“This might be the end of me.” Dag chuckled. “But this is an enjoyable fight.” The thought brought a smile to his face.
Vimridh grinned back. “Has the loss of your limb made you insane?” He launched the Valyanek straight at his foe. Besides pushing the Ozek out of the way with his left elbow immediately, Dag stood still, his stump bleeding. Just as the blade was about to reach him, he raised the Buuzmeq, and instead of blocking the blade, he wedged Buuzmeq in the joint between the V sections, and buried his axe in the ground. Such was the strength of Buuzmeq in his one hand, that part of Valyanek was firmly buried in the ground. Within a second, Dag ran up the blade that Vimridh tried to dislodge from the ground, and punched the elephant rider right in the face, breaking his jaw with one hit. The smile was wiped off his face, which was an added benefit.
But that didn’t end the fight like Dag had hoped. The damage was far less than he had hoped. In the same motion, Dag tried to break Vimridh’s neck with a back handed punch. To save his life, Vimridh bent a little took the blow again on his jaw, which got crushed completely.
As he was completing the back handed punch, Dag saw the Valyanek move again. He immediately flipped and jumped to the ground. He saw what happened. Vimridh had somehow managed to break a section of Valyanek off, and was moving the rest of the blade. Dag had to get back Buuzmeq. But as he was landing, Valyanek slashed his stomach while was recoiling back to its master, causing Dag to fall down.
Vimridh’s eyes were full of rage, his jaws full destroyed and bloody. He launched the sword straight back at Dag who was profusely bleeding from his left hand and through his stomach wound. He bent back to pick up Buuzmeq, when he saw the Valyanek was coming right for his heart. There was no defense. Maney, seeing his leader about to die, jumped in front of blade to deflect it with his sword. The Valyanek went through Maney’s sword and his body, but missed Dag’s heart. It however did hit him, crushing his lower ribs and ripping through his stomach again.
The blade rose again, to rip through his body once and for all. Through his pain, he had reached the Buuzmeq and he swung it to deflect it. Using the Buuzmeq as a counter weight, he lifted his body from the ground. His body was losing blood, and fast. He was barely able to move. Vimridh withdrew his sword. He turned Zilonis to face Dag. The intention was clear—crush the leader of the Yerins, destroying all hope completely. There would be no body left for the Yerins to mourn.
The situation was hopeless. Zilonis advanced and swung its trunk, and Dag could barely swing Buuzmeq to deflect the trunk. The trunk hit him on the left, breaking his left ribs as well. Dag was on the ground again, barely conscious. The next hit was going to be his last.
“Seems like the great Dag can lose as well.”
The voice. Vimridh’s voice had changed. It sounds different. It sounded familiar. It sounded amused. Was the blood loss messing with his head?
He opened his eyes to see the elephant. Instead he saw a massive tiger. On top of it sat the most important leader of the revolution. His friend. The General. General Zastraax.
“I can’t let one of the most important leaders of the revolution get killed by someone as weak as this,” commanded the general in his rumbling, low, slightly wheezing voice.
He then got off his tiger. And started walking slowly towards Zilonis. The eyes of Vimridh no longer held rage, they were fearful. Zilonis was slowly walking backward as the general walked ahead. On his right, there was a commotion. The rhino Gajanakra was charging, without its rider and carrying multiple injuries. It was injured, but the injuries had not sapped it of its strength. And the general was in its path.
“Seems like I am blocking its way,” the general said. As soon as the Gajanakra was near, the general moved a step back, bent down and in one swift move ignited the sword he held, which turned red immediately, and decapitated the beast. The beast’s head rolled away and its body dropped a few feet away. The general continued to walk towards Zilonis, with his red blade in hand. This was his weapon, the feared Yushnalik. Vimridh had clearly heard of it.
Its appearance finally spurred Vimridh into action, making him work through his fear. Zilonis suddenly charged, swinging its head. The general, sighed, and ran.
