Regrets of The Fallen (Victis Honor Book 1)

by Jake Taylor

  She only barely noticed a soldier rushing her with a sword raised, hoping to take out a mage. Suria reacted on instinct and brought her hand upwards, catching the man with a blast of fire that took him off his feet. He shrieked in agony as he was flash-fried and his body hit the ground as a lump of fused armor and bone; the flesh was seared off and steam and smoke rose from the corpse. Suria stared at it, paralyzed. Another soldier charged her with a spear but she was frozen and unable to move, only watching with wide eyes as he approached, her mind refusing to comprehend the situation. The spear nearly impaled her, but at the last second Able appeared and the man split in half, his body sheared by one of Able’s energy blades. Able straightened and looked at Suria with concern. “Are you alright?”

  “Y-yes.” Suria blinked herself out of her trance. “I’m fine.” She shook her head, clenching her fists tightly. You’re not a child! She chided herself. You can’t just freeze and hope other people keep rescuing you. It’s time to fight for yourself. You left because you wanted to control your own life; well, control it! She narrowed her eyes and walked past Able towards the battle. Your friends need your help; give it to them. An arrow flew at her face and she incinerated it in midair before flinging a spear of flame at the archer, leaving only charred remains. A knight approached her from the side and she unleashed a torrent of flame that he deflected with his shield, continuing to approach with sword ready. Suria created a small orb of flame and hurled it past him before creating another in her other hand. “You can’t stop both,” she said as she hurled the second one at his front and controlled the other one into his back at the same time, leaving him only able to block one and take the other, which brought him to his knees. Suria blasted him away with flame before turning and stalking further into the battle.

  She was shivering, despite her attempts to suppress it. She was shaking and this time it had nothing to do with the cold. She was scared, and sad, and angry, and felt like she wanted to throw up. But she remembered Isabella’s words and she pushed forward, because she was doing this to protect her friends. And if these men were going to hurt them then she was going to use all the power she had to prevent that, and no amount of fear was going to stop her.

  IXH

  Isabella stood outside of her tent, not feeling the cold of the night air. Haruka was holding her from behind and had her chin on her shoulder, and both of them were watching the forest. Light from fires could be seen in the distance, as well as plumes of smoke slightly darker against the night sky. The sound of battle carried to them on the wind, faint but noticeable if one listened for it, especially when they’d heard it as many times in their life as Isabella had. She wished she could be up there, part of the fight that she had caused. Every death on this night was on her conscience and all the blood was on her hands, mercenary and Areyan both. So many times throughout her life were highlighted in her mind, choices she could have made differently that would have prevented any of the things that had happened so far.

  Violence was a cycle, and that was never more apparent than in hindsight. The death of her parents led to the death of tens of thousands, and even now, centuries later, the impact still resonated in yet more death in a battle thousands of miles and hundreds of years from where and when it began. Her death early on could have prevented this, but what, then, would have become of Haruka? Would she have remained in a life she despised? Would that have resulted in worse things for the future?

  In the end, time was irreversible, a monster that continued forward heedless of the pleading of those that wanted to stall or reset it. All you could do was accept the past and try to guide the future as best you could. Bella sighed and looked away, her eyes catching Haruka’s. Those green eyes looked at her with such concern and support, studying her so intensely and trying to discern what she felt. Isabella’s entire life was different now, and it was so hard to understand why. When she looked back the entirety of her past was black and white and only her present was in color, only when she added Haruka to the picture. If she thought about leaving on her own her future became grey as well, a grim ending.

  Isabella had always been a dreamer, and that part of her had returned with the rest twenty years ago. She imagined a life where things had been perfect; her parents were alive, and she’d met Haruka as a teenager, both simply normal people with no horrors in their pasts. She imagined marrying, with her parents making planning for the wedding a total pain with their antics and pranks. She imagined Haruka’s mother, alive and well, doing her best to set things right and smiling in amusement at the other two. She imagined their parents helping them pick their first house and choosing totally different options that she and Haruka then ignored, making their own decision on something small but comfortable. She imagined adopting a child – there were always those that needed a good home, and she could see Haruka’s parents teaching him or her useful things and responsibility, and her own parents completely undoing that and teaming up with them to create the wildest adventures.

  But none of that would happen. That life had been destroyed by prejudice, hate and rage, leaving a trail of violence and pain like a scar across history. Now there was no child, no parents, no home, no family life; only five, maybe six months of time left, if everything went well. And it was so hard not to be bitter and angry, so hard to focus on what she had and not on what was lost. That’s when she finally noticed she was crying, and Haruka turned her around and held her tightly, knowing without explanation what was wrong. Even the strongest person couldn’t suppress fear and sorrow forever.

  The monk looked up into the stars, searching there for an answer she knew she wouldn’t find; sometimes there simply wasn’t one.

  Chapter 14: No More

  “Well, at least life is never boring when you’re insane.”

