Languished Life

by Patrik Mielonen

  The piled bodies limit the number of enemy soldiers coming in at a time. For the first few minutes, it’s looking good, but the knights of the kingdom are suffering losses as well. One of Tenil’s comrades is beheaded, another is stabbed to death, and a third dies of a dismembered leg.

  Tenil blocks a sword, strikes, spills blood, sidesteps, cuts an arm, parries an axe, retaliates, blocks another blow—she fights like a machine. In no time, she’s dyed herself red again.

  An enemy soldier yells, pointing his sword at Tenil as if to call out a target. The words translate to ‘red devil kill.’ Tenil doesn’t know it herself, but she is being called the Red Demon in the ranks of the empire.

  Suddenly, they’re all targeting Tenil. Her comrades won’t let that happen, however. They help her out as three of them try to kill her with a coordinated attack. She takes head on the middle one, ramming him with her shield, knocking him down. Following that, she quickly kicks his face with the iron boot, breaking his nose and stunning him.

  “Death to the empire!” Tenil roars.

  As the skirmish rages on, an archer comes down the stairs inside the citadel, stopping halfway to suggest a tactical move. “Hoy, let us burn the fortress from inside! We’ll force them to climb the wall! That way they may retreat! They didn’t bring too many ladders this time, thinking they can get in through the gate! They have to retreat if we make the gate inaccessible!”

  A corporal, not Tenil, replies, “Good idea! Bring the remains of the oil here! Let us set the entrance in flames to stall for time!”

  “Got it!” The archer rushes down the stairs to fetch a barrel of oil. He topples one in a far corner, rolling it all the way to the edge of the ramp, whereat he removes the plug to make the oil spill down to the ramp where the piled bodies are. “Get back, I’m setting it aflame!”

  The empire’s men are puzzled as the dark substance is being poured down, and once they see the archer with a torch, they start running for their lives, but some of them slip, ending up caught in the flames. The piled bodies and the gate catch fire.

  “Some of you stay here and make sure they won’t come in! Rest of you, with me! Let’s burn this place to the ground!”

  “I’ll stay!” Tenil declares.

  “Me too!”

  “Count me in!”

  “Good!” The corporal down on the ramp says. “Now, move it!”

  Tenil and the two others are eyeing the empire’s men on the other side of the raging fire, mocking them. While they’re down there, the archers and the footmen on the second floor are spreading oil everywhere. The floor is made of thick, sturdy planks, and most of the pillars are made of wood up there. In short, if they set it in fire, the fortress will collapse, or at least become unstable. That way the empire will have to cease their attack at the gate and start climbing the wall instead.

  In no time, they all come down the stairs. Tenil and the two others haven’t had a need to defend the gate at all, the raging fire doing its job well. The trio at the gate joins the others, the upper floor burning.

  “Let us go to the wall!” The corporal shouts.

  “““Oorah!”””

  They exit the citadel from the backdoor, trotting through the courtyard to the stone steps, climbing up to the wall to aid their comrades. Of 200 knights, roughly 150 remain, the numbers diminishing even now. Like the archer reported, the empire hasn’t brought dozens of ladders this time. And now that they are forced to climb the wall, their siege is at a stalemate. They aren’t using catapults either, as their own soldiers are scaling the fortress.

  “Death to the empire!” The corporal from the gate cries.

  In less than half an hour, the empire retreats. They know the kingdom has retreated, and that only a few are defending the fortress, but they’re suffering too heavy losses for something they can get for free, hence the retreat. They’ll let the defenders flee and rejoin their main body, and then they will take the wall. The kingdom clearly doesn’t want to hold the fortress anymore, and the empire’s tacticians are aware of it.

  Only 83 knights survive.

  ***

  The fire inside the fortress is still raging, thunder roaring outside. Nightfall is nigh. The building is protesting with loud noises, meaning the fortress may collapse at any given moment, and because of that, the survivors are gathering at the outer gate at the back of the courtyard.

  The chain of command is unclear. The staff sergeant was skewered by an arrow, and the few corporals and sergeants were killed as well.