Straight up the beast’s trunk, swinging his sword multiple times. And within the blink of an eye, the general was running right across the beast, gripping the elephant’s armor somehow with his metallic boots, swinging away his sword. Vimridh tried to use Valyanek to hit the general, but the general was able to deflect the blade with his weapon as he continued to hit the armor. For the first time, the elephant seemed uncomfortable.
The general was done in a few seconds. He came back down to his original position, relaxed as usual. The elephant’s armor was no longer shiny, it had large scratches and gashes. And it was red. But there was no place the general had penetrated the armor. He apparently didn’t feel that was necessary.
The general coughed a little. The beast roared, as if in great pain. And then it fell down. Its armor kept glowing red. The general, knowing that the armor was too thick for him to cut through in time, landed hundreds of blows on it, heating the armor. The heat of the armor burned and killed the elephant inside it.
Vimridh jumped out, holding his sword, which had melted in many places. He looked genuinely fearful. The general did not move.
“Well, it seems like your life will be safe today after all,” observed Zastraax.
As he said that, Azrial appeared in a blink, seemingly injured as well. He picked up his comrade and he was gone in an instant. He re appeared a few feet away and continued to flee. The beast brothers had been defeated. The leader of the Yerins was still alive, but barely. The general had saved the day. As he had managed to, in countless other fights across the Battle of the Bloody River. He was one of the revolution’s greatest heroes, besides Varishtan himself. And yet, Zastraax was sad. Sadder than he had been, since the beginning of the battle; a battle his side was winning.
Chapter 22: A lone Yerin’s mission
“You didn’t think I would let you perish, did you?” said Zastraax, in a jovial tone, to Dag.
They were back at the healing center for the revolutionary army. Dag’s wounds were getting tended to by the medics. It had been three days since the end of the battle. The revolution had beaten the Valantian army, despite two members from the Order of Seven and multiple Final 100 members being there on the battlefield. This victory was possible because of three key reasons. One was the electrifying entry of the Yerins. Their rapid and complete annihilation of the Masthead division, which was unthinkable to the Imperium, broke the morale of many army divisions across the battle field.
The second was the presence of Varishtan, who, with the Anzelmen, fought two members of the Order of Seven, destroying one completely and wounding the other, forcing her to flee with the broken body of her comrade, just as the battle ended.
The third, and the main reason for this victory was the general. He was the one who sent Varishtan after the members of the Order, and not use him to attack the Final 100 members or the Valantian army. He used all his divisions effectively, including the Yerins, to inflict great damage on the enemy. And he personally saved many divisions, often by destroying the Final 100 member leading the enemy division. Nowhere was that more apparent than his fight with the beast brothers. The ease of his victory over Vimridh, number 15 in the Final 100, broke the morale of many of the Final 100 members who observed his fight from various vantage points.
This, coupled with Varishtan’s and Yerins’ presence, made it clear to the Valantian commanders that this battle was lost. But it was also clear to the Valantian general in charge, General Tagashi, that the High Seat would win the war. General Zastraax had also come to the same conclusion, as he sat in Dag’s tent.
Dag was just stirring. This was the first time he gained consciousness after the battle. He smiled as the low reassuring rumble of the general’s voice reached him.
“I did wonder if I was going to ha
ve to kill the beast myself, with one hand. It was getting quite boring otherwise.” Dag smiled back.
“Thanks for leaving me at least one to kill,” joked back the general. “Anyway, you had everyone worried here my friend. You have been unconscious for three days now.”
“Were you worried?” Dag asked the general, slightly quizzically.
“Hah! I was sad that you slept for three long days after losing just an arm and getting a few scratches on your body.”
Dag smiled again as he inspected what had become of him. Most of his body was wrapped in white cloth, covering the myriad wounds left on his body by the Valyanek. His left hand, or rather, where his left hand used to be, which was now just a stump, was covered in white too.
