by Cory Barclay
“Not much time left,” Barns said quietly from the doorway. He hadn’t moved an inch since they’d noticed the blackguards approaching. He was like an immovable statue.
Maybe that’s what he is, Steve wondered, staring at the man’s broad back and muscled shoulders. A golem or gargoyle or whatever they’re called.
“Barns, how do you feel about leading the vanguard?” Geddon asked.
Steve leaned over to Selestria and whispered, “What’s a vanguard?”
“The front of the advancing group.”
“Ah. Right.”
“It’s a military term,” she added.
“I gathered that, Sela, thanks.”
Steve knew he sounded cheeky, but he couldn’t help it. He was insanely anxious. He thought he was about to lose his lunch.
Then he remembered he hadn’t had lunch, and his mind raced even more.
Keep it together, Steve.
“Ulu Koa,” Geddon said, “you will be our main attacking force behind Barns. He is a good wall—you will see.”
“I know what Koa Barns is,” Ulu Koa said wisely. “I have felt his presence and aura since he arrived.”
“Good, then you know he’ll be a proper defender of your people.”
“Indeed, Koa Geddon.” He turned to his wife. “Pua Kila, you and the women will hold the left flank.”
The stocky woman nodded firmly. Steve wondered if “holding the left flank” was Ulu Koa’s way of keeping his women out of harm’s way, but he doubted it.
Geddon was about to finish his instructions, but Barns interrupted.
In his brooding tone, he said, “Geddon, if things get dire out there, I want you to promise you’ll run with Selestria.”
“What? Barns, no, I’m going to be right beside—”
“We cannot allow the Kinship to die here,” Barns shot back, “on this nameless valley. Find Tetsuo, raise the resistance, and continue to fight.”
Ah, Steve thought, it seems Barns had the same plan as I first did, but in a more heroic way . . .
Geddon was quiet for a moment.
“Promise me,” Barns demanded. He still hadn’t turned to face Geddon.
How could we have ever believed this guy betrayed us?
“Fine,” Geddon snapped. “I give you my oath.”
“Thank you,” Barns said. He reached behind him and grabbed his giant axe’s handle. He whooshed the axe in front of him, holding it two-handed.
It was quite an emasculating experience for Steve. His eyes went from Barns’ great battleaxe to his own belt and the butcher knife that hung there. When he held it, it seemed quite dinky in comparison.
Ulu Koa tapped him on the shoulder.
Steve turned with a sickly half-smile, but Ulu Koa’s stern, battle-ready face didn’t return the smile. Instead, he held out a sharp, wicked spear. “With this, you can poke them without having to feel their breath on your face, Koa Steve.”
Steve realized this was his way of saying, Don’t be a dumbass—that knife will get you killed.
“Thank you,” Steve said, taking the spear from the Nawao leader.
“If you get within the enemy’s guard, then you might use your knife.”
“That makes sense.”
“Spear from afar, knife up close.”
“Got it.” He watched as Ulu Koa bent his knees and did a few stabbing practices, illustrating how to use the spear.
Steve knew he was utterly useless, but even he knew how to jab with a spear. When playing billiards he’d often imagined himself as a Spartan warrior fighting off Persians with his pool stick javelin . . .
“It’s time,” Barns announced. He took a giant step forward. Geddon and Selestria were behind him. The Nawao squeezed out in a single, orderly file, then spread out in front of the doorway. For the moment, Steve stayed behind.
Barns went to the side of the longhouse. A moment later, Steve heard the familiar clomping of his massive warhorse. The gallant steed walked from the side of the house and made Barns quite the menacing spectacle.
“That’s a good idea,” Steve said to himself. He disappeared from the crowd.
He went to retrieve Francesca the Third, but then heard Geddon’s voice from behind: “I wouldn’t do that, Steve.”
With one hand on the reins, Steve froze in place. He tilted his head and said, “Why not?”