  “Did any of the sergeants survive!?” A footman shouts.

  “All dead,” an archer says.

  “Then is there any corporal alive?”

  Tenil raises her arm. “Corporal Tenil of the Ivymn footmen regiment! Should I assume the command?”

  “Sir, you are the sole superior here. Orders?” An archer speaks.

  Tenil thinks for a moment. “The enemy has retreated, and our main body has successfully withdrawn inland. Let us regroup!”

  “Sir, we can’t navigate in this storm. The stars are veiled by the dark clouds.”

  “But it won’t be so forever,” Tenil reminds. “We can’t stay here. We have to withdraw now.”

  “Aye. We should run in one direction, wait for the storm to pass, and then navigate our way to the outskirts of Tungon whereto the colonel has led the brigade,” someone suggests.

  “Agreed!”

  “Remove your armors and drop your shields! We will move faster without them!” Tenil yells, dropping her shield. She’ll have to keep her shoulder plates, however. They aren’t heavy, and the corporal’s marks are painted on them, hence she’ll keep them. “Move it!”

  The survivors start retreating, following the road that goes through the town whose inhabitants have evacuated with the main body. Tenil feels like she could fly without the armor, like her body weighed nothing. The only thing that worries her is that she or someone else may catch a cold because of the rain.

  The houses of the town are built of stone, thatched. The fletcher’s house is the only exception, the building made of thick timber. Mayor’s is the biggest house of all, standing at the very center of the town.

  The abandoned place is left behind in no time, the survivors trotting into the woods, straying off the road intentionally. The best navigator among them is leading the group, a forty year old archer and a hunter. They’re heading Northeast, their goal the second largest city in Phyr, Tungon. Even the huntsman can’t tell for certain if they’re going in the right direction, for the clouds are thick, the storm unrelenting.

  The terrain isn’t rough. Phyr is a land of maples and rivers. The greenery isn’t lush due to lack of sunlight under the thick branches. The roots of the trees and other small things they can stumble upon are the only obstacles slowing them down in the dark.

  An hour later, they get out of the storm, the stars unveiled. According to the huntsman, they’ve strayed too far North. A town the cavalry at the Plains of Ymingor uses to resupply is within a mile’s reach. Since Tenil is the one in command, she decides they’ll rest and nourish over there.

  They cross a river, scale a ridge, and roam through a thicket. The town is located at the root of a mountain called Kos’un. Ghyrm, the town over there, is partly a fortress, as a wall made of stone has been built around it long ago. A certain blacksmith, well-known in Phyr, lives there. Most likely the shortsword Tenil has was forged by him too.

  When they get to the outskirts of Ghyrm, the kingdom’s warhorn is blown in the town. Guards are gathering on the wall, their silhouettes lighted by the moonlight. Tenil orders the group to halt. The kingdom’s men on the wall are waiting patiently for them to make a move. The guards can’t tell what’s their allegiance because of the dark, which is why Tenil steps forth alone.

  “Do not shoot! We are knights of Phyr!”

  After a short silence, someone up on the wall shouts. “What is your unit? And why are you here at this hour!?”

  “We are a far
rago of many regiments, defenders of Teckton! I am Corporal Tenil of the Ivymn footmen regiment, first battalion! We were ordered to hold the fortress until the main body retreated, and upon accomplishing our mission, we withdrew to regroup with the brigade!”

  “Understood!”

  Tenil and the others are eventually let inside. Once there, a master sergeant welcomes them. He inquires Tenil and a few others about the events at the fortress. A while later, he takes them to stables that’s empty at the moment. All the horses are at the Plains of Ymingor, a mile to the West from Ghyrm. They sleep there for the rest of the night.

  ***

  It’s not a warhorn that wakes her up this time. Rather, it’s a roar of a feral beast. Pissed off, she stands up from the pile of hay, rubbing her sore muscles—and suddenly, a piece of flesh lands on her face, and the roar repeats, closer.

  Totally awake now, Tenil’s morning starts off with a large bear lacerating her comrade just beside her. Shocked and perplexed, Tenil backs away, the others waking up as well, drawing steel.

