Tales Of Eleutheros

by S D Huss

  “No sign of their King?” Oros asked, to no one in particular.

  “He’s hiding behind their walls.” One of the surrounding generals said. Oros turned to see Lord Rugio, one of the Torre’ nobles who had hired a force of mercenaries to come. He wore a large and extravagant purple cloak, embroidered with gold thread and finery. His hair was long and interweaved with fine stones and pearls. “They know their end has come. I wouldn’t be surprised if they sent a runner over here to surrender. That would be a shame, seeing as how we came all this way.” Rugio barked a laugh, and many others joined him.

  “That isn’t their way,” Oros said, peering through the magnified vortex at their line. “They look disciplined enough. I think we can expect a hard fight today.” Oros waved his hand, and his aid released the vortex, causing it to puff into thin air. He turned toward the generals and nodded. “How are our warriors? Do we have our battle lines and flanks established? The Rexunii like to charge, and flank. Make sure our scouts are out at least a mile in all directions to prevent any unwanted surprises. These people are desperate, best remember that today.”

  Oros gave his final orders before the start of the battle and rode across the line of his forward war-groups. He had brought thousands of warriors to the field today, enough to carry a victory beyond any shadow of a doubt. His spies on Thule had been silent for the last week, but the last word they gave was that the King of Rexun, Alektor, had decided to split his army in half, one to weaken the Lokkadonian force on the field of battle, and the second to defend the walled city. This was a troublesome tactic, but it would not save them for long. It would lead to a lengthy siege against them, and no doubt cost many more lives. Oros thought it would be better to end it right here and now. At least you would have the honor of dying on the battlefield, rather than starving to death hiding behind your walls.

  “My Prince,” Nasha said, keeping pace beside him. “Why would they bring so few? Our scouts have reported back, saying there is no flanking force. This is all they have.”

  “Maybe they did run.” Oros pulled his reigns to stop his mount. He now was on a hill behind his main force, where his command and control unit would remain for the duration of the battle. He looked at the terrain surrounding them and remembered studying the stone map for hours the night prior. The enemy army was directly to the south of them, to the east was a large river, that flowed north and south, flanked by a thick forest. To the west was an open field, littered with hills and large stones. Oros arranged his warriors as such, knowing that the river would play a large tactical role. He assembled his best Dae-Leu there to prevent any surprises from across or from within. Anything they threw at him, he was confident that they could fend it off, or perhaps use the river itself to weaken the flank of his enemy. The Western flank was made up of mostly mercenaries hired by the Torre’ Lords, and reserve units from around Lokkadonia.

  He raised his hand to the signalmen beside him, each equipped with large horns to pass on commands in code to the rest of the army. “Advance,” Oros said with confidence, prompting loud blasts from the horns that echoed across the battle lines, and they started to move forward as one.

  The center was where he had his veterans and regulars. The sight of them was sure to bring fear to the hearts of their enemies. A wall of crimson and bone, marching forward with merciless determination. They began to pull ahead until the whole battle line looked almost like a wide arrow. Oros licked his lips, and raised his hand again, watching them march closer and closer. He heard a defiant shout from the enemy army, one that boomed over the land as they screamed in unison “To your death!” over and over again. This brought a smile to Oros’ face, at least they weren’t going to just lay down and die. He brought his hand down, and the signal horns sang loudly, bringing the battle to a start.

  ◆◆◆

  “Steady!” Turak called across the line. He silently cursed his over-eager warriors as they shouted to the enemy that marched toward them. Thousands of warriors shouted with all the hatred and malice they could muster, to defiantly reject their invaders. The war had truly come to Rexun, and it was worse than they had initially believed. In the past, there is always an attempt at parlay or an offer of surrender. This morning, when the armies came across one another on the field, there was only the formation of the battle lines. The Lokkadonians came for blood, not words.

  Turak adjusted his posture and drew both of his blades from his back. He hefted them in his hands and whirled them around to get his arms used to the weight.

  “My Lord! Won’t you come back to the command position?” asked one of his officers, who stood next to him at the front of their center line.

  Turak shook his head and extended his weapons out to his sides. “Steady!” he shouted again.

  In a single crashing moment, the battle had begun. Flashes of fire and electricity slashed from one line to the other, slamming into defensive barriers brought up and made of various elements. Elements of the Dunamis did not have specific roles dedicated to either of them, like earth for defense, or water for healing. Each one had the potential to cover a wide spectrum of possibilities in terms of their use. Instead, it was the individual Dae who trained with their power to fit within a specific role. Turak had put his best Dae-voh up in the front line, so they could use their abilities to create instant barricades and launch spikes from them offensively, a tactic that was actually used against the Rexunii hundreds of years ago by the Lokkadonians. The irony was not lost on Turak, and as he ordered it, he smiled behind the strange bone mask he wore.