  IXH

  Dalgus was in his element. Surrounded by battle and flame with the scent of blood and steel strong in the air, he hacked another soldier down with his massive scimitar, grinning at the blood spray. A soldier came at him with a spear and he growled, stepping forward and swinging to shatter both the spear and the soldier’s body before flinging both away. The blood was beginning to get to him and he let himself get surrounded, though the soldiers that encircled him were wary, especially as he was hunched over and seemingly in pain. He smiled and stabbed his scimitar into the ground, releasing the handle and leaving it standing. The soldiers stared at him in confusion, wondering if he was surrendering.

  He was not. Dalgus reached down and gripped the ground as his body began twisting and the sound of cracking bones and snapping tendons filled the air. All of them stared in horror as he grew and his limbs lengthened, taking on a slim but muscular form. His face elongated into a snout and black fur sprouted over his entire body, complete with a long canine tail. The transformation continued until before them stood a ten-foot cross between a man and a wolf. The werewolf stood high on its bent legs and raised its long arms, letting out a howl that tore across the battlefield and chilled nearly everyone on it. The eerie sound reached to every soldier and even to the ears of Isabella and Haruka. Those on his own side who had not seen it before – namely Able and Suria – stared in subdued horror at the beast.

  The Areyan soldiers stood frozen in shock… until large amber eyes focused on them hungrily. The werewolf’s low growl finally shook them from their silent state and some began to run in terror, but such an action was useless. The wolf moved in a flash and tore into their ranks, its long claws rending all within reach and its strong jaws crushing those even closer. After the initial shock they began to fight back, but the beast shrugged off their blades and maces, shattering weaker weapons as it flung them away. It grabbed a soldier and snapped his spine with its hands, tossed the body aside and pounced on another, biting once to rip off the unfortunate soldier’s armor. The steel crumpled like paper and the second bite tore into the man’s throat, ripping skin and muscle with little effort.

  Another soldier stabbed the beast in the back, and stared i
n horror as the werewolf looked over its shoulder, seemingly unbothered. He yanked his blade free and stumbled back, his eyes widening as he watched the werewolf eat another bite of his ally and saw the wound on the creature’s back close quickly. The werewolf turned and stalked towards him on two legs, arms kept by its side threateningly. The man took off running and the wolf howled, hopeful for a chase – it went down on all fours and took off, catching up to the man in less than a second and taking him down, rending him apart with its claws and heedless of his screams. A group of soldiers came at it then, stabbing and slashing at its back and sides. Half the weapons simply broke and the others inflicted only superficial wounds that quickly closed as the monster turned on them. It dived into the group with slashing claws and snapping jaws, breaking bones and tearing skin.

  Suria watched in terror, nauseated by the disturbing violence as she recognized parts of people she’d only seen in anatomy books, strewn across the forest floor. She forced her stomach to calm and looked over to Able, only to realize that even he seemed a bit disturbed by the scene. Still, Able resumed fighting after only a moment’s hesitation and Suria decided she could do the same – though she also decided to go in the opposite direction, away from the werewolf.

  Ophelia had seen it countless times and was not affected as she watched Dalgus tear through the Areyan ranks from her spot overseeing the battle. She still had some power available and concentrated on looking for silver or enchanted weapons among the enemy, both of which were rare so it seemed safe enough. Without those in their possession, her boss was virtually invincible to them. She threw out a bolt of arcane energy to take out an archer that had drawn a silver arrow, gaining the attention of several other archers. Ophelia let out a sigh as they loosed four arrows in her direction, forcing her to raise a hand; the arrows stopped a few feet away from her and she spun her hand, causing them to turn around. She then flicked her hand and the arrows shot back to those who had fired them, bringing the four archers down. Ophelia then brushed dark hair from her eyes and pushed her glasses back up, returning to watching the battle.

  Dalgus was, as always, doing well; the enemy stood no chance against him. So she turned her eyes to their two possible future recruits, assessing their ability. Suria had a great deal of promise by her judgment; the girl was devastating enemy forces even though she still looked unsure, her flames scorching individuals and exploding among groups. She would be a powerful offensive asset, but what surprised Ophelia was her defensive ability; arrows that got too close to her were incinerated and blades were deflected with seemingly no action on her part, meaning she had some sort of defensive spell up. The shimmer of the air around her told her it was probably a thin “wall” of superheated air, nearly imperceptible. The girl may not have had any experience, but she was certainly clever; Ophelia considered that the better attribute, as experience could always be gained while intellect could not.

  Ophelia turned her attention to Able, and there she saw the experience Suria was missing, but there was something else. Able moved rapidly and continuously, spinning around or rolling over foes as he continued along a path of destruction and killed all he passed. It was as if the entire battle was one continuous movement in a dance of his and each individual enemy was simply a bridge to the next step. It looked like he planned the entire fight before he made the next move, and Ophelia knew exactly what that meant; his reaction time and instinct were both off the charts. The boy was a natural fighter, born for this.