“That horse is not trained for battle. Barns’ is. You’re more likely to get thrown and trampled than do any real damage. Plus, you’d be an easy target—none of the Nawao have steeds. You’ll be one of two horsemen out there. Have you ever ridden into battle on horseback? Do you know—”
“Of course I haven’t, Geddon!” Steve shouted. For some reason, Geddon’s reasonable suggestion angered him. He threw his hands up and yelled, “I’ve never been in battle! I’ve never swung a spear. I’ve never killed a man.” He was rambling, but he couldn’t stop. “I don’t even like the sight of blood, much less the—”
“You don’t swing a spear. You thrust it.” Geddon pushed his hand forward to demonstrate.
Steve stopped cold. Geddon’s interjection derailed his train of thought. For a moment, they looked at each other in silence.
Then Steve burst out laughing.
Geddon chuckled. His laugh grew and grew.
Steve didn’t know why he was laughing—it was an unexplainable, hysterical moment. He couldn’t stop, and his belly hurt before long. What Geddon had said wasn’t even that funny. It was the ridiculousness of the whole situation, Steve figured.
“Thank you for that,” Steve croaked as he slowly got his giggle fit under control. He left Francesca at the stable and went back to join the group. He patted Geddon’s shoulder. They went arm in arm to Barns and the Nawao, stationed above the lip of the valley.
Looking down, Steve felt a terrible, dreadful sensation rise up in his stomach. He could see the individual faces of the enemy. The valley ramp was steep. There was nothing to hide behind while the blackguards paced methodically upward. In the dying minutes of daylight, Steve locked his eyes on the fair face of a man with a black helmet, black cloak, and black eyes. He looked like a robot—no, like an angel of death, surrounded by other angels of death.
And the angels were coming for Steve and his friends.
BARNS ROARED LIKE A demon from Hell, his horse carrying him down the hill. He met his enemies head-on, barreling into them and swinging his battleaxe in vicious arcs. One blackguard fell from a swipe to the neck. Another fell from a backhanded slash.
The blackguards broke rank to surround him. They were met with a furious flurry of hooves and teeth from his horse. No one could get close enough to stab him, much less wound him.
His horse then turned to its side and kicked out. It connected with a sickening thud and sent another blackguard flying. The horse took off and charged up the hill.
Already three blackguards were down, but where they had fallen, six more had sprung up.
It seemed the Brethren more than doubled the Kinship’s numbers.
The blackguards held where Barns had made his mark, about forty feet from the lip of the valley. They fanned out and brandished their cruel weapons.
Barns circled around and prepared for a second charge.
This time, he had the strength of the Nawao behind him. The incredible warriors shouted and cursed. They waved their spears and blades as they bounded down the hill behind Barns’ fearless steed. The women Nawao stayed back and slunk off to the right, into the darkness and out of Steve’s eyesight.
He hadn’t even done anything yet, but he was trembling and sweating. He was nauseous and thought he was going to be sick again.
Then he gritted his teeth and glanced at Geddon, who gave him a nod.
He, Geddon, and Selestria charged behind the Nawao.
Steve realized he was holding his breath the entire charge. He exhaled as he came to a stop behind one of the Nawao warriors. He stumbled and almost lost his footing in the blackness. He’d had no idea h
ow hard it was to run downhill and stop yourself on a dime.
Then he was in the thick of it.
He managed to squeeze between two adjoining shoulders. He stabbed his spear downward like he’d been shown, aiming for the pointed, yellow teeth of a blackguard.
His spear skidded harmlessly off the enemy’s shield, throwing his arm out wide and nearly popping his shoulder from its socket.
He reeled back quickly, so he wouldn’t leave his arm exposed.
The blackguard reached out and stabbed at Steve. All Steve could see was that narrow, sharp point of the sword coming toward him.
The blackguard grunted as two spears jutted under his ribs and up into his organs. Blood poured from his mouth like a waterfall as he fell. His sword fell short of Steve’s face by a matter of inches.
The two Nawao defenders stepped back. The entire wall of fighters joined them.
