The warriors gathered in the entryway of the fortress. A group of fifty was being sent out to quash the troop of turned ones who had been spotted in the Forests of Mizine. They were armed from head to boot and carried a variety of weapons. All of them had swords, daggers, bows and arrows, some carried spears, others maces and axes. Helmets in hand, they stood a fearsome force, waiting for direction. Ackhor had arranged the force and instead of naming Crinte their leader, named his brother, Tincire, the weapons maker, the commander of their raid. Tincire looked like a brute himself, standing taller and bigger than Ackhor, his muscles hard from years spent in the forge. He planted himself in front of the warriors, rousing them with his gruff voice.
“Warriors, today we march out to face the turned ones. The enemy on the other side of the sea continues to test our strength. Let there be no survivors this day to return to the other side. We go to battle to show them who we are. We stand our ground, we defend our countries, and we are a force to reckon with. Arise, warriors, and fight with me. Let us show them our strength.” He raised his arm and the warriors raised theirs as well with a shout.
Elam the Gatekeeper gave the word and the gates of the Eka Fighting Camp creaked open. The sun was just beginning to rise as the warriors disappeared into the forest. Quietness settled across the woods as the warriors marched through. Aside from the constant dripping and frequent downpours, life itself seemed to have forsaken the Sea Forests. Even the warriors only spoke in hushed tones, if at all, stealthily moving through the trees, not bothering to cover their tracks for the rain washed them out. Now they wore their helmets, covering their heads from the wetness, yet it was still a miserable march. The hours passed slowly. The second meal came and went but the warriors did not stop. They ate as they marched and continued on.
Tincire signaled for scouts to run ahead. Crinte, in charge of scouting, motioned for Alaireia and Legone to follow him, and they dashed ahead. “See if you can find a trail, figure out which way they are coming from. I’ll look ahead.” He reached for a leafy tree trunk and within minutes was scaling it.
Alaireia and Legone looked skeptically at each other for a minute. “Let’s look east,” Legone suggested. Alaireia gave a brisk nod before taking off through the trees.
Crinte looked down for a moment as he balanced his weight on the fragile branches close to the treetop. For a moment, his vision changed and he thought he saw a fierce Xctas flying above a gazelle as they bounded through the forest. He shook his head and looked again, but this time the broad leaves hid his view of those down below. He raised his face to the sky and looked east as raindrops tumbled down his cheeks. His eyes showed him the stretch of trees and beyond them he felt his gaze zoom in over the landscape. Keeping still, he continued to look, searching for signs of life, looking for movement in the grasslands. His vision showed him nothing.
At first, Alaireia and Legone ran in sync, moving quickly and silently through the damp forest. Alaireia found herself surprised at Legone’s skill; he was just as surefooted as she was, but as they gained speed, leaping over small bramble and bushes in the way, he began to outpace her. As he pulled away, she could see his strides lengthening and his speed increased. She slowed as she watched him vanish into the forest. She stood still for a moment, letting her heartbeat slow, then she turned towards the sea and ran north.
It was an hour or so before Alaireia and Legone returned to report to Crinte. “I scouted north by the sea. Nothing to report,” Alaireia announced in hushed tones as she returned.
“I scouted east. Nothing to report,” Legone replied.
“Let’s loop back to the warriors. I will let Tincire know. Be ready to scout again at dusk.”
The two nodded and jogged back together. Crinte watched them for a moment before following, but the trick his eyes played on him earlier did not happen again.
Evening fell, eventless and silent, the forest giving away nothing even though Crinte, Alaireia, and Legone looked ahead one final time. When they returned, Tincire called for them to rest for the night. At last, the warriors halted to set up camp, rolled out their bedrolls, and pulled out their meal rations. Soon, a low hum of voices filtered through the forest. Even in the darkness, scouts stood watch, though it seemed they were alone in the woods.
Marklus heard it first, and jolted out of sleep as if from a nightmare. He sat up quickly, brushing sweat from his forehead. Turning his head from side to side, he pricked his ears to listen all the more intently. “Crinte!” he whispered forcefully into the air.