  “Bloody hell!?” Someone cries.

  The warhorn of the kingdom is blown only now. Something truly weird is going on. The large brown bear thrashes through the wooden fences and supports inside the stable, eviscerating two knights before they even know what’s going on.

  “To arms!” Tenil yells, heart racing. Something inside her is saying she should stop. Don’t kill anymore, is what resonates in her mind. But despite that, she has to, lest she’ll be torn to bits by the beast.

  They have only short swords to fight the beast, but despite that, they challenge the bear. The huntsman who’s seen many bears in his life is the first to strike, firing an arrow at the beast’s side.

  The bear roars furiously, sweeping its right flank with its claws, hunting the huntsman. He dodges the bloody claws just barely, but one other beside him has his torso separated from the legs. Tenil uses the opportunity to flank the beast from its left, using a fence to leap on top of it, stabbing her sword deep. The bear roars once more, trying to shake her off. It’ll die of bleeding most certainly, but it won’t happen immediately. It has plenty of time to wreak havoc.

  The huntsman fires an arrow at the beast’s ass, agitating it. Tenil holds on tight, riding the bear like some do bulls. It turns around, bloodshot with rage. It doesn’t bother to roar as it lunges at the hunter swiftly—but the veteran archer is faster; an arrow has been fired, hitting the beast’s right eye. Other knights join the fray, swarming around the bear to stab their swords into its flesh.

  Finally, the monstrous bear collapses. Its death isn’t natural, however, as its corpse turns into a cloud, Tenil and the swords stuck to its flesh falling off, a body of a human appearing on the floor once the cloud dissipates. The man is dead, wounded and naked.

  “It can’t be...” Someone utters.

  “The empire has druids!?” The huntsman blurts.

  Tenil rubs her bruised bottom, pained. “What is it?”

  “This man is a druid, a dead one now. I’ve heard rumors of them, but I never thought they were real. They must come from a land far away,” the huntsman explains.

  “He can shapeshift?” Tenil asks.

  “Aye,” a footman says.

  Outside the stables, they can hear cries of men and roars of beasts. There must be more, they reckon.

  “Move it, everyone!” Tenil takes the lead, exiting the stable.

  The knights of Ghyrm are rallying outside, fighting six other druids with spears on the muddy street. One of the large bears is bleeding all over, arrows and all kinds of weapons stuck to it. The rest of them are running amok, sweeping the ranks of knights. It appears they are aiming for the blacksmith’s workshop.

  Tenil sees a rack of spears just on the other side of the street. “Sheathe your swords! Take spears! Attack!” Tenil picks one herself, joining the fray.

  ““Oorah!””

  As the bears are distracted by the local knights, Tenil and the others assault an unharmed bear from its rear. Tenil stabs her spear as deep as she can, holding tightly onto it. Others follow suit, but they let go of their weapons.

  The beast turns around, and Tenil is flung with the spear she holds onto, a way to get behind the bear without it knowing about her. She lets go once the bear has begun to attack her comrades, drawing her sword.

  She has only one chance, and she knows how she’ll use it. She can see that the beast is male, its greatest weakness dangling in front of Tenil. She swings the sword, and the thing is cut off. The bear shrieks, turns into a cloud, and soon after a bearded man appears on the ground, crying and holding his crotch. The shock must’ve forced him to shapeshift out of the animal form.

  Tenil ruthlessly brings down her sword, beheading the writhing man. Her comrades are disgusted by the act, but they can’t complain. They’re all males themselves, so they know the pain the dead druid has suffered.

  The knights of Ghyrm bring down the wounded bear as Tenil picks one of the spears that has fallen off after the shapeshift. Three druids lie dead at the price of two dozen knights and a few innocent people.

  “Aim for its heart!” The huntsman shouts as Tenil charges at the next druid, others following right beside her. A bunch of spears is plunged into the beast’s side. The huntsman’s sinks deepest, piercing many organs. The druid dies fast.

  “Three more! Charge!” Tenil yells.