  Surrounded by his elite warriors, Turak lunged into the line of crimson-clad Lokkadonian warriors, his two curved blades in hand. He called upon his Dunamis, and two long extensions of water erupted out like geysers to slash at the charging enemies. In moments they were engulfed in a flurry of chaotic explosions and noise. This was how all battles were done by the Dae. Their power was the key, and oftentimes a warrior would die in an instance of elemental fury instead of a prolonged duel with weapons. The wall of stone he had planned for shot up before him, behind the first wave of Lokkadonian attackers. It parted the soil and knocked Lokkadonians high into the sky. Turak’s blades of water parted an unsuspecting warrior’s head from his body, spraying droplets of water and gouts of blood around the chaotic scene. The wall shot up fifteen feet and extended only a few hundred feet in either direction. It didn’t protect the whole of their army, which was now totally engaged in combat, but it was extremely effective in stunting the advance of their center line. Warriors caught on the Rexunii side of the wall were surrounded and killed with extreme precision. They fought like cornered animals, but there was little they could do in the face of such a tactic.

  Turak turned to his left and right, counting his elites. -All still here- He thought. With a Dunamis-enhanced leap, he scaled the wall in a single bound. As he landed, he saw that the Lokkadonian warriors had done the same, only faster. He cursed as he began slashing his weapons, which launched highly pressurized blades of water at them, and several warriors were sent screaming to the battle below. Quickly, the wall became a battle of its own as the two sides struggled for the high ground. A Lokkadonian officer leaped to the top and fired a massive blast of fire at Turak. With a flick of his sword, the fire was extinguished with a wave of water that materialized before him. He pressed the attack but took a split second to scan the surrounding enemies in order to determine if this was the only officer present. You could tell by the gold embroidery they had on their cloaks. Usually, the high born Lokkadonians who wished to distinguish themselves in battle joined the Proistem officer core and would wear their family crest on their cloaks in gold. This officer was a female Dae and had apparently thought she could roast him with a concentrated blast. -Fire- He thought with a grin. Alektor was the strongest Dea-Ra he had ever seen living in Eleutheros. To him, her attack was nothing more than a slight breeze of hot air.

  The woman reeled back from his deflection and drew her sword in an instant, preparin
g for a fight. Turak brought his blades down on her with lethal efficiency. To her credit, she blocked the attacks for some time but was pushed to the edge of the wall. Turak spun his blades and again extended a jet of water. His left blade was blocked, but his right came short across his chest, just short of her defenses. The jet of water sliced across her belly, and she grunted in shocked pain. She dropped her weapon, clutching her wound, attempting to hold her innards within. Taking a step back, she fell off the side of the wall.

  “Lady Kurt!” Called one of her warriors, who lunged at Turak, his eyes full of rage. The warrior carried a single blade, but it was large. He was young and had lost his mask in the fighting atop the wall.

  “Kholek!” the surrounding warriors called. “That's their general! Get out of there! You fool!”

  Kholek pressed his attack, but for all his assumed power, he was outmatched. His rage was a smoldering flame that was bright with energy, but against Turak, he was a child.

  Turak parried his blows with ease using his left blade. Then with a laugh, he slashed up at his face to decapitate him, his favorite thing to do against arrogant Lokkadonian warriors. To his surprise, the young warrior dodged the attack and rammed his shoulder into Turak’s chest. Normally this would have knocked his opponent to the ground, but instead, Kholek found himself slamming into what felt like a wall of stone. Turak began to laugh loudly and brought one of his blades through the Dae’s shoulder. The Elites that surrounded him only watched in amusement, making sure no others tried to intervene.

  “You are a brave one!” Turak shouted over the sounds of combat. “But you have found yourself outmatched! Rage will not save you or your people!” He twisted his blade in the flesh and heard Kholek scream in agony. “Join your Lady!” he said as a blast of water shot the wounded man from his weapon and over the wall.

  ◆◆◆

  “The bastards!” Nasha cursed, looking at the battle from the Command position atop a hill behind the Lokkadonian lines. “That was a cheap trick to use.”

  “Indeed…” Oros said slowly, observing the battle through another magnified vortex, created by one of his aides. “The wall was used against the Rexunii in our war of independence. How fitting they would use that tactic here.” He turned to Nasha. “Their general isn’t a tactical fool.” He gestured through the magnification. “He is quite reckless, however. Fighting against our center-line like that is very dangerous.”

  Nasha huffed. “My Lord, admiration is only appropriate after the battle is won. We should send in our reserves to the flanks, that wall will be difficult to destroy.”

  “Nonsense,” Oros said, using his heels to kick his Cro’kan in the sides. The animal shrieked and bolted forward, jogging down the hill.

  “My Lord!” Nasha called after him, the rest of his entourage of guards dashing forward to follow.

  “Ready your blades!” Oros called over his shoulder. “We must do something about that wall! Our brothers and sisters are dying!”

  The group of warriors began to push toward the rear of the advancing force in the center. Before joining the fray, Oros grabbed one of the returning scouts who was in communication with the satellite patrols to the north of their position, still watching for any flanking maneuver.

  “What news do you bring? Are there any signs of a second force?” Oros asked, trotting by.

  “My Lord, there is no sign of any enemy movement. The remainder of their force seems to be held up behind the walls of Thule.” The scout responded.

  Suddenly there was a massive crash of power on their western flank. Oros looked over to see a massive explosion like he had never seen before. Bodies of warriors flew through the sky in every direction. Limbs and other pieces of Dae rained down on the field.