Crinte sat up immediately, as if he hadn’t been sleeping. “What is it?”
“I hear them,” Marklus announced. “They are coming.”
Crinte was on his feet almost before Marklus finished speaking. He reached for the Cron closest to him. “Prepare for battle,” he whispered urgently. “Pass it on.”
Marklus scrambled up, securing his sword around his waist and reaching for the bow and arrows that lay beside him. He turned in the opposite direction of Crinte as he snatched up his helmet. “Prepare for battle,” he called in hushed tones, shaking the Tider near him.
All at once, the camp became an unorganized buzz of activity. Crons and Tiders stumbled out of sleep, some scrambling to pull on their armor and find their weapons in the husky darkness. Tincire hissed out orders, ignored as warriors speedily stumbled over each other, attempting to file into an orderly rank for the attack.
Marklus found himself back with Crinte. “They are nearly here. They will reach us first.”
Crinte turned to see who was on the other side of him. “Legone, how good is your sight in the dark?”
Legone drew nearer. “Not as good as yours,” he replied.
“Can you take them down from above?”
Legone nodded and began to climb the closest tree.
“This forest is a terrible place for battle,” Alaireia remarked as she walked up to the Crinte and Marklus. She had already drawn her sword but stood calmly as if the impending battle did not bother her. “With the darkness and the closeness, it will be a wonder if we don't slay each other.”
“Alaireia.” Marklus sighed disapprovingly, shaking his head.
“What should I do?” Starman cried, agitated as he ran up to them, his hands shaking.
“Duck!” shouted Alaireia. She whipped out her blade and slashed at the creature that lunged out of the woods. Her sword cut into its belly and ripped it open just as Legone’s arrow struck its head. The creature fell away and five more leaped in its place.
“Archers at the ready!” Tincire ordered from a distance.
“With me,” Crinte commanded as he swung his sword around, connecting with the odd weapon the creature held in its hand. The creature bellowed and instead of drawing back for another attack, leaped forward as if to smash Crinte where he stood. Crinte threw up his sword hand and fell backwards to avoid the killing blow. He rolled to the side and leaped up on his feet in time to drive his blade between the creature’s shoulders. With a roar, it fell, and another beast toppled on top of it, three arrows in its side.
Crinte lodged himself against a tree trunk for a moment. He tilted his head backwards and rolled his eyes back in his head before opening them again. His eyes glowed briefly as they adjusted to his night vision. He could see the creatures clearly now. They looked as if they had been made from globs of mud and stood taller than any Cron or Tider he had seen. Their build was quite stout, to the point they looked as if they were sagging with the weight they carried. Round bellies poked out from their midsection, giving them an off kilter gait as they lumbered forward. Their deformed faces appeared to be slowly sliding downwards toward their long, flabby arms. They carried thick, rough clubs which looked as if they were created from the nearest tree branches and stripped of all bark. The creatures did not walk but rather lurched out of the trees, smashing everything in their wake. Crinte raised his sword and moved back into combat, sticking the nearest creature’s belly. Its insides fell open and the creature collapsed
to the ground, roaring in frustration and pain. Crinte turned to survey the warriors and found Alaireia was on his right and Starman on his left. “Aim for their bellies,” he called to them. “They are weak there.” Two arrows whizzed past him, taking out creatures on the other side of the trees. Crinte glanced up briefly and noted Legone shooting from one of the lower branches. Marklus had carved out a circle and stood within it, shooting in all directions as best he could. Crinte turned his gaze to the trees where he could see dark shapes move towards them. “More are coming!” he shouted. “Pass the word to Tincire!”
“How many?” a Cron shouted back.
“I can’t tell,” called Crinte. Scenarios ran through his brain. Quickly, he sheathed his sword and reached for his bow and arrows. “Alaireia, I’m going to pick off the ones coming in. Keep this area clear!”
“Got it!” she shouted as her sword made contact with the club of one creature. She shoved it away, knocked it over, and drove her sword into it. Three strokes then death was her signature move.
“They are coming from the sea,” said Starman, his voice quavering.
