by CJ East
Taurean’s eyes shot to the Wilds scanning for Damned. He shouted orders to reposition his troops for an armored attack. His eyes scanned the Auri archers for two hundred yards atop the wall. Catapults were being positioned.
Lucius and Kinch sprinted down the column. They rounded to the rear of the formation with Argus following close behind. The Auri soldiers angled their shields up to protect the boys and the Wolf.
Lucius crouched down under the armor roof of shields and grabbed Kinch’s shoulder. “Kinch, Amica is right in saying you are a Judge and a Prophet of the Lord.”
He did not meet his friend’s gaze. “Lucius, stop. I’m a kid like you, don’t put this on me.”
Kinch paused for a long moment, distant in thought. “They release.”
Lucius studied the face of his friend. Their eyes met. Shouts of “Incoming!” erupted from the front and rolled back over the company. Shields tightened and scraped across one another in preparation.
The impact of the arrows was like a sudden fierce hail storm. The shields shook with the violent hammering of hundreds of deadly impacts. Scattered screams of pain muffled under the metal caravan.
In the ominous silence which followed, a muffled command to advance was repeated through the ranks. The roof jostled as the soldiers rose and marched forward.
Lucius smiled to Kinch. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“The first release is a sighting shot. The second is calibrated to the target.”
The man in front of Lucius turned back to assess Kinch. “You speak of war with authority, young one.”
Kinch only stared forward, blinking heavily. “Again, they release.”
Shouts of “Incoming!” relayed again as men knelt and arranged their shields. This time the arrows fell like a wave of pointed steel on the shields. Death screams cut short echoed through the metal box.
A faint yell of “Charge!” came from the front line. The company formation exploded in sound and action. Men leapt to a run while pulling their swords. The wilds were close and lined with armored Damned.
Kinch felt hot breath in his short hair. He turned to see Argus over his head. Lucius ran beside him.
Kinch connected telepathically to Lucius with a booming inner voice, “Find the path I will cut for you. We will gain an advantage with obstacles on the chess board.”
Kinch sprinted with unnatural speed through the Auri ranks. He broke ahead of the front line into the space between the two armies. The Auri men roared in unison behind him. He zig-zagged across the stretch, random arrows cutting behind him. He ran faster, turned quicker than he ever had. He maximized his thick muscles against the low gravity.
Flaming comets streaked from the catapults to their right. When the clay pots broke against the treetops, the tar inside exploded. Sticky fire rained down the burning trees. The salvos were constant and loud.
A strip of Wilds hundreds of yards back began to burn. The Damned forces would not be able to unite. Not without going beyond the reach of the catapults or through the Auri defenses near the wall.
Kinch felt a psychic wave crash against his mind. It was the Duobus. The attack boomed outside his mind portal with a concussion, but did not knock him back. Kinch was stronger now. He could sense the levels of thought and could be intentional to block the attack. He could focus on the Duobus himself.
The attack became a homing beacon for Kinch to follow. The energy of the Duobus attack grew stronger the closer he came to the Damned. The soldiers were acting as relays, amplifying the psychic energy. They were… networked.
Kinch leapt into the air crossing the last twenty feet to the Damned. He raised his bar high above his shoulder preparing for a deadly swing. He crashed his iron staff into the first row. He landed, spun and swung the bar full round his head into the second row. Their short swords did them no service.
At this first contact the Damned boiled forth from the Wilds. The two armies clashed and blended twenty feet deep into each other. The forces compressed at this battle line in savage hand-to-hand combat. No space could be seen throughout the battlefield, except for a rough circle near the edge of the Wilds where Kinch advanced.
Balance
Amica cringed as the bodies of Damned soldiers were mown like fresh hay from Kinch’s strokes. She repeated the incantation of the Holy Fruit.
A feeble voice called out. “Hail Amica! We have arrived.”
Justinius and the Council of Elders climbed the last steps to the top of the wall.
“Justinius! Thanks be to God. Come and see that which has been foretold - ‘For his wrath will have no measure in defense of his people.’
