The folowing contains scenes of violence and some ‘gore’ so be warned as some people might find such scenes disturbing, even if they are merely written down.

It starts slow, before the action rises and stuff happens, and personally I find it rather tame, but ...

The group moved quickly, or so Síuliór thought.

All except for him.

Despite being the tallest, and thus having the widest stride, the others moved much more quickly through the thicket, or in Fío’s case, along the tree tops.

Images of a red and blue spandex wearing teenager flashed before his mind, but after nearly tripping over some roots, he tried to keep such memories from surfacing.

Reluctantly, because amongst those repressed memories, a key piece could be hidden.

Enda wasn’t too happy, having to slow down to accommodate his slower pace, but begrudgingly acceded to the necessity, following her shameless defeat.

She still could neither accept how quickly, nor how easily he had subdued her.

It was like he could foretell the future, and knew exactly how she would act.

Her initial notion that the ‘Wanderer’ was some sort of mind-reading magical beast had been reinforced, but as long as he was on their side, she might as well get some use out of him.

She would just have to watch him closely.

Her gaze met his, and after what seemed like an eternity to her, she broke the contact, blood rushing to her cheeks. That mind-reading beast was playing with her again!

She chanced another look, before promising herself not to glance at him again, at least until they arrived.

A promise that would be routinely broken.

Guithre led the group with haste, even if he tried to strike up a conversation with the newcomer.

He wouldn’t it admit it, of course, but even he fancied Enda a little, though he knew she had her eyes on Luchta, the blacksmith’s apprentice, but he respected her still more as a huntress.

So when he heard that the ‘Wanderer’ Siúliór managed to best her with only one attack, he was naturally intrigued. Especially now, that he witnessed how superior his own physical abilities were. And Enda was still better, faster, he had to painfully admit. Better than most scouts actually. And probably most warriors, both female and male.

It took them more than two hours before they ran into a female scout, armed with bow and arrows.

Fío had spotted her first, and alerted them to her presence. Guithre seemed surprised the most, as he had expected the scouts to be still further ahead. The puzzle was supposed to be answered shortly, after they had reached a makeshift camp. It was located just at the bottom of a ridge, one scout waiting down below, another already at the top, hiding just beneath the edge. He was observing something, watching it carefully. Something just beyond the ridge.

Siúliór was sweating and the hasty trek had drained his stamina quickly. Even though they did take breaks in between, the others were anxious to catch up. So the breaks remained short and the pace still quick. After finally reaching the scouts, he was finally allowed an actual breather.

Still heaving, he joined Enda and company at the edge of the ridge, overlooking part of the forest.

Maybe two or three hundred meters in front, a dirt road stretched from south-east to north-west. On it, further ahead, a large group was gathered around a carriage, stuck just off the road.

“T’ere should be eighteen of d’em left. We managed to slow d’em down, but the od’er two carriages have gone fur’der ahead.”

“How did you slow them down?” Enda asked surprised.

The female showed a wicked smile before answering,

“Managed to aggravate d’e drakes wi’d a pheromone trap on d’e road. Once we figured out d’eir route, I managed to overtake d’em and plant d’e pouch ...”

Her face fell.

“I only managed to stall one of d’em though, one of d’e drakes started t’rashing about and knocked d’e pouch away. Probably broke d’e axle though, t’ey haven’t moved for hours since.”

Siúliór spied beyond the the ridge, looking for the enemy.

The drakes she mentioned were probably the pair of large reptiles, resting close to the carriage. The term ‘komodo dragon’ floated to the top of his head, but surely they couldn’t be that big? Almost 3 meters in length and almost as tall as Enda, so around 1,50 meters, the ‘drakes’ seemed to serve the role of horses in this place.

A dark hooded figure, taller than the drakes by about a head, was actively engaged with it, probably trying to keep it calm. Two other robed figures were staying close, while a fourth, much larger than any of the others, was gesturing threateningly at a gathering of Cŵn, standing next to the crashed carriages.