  She hadn’t seen natural talent that strong very often in her life. She certainly didn’t have it; she had studied for endless hours and used her knowledge to win. Dalgus didn’t have it; the man was as brutal and unrestrained as a force of nature, tearing his way through opponents with a wild fury just like his aunt, Freya. Haruka didn’t have it either; that woman had obviously spent a ridiculous number of hours training and working towards the near-perfection she now held. The only other place Ophelia had seen this kind of raw talent recently was in Isabella, the mysterious knight that had come to them trailing a dark past.

  Able had the potential to be something like her, Ophelia thought, but he was very raw and not too practiced. Isabella was something different, in possession of more natural talent for battle than anyone the experienced mage had ever seen. She had only been witness to Isabella’s ability twice, but that had been enough; the knight had taken on a large number of their fighters on two separate occasions, the first because Dalgus had wanted to assess her supposed skill, and the second because he had wanted to demonstrate something to his men. Early on most of the mercenaries – Ophelia included – had doubted the ability the others claimed the knight had, especially because she seemed so sick and weak.

  Those demonstrations, however, had proven them wrong. Ophelia dearly wanted to see Isabella transform and utilize her actual power, because despite being weak and sick and tired she had shown up their army and made their most experienced warriors look like children without ever drawing her blade. She reacted to moves before they were even fully started; she avoided attacks that hadn’t yet been performed. If Ophelia didn’t know that there was only one Seer in existence she’d have believed Isabella to be one, but she knew it was simply a wealth of experience and talent. The knight was just able to read people flawlessly during battle. She had refused to fight Dalgus, saying she would need to draw her sword to win, but she had seemed quite confident that she would win if she did, and Ophelia was no longer sure she was wrong.

  Ophelia had a hard time caring for other people until she had known them for at least a year. In the mercenary business people came and went and died on a regular basis; getting to know them was fine, but caring about them was pointless if you weren’t sure they would be sticking around. Dalgus cared much more easily, which was why he was helping these people Freya had brought them. Ophelia herself would not have made the same decision, but Dalgus was the leader, and she would follow whatever decisions he made. It was not her job to make decisions; it was her job to make sure that whatever decisions Dalgus made succeeded.

  Still, she found herself sad for Isabella’s situation, at the very least for the weakening and loss of such a legendary fighter. If not for her illness, Ophelia would suggest to Dalgus that he recruit her and Haruka, given their rare levels of skill and ability, even considering the enemies they had. As it was, though, Isabella was unable to fight at full strength and only had a few months left, and as such she was not a wise addition. As callous as it seemed, part of Ophelia’s job was to guide the Bloodmoon Company to success, and protecting or joining Isabella gave them no benefits. She looked over the battlefield and began assessing their current losses as the fighting moved towards its conclusion. Because this was a fight they gained nothing from, even one death on their side gave them a net loss, and there were far more than that.

  Her job was to analyze, and she shook her head as the death count passed a hundred. She would have to suggest to Dalgus that they let Isabella go after this; he had protected her once, and that was enough even for a family friend unless someone was going to hand them a large amount of gold. Ophelia stepped down from her spot and walked onto the battlefield as the last push finished off the battle; the mercenaries backed the remaining Areyan soldiers up to the cliff and they threw down their weapons. Dalgus returned to his more human form and cracked his neck, wincing at the pain. He walked forward and gestured to the surviving soldiers. “Drop your money and anything else you’re carrying, then get out of here. Leave your weapons.”

  Ophelia watched them all take off without hesitation, looking back over their shoulders; all told there were only about eighty left of the original twelve hundred. She continued watching them leave as she stepped up beside Dalgus. “Are you sure letting them leave is the best course of action?”

  The werewolf nodded. “They don’t have any more information than they did before that will help them, and now they’ll return to whoever sent them beaten and broken, telling stories of the mercenary company that sla
ughtered them.”

  “And the monster they have among them?”

  Dalgus grinned. “I’ve heard tell they don’t have lycans in Areya, so yeah, that’s a nice addition.” He rolled his shoulders and looked around. “What do the losses look like?”

  “One-hundred forty-three.”

  “In a battle against twelve hundred? Not bad.”

  “One-hundred forty-three net loss, not to mention the cost in ruined armor and hiring new recruits. All in all, we’re deep in the red for this ‘job’.”

  Dalgus looked at Ophelia silently for a moment, studying her. “You have a problem with this?”

  “Yes,” she answered without hesitation, meeting his eyes. “General, I understand your desire to aid friends of your aunt – she has aided us many times. However, we are mercenaries. No coin has crossed our palms and we are doing this for free, losing men and supplies and gaining nothing.”

  Dalgus sighed, running a hand over his hair. “I know. You’re right, it’s not a wise business decision. But I can’t always look at things like a business.”

  “Of course you can’t; that’s what you have me for. And as your business advisor, I am informing you that this is a bad idea. How many times are we going to fight off the enemies of someone who can’t join or pay us?” The general folded his arms and looked upwards, thinking as Ophelia continued, “We are not a charity. Protecting one person from a small group is not an issue, but fighting off entire armies for them is. Were it only the Black Sun after them I would have few protests, but an Areyan army?”