As Idelle watched the battle from her hiding spot, she realized that the fire mages had split the Wynherst army into halves. One half, far from where she was, were near the trenches and were the bigger part of her army. The other, who Idelle currently sat among, were trapped on one side, near the river that cut across the pastureland. Most of them were huddled behind cover. This wasn't ideal, and she wondered why the commanders hadn't foreseen what the mages were doing and made sure not to fall into this trap. However, what was done was done, and they'd have to fight their way back through the bonfire fields to get to the trenches and the rest of the army.

Idelle peered over the edge of the stone wall, only exposing the barest minimum of her head. Only a small sliver of the battlefield was visible from her angle. The mages stood by their bonfires, firing on anyone who had the misfortune of drawing too close. The grass around them had been scorched into a mixture of mud and black ash. Smoke and sparks filled the air, burning Idelle's eyes and lungs. The dead lay in lumps on the ground, frozen how they fell. Wynherst and mages alike, abandoned in the mud.

Idelle had seen enough of the carnage and was just about to drop back under cover when her eyes happened to catch sight of a small flicker of movement near the middle of the mages' position. She peered closer, straining to see through the smoke and distance.

It was a man. Though even venturing that much of a declaration was only a wild guess, since all Idelle could see of him was the top of his head and one arm which was flailed behind him. The rest of him was hidden out of sight behind the carcass of his horse, which had fallen on top of him and pinned him in place. Only his upper body was free, and he was attempting to pull himself out with the one arm that wasn't pinned. This feeble flailing was what had drawn Idelle's eyes to him in the first place.

So far, none of the mages seemed to have noticed he was still alive and moving. The nearest cluster wasn't so far from him, and if one of them happened to glance his way, they were sure to see his attempts to free himself. Once he was noticed, he wouldn't stand a chance. He was in their range and they wouldn't let such an easy kill go. All they had to do was have their eye caught like Idelle's, and the man would be a burnt shell in a matter of seconds.

Idelle bit her lip, wondering what to do. Going after him was clearly insane, and she would probably just end up another victim. But, if he was on a horse, it could only mean that he was a commander in the Wynherst army. Only the nobles had the money and means to bring their own steeds on the battlefield, and any nobles who were trained in military tactics or had experience in the army were most certainly commanders. And if he was a commander, it meant they sorely needed him.

In the grand scheme of things, the army was stretched thin over miles and miles of Wynherst's southern and eastern borders, trying to keep the expansive Glastonbex army from breaking through and claiming Wynherst land. Not many commoners had the education or experience to be a commander, and there weren't that many nobles who were capable of leading an army. A commander was important to the structure of his battalion. He was their leader, their source of information and tactics. If the commander who was pinned under his horse was killed now, it would be possibly weeks before a replacement could be found for him, and possibly weeks more for that replacement to be brought out to the front lines to take charge. In the meantime, his men would have no leader. They would be put under the command of a different commander who would already be stretched thin, and they would all suffer for it. Orders would be diluted and positions would be forgotten. It would cost hundreds of men's lives to let this one man die. 

Idelle sighed in frustration. If something was going to be done, it had to be done in the next few seconds. She didn't have time to ask a commander or gather a group to rescue him. If she was going to save him, it had be right that second and on her own.

Growling in frustration, Idelle launched herself over the low stone wall and ran across the scorched earth. She ducked behind as much cover as she could until she was pressed against an abandoned cart that might have once belonged to a farmer. It was only a few feet from the man under his horse, and only a few hundred from the nearest fire mage. She held her breath, staring at the man and praying that she would make it out of this rescue mission alive.

When the nearest fire mage turned his attention toward a battalion trying to make ground to the north, Idelle slid out of her hiding place and ran the last few feet to the fallen commander. She wasted no time before dropping to her stomach by his side, using the horse as cover and hoping she might also pass as a corpse if anyone should glance her way. The commander, for his part, stared at her with eyes wider than serving platters and his mouth hanging open.

"I'll help get you out, but once you're free of the horse we'll have to move fast," she whispered, barely taking in his clean-shaven chin and his matted, tawny hair that marked him as far too young to deserve this fate. Thankfully, his youth did not translate to stupidity or arguments, and he merely nodded and tried to prop himself up on his one free arm.

Idelle glanced over the side of the horse, eyes scanning from one mage to the next. They seemed most concerned with repairing the bonfires that had been damaged in the battle, preparing the sources of their magic should the army attack in force again. Yet, they were uncomfortably close. Her movement could alert at least three mages, and fighting them alone was not an option. She wondered if she and the commander could even make it back to shelter without being roasted alive. But she had to at least try.

"I can't lift it off enough, so I'm going to try and dig around you. Move your body as much as you can to help loosen the mud," she said, pressing a hand against his shoulder. He looked up at her, having to almost tip his head backward to see her face. She knew he would see nothing much, just mud and blood and the grim weight of reality weighing on her lips. She wished she could have offered a gentle smile or a glimmer of hope. It was too hard to even give herself the luxury.

While the commander struggled to move his arms and legs under the horse, Idelle reached under and scooped the mud toward her. She concentrated on the areas right next to the commander, even scraping against his legs and torso. Anywhere else, it would be indecent and unacceptable for her to be pawing at her commander's hips and back, but here it was necessary to dislodge him from certain death. He was already shivering, his lips tinged blue, and she realized that even if the mages didn't get him, the cold and exposure would soon. She needed him back where someone else could take care of him as soon as possible. She didn't have the medical skills needed for this kind of trauma.

After a few seconds, she glanced over the horse and saw that a mage had moved position. He was now closer than ever, though he hadn't seen them yet. She cursed silently in her head and ducked back down to her commander.

"We'll see if this is good enough," she whispered, lips only a few inches from his ear. "Try to use the holes we dug to slide out and away."

While he braced his one free arm to help him pull, Idelle slid her sword under the horse's side and used it to leverage an inch or two of height. Her arms shook and she knew she was now dangerously exposed to all watching, but they'd need every little bit of leeway to get the commander out.

Through the sweat that dripped into her eyes, she saw the commander wriggle and kick, moving with agonizing slowness out from the horse. Well, at least he was moving, even if it felt like it took him an eternity to do so. His face twisted, going whiter than before, and pulling all the color from his lips. His teeth ground together and even though she hissed at him to be quiet, he still seemed unable to keep in a groan of pain as his legs finally pulled free of the horse. 

She immediately pulled her sword free and dropped to her chest, throwing an arm over the commander and letting her body go as limp as a wet rag. She'd positioned her head near his, with his feathery blonde hair pressed into her cheek and his breath whistling in her ear.

"Play dead," she hissed, and then closed her eyes and held her breath.