He counted four of the ‘hounds’ in animated discussion with the hooded figure, another four at the carriage, attempting some sort of repairs. Two more were staying farther away from the group, one ahead of them on the road, the other on the opposite side further down. Presumably sentries.

That left four unaccounted, probably stationed in a perimeter around the carriage.

They could, of course, just charge straight in, hoping to take them by surprise. But they were outnumbered two to one, so they would most likely be overwhelmed quickly.

No, the better option would be…

“We’ll rest for awhile, and then rush them!” Enda decided simply.

Oy, wait a minute!

“Sounds good, I can take out two of t'em before t'ey even figure out what’s happening,” the female Scout joined in.

Seriously? ... bad idea, what about the other 16?

The other fox warriors and scouts shared her simplistic view.

Turning towards Fío, he hoped she could talk some sense into the group. That hope was crushed quickly, as she simply returned his gaze, and shrugged her shoulders.

Had she no stronger sense of self preservation? This wasn’t some video game where you just charge into a horde of monsters and hack at them, drinking some potions that makes everything better. What if they slashed off the hand you were about to drink the potion with?

Did they even have such potions?

He guessed not, well then, the only other choice would be…

“You know, sound plan and all, but how about we try it my way?”

Enda raised one of her brows, but, with some urging from Fío, decided to at least hear him out.

* * *

The Cŵn did not have names. Only ranks. And their position in the pack.

He was one of the lower ones, an ‘Omega’, tasked with keeping watch while the others repaired the carriage transporting the prisoners.

A boring task, he thought while yawning widely. They had been stuck here for almost an entire quarter of a day.

His anger flared.

He thought back to earlier of the day when they had attacked the village.

His thirst for blood was not satisfied however.

Not by a long-shot.

They had orders to take as many of them alive as possible, and the guards were too few and too unprepared to offer much resistance.

He only got to cut one lousy old fox.

The Cŵn were great warriors. They strived for battle, but now … now they had been reduced to mercenaries, hounds for hire. For that little spoiled …

Something struck him in the throat, and suddenly he couldn’t breath properly.

A warm sensation, growing hotter and hotter with every beat of his heart, began spreading.

His vision started to fade.

His claws found their way to his throat, touching a long narrow object lodged deep within, no, piercing through an through. He felt the blood forcing its way out, oozing down his neck.

With his failing vision, he also lost the feeling in his paws and claws.

The only smell in his nose, the scent of blood.

And on his tongue, the taste of iron.

The only sound, the beating of his heart.

Badum, Badum...Badum, Ba-dum … Ba- dum … Ba - - dum ...

Falling to his knees, he never even heard one of the Cŵn Sentries excitedly shouting out, “PREY!” as his vision finally faded, and he breathed his last.

* * *

Their ears perked up at excited shout of one of the sentries to the east. Someone was attacking them! Finally some actual battle.

The Cŵn howled in response, their tempers flaring.

There, within the eastern forest, two fox males, covered in light armor. Not many, but they would have to do.

No thoughts were wasted on trying to capture them. Too long have they stayed their hand. Too long where they forced to hold back. The first ones to catch them would be the ones to bathe in their hot blood.

The whole pack moved as one, rushing restlessly towards the two shapes in the forest to the east.

The hooded figure near the drakes hissed angrily, and the largest one, either having understood the hiss, or having come to the same conclusion, shouted angrily,

“AMBUSH!” while grabbing one of the excited Cŵn by the thick neck fur, yanking it back.

The angry shout, “BACK to your POSITIONS!” followed right thereafter.

But it was too late. Almost half of the present ‘hounds’ had chased after the two fox people.

The ‘repair group’ had raced towards their perceived prey in its entirety, and even the eastern sentries had made their way to the dirt road, leaving their duties unattended.

The large figure’s hooded head swiveled left and right vigilantly, scanning the forest for the coming attack.

Neither of the two fox males carried a bow… he halted, only 3 returned from the eastern side.

Just as its attention focused to that side of the forest …

* * *

Siúliór had barely managed to get into position when he heard an excited howl from the road.

That was the signal!