“What happened to Azrial and Vimridh? Were we able to catch them?”
Zastraax replied grimly, “Unfortunately, no. With Azrial using his ability to run, it was impossible for us to know where he ran to. But more on that when you get better.”
Dag sat silently. His eyes which were twinkling after seeing the general, lost their shine as he was lost in thought. The general waited for him to speak.
Dag coughed after some time had passed.
“I always thought I was the strongest fighter in the continent. Countless battles with the other tribes had shown me that. But I am nothing. Nothing compared to the best that the Valantian Imperium has to offer.”
He paused for some time, just reflecting.
“There is much I need to learn. I have to improve to defeat such opponents. All my life I have easily been able to take down all who I have faced. Now I faced someone who I could barely injure, let alone defeat.”
Zastraax seemed concerned.
“Is that all there is to the great Dag? I thought you were made of sterner stuff. I didn’t imagine that you would give up after your first scratch. When Yerins rode into battle yesterday, I figured I had found the right boost to my side. I saw a glimmer of hope. I saw a warrior who could kill a hundred elephants, then fight one of the strongest opponents there was on the field, lose an arm and still keep going… Seems I was wrong.”
Dag, jumping off his bed, facing the general, retorted, eyes blazing with anger. “General, Dag Heyat does not give up! I would like nothing more than to improve myself, destroy my current self if it meant I could become better. This arm, it is nothing. I have lost none of my strength and my will!” He swung his stump on the bed and promptly smashed it to pieces. With the white cloth on his wounds turning red, he raged on. “I am not afraid! Especially not of defeat. I will grow stronger and defeat even you one day, General.”
To calm himself down he sat on one of the broken pieces of the bed.
“The problem is I am no longer the young man who roamed free and did as he pleased. I used to be able to spend days at end, training, not eating or sleeping, to hone my body. But not anymore. I have to lead my people. They rely on me. I can’t leave them and train all day and night.”
The tent was silent. A medic entered it to give Dag his medicine and was shocked to see what had happened. All of Dag’s bandages had turned red.
“What happened!? I need to treat…” began the medic.
“Leave us,” commanded the general.
The medic left without so much as a squeak, although his eyes still betrayed his shock. “What are they doing in there? Dag must rest. The Valyanek tore so many muscles in his body. He needs a few more weeks of rest before he moves around. How did his bed break? Sometimes, the general is difficult to understand. I told him that Dag is too weak to move. And he still insisted on seeing him.”
“I see,” Zastraax said to Dag, after the medic left.
“Tell me something. You have seen the beast brothers… there are warriors superior to them who serve the Valantian Imperium. Do you see yourself being an effective leader for the Yerins if you can’t be an effective warrior? Isn’t that your philosophy—you need to be the strongest warrior before you can lead your men.”
The general turned straight to Dag and bent on one knee. “You know why I am the leader of the armies here? Is it because I am a good leader? Perhaps. Is it because I am a great strategist? Partly the reason.”
He drilled into Dag’s eyes. “But the real reason is this. It is because I am the best warrior this side has to offer. Besides Varishtan perhaps. When people see me moving into battle, they know, or at least believe, I can defeat anyone. In the past, centuries ago, when all men were more or less equal, numbers mattered. Battle formations, strategy all that was important. But not anymore. You’ll lose for sure if your strategy is not good, but even with the right strategy and numbers, you will lose if your army’s strongest is not the strongest one on the field. It all comes down to the strong.”
The general then stood up, stooped as usual, and paced around slowly.
“We won this battle, Dag. We defeated the Valantian Army at the river Vecna, turning its clear waters red. But I know what will happen now. We will lose the war. This revolution has started too early to succeed.
“Before this battle, there were other battles we fought, all along the eastern coast. We won many of them. In fact, we won most of them. That’s why people started to join our cause. To overthrow the oppression of the Imperium. They saw a side that could win.
