to return to the front lines, Elara placed a hand on her chest, over her heart. "Remember this moment," she said softly. "Remember that I am with you, no matter where you are. And when this war is over, we will have all the time in the world."

Gràís smiled, her heart full despite the impending departure. "I'll hold on to that," she whispered, kissing Elara long and deep, one last time before reluctantly pulling away.

As she rode back to the battlefield, Gràís felt a renewed sense of purpose. The war was far from over, but with Elara's love and support, she knew she could face whatever lay ahead.

The shadowy enemy's relentless attacks on Llamda's and Valoria's borders intensified with each passing day. Gràís found herself standing at the precipice of not just battle but a test of her leadership that threatened to break them. The enemy forces swelled in number, bolstered by dark magic and shadowy figures whose origins remained a mystery. Worse still, they were organized - far more than any force Gràís had ever encountered.

Each night, Gràís strategized with her commanders, pouring over maps, adjusting tactics, and ensuring troops were ready for whatever came next. Though they fought valiantly, it became painfully clear that they were vastly outnumbered. With every passing day, the enemy pressed harder, and Gràís knew the threat of being forced to retreat loomed ever closer.

Am ids the chaos, the one constant was her connection with Elara. Their magical letters brought them solace - Gràís could feel Elara's resolve and love in every word, even as the weight of her responsibilities threatened to drown her. The bond they shared through their rings also kept them grounded, the telepathic connection allowing them brief but powerful moments of comfort and encouragement.

In Llamda, Elara worked tirelessly with Queen Aryndra. They spent long hours in council chambers, securing the loyalty of neighbouring kingdoms and pledging their forces to Llamda's defense. Her diplomatic efforts were crucial in holding together the alliances that were the kingdom's lifeblood. But Elara could feel the urgency growing as Gràís sent word of their increasingly desperate situation.

Just when Gràís thought they would have to pull back and abandon the Valorian border, salvation came. She stood on the front lines, preparing to give the order to retreat when a sound broke through the din of the battlefield - a horn, signaling reinforcements. Gràís turned to see a vast army cresting the horizon, their banners high in the wind. And at the forefront, riding a swift, brown steed, was Elara.

Gràís felt her heart swell with relief and pride as thousands of fresh troops from newly allied kingdom poured into the battlefield. Elara had done it - she had secured the reinforcements they so desperately needed.

Elara rode straight to Gràís, her eyes fierce with determination as she dismounted and approached her. Without hesitation, dismounted and embraced her fiancee, the warmth of the moment briefly pushing aside the chaos around them.

"You didn't think I'd let you fight this alone, did you?" Elara said with a wry smile.

Gràís chuckled softly, her face still covered in grim from the battle. "I had no doubt you'd come through. I just didn't know you'd arrive with such style."

Elara's smile widened. "We have much to do, but now we can do it together."

The two women stood side by side, Elara seamlessly taking up her role as both Gràís' equal and a fierce warrior in her own right. Elara proved her mettle quickly, not just in the diplomatic arena but in the heat of battle. She wielded her sword with skill, fighting in sync with Gràís and seeing Elara in her element, Gràís couldn't help but feel a renewed surge of love and pride for the woman she was going to marry.

As the battle raged, the two fought together, their bond and trust in each other evident to everyone who saw them. Gràís led the troops with tactical precision her swords flashing in the sun as she carved a path through the enemy. Elara stayed close, her longsword equally as efficient as that of Gràís. The two were an unstoppable force, their connection unshakable despite the dangers that surrounded them.

Over in Llamda, Antor fought his own battles, holding Llamda's line with reinforcements led by his wife Aryndra. Though separated Antor and Aryndra knew that both Gràís and Elara were proving themselves not only as warriors but as leaders. They enemies they faced was shrouded in dark magic and seemingly endless in numbers. Marlinus and his now larger Magi Circle helped protect the allied soldiers from the dark magic. Despite the growing sense of foreboding at the ongoing conflict, Antor and Aryndra could not help but feel proud of Gràís's strength and resilience, and equally as proud of Elara, their soon to be daughter in law.

The sun was beginning to set as the battlefield finally felt quiet. Bodies law strewn across the field, the ground slick with blood. Though they had held the line once again, Gràís knew that today's victory had come at a high cost. She wiped sweat and blood from her brow as she surveyed the carnage, her heart heavy with the losses.

She barely had time to catch her breath when a scout approached, breathless from the ride. "Princess Gràís," he said, "there have been reports of attacks near Valoria's eastern border. The shadowy forces are moving in greater numbers."

Gràís clenched her fists, her mind racing. The war was far from over, and now both Valoria and Llamda were in danger on two borders.

"Elara," she said quietly, turning to her fiancee. "We need to send some reinforcements to the eastern Valorian border."

"And keep enough here to hold this position."

"Yes," Gràís grimaced, "that is going to make holding this place difficult."

"So what's the idea?"

Gràís thought for a long second, then said, "Send the horse regiments to the eastern border, that is more fluid. I'll have the troops here dig in and hold this line." Turning to another commander, Gràís issued the necessary orders and troops raced to carry them out, planning and digging trenches to defend.

Gràís looked out over the battlefield one last time, reflecting on how much had changed since the war began. No longer just a princess, she was now a leader and a warrior - someone who had the lives of countless people depending on her. The darkness they faced was unlike anything she had ever imagined, but she was determined to fight back, no matter the cost.

After the chaos of the day, there was a brief lull - an unexpected moment of peace. Gràís and Elara found themselves standing together on the battlements of the wall that was quickly being built behind the trenches that'd been dug that afternoon. The stars twinkled above them in the night sky. The land before them was vast, stretching out into the darkness, but for the first time in weeks, there was a sense of calm.

Gràís reached for Elara's hand, intertwining their fingers as they gazed out over the land they would one day rule together. The war was far from over, but in that moment, they allowed themselves to breathe - to hope.

"I never imagined it would be like this," Gràís said quietly, her voice tinged with both weariness and determination.

Elara squeezed her hand gently. "Neither did I," she admitted. "But I know that we can face whatever comes next - together."

Gràís turned to look at her, her heart swelling with love and gratitude. "I couldn't do this without you, Elara."

Elara smiled softly. "You don't have to. We're stronger together. And no matter what happens, we'll face it side by side."

Gràís leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Elara's lips, the warmth of the moment anchoring her amidst the uncertainty that still lingered in the air. As they stood there, hand in hand, they both knew that the future remained uncertain. The enemy was still out there, shrouded in darkness and mystery. But in that brief moment of peace, they found strength in each other - strength that would carry them through whatever lay ahead.

Together, they would face the challenges, fight the battles, and protect their kingdoms.