Two Elders brought him to the edge of the wall. Amica held his arm and pointed to the center of conflict. A solitary figure in a green jumpsuit carved a hole in the Army of the Damned. The Golden Army set a collision course for their line.
The group of twelve Coccino Elders followed her finger to the point of engagement. She began to recount the events. “He started alone. He slew hundreds of soldiers and pushed them back into the Wilds. The enemy has regrouped, but see how the fire divides these from the majority of their forces. On this side of the flames is a Duobus. It is he, the Prophet seeks.” Her face beamed certainty.
The Elders looked to the towering trees of flame. They spoke among themselves and marveled at the destruction. The Auri army and the Damned clashed in a crescendo of metal and shouts. They pushed deeper into each other forming one chaotic riot.
Justinius gripped the wall with fatigue. “It is an awful sight. Such loss of life.”
Amica caressed his arm. She said with earnest, “He is the One. The Judge and Prophet to set our hearts to the Lord.”
One Elder bristled at her quiet proclamation. “Ancient stories from an all but dead religion. Vague predictions selected by a humiliated Priestess. This is a war, Amica. Why do you turn this to your advantage?”
She locked eyes with the man. Her face filled with righteous indignation. “Tomas, you with the name of a Martyr, doubt the prophesy? Having turned your back on The Way, you bring your cynical poison to deaden others to the unfolding of these signs? Let it be known the boy is of a red mother by his own declaration. The laws of the Coccino consider the offspring of a red mother to be Coccino.”
Tomas set his jaw against her. “You make much where nothing exists. I see only war.”
“Do you not remember the Coccino were the first to accept the message of The Way? We are the people the prophecy says will accept the Prophet. We are the ones to keep the faith.”
Tomas crossed his arms, “And have you kept it? Has The Way flourished under your care?”
“Enough!” Justinius bellowed with a renewed strength. “The Priestess if fully aware of her shame. You do no honor to yourself or benefit to us in belaboring unchallenged facts.” His eyes darted to Amica, then softened. She lowered her head and raised her palms.
He continued with calm and authoritative tone. “There is no trial here, Tomas. The Priestess has invited us to see the events of great importance to our people. My counsel is to witness these events with open hearts and minds. If the prophecy entrusted to our people is to be fulfilled this day, this picture will be painted in broad, plain strokes. There will be no equivocations of minor details. Our obligations in this matter clear, are they not?”
There was no reply from the council. He inspected the wrinkles of his wizened hands. “I am aware our people have turned from the old ways. I am not so naive to assume your faith has also been strained. It is not my place to judge your walk.”
“But I tell you this: by conclusion of this day our governing body will be of one accord. It will be clearly manifested - the boy is or he is not. May God will it to be so.”
With the conclusion of his words the Elders returned to the battle. Whispers continued and secretive confidences were exchanged.
Lamia studied them from the corner of a catapult and drifted behind the Elders. “You claim him then? This criminal is one of your
own?”
The Elders turned like delinquent children caught in the act. Justinius held his head high, walking through the group to the small golden woman.
“Hail Lamia, Priestess of Drakon. The hand of war is upon us.”
“Yes, it is. And you didn’t answer my question, politician. Do you take responsibility for the white boy?”
Justinius tilted his head with a gentle smile, “No matter his crimes, the boy performs the people of Arx a great service now, I’m sure you will agree.”
“Does he? The battle will be won or lost as Drakon wills it, not the child. His efforts have no consequences.”
His smile continued as his blue eyes narrowed, “That is truly a relief. Then we should get word to Commander Taurean to recall his troops and to cast open the gates. If the deeds of men have no consequence.”
“Your age causes you to stray, old man. Do not amble into a mocking posture of the religion of Arx. You serve at the pleasure of the Patrician and he serves at the pleasure of my Master.”
“With all respect due to the Patrician and yourself, my observation is a practical one. The boy is killing many of our enemies. The enemies which would be killing our men. But, I am not skilled in such strategies.” He cast down his eyes and raised his faded palms.
