Year 215. Gortinda - Khirn

GÍLA SENGHU

Gíla blinked in time to repel the driving thrust from a kingsman, the tip of their steel blade skidding along the surface of the Bear Maiden's chest. "Vi kimi!" she shouted in her mother tongue, swinging Harkides' axe up to bash away a quick responding swing from her assailant. Steel cracked from the impact, and the young fighter was thrown off their feet and onto their back. Air erupted from their lungs like a snapping tree and returned to them like a broken whistle, eyes glazed over in surprise.

"Well struck, bear!" Iphino cackled as they removed their blade from the mouth of their own foe.

"We need to rejoin the army," Goscelin heaved as they rose to their feet, greatsword dulled from the hours of combat this day had already claimed. "We're too far from them and will be lost if we stay here any longer." Gíla knew this was true.

The Bear Maiden stood over her foe, fists clenched the haft of Harkides' axe shudderingly tight, golden emotion beaming from her eyes as she stared. Rannulf looked back. "Stay down," she demanded with a brittle tone.

She spun on her heels, inhaling sharply as she took in the rest of the battle to form her decision. The dying glow of the orange sun lit the world of death around them. Buildings lay in smoldering ruins and heaps of bloodied splinters. Unrecognizable bodies lay in piles and formed gory roadblocks across the miles this village spread from end to end. To the south, the army of Duke Audax continued to be pushed back, driven into tactical retreat after frantic retreat by the thousands of the King, who refused to dwindle in number. Despite the death of Harkides, their commander, the King's forces fought like a horde of mad dogs hounding for blood.

"Time to leave would be now, Drayheller," Iphino commented. A rush of sound bid them greetings as a swarm of kingsmen appeared nearby, frothing at the mouth.

The Bear Maiden clenched her eyes shut. She shook her head, clearing the images of Rannulf from her mind. She moved back with thunderous steps, each increasing in pace as she beckoned the two near her to follow. "Come on!" she roared, turning to rush down the ruined street.

Someone came at her with a yell from an alley, stepping away from a groaning half-dead warrior and slashing at her neck. Gíla blocked and swung her axe into their calf, severing it. They fell down onto the earth with decisive force. She did the same to another, cracking her weapon into their knee. Dropped them like a sack of rocks. The trio ran, running as far as they could as the soldiers of the King advanced on them, attacking them with hacking strikes, walloping slashes, and piercing stabs. Each was armored in dark mail, the colors of their surcoats muted by blood. Their faces were indistinguishable from those who fought alongside her.

Bones were snapped by her efforts to defend Iphino and Goscelin. The smith frantically bulldozed their way from street to street, smashing and batting away the young and fool-hardy. Little advanced skill could be seen on their part - nothing like their betters - but was, at least, serviceable at this point in the battle. Iphino slashed and clawed toward safety, striking out with an arming sword in their main-hand and a small dagger in their off-hand. Half a dozen fell to them in the waning moments of their rush.

A particularly brazen human charged the Bear Maiden with a storm of spear thrusts, the metal blade screeching. They were rewarded for their efforts with a simple back fist to the stomach, lifting them off their feet and into a nearby group of their allies. Her hide had become riddled with thin scratches after the bouts against Harkides and the breaker. Light marring against their grave inflictions. No blade had been strong enough to penetrate a single layer of her body. It was confounding and went on like this for a long time. Ahead, the rest of the Duke's army appeared, holding back the King's own with a stout defensive line.

"We're almost there!" Goscelin cheered.

Then came Ocytos. A champion of the King. Bloodied. Stoic. From where Gíla could not say. The horde, the void, an alley. All she could say was the knight appeared outside of safety. The knight was noble, clad in a full-body suit of plate enameled green with golden insignias of the King's crown on chest and back, with a helm fashioned after a lion-drake with snarling black teeth and eye-sockets for visors. They were built like an ox on hindlegs and wielded the largest greatsword Gíla had ever seen, its similarly green blade shining in the dying orange glow of the day's sun. Like Acominatus. Towers above all others, wielding the blinding sword of sunlight.