He rushed forward, glancing to the south. Enda had already pounced on her target’s back, one hand covering its snout, the other gripping the hilt of a cutlass, its blade buried within the hound’s throat.

Blood was gushing out like a geyser, dyeing the ground and a tree in red.

The corpse was falling forward slowly before abruptly slamming head-first into the ground.

Enda was half-running, half-flying through the air, having used the falling Cŵn as an impromptu ‘springboard.’

The treeline was coming closer.

As he sped past it, his field of view expanded, now covering almost the entire section of the dirt road.

The two warriors were already engaging two Cŵn at the southernmost section, while Enda had also emerged from the forest, jumping around one of the hounds, dodging its heavy axe swipes.

He saw the large hooded figure speeding south, towards the two warriors and … Guithre, who was pulling his blade out of the neck of his assigned target.

His eyes searched left, seeing another Cŵn running towards him along the treeline, its hungry eyes locked onto him.

An unusual glint flashed in the air, and the hound was hoisted, flying upwards, its clawed fingers reaching towards its own throat.

Then it floated. Struggling, thrashing … twitching.

Fío, holding onto her thin spider thread, remained unseen. Only a shadow, high among the treetops.

His charge continued, towards the group of three hooded figures, only one had noticed him.

Throwing off its cloak, the reptilian appearance surprised him, but his concentration did not waver. His mind started racing, noting details, sorting out the unneeded information.

Metal scales … atop leather ... scale armor!? … curved blade ... sickle?, no, Khopesh! …

attack from …

He shortened the distance with a quick burst of speed, blocking the attacking right arm just below the wrist with his left forearm.

His right fist thrust at the reptile humanoid’s throat, barely missing the Adam's apple.

It did its due, though, as the Reptilian staggered backwards.

Siúliór didn’t stop.

His left fingers snaked around the opponent's wrist, and while his whole body ducked under the left outstretched arm, he twisted, then pulled.

Right knee smacking into the armored sternum, he struck its chest just as the Reptilian’s torso sped downwards, passing by his own, the movement forced by the wrist lock.

The hilt of the Khopesh was exposed, and Siúliór managed to disarm the enemy easily, his grip on the wrist transferred from the enemy to the hilt in one fluid motion.

Still, he wasn’t done.

With an one-armed swing, the Khopesh blade dug deep into the Reptilian’s ankle, dragging the whole foot upwards as Siúliór spun around, continuing his forward motion after one turn, Khopesh still in hand.

No blood on the blade, struck with blunt side?

He continued dashing forward, and the other Reptilian approached, its robe flying, almost floating away, tracing an arc through the air.

It raised both arms high, its own Khopesh gripped with both hands.

Siúliór’s mind continued racing, weighing option; dash inside reach or …

The Khopesh cut through the air, tracing a downward-arc.

Dodge!

He sidestepped, the blade passed by, digging harmlessly into the ground.

He swung his ‘borrowed’ weapon, striking the center of the Reptilian’s armored chest.

Although sparks flew, the blade bounced off without causing damage.

No blood? - Then distance! He thought, throwing a spinning back kick.

It connected with the armored abdomen, launching the Reptilian in a ‘>’-shape through the air.

It flew parallel to the ground, before hitting dirt and rolling to a stop, just shy of 3 meters.

Still, Siúliór did not stop.

But he skidded to halt before the last hooded figure, borrowed Khopesh gripped tightly.

Then he hesitated.

It wasn’t the regal beauty of the face beneath the hood.

It wasn’t the full red lips either, that kept muttering something.

It wasn’t even the knife, held tightly with both hands, so tightly that blood ran down the blade.

It certainly wasn’t the barely covered breasts or the shapely thighs peeking out besides the leather loincloth.

No, it was the quivering fear in her yellow slitted eyes, boring right into him.

A memory fought its way to the surface.

The memory of a small fox girl, protecting her little brother, knife in hands, against a raving were-dog. Only this time, the small fox girl was a Reptilian beauty and the were-dog was him.

The ‘woman’ seemed so scared.

Calling to some deity, accidentally cutting herself with her own knife.