Her eyes flashed in anger. “Men die every day, Justinius. Every day more men are born to replace them. Drakon decides the length of time and events between these two events, not you.”
Justinius clenched his jaw. He did not want her question repeated. “The boy does not claim to be Coccino. We offered him hospitality as is our custom. He is ignorant of our laws and ways.”
“Yet he speaks our language. He has told you he is from Terra?”
Justinius lowered his head and shot a look to Amica. She slipped forward next to Justinius. “He calls it Earth. He speaks our language and many others, he is very intelligent.”
Lamia ridiculed her, “You have adopted this outcast like your other adulterated children? Your weakness is pitiful, Amica. I wonder, do you care how you are perceived or are you even aware?”
A long moment passed. Blistering expressions criticized the two women.
Amica took a shallow breath. “I am the imperfect child of a Perfect Father. I take responsibility for the choices I have made. My heart is pure and my conscience is clear.”
Lamia threw back her head and jeered, “So sad! You are truly unaware of what a failure you are. Is such blindness possible?” Her golden face turned vengeful and hard. “You should do the Coccino and your god a favor and slink away in disgrace.”
Amica jolted as if she had been slapped. Her eyes drifted to the stone floor as she swallowed.
Justinius stretched his bent frame tall and stepped forward. “The Coccino Council will not allow for our priestess to be castigated. The Patrician…”
“Hold your tongue, old man. The Patrician allows the Coccino Council an illusion of power. You are impotent. In reality there is but one power. Drakon has passed judgment on the Terra boy. Do not permit this embarrassment of a woman to continue with her irresponsible claims. Mark me, Justinius, Drakon will deal with the boy directly.”
Justinius could not hide the anger and humiliation in his voice. “We are here as witnesses of the events concerning the flock we shepherd. Interference is not our purpose.”
“Flock indeed. Take care not to raise the ire of wolves toward your flock, Justinius.” She raised the hood of her robe over the waves of white locks of hair. She turned her back to them and began walking down the stairs.
Amica raised her head in boldness. “She fears the Prophet. Lamia collaborates with the enemy of Arx for his death. She tips the scales.”
Justinius watched Lamia sink down the stairs. “Fairness is not within the nature of those distant from The Way.”
“He grows stronger by the hour, but it is beyond him to defeat a Duobus and Lamia. He has just now awakened.”
Justinius took a deep breath and the gentle smile returned to his countenance. “Evil will always tip the scales to their favor, my child.” A gleam of anticipation was in his eyes. “Yet, do not forget those same scales belong to God.”
Menis
The Damned poured out of the Wilds, filling the space surrounding Kinch like a river flowing around a boulder. He claimed territory closer to the tree line with every swing. Damned soldiers retreated from the top of his circle, backing away from his deadly swing.
An aggressive Damned soldier burst through his comrades into the open space. The shock of his realization splashed onto his face seconds too late. The iron bar continued its cyclical path, breaking his neck and sending his body cartwheeling into the dismayed warriors.
Kinch rocked forward with each revolution of the staff circling his head. The Wilds held the Duobus, I will take his head.
He sensed Amica reaching out to him. He allowed the link while pushing back the mental attack of the Damned. “Kinch, the Duobus is located in a direct line before you. He is deep in the Wilds, stationed before the tents. He is under the guard of his best company. They await you.”
The tree line was twenty feet away. He could leap from here into the Wilds. He felt her watching him from the wall. He concentrated on their pinpoint connection through the psychic shield he had formed. “If they await, their patience will be rewarded soon enough.”
Amica spoke with quick, purposeful thoughts. “Argus cuts a path to follow you. Lucius is close behind. Taurean and his best men follow in their wake. Work with them as a body to accomplish this deed. Please come back to the Path of Love.”
Another lunge forward. Kinch smashed the bar into two Damned, hurling their broken bodies. He claimed one more step forward.