They were fighting with distance as their advantage. The spears could fend off any upward mobility of the blackguards. But they fought without shields. It was clear the tactic would only last for so long.
The blackguards were relentless. They plunged forward and upward, pushing the Nawao defenders back.
Even though they had the clear height advantage from being uphill, the Nawao were heavily outnumbered. They were making a slow, unified retreat toward the lip of the hill.
Steve glanced to his right and saw Barns beyond the wall of Nawao, still in the thick of the fighting. He swung his axe and screamed like a man possessed. Geddon and Selestria were beside him, protecting his horse’s flanks from attackers.
Steve saw the darkness creeping in around him.
And it wasn’t just because twilight had passed and it was nighttime now. No, the blackguards were starting to spread their line thin, trying to surround the rebels.
Steve knew if they managed to surround the group, all would be lost.
He took off toward the right flank—toward Geddon and Selestria and Barns. He zeroed in on the crooked face of a particularly ugly blackguard. He brought his spear down, trying to stab the man while he was fighting a Nawao.
Call it spineless, but Steve was trying to survive. He was sure it was proper battle strategy to take every opportunity to kill your opponent you could. Even if they weren’t aware of your presence.
But he missed, thrusting wildly and hitting air as the blackguard instinctively sensed the incoming spear and ducked out of the way.
Then the man’s crooked jaw twisted in a weird way and his face screwed up. His body straightened and he fell face-forward.
A dagger stuck out of his spine near the base of his neck.
Steve’s eyes glanced to the right, far away.
He couldn’t be sure in the dim light, but he thought he saw women throwing daggers and weapons from the shadows. The women flanked the enemy, as Ulu Koa had demanded. Now he knew that “holding the left flank” was not a means to keep them out of harm’s way.
The blackguards got wind of the flanking and a few soldiers spread out, scouring the dark for the elusive female warriors.
Another blackguard fell to the deluge of thrown knives, his body stuck like a pincushion.
Then Steve heard a strangled cry and his heart lurched in his chest.
He noticed a female body on the ground nearby, bleeding from her neck, her eyes wide open. The remaining two Nawao women retreated toward the top of the hill, leaving their fallen friend for the time being. The blackguard didn’t dare follow, for fear of being stuck behind enemy lines. They turned back and rejoined their offensive line.
Steve returned to the fray and saw an opening in the fight in front of him. He stabbed wildly, aiming for the darkness that was blacker than night.
He heard a groan and, a moment later, a thud. When he pulled his spear back, the thin blade was slick with dark red blood.
He’d killed his first man, presumably, though he couldn’t even see who it had been.
He had no time to think about it. Another took the fallen man’s place and lunged with his shield—something Steve had not been expecting.
The shield crashed into him and he was instantly dazed. All the chaotic thoughts that swam in his head left in an instant, like a puff of clouds. Stunned, he realized he was going down.
A moment later, he came to. Sandaled feet surrounded him—the sandaled feet of the Nawao as they took another step back up the hill.
He blinked away the dull aching pain in his head and looked up. He was being left behind.
A blackguard stepped forward, presumably the one that had knocked him down.
Steve did the only thing he could think to do. Still dizzy, he left his spear on the ground and crab-walked backward, up the hill. As he moved, a sword came crashing down and stuck into the earth where he’d just been.
Steve realized he was in more peril than he’d been in his entire life. His adrenaline carried him up the hill quicker than he ever could have hoped. The sound of steel on steel rang out all around him, intensifying his headache. The coppery odor of blood started to mix with the cool night air.
He tried to get to his feet but was still wobbly. A Nawao grabbed him by the shoulder and stood him up. He surveyed their defenses.
Since he’d fallen, it looked like everything had gone to shit.
The Nawao line of defense was spreading thinner and thinner as they backpedaled. There were gaps in their alignment and they no longer stood shoulder to shoulder. It was every man for himself, which Steve knew played against their collective strength.
