Eighteenth wave.

[Oton]

“War is perfection”, Jane was thinking as she was watching the heavy siege machinery deploying slowly, in a wide semi-circle.
The usual bustle around them continued about half an hour and the Amazon did not move, as she was listening to her commanders’ short and muted orders.
“There is nothing cleaner than the weapon’s shape. Perfect in its beauty. Cold. Silent. A normal extension of your arm. A symbol of your will. You are born with a weapon in your hands in the Steppe. You die with a weapon in your hands in the Steppe. The beginning. And the end.”
‘Move the heavy archers behind the swordsmen to cover them. In groups of 100, to right and left. Cavalry stays with me. Aim the towers and the gates with the catapults. If everything is going well, we will dash the valley to the Fort. Pikes will remain in front, along the whole front line. Keep an eye on the forest. I want to sit at that imperian swine’s throne by noon and his head to decorate my spear’s blade!’
The page ran out to pass her orders.
The Fortress walls ahead of her were blackened with elite archers. The ones carrying very… very long bows.
“They will nail us to the ground, if we do not succeed to damage them enough with the catapults…”
Jane pulled out her two feet sword and lifted it sky high.
‘Spill oil on the stones and light them up! Bring down that Imperian  pig hole!’
The siege machines’ arms started to squeak.
One hundred burning basalt chunks flew at the Stronghold’s mighty, 4 miles long walls.
Nomads spearmen started to sing their hellish war hymn and moved forward.
A thick cloud of arrows, coming from the Fortress, darkened the sky, each arrow aimed at somebody’s eye.
The battle hymn did not stop.
“Forgive me, Mother of all, for I will send many of your sons into their deaths today”, Jane prayed, poked her giant stud forward, meeting the imperian arrows only with her small shield.

Eighteenth wave results

Imperian Fortresses destroyed: 754
Defenders’ victories: 250

Nomads killed: 10140787
Imperian soldiers killed 1893843

‘You did good, Amazon!’
‘Well done, Amazon!’
‘Lead us into death again, Amazon!’
We are with you, Amazon!’
Jane was riding back with her head proud, receiving the returning nomad soldiers’ respects with a cold smile.
Her soul was frozen.
“We went so many… We return so little!”
There was an excitement in the camp though.
General Robust – Leader of the jungle people, had arrived bringing countless numbers of his ‘tree children’ – millions, black-skinned soldiers, too lightly armed to be considered a force.
“Nevertheless they are millions!”
The Amazon was delighted. Robust and she were old friends, she used to spend lot of months, flying between the trees in the dense rain forests. He had taught her a lot. He had taught her how to laugh. And now she would fight beside this exotic and fascinating Warlord.
‘My Amazon’, Robust smiled like a little boy and his white teethe were the only thing that she could see in the dark night. His skin was deep black. Jane ran, hugged him and then suddenly slapped him.
‘Why are you here, Robust? You came here to die? Too many of us are already in the ground. Far too many.’
The General’s smile mildly faded, but he stretched his arms.
‘I heard your tent was the warmest place these days, Jane. You will meet your old friend with that… sour wine of yours you keep bragging with, won’t you’, he winked.
Jane held up her chin.
‘Come on, follow me, you old rascal. Let me tell you… how we make history in this… Mother forsaken place!’
Each night in the nomad camp… was somebody’s last