“But the Imperium was testing our strength. They weren’t really worried. They hadn’t used any of their great warriors, none of their best weapons. Then, we found the Anzelmen. And Varishtan. The match between the weapon and that man was made in heaven. The Imperium then threw some of its strength at us, resulting in this battle.
“They lost, but that was primarily because of Varishtan’s presence. And mine. No other section of our army could withstand any of the Final 100, let alone the Order of Seven. And that is the key. There was only 15 members of the Final 100. What happens when 30 or 50 or all of them turn up in a battle? There were only two of the Order of Seven here, and Varishtan could barely defeat them. What happens when all of them turn up?
“We would lose. I know it. The generals of the Imperium, especially Tagashi, know it. They wouldn’t even need their army, whose size we might match over time.
“All of the Order of Seven have great, powerful, Azmoqian weapons. Most of the Final 100 have Azmoqian weapons too. Many of their other warriors in the Valantian army use Azmoq in their armor and weapons. We just have me and Varishtan. No one else. No matter how smart we are, how many smart strategies we deploy on troop movement and attack patterns, we can’t defeat their top warriors, when they attack us en mass. That is what will happen in the next battle. Whenever, wherever that is.”
Dag felt the general’s sadness weigh him down. “So, what are you planning on doing?” he asked, standing up from the broken bed piece.
The general stopped pacing. “I plan on leaving. I….”
Before he could continue, he felt Dag’s right hand around his throat.
Dag, spoke, with cold fury emanating from every word. “What do you mean, leave? You, the man who told me off for quitting, is going to run away? The sacrifices of thousands, including my own, mean nothing to you?”
The general was quiet. Dag’s grip tightened around his throat tightened. He didn’t feel any flesh. He was gripping the armor around the General’s neck. He knew the general felt no pain. But he didn’t care. His stump was dripping blood everywhere into the tent.
The general still waited. The anger passed. Dag left his throat and sat back down, in the pool of his own blood, slowly losing consciousness.
“We will talk later,” said the general, as he walked out. He summoned the medic who was standing outside, waiting to attend to Dag.
The medics rushed in to find the unconscious Dag, lying in a pool of his own blood. They sedated him and redressed his wounds. General instructed them to stay with Dag day and night. The general was to be summoned the minute Dag woke up.
Dag woke up the next day. Before he gained complete consciousness, the general was there. Dag eyed the general
as he entered.
“Get out. The alliance between the revolution and the Yerins is over. I do not ally with cowards.”
Zastraax nodded. “I think the alliance should end. That would be the best thing for the Yerins. But I think you should no longer lead them. You should come with me.”
Dag was amazed at the words that came from the general’s mouth. “It would seem that you have lost more blood than me. Have you lost your mind? Why in the name of Doyuncad, would I come with you?”
Zastraax spoke in a low voice. “To become the strongest warrior in this continent. To be worthy of leading the Yerins. Worthy of fighting for our cause.”
Dag’s anger towards Zastraax was getting replaced with confusion.
“Explain yourself. I have lost just one arm in the fight. I still have the other. If you don’t start making sense soon, I will use that to remove your head from your shoulders.”
Zastraax sat down. “I like where my head is right now. So let me explain myself. I would have done so yesterday, had you not tried to choke me. I am sure the futility of the gesture wasn’t lost to you, but I sensed that you weren’t in a state to hear me out. I hope you are now.
I told you yesterday that the Valantian Imperium’s military power is far beyond ours, primarily because of their cache of Azmoqian weapons. And I told you of my decision to leave. What you didn’t let me tell you, is why I am leaving.”
Zastraax turned away from Dag.
“I need to leave. I am not quitting or running away. I am leaving. Have you never wondered where I come from? Where I got this armor that I wear all the time, when the Imperium controls all the Azmoq on the continent? Why I am a part of this fight? This revolution?”
Age of Azmoq: The Valantian Imperium Page 25