Barns was still in the forefront, raging and fighting. Even his arms were seemingly getting slower—his swings more predictable—and he wasn’t hitting anyone. His horse heaved beneath his weight and blood poured down its flank in wet splotches.
Steve grabbed his butcher knife from his belt. He took a step toward Barns, the horse, and the men they were fending off.
Then his head said, No you don’t, and an unbearable shock of pain swept through him. Woozy, he fell, unbalanced, his equilibrium shot from the concussive shield slam he’d taken.
He fell on his back and stared up at the black eyes of an angel of death. The man had his arm poised to strike, a cruel grin on his face.
Steve knew he was dead.
He closed his eyes in preparation, tears welling under his lids.
There won’t be much pain, I’m sure, as my head is lobbed off my shoulders.
He opened his eyes and was on the same hill, but it was quiet. The cacophonous clashing of steel and hooves and screams was gone.
It was just him on his back and the poised blackguard in front of him.
The blackguard screwed up his eyes and glanced over his shoulder, no doubt wondering where his friends had gone.
Steve didn’t know what he’d done, or where he was, but he had no time to think on it. He pushed himself up on his elbows and stared daggers at the confused blackguard in front of him.
“Why do you want to kill us?” Steve asked, though it seemed like the words weren’t coming from his mouth at all.
“You are my enemy,” the blackguard replied in a throaty, rough voice.
“No, I’m not,” Steve said assuredly.
He glanced to his left—to the blackguard’s right side—and another blackguard appeared. This one had his knees bent and was swinging his blade at an invisible foe—most likely a Nawao warrior Steve couldn’t see.
At that moment, Steve realized he wasn’t on Mythicus or Terrus. He deduced he must be on Ethereus—in the blackguard’s “mind web” as Ulu Koa would put it. He had no idea how he’d dream-leaped so quickly, so responsively, so intuitively.
But here he was.
And he realized he could do things he couldn’t do in any other realm.
“That’s your enemy,” Steve said. He pointed at the blackguard fighting the invisible Nawao.
The man in front of Steve frowned and stood straighter, no longer in a battle stance.
“Okay,” he said nonchalantly. Then he shrugged.<
br />
Steve felt it was a good time to snap his fingers, like he’d seen Aiden do. So he did.
He blinked, and the thunderous din of battle came rushing back to his ears.
He opened his eyes.
The blackguard in front of him, who had been ready to strike and end Steve’s life, was no longer ready to do that. Instead, he turned to his right, studied his friend beside him, and plunged his sword into the man’s armpit.
The victim dropped his weapon wordlessly. His body went limp and fell like a sack of rocks.
The blackguard Steve had commanded to do the atrocious deed pulled his blade free from his friend’s body. He turned to Steve with a blank expression on his face, as if wondering what task he should do next.
Steve opened his mouth to command the man—
Until a spear skewered the blackguard through the side of the neck. His eyes bulged, a crimson tide flowing down his chin. He fell to his knees, then his face, landing a foot or so from Steve’s prone position.
The Nawao who had killed the man glanced confusedly at Steve, then bolted off after his friends.
Steve’s mouth fell open.
What have I just done?
No doubt the Nawao wondered the same thing.
“Geddon!” a voice cried out.
It was Barns. He was standing, surrounded by enemies, swinging his axe in frenzied circles to keep the enemies at bay. Dark, bristly fur coated his skin. His blond hair was noticeable amidst the sea of black. His horse was near him, on its side, dying. He stood a head over everyone else.
It wasn’t looking good.
Steve was too weak to get to his feet. He scanned the battlefield. He contemplated playing dead, but thought better of it.
The hillside had become slick with blood and covered with bodies from both sides.
The situation looked dire. There were more black-armored bodies standing than there were brown, Hawaiian ones. The Nawao had been pushed back to the top of the hill. Steve was caught in the dead man’s land somewhere between the two fighting groups.
“You promised!” Barns’ voice carried over the melee.
Steve craned his neck to look over his shoulder, toward the apex of the hill.