And the fear, so apparent in her eyes.

Siúliór wasn’t sure whether it was the fairy pulling at his ear, or the unexpected ‘sakki’ -bloodlust- he felt from the side.

It could have been the approaching shadow he saw reflected in the Reptilian’s eye.

He jumped, desperately, to the right with all his strength. The Khophesh held protectively to the left, Siúliór attempted to turn in the air.

A sudden pressure pushed him further sideways, lifting him upwards, before launching him in the air.

A hot pain in his left biceps and the feeling of blood flowing down his arm helped him focus.

He landed, his feet dragging dirt, coming to a skidding stop shortly after he was sent flying.

He held the curved sword, slightly bent now, before his body, glad that his left arm still continued to listen, and trained his eyes at the newcomer.

The huge Reptilian male, the hooded robe long discarded, allowing free view of the bulging muscles hardly being held in check by a metal breastplate and leather straps. In his hands, a gigantic double-sided axe, one of its blades bathed in blood.

Too much to be his.

Someone must have fallen! Maybe one of the other warriors…

His vision was rapidly filled with bulging muscles, the gigantic form belying the Reptilian’s speed.

Siúliór crouched low, his knees protesting the unexpected strain.

The large axe sped just above his head, the air pressure his only clue of the danger he just avoided.

He prepared to rise, but an acute heavy pressure to his legs broke his balance.

Alarming surprise flooded his mind, as Siúliór looked at the word sideways.

Did he just use his tail to sweep ... The thought was cut short as a quick, large fist dug into his stomach, propelling him further back.

He flew, spitting saliva, tasting iron, before crashing into the ground.

His body hurt, and he found himself unable to stand up.

His lungs screamed for air, and he barely managed to turn his head towards the hulking mass of muscles ...

Not approaching ...

The large Reptilian was swatting air, fighting against the fairy, whizzing around his head, blasting him with air pressure and wind sickles.

A snicker above him forced Siúliór to look up.

The second Reptilian towered above him, the Khopesh raised high once more, its tip aiming straight for him.

A flash of metal and the sound of flesh being pierced.

Two pairs of widened eyes continued to be locked onto each other.

A curved cutlass was protruding out of the still smiling Reptilian’s throat.

A shadow flew above Siúliór face, and clawed feet dug into the staggering enemy.

The corpse was blasted away violently, as Enda pushed herself off the still heaving chest, pulling out her thrown blade, and, after a somersault, landed on the ground next to him.

Their eyes met briefly, and he barely noticed the disappointed look in hers. And maybe, just a hint of relief …

The surge of adrenaline weakened his sense of pain, and he finally managed to get up.

Wind chimes resounded next to his ears, and Siúliór focused his gaze back onto the giant Reptilian. He stood protectively before the still hooded female.

Her dripping blood pooled into a puddle on the ground.

The enemy ‘Hulk’ surveyed the battlefield before clicking his snake-like tongue.

Expanding black smoke exploded from the puddle of blood, enveloping the area around the female, growing thicker and larger.

Their eyes met one last time, before the hulking Reptilian smiled, then merged with the smoke. Angry hisses and the stomping of the drakes were the last sounds of this engagement.

* * *

The battle was not over however. The Cŵn that went chasing after the scouts as planned were returning. Had it really been only a few minutes?

It felt so long now …

Siúliór was angry. Furious actually. Mostly at himself.

This was a battlefield! He thought he knew that. One momentary lapse of judgment could cost him his life.

He was lucky this time.

Lucky that the axe didn’t cleave him in two.

Lucky that he managed to block with the Khopesh.

Lucky that the little fairy stopped the hulking monster from finishing the job.

And lucky that Enda had noticed his dangerous situation and decided to help so quickly.

She threw a questioning gaze at him.

He barely turned towards her, his eyes focused on the approaching Cŵn. There were six left. One was approaching him rapidly.

Enda sped past him, having found her own prey.

He just continued to stare at the figure of the raving mad were-dog.

The pain in his leg was all but forgotten and even the aching of his side was suppressed.

His mind focused.

