From the prompt: "Can't die yet..."
"Tomorrow We Fight"
He knelt on the riverbank, gazing into nothingness, hand resting on the hilt of his sword as the mighty waters swirled by in deceptive calm.
"Commander?" Rhajj asked tentatively, coming up from behind.
"Captain?" Rastaban answered, not turning to face him.
"We have ten thousand able-bodied men, sir, two thousand wounded, a thousanddead," Rhajj reported.
Rastaban nodded. "Thank you, captain. And our foes?"
"The scouts couldn't tell, sir," Rhajj responded nervously. "General Shanka's army is camped across the plains. Their torches are out, but the bonfire still burns. Some of the scouts say that General Shanka had her troops light two torches per man, er, woman."
A slight smile curved Rastaban's mouth. His men were still a little leery of fighting the Banshee army, the army of women.
"Shanka would do that," he murmured. But he had to know her numbers. He had to defeat her somehow - that was the only way she would listen to him. Old Master wanted her - she was the consummate warrior, and would be perfect for the Dagaz.
"I'll go, now, sir," Rhajj said, and turned.
"Wait." Rastaban whirled and reached out, grabbing his wrist.
Rhajj froze, startled. "Um...sir?"
"Come with me. I will speak to my men, then send an envoy to the Banshee army. I wish to speak to General Shanka." Rastaban rose up smoothly, drawing his sword in the same movement. Rhajj leapt back, alarmed. Rastaban just headed the short walk back to the camp, twirling his sword, the blade singing through the air. Rhajj followed behind at a safe distance, amused at his
commander. Right then, walking through the tall grass lopping the blossoms off of stalks, the great and feared Rastaban looked like an eager boy showing off the newest tricks with the sword.
"Form up!" Rhajj yelled, scampering around the whirling blade and yelling again, startling the guards at his feet. Immediately, ten thousand men spilled out of the tents and scrambled into formation, a few ragged gaps where the wounded or dead might have stood. Rastaban sheathed his sword and moved to stand before his men.
"Soldiers, friends, brothers, tomorrow we go to fight, and we go to win," he began. He thought quickly; this had to be a good speech, because they had to win this war. "You are trained, you are skilled in war, but do not underestimate the foe. They may be women, but they are strong, and they have no fear." He could feel their eyes on him and resisted the urge to
start pacing. "We must not fear them. We are an army, we are one, and success is necessary. Think not of yourself but us as a whole first. Do not save yourself but others first. I will sacrifice myself if it means that our army will win. Be able to do the same." He nodded once, and his men saluted before scattering.
"Are we going, sir?" Rhajj asked. "Who would you like as an envoy?"
"No one," Rastaban answered briefly. "I'll get the horses. You and I will go alone."
Rhajj looked alarmed, but obeyed.
The two horses walked side by side across the plains towards the golden glow of a bonfire in the distance. For the most part, the General Rastaban was quiet, planning his words in his mind.
Rhajj was startled when his commander spoke suddenly.
"If something happens to me tomorrow, you'll be in command."
Rhajj blinked. "Pardon, sir?"
Rastaban smiled. "I know you heard me. Guide my men well, eh?"
"Stop where you are."
Rastaban reined his horse to a halt as Mallia, Shanka's second-in-command, rose up out of the tall grass holding a blade.
"We come merely to talk," Rastaban offered. Mallia looked unconvinced. Rastaban unhooked his scabbard and tossed it to the ground. "I wish to speak to General Shanka." He flashed his winning smile.
"She's sleeping," Mallia snapped, at the same time as a tiny figure emerged from the nearest tent. In the moonlight, Shanka looked less like a General and more like a helpless little girl, curls tousled with sleep.
She glared up at him with stormy golden eyes. "What do you want? I'm fine, Mallia."
Rastaban waved Rhajj away and jumped off his horse, landing in front of Shanka.
"I never got that kiss, you know," he murmured so only she could hear.
"You never will," she answered coolly.
Rastaban smiled. "Can we not negotiate peace?"
"With our swords tomorrow," she replied.
He laughed. Oh, no, he couldn't lose this war yet. She had to be his...
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