Her inner voice was now imploring him, “I speak of your intentions, your heart. You are filled with vengeance, rage and hatred. These are the weapons of the Dark Path. You are becoming stronger and more vulnerable in the same instance. Your enemies will overcome you if you adopt their weapons. Concentrate on righteous anger - the defense of the weak and the Lord’s justice. Let your God guide you.”
“I’m not doing this for the weak or the Lord, Amica. This is for me. A pointless ending to a pointless life. Taurean understands I am the means to end. We will get to the Duobus.” He broke the link and sealed his portal.
He slammed his bar into the ground in front of him to stop the momentum. He raised the chiseled tip to point at the stunned soldiers to his front. He shifted his grip as if to run them through and took three quick steps. He plunged the tip of the bar into the ground at their feet. He swung his bare feet leaping high into the air, vaulting high over the ranks.
The branch bent low under his weight when his toes curled around it. An arrow dug into the trunk of the tree above him. The archers were on the tree line. He skittered to the next branch, his toes gripping the rough bark of a thick limb. Another leap and he was beyond the archers.
We need a distraction - chaos to complicate the battlefield. A battle tower stood five stories tall to his left. A catapult stood next to it, their operators scrambling to action. He swung to the ground and sprinted to the catapult.
A soldier rushed him with his sword held high. Kinch targeted him and did not waver. As the soldier’s long sword came down, Kinch spun underneath it to the left. The sword sliced down toward his shoulders. He hooked his right arm over the soldier’s sword arm and continued his rapid twist. The soldier’s arm cracked backward at the elbow.
Kinch seized the sword falling from the man’s broken arm and continued to run. He sliced through two more Damned on his way to the catapult. He jumped the heavy machine and found three Damned circling on the other side.
They rushed him from three directions. He leapt into the air as the swords from two soldiers came down through the third. He landed with his back to the clay jars filled with pitch. The two Grays charged. Kinch cut to the right with lightning speed and sliced through the side of one soldier.
Rage boiled inside Kinch. He could s
ense the Duobus through this soldier. It felt like the soldier was pulling strength out of his body. Kinch sprinted at the last soldier. This Gray ran with both hands on the hilt of his sword, cocked to the side.
Kinch leaned down and into the soldier, ducking the sword cutting over his head. He swung up into the soldier. His sword bit through the Damned above his hip and cut the man to his chest.
Kinch spun for the next attack. Damned soldiers rushed to the battle at the tree line on both sides of the small alley between the catapult and jars. No Damned turned on him. He ran to one of the large jars and tried to lift it. He strained as it rose from the ground, but it was too heavy to throw. He threw off the lid and splashed half of the black pitch over the stacked jars.
The weight was manageable now. The tower was forty feet away. He hoisted the large clay jar onto his shoulder and quick stepped down the small alley. Between the catapult and the pitch jars, he passed a burning basin of ignition coals.
Soldiers ran past the opening as Kinch smiled at the unlit torches held by the ignition stand. He darted across the enemy path and within ten feet of the tower. He shifted his hand to the base of the jar, recoiled and heaved the noxious pitch high into the base of the tower. He spun to see thirty Damned baring down on him. He charged and hurdled over them, landing behind the in the alley.
The basin glowed midway down the alley near the catapult. He sprinted to it, grabbing a torch and thrusting it into the coals. It popped into flame over the basin as the thirty Damned turned broke into the alley. Kinch ran forward then looped the torch high over their heads into the open tower base.
Flames boomed in a sudden explosion. They licked up the pitch-covered wood pilings of the tower. An angry, growing roar came from the now living tower. The fire would be unstoppable in a few moments.
He retreated from the approaching soldiers to light another torch at the basin. They slowed when they pursued him through the alley, cramming their numbers in tight. Kinch grabbed a sword from a dead Damned and chopped into a jar, pitch gushing onto the ground. He shattered more clay pots as he retreated, slowing the pace of his escape. He listened to the shouts of pursuit behind him.