After knocking Iphino out with a single hook to the temple, Ocytos rushed the Bear Maiden, growling with a voice akin to Loukas Tamasos. A jab carved through the surface of the Bear Maiden's side, its edge nearly kissing the bones underneath. She ignited into action with a yell, ducking away to dislodge the blade. She swung at Ocytos' legs. The champion merely stomped on the haft of the axe and sent its force into the road. Gila's mouth ran dry.

Gíla grunted and let go of the axe as Ocytos' sword came piercing down for her head. Goscelin lunged with a slash of their sword, the edge pinging off the metal of Ocytos' plate armor. The champion yelled out, ducking a follow-up slice, shunting forward in an attempt to drive their shoulder into the smith's stomach. The knight wrapped a free hand around Goscelin's upper body to lift them up. Gíla shouted as she saw the smith be released and careened down by a fist to the spine. Goscelin landed on their stomach.

"You aren't so strong, are you?" she heard the champion rumble.

"Be quiet," she commanded. A fist crashed into her chest as she charged the champion, pushing her back onto the road.

"I heard that the Drayheller were strong. You aren't strong."

The tip of Ocytos' sword pressed against the front of her neck, shutting down all functions in her body as fear overtook her. Air refused to fill her lungs. She could feel her heart begin to burn.

"Fucking weak," the champion growled before lowering the blade from her throat. "Not worth killing."

Gíla snarled, rising to her feet as the champion walked away to join the assault on the defensive line. Annoyed noises came from behind Ocytos' snarling lion-drake helm as she rushed them. Ocytos dodged her punch, and Gíla was on her back a second later.

"Weakling," Ocytos declared again to the joyous laughter of those who were merely marching past, their slaughter of the Duke's army in the northern half of the village complete. "Stay down."

Gíla roared. Blood caked to her hide and seeped through her clothing, yet she stood again still. Ocytos shook their head, silently warning her not to try it. Gíla clenched her fists and swung at the champion. Another dodge and Gíla was stumbling away with a large cut across her stomach.

"Stop trying," Ocytos said.

"No," Gíla spat a globule of bloody spit.

Ocytos grunted and motioned to the others with a flick of their hand. Gíla dived to retrieve Harkides' axe. It felt heavy in her hand. She swung at a swarm of new assailants, killing multiple, and bracing against the strikes she could not block.

"Gíla!" a voice called out. "Hold on!"

She turned her attention to the source for a moment. A hard club beat against the back of her head, dazing her. A sharp dagger found itself buried in an open wound across her back. Gíla screamed in pain.

"Hold on!" the voice cried out.

The dagger stabbed over and over into her open wounds, her dazed vision becoming dark.

"Gíla!"

Year 215. Gortinda - Khirn

Theovanis Alden Rasidaios

What was he doing here? He was a farmer's son, not a fighter. Not a knight. He should not have been here, but here he was all the same, rushing through the crowds of loyalists like a rat sneaking through the pantry. They tried to grab him when they noticed him. They shouted at those in the front to stop him. But Alden was fast. He had always been fast. More than that, he had always been lucky. On that day, he needed all the luck in the world to get to Gíla and save her from the loyalists who had surrounded her.

It was an impossible task he needed to make possible. He swung at the crowd when he reached them, catching them by surprise with his savagery. Incomprehensible yells erupted from his mouth. His blade was bloodied, bits of flesh coating him as he shocked the Bear Maiden's assailants back. A rough, cold hand grabbed the back of his neck and spun him around. A knight glared at him.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked.

Alden responded with a frantic blow from his sword to the knight's head, releasing his grasp. Another strike removed his helmet. Flowing brown hair was released into the hot wind of the battle, framing a battle-scarred face made of flesh that should have been stone. The knight flared with his own strikes. He kicked Alden away like a dog, then accelerated with a flurry of slashes for the Bear Maiden who jumped at the first opportunity of freedom. Groggy, slurring her speech, she dragged the knight to the ground despite his attacks. They both rose as the knight shoved the Bear Maiden away. New scars were made as