  “Damn!” Oros shouted, knowing that the western flank of mercenaries would have no course to fight against such an overwhelming force. They were focusing their long-range Dunamis against their weak side. Whoever the Dae-Rah were who executed that attack, they were extremely powerful.

  “Nasha!” Oros called. “I want our reserves to focus on the Western flank. Send them in. We should end this as quickly as possible if we want any chance of sieging Thule.”

  “Yes, my Lord!” Nasha called, spinning to the signalment and relaying the message.

  With a shout, Oros again kicked his heels into the sides of his mount and surged forward.

  ◆◆◆

  Turak laughed again as he used his Dunamis to slice a pillar of ice that was launched at him into pieces. They had taken the wall and were using its advantage to bring death to the Lokkadonian warriors below who attempted to retake it. His original plan was to erect this wall and have his Dae-Voh launch pillars and spikes from it, causing as much damage as possible to the enemy. But the Lokkadoninas were quick in their response and had attempted to use their own Dae-Voh to hijack control of the structure. When a Dae, or group of Dae, used their Dunamis to create or influence an element around them like water in a river, or rocks on the ground, it was susceptible to others as well. In the end, it was a tug of war for control of the wall, using the spiritual energy of the Dae. For now, it was a stalemate. The Dae-Voh on both sides were using their focus and power to try and win against the other. Turak looked at the silent warriors who stood with their hands outstretched.

  “Kill the Dae-Voh!” He yelled, prompting an immediate response from the Rexunii atop the wall. A concentrated flurry of elemental blasts showered the groups of Lokkadonian earth users, but an equal amount of defensive abilities were used by the enemy warriors. Turak cursed at the stubborn resistance and glanced to his left. The western flank was the enemy’s weakest point, and if he had any hope of winning this battle, it would be in drawing the rest of the Lokkadonian reserves there. The first massive explosion was enough to rattle the non-regulars who were fighting his line war-groups. The bastards from Torre’ seemed to be unaccustomed to this kind of brutal combat. Now, all Turak had to do was lure as many of them there as possible. Then he could spring the real trap.

  He grinned under his mask. -I can win this!- He mused to himself. Then there was a shudder under his feet as the stone wall jerked. Turak looked at the sea of enemy warriors below and saw a large part in their ranks. A pompous looking Dae sat on a Cro’kan with his hand outstretched, and he knew this was Oros Ignos, the leader of this army, and the crown prince of Vul De Rah.

  Turak opened his mouth to give his next order but was cut off by the crashing of the stone under his feet. -Impossible!- Turak thought, falling with the crumbling wall. A large chunk of warriors had been perched atop it, now they all fell, screaming in terror at the awesome display of power. -No Dae is that strong…- the world spun in slow motion until he landed harshly against jagged rocks of the now broken wall. Pain shot through his body, and he lay dazed for several moments. He heard screaming and shouts from all around as his blurry vision saw only blotches of the colors around him. A wave of crimson-clad warriors charged now, diving into the shattered rubble and trying to kill those who were trapped in it.

  “My Lord!” He heard several warriors calling for him in the chaos. He felt multiple hands grab him from under the rocks, and he gasped at a sharp pain in his leg as they did. His vision returned to normal and he saw the masked faces of his elites. -one, two, three…- He counted the six of them. -All still here…- He sighed in relief.

  “Oros is here! We have to move, my Lord.” One said, lifting him to his feet.

  “No…” Turak groaned, shielding his mind from the pain he felt throughout his body. “No! Stand your ground! This isn’t over!” Shrugging his arms away from his warriors, he knelt down to find one of his curved weapons he had dropped in the fall.

  Dazed Rexunii warriors rallied around their general, shouting and launching Dunamis attacks at the charging Lokkadonians. Turak clenched his teeth, scanning the enemy ranks for his target, Oros. His gaze fell on the man, still perched smugly on his Cro’kan, but keeping his distance from any actual fighting. -This… arrogant
bastard.- He thought, letting out a roar of defiance. With a burst of energy, Turak leaped at the charging line, slashing massive waves of water out of his blades. Most of the attack was deflected by a lightning response from the well-trained warriors of Lokkon, but some fell back, bleeding from slashes across their bodies. As he landed, he was immediately in the fray of battle, swinging and slashing his swords against multiple opponents. The violence of the attack shocked many of even the veterans and stunted much of the center line’s charge.

  “Oros!” Turak yelled, deflecting two attacks with his left sword, and swiping in a broad arch with his right, cleaving two attackers with a jet of water. “Face me!” Blue blood dripped down his mask, giving his presence an even more feral and fearsome aura. He breathed hard through his mouth, keeping the rhythm of battle in his mind, the tempo of strikes and counters. The air was hot and filled with debris from the constant usage of the Dunamis. Corpses and a shattered massive wall were strewn about the once delicate green field, causing all who walked upon it to stumble. Suddenly, there was a loud screech and Turak blocked a blast of electricity with his weapons. It was extremely powerful and caused him to completely focus on his defense. After a long moment, the stream of energy subsided, and Turak looked angrily at his attacker.