A Castrovel Adventure: Part 3, Chapter 3

In which Lady Vaeol recounts a raid on the Bulwarks.

From the Daylog of Vaeol-Zheieveil u’Zhasaele Zolaemaue be’Son

(continued from 10. Soelae, 24,541)
...After that first year, we were sent to Ofu Vou, and there we found no offthank, only plight. Ofu Vou stands as Valmaeyana’s westernmost watch-hold within the Straits of Glory. It sits on an island forsoothly little more than a rock rising starkly from the sea. Else than a small dale and upland where Shota may hunt birds and lost thurses, its only wealth lies in a harbor, where a fleet of deep ships may lie, and stoutly warded by two armlike headlands whereon strongholds overlook. I was first aloss as to why the High Staff should send us there, since we are land-warriors.
However, we soon got word forthcoming. Soon we were packed back aship, where we joined a doughty fleet of forty ships and sailed westward, straight toward the Colonies of the Formians.
Of this warfare, I cannot easily tell what I witnessed else than odd whits: blood’s golden stain on water, the sight of ships burning at night, the dread of a huge Formian shell-hulk rowing buglike toward, and sorrow of bodies floating dead and still. Our goal within this greater sorrow-tale was a raid against a Formian-held island at the strait’s eastern side, as misdrawal against a bigger host that would outseek the wards nigh Lost Valmaea. We landed a strong raidhost of ten flags, mostly Qabarata and our like fellows, but with Valmaean scouts. At once we fell to our first goal: burning Formian food-fields that upheld the neighbor-colony and swarm-holds of their west-lying mainland.
Here I am ashamed to tell our deed. It became dirty, ugly slaughterwork, which I would have deemed unwarriorly ere our warfare hither, and moreover unworthy, but that our captains bade us so do at our Valmaean leaders’ will. I had erenever seen Formians in life, only hue-drafts of frightful buglike things, stinger-wielding and dragging wretched Lashunta to their burrows as food and egg-fodder. I was unready for the small, shiny beetle-wights that scurried and shrieked forward, or scrambled lost and trapped within their burning fields, and who died so ruthfully under blade and claw. We made sheer slaughter with will to stamp and outroot them from the world, though claim the Elders that so had the Formians done to our foremothers in Lost Valmaea, while the Sage-Queens’ Downfall. Many nights sinceward, I have lain awake, or come upon deck, where I have knelt and prayed Burning-Mother for forgiveness, for I cannot ban their screams from mind. I fear their deaths have besmirched my soul.
Then our ill mood turned to dread when the Formian backlash came. We met no more grublike workers, but tall, with four legs and shells like armor, two arms wielding axbills, and deadly stingers jutting lewdly. They brunted smartly in lockstepping tows, eager and fearless. Neither could I unmind they were doing so to ward their homeland, and moreso their own folk. Yet our leaders had foreminded the foe's stroke, for we Shota-riders had been held back. A mind-yell went forth, which was rebeat from sith to team. We outriders reached forth into our underlings and brought all into War-Mind’s wholeness. Then for my first time ever we loped forth as I had only heard in great yore-tales where mighty onslaughts underwent with hundreds of steeds and riders, swordbills raised and aimed together gloriously.
Neither was I ready for the madness when our row crashed on their flank, the dreadful sight of Formian warriors right before, my swordbill’s wrench almost tearing from hand when it drove into warrior's shell, Ess’s leap overhead, and the sick lurch as he off-fought tumbling when we landed. 
Then, to my fear, we were riding alone. Istae, Semuane, and Vosaeth, who had ridden besides were forgone. We road in eery emptiness where the fight had gone beyond. Two Formian warriors ran forth. Ess wheeled away while barely I got my blade fewtered, and stabbed, even while a wicked axe scraped my shoulder-dish. 
We swerved back and beheld nightmare. Right ahead, three Formians bore down a Shota and rider, blades and stingers stabbing, while the steed keened woefully. Hatred bloomed in me, greatened in War-Mind with my fellows’ hurt and fear smiting my soul, and Ess sped forward in answer. His leap and claws crushed one while my spearstroke stabbed another’s back, and he shouldered against the third. Then we dashed beyond ere hap to see whether the third foe outlived.
I spotted Istae over the field and rode to meet. Together we wheeled and headed toward another rider-team striving with a like twain of Formians, whom we overrode aflank. Then our new foursome outsought like rider-knots. Even then the fight was almost fordone. All over the field Formians were dying (though few fled) with none withstanding.
We headed to the Headreeve’s flag, where others were already taking stock. One had a spyglass aimed to the island’s far scape - where even then more buglike warriors in shell-armor swarmed. Swiftly we full-witted we should soon be overmatched. We might never leave this island alive.
A scout outspoke a headland whereon we could make a smart wardstead. So we chose to withdraw and outhold for ship-load. Thither we led the whole raidhost, swiftly as we dared with flank-scouts and a strong rear-ward against the Formians aftercoming mid-withdrawal. This plan went well until we met a Formian wardhost astride the headland’s neck, forbidding us thoroughfare. Straightway we brunted and drove through. Luckily, they were too few to hold the whole neck, though at loss to our numbers. I lost three of my flag: Zomaeure, Shill, and Reiezas, whose deaths then I shamefully did not even forsoothe until laterward, with Vosaeth and another sixsome wounded. Other flagwives outcame even not so well. Ess and I overrode flailing stingers and limbs until we won the headland, where breathlessly we watched and dripped gore from our blades, legs, and stirrups.
Soon as we held the headland, the Headreeve bade me send seer-bode to the fleet hovering offshore (another soulcraft I had lately learned) and beg our offload. In good news, they yaysaid, though while I so sent, the Formian afterhunt caught our rear-ward. I awoke to sight of blasts riving the earth and loft over the neck, arrows aflight, and warriors arowed and ready...