His emotional turmoil calmed. Just a silent serene pond in his mind now.

His brain flooded with information.

One were-dog - 12 meters - lightly armored - exposed areas? biceps, inside; neck; legs -

Armed? - one axe, single blade - predicted Trajectory? 10 towards 5 - 9 meters - safe area? close - own weapons? Khopesh? bent; only ‘Pointy Stick’ - 6 meters -

Conclusion: extreme close combat!

The tips of Siúliór boots dug into the ground. His legs bent slightly, waiting for the right time to exert their strength. His left hand moved to the lacquered sheath while his right moved to the grip.

5 meters … 4 … 3 ...

Dirt was thrown backwards as he dashed forward explosively. The Cŵn’s eyes widened in surprise, the sudden speed confused it. Only momentarily, as it forced strength into its weapon-arm, preparing to strike at the foolish prey.

The two met halfway, before the Cŵn could even begin its swing.

Siúliór’s sword hilt pummeled into the hounds throat.

Its larynx was crushed, only an astonished gurgling sound escaped its snout.

In one swift motion, Siúliór finished drawing his sword ‘Pointy Stick,’ tracing an arc through the Cŵn’s barely covered biceps. The blade dug deep, severing muscle and sinew, even chipping bone.

The blade continued on its arc, even as he ducked beneath the bleeding arm, passing by the snout harmlessly, before coming back down on the other side, not hitting the right leg but cutting into the left.

Deep into the thigh, the muscle barely offering resistance.

The aorta along the leg was opened, judging by the geyser of blood that gushed to the floor,

as Siúliór continued moving under the arm, dragging the blade along, before reaching the back of the gaping, croaking Cŵn.

Its eyes glazed over from sudden blood loss and resulting shock.

Using the forward momentum, he spun in place, reversing his grip on ‘Pointy Stick.’

-Correcting thrust; 2 cm above shoulder; trajectory: downwards 7 o’clock-

The blade struck true, if a little too close to the throat, digging past the clavicle, between the ribcage, finding its way to the heart, all thanks to the force of his momentum.

Surely the pulsing resistance he felt through the blade, even up to the hilt, must have been an illusion.

Ba-dum, ba--dum, ba- - -dum.

One quick twist and the resistance stopped.

He reversed his grip again, this time taking the ‘correct’ one, thumb pointed towards the blade.

With a squelching sound, Siúliór pulled the blade free, turning around as he cut an arc through the air, splattering blood from the blade, leaving it surprisingly clean.

He surveyed the battlefield, not giving the plopping piece of meat behind him another glance.

The others were done as well.

One of the attackers was riddled with three arrows, the one through the eye being the most likely killing shot.

One of them was still twitching, hanging from a tree by a thin spider thread, joining one of its brothers in a lofty death.

Enda was already cleaning her blade on the leather armor of her downed prey.

The two warriors, one of them bleeding profusely out of a deep gash on its chest, had downed the one each.

Guithre was nowhere to be seen.

The stench of iron assaulted his nose, and bile was forcing its way up his throat.

He refused to turn around.

Refused to look at his handiwork.

The meat behind him was of no interest.

He didn’t care.

He didn’t care, he repeated in his mind.

Maybe if he repeated it often enough, he could convince himself.

When he saw Guithre’s lifeless body, hacked in two, presumably by the blades of a gigantic axe, his resolve finally gave, and he barely rushed behind a tree to throw up.

The air was thick with the stench of blood.

Author's Notes

Ok, this chapter is the ‘climax’ of the introductory volume, I hope you liked it.

Lemme know if it was too graphic or too detailed.

I do enjoy writing battle scenes, but since action plays like a movie in my mind, it may sound a little too much like I’m merely describing it.

So constructive criticism! Which parts did you like, which parts need more work, what can I do better in future chapters?

Just gave it a quick edit myself before posting, so if you discover any errors, let me know, and I’ll try to correct them asap.

One more chapter and the introductory volume is complete!

I added a Poll for the Fairy's name at the Reader Participation thread.

I encourage you to vote!

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