  The druids are aware of the group led by Tenil. They’re cornered and outnumbered. They repel the combined attack of the knights and then turn into clouds, shapeshifting into hawks. They attempt to flee, flying to the skies. That’s how they sneaked into the town in the first place.

  “You ain’t going anywhere!” Tenil throws her spear, skewering one of the druids, his body reverting back to human midair, falling like a ragdoll.

  A knight of Tenil’s group laughs. “A guardian? More like a butcher.”

  “Aye, the butcher of Ghyrm!” Another laughs.

  “Nay, a she-devil! Didn’t you see how she killed the second druid?”

  “Saw well, the moment was burned to my retina.”

  A local knight speaks up. “She? Is the corporal woman?”

  “Ayep! And she is one hell of a knight!” The huntsman answers.

  “Rode a big bear like a rider does horse!”

  Tenil sheathes her sword. “Where is your superior?”

  A knight with black armor, fists painted to his shoulders, steps forth. “I’m Captain Porhan, the commanding officer of Ghyrm. What is it?”

  Tenil speaks up. “Our commanding officer, Colonel Harrol, has retreated to Tungon. We are to head back there to receive further orders. However, we are in need of nourishment. Can you provide us all rations at once so that we may resume our duty as knights?”

  “Understood. Gather at the townhall.”

  “Yes Sir!” Tenil salutes.

  Chapter Six

  Ghost of Renyil

  The group led by Tenil heads out, traveling around the mountain, Kos’un, to march East. They’ve had nourishment, and their canteens are filled. They will get to Tungon before nightfall. The captain of Ghyrm gave Tenil a parchment. He has written a proposal for Tenil’s promotion on it. It’s all up to the colonel whether he accepts it or not. If he does, Tenil will be a sergeant.

  Eight hours after setting out, they get to the outskirts of Tungon, a city between two mountains, a river streaming through it. Facing West, a massive citadel protects the city, shaped like a big star with seven cusps. The platform is twenty yards above the ground, and the tower rising at the center of the citadel is another twenty yards. On top of the tower, a huge catapult is stationed. The boulders it’s built to hurl are lifted with the aid of a winch behind the tower. The interior of the lower body serves as one big storage room, stable, and also as a jail.

  There are over ten thousand citizens inhabiting the city with 11,000 knights stationed at the citadel and the walls around the city, the colonel’s knights included. The wall protecting the
city is about fifteen yards high, twelve thick. The wooden gate with iron reinforcements opens for Tenil’s group.

  A noncommissioned officer inquires them at the gate, and soon after they head to the citadel. The colonel is inside the large tower with the marshal of the kingdom, the supreme commander of the army.

  There is a huge ramp of stone that they climb to get up to the platform of the star-shaped citadel. They’re going to enter the tower. Countless soldiers are standing guard everywhere. Barrels of arrows are distributed all over the wall and the citadel in case the empire attacks. Ballistae are stationed on the citadel’s platform.

  Tenil orders the rest to stay outside as she enters the tower to report. The interior consists mostly of shelves with scrolls, books, and other recordings. It’s the place where the officers work, the strategy room. Stairs made of thick planks has been built next to the wall, leading up to the second floor, the ceiling made of wood.

  Tenil asks around. The colonel is on the third floor according to a second lieutenant. She climbs all the way up there, knocking a door twice on the third floor. The strategy room up there is only for officers and knights with important reports. Tenil’s is important enough.

  “Enter!” Someone yells inside.

  Tenil opens the door, entering the room. At the end of the room, there are two windows, the afternoon sunlight coming in. In the middle, there is a table on which a wide map has been laid. The marshal himself in red armor, a scepter painted to the shoulder plates, stands beside the table. Next to him is Colonel Harrol in his black armor. Two others stand on the other side, a major with a sword painted to shoulders and a captain with fists. They’re all staring at Tenil, Harrol’s gaze being the worst. He isn’t pleased of Tenil’s appearance.

  “Sir,” Tenil looks at the marshal, “Corporal Tenil reporting from duty. I have a message to Colonel Harrol.”

  “Relay it,” the marshal tells.