Grasping at the information, Crinte lifted his bow and shot a creature in what he could only hope was its heart. “Marklus,” Crinte shouted above the noise, “take my place.” Marklus’ sensitive ears picked up Crinte’s voice as he threw a dagger before bounding over fallen creatures to where Crinte stood.
“We need to get to the sea,” Crinte announced, shooting arrows with Marklus for a moment. “We can win if we have the moonlight and drive them back into the sea. I must find Tincire.”
Marklus nodded and concentrated on his aim in the dark. Every now and then, a slice of moonlight would filter through the trees and make it easier for him to hit his target. He stilled his heartbeat, lifted his bow, and aimed. Death flew through his fingers as a creature leaped out of the woods, arms in the air, only to be thrown backwards when the arrow slammed through its eye socket. Marklus grabbed for another arrow and realized he was already running low.
Suddenly, Legone appeared beside him in a blur, daggers in each hand. “I’m out of arrows,” he said, standing behind Marklus.
“Take mine!” shouted Alaireia. In one hand she swung her sword, while with the other, she slung the quiver of arrows off her back and tossed them at Legone. He caught them quickly and before Marklus could blink, his bow was loaded and an arrow zinged off into the darkness.
Marklus did not have time to be impressed with his speed. “I hear more,” he said. “We need to send them back to the sea. Legone, Alaireia, Starman, ready?”
Starman shook his head; he had no words to say. His hands would not stop shaking and the only thing that kept him going was the certainty that every time he swung his sword, a creature went down. They had not touched him but that did not make them any less terrifying. “Starman.” He heard Alaireia’s voice penetrating his fog of fear. “It’s okay, it will get worse for a moment but we will end this. Legone, you’re fastest.”
“Point me in the right direction,” Legone said.
But it was Starman who lifted a hand and pointed. “That way.”
Legone turned, raised his arms, and hooted out the strangest sound Starman had ever heard. Then he turned and dashed off towards the sea.
“Clear a path!” shouted Marklus.
The creatures roared and dashed after the sound Legone was making, clubs raised. Marklus lifted his bow as the stampede began and took down as many creatures as he could. Alaireia and Starman had already left him and were running with the creatures, driving them onwards.
It took a moment for the rest of the warriors to come around but they did with a shout, egging the creatures on towards the sea. There was only one Cron who stopped in puzzlement and watched the battle being taken out of his hands. He realized his brothers’ suspicions were right; there was more afoot than expected. For months he had been tinkering between choices but now, as the battle was swept down into the sea, he realized his mind had already been made up.
12
Aftermath
Moonlight flooded over the sea, providing enough illumination to reveal the strange creatures as they rose out of the water, clubs in hand, and leapt up onto the shore. Shaking the wetness from their mud colored skin, they moved towards the trees, only to find a steady stream of arrows hindering their progress.
Legone found himself surprised at how easily Crinte’s plan was working. As he ran, he found the scattered trees closer to the sea filtering in more moonlight, allowing full view of his prey. He scaled a tree as soon as he reached the sea, taking out the lumbering creatures with his arrows. He could tell they were having a harder time seeing in the moonlight but even so, it wasn’t long before he heard the roar of the other creatures catching up.
Alaireia and Starman arrived shortly after Legone. It was only after they reached the sea that Alaireia realized what a foolish plan it was. The rest of the warriors had not caught up yet, and in the light, she could see creatures rushing out of the sea faster than Legone’s arrows could pick them off. Even worse, a mass of club-wielding, disfigured creatures turned on her and Starman as soon as they ran into view.
Everything was a blur for Starman. He could hear Alaireia yelling out orders but all he could do was bring his sword up again and again to protect them. The sea sloshed ahead of him and he could hear an odd whooping sound each time the creatures climbed onto land. Now in the moonlight, he could tell there were too many of them and his arms were beginning to ache from constantly swinging his sword.
“Garrrrrrr,” three creatures roared as they descended on him. Starman lifted his blade to stop the onslaught as a club swung down on his sword with a loud crack. At the same instance, Starman reached for a dagger and threw it, blade up, at the creature advancing on the other side of him. It simply batted the blade out of the way as if it were a mere toy. Starman kicked out at the last creature, which only managed to throw him off his feet. As he thudded to the ground, he could see the creatures descending on him, clubs raised over their huge jiggling bellies. A crash echoed through the underbrush. Distracted for a moment, the creatures paused while Starman took the opportunity to wiggle out of their reach. Breathing hard, he began to frantically retreat even though he could hear the rest of the warriors catching up at last. They eagerly entered the thick of the battle and confused creatures began to retreat into the sea. Starman grasped the freedom in front of him and dashed eastward through the trees. Home lay somewhere near, and as the smell of death began to leave his nostrils, he knew he was heading in the right direction.
A shadow leaped up behind him and threw him to the ground, sending his sword flying through the underbrush. Starman went down with a cry, kicking and punching until he realized it was Alaireia. “Where do you think you’re going?” she demanded.
Starman threw his hands up. “Just let me go,” he wheezed, attempting to catch his breath. “This is horror. I wish to be no part of it!”
“Starman, why?” Alaireia pleaded. “At least come back with me. Stand with the victors and know you have aided in winning this battle. The first one is always the worst.”
Starman shook his head. “I would not go back there. I need to find my own way.”
“But you’ll only be lost again, adrift in the woods. More turned ones will continue to come over. Where will you stand without protection?” She stood and held out a hand to help him rise.
“I have my sword," Starman retorted, crawling over to hunt for it in the thicket.
“You will be alone,” Alaireia prompted, watching him. “Crinte said we will take you home, didn’t he? Wouldn’t you feel better traveling with us versus alone, not knowing where you are going?”
Starman sighed as his retrieved his weapon and sheathed it. “I’d rather not face the garrr-crats again.”
“The what?” Alaireia questioned, taken aback.
“Those creatures—you know, first they yell ‘garr’, and then their clubs go crack, and it’s all over.”
&nb
sp; “Huh, the Garcrats,” Alaireia puzzled. “Will you come back with me?”
Starman walked up to her as the gentle glow of moonlight filtered through the trees casting an oblivious halo over the death and destruction occurring near the sea. “Is the battle over?”
“Let’s find out.” Alaireia turned to head back to the scene of potential victory but Starman stood alone in the wood a moment longer. He could feel his heart rate slowing, his hands had stopped shaking, and the heaviness of sleep had drifted from his eyes. He could still smell death behind him, but for a moment the fear was gone, and he felt as if he could walk straight home without incident.
Marklus raised an unbroken arrow in the air, threw back his head, and roared the battle cry of the victors. Around him, each warrior lifted their weapons and followed his lead. As Marklus rejoiced, he wished their enemies could hear their response. The warriors of Mizine were not going down without a fight. Even as the warriors quieted down, Tincire was shouting out protocol for the battle aftermath. Slain bodies were tossed into the sea while Marklus walked through the battle scene, seeking out the wounded and restoring them to full health.
When he’d first discovered he carried the power of life and death, his abilities seemed limitless; he could cure anything and anyone. But after the incident with his mother, he was always more careful. Holding sway between life and death seemed less of a power and more of a burden. Crinte passed him before pulling close. “Have you seen Alaireia and Starman?”
Marklus paused, glancing over the battlefield. “No, why?”
“Alaireia, I have news for her.”
“Did you see a vision?”
Crinte nodded. “It changes things slightly, but keep to the plan.”
Crinte moved on, leaving Marklus to continue his healing duties.
Legone had not bothered to swing down from the tree after the battle ended. The loftiness was a reminder of the Afrd Mounts. His homesickness lessened as he relaxed on a branch, gazing up at the now calm night sky. Crinte’s warriors from the Fighting Camp seemed to be less affronted by his coldness during the battle. He considered telling them more but wasn’t sure if they would understand why critical details were withheld from them. Crinte alone he could trust, and to solidify that trust, the Horn of Shilmi had been exchanged. The thought of it made him shudder. The others, he wasn’t sure how clear their alliance to Crinte was. He would start with Alaireia the Ezinck. She clearly mistrusted him but he could feel the aura of power surrounding her, and it was exactly what he needed.
The Complete Four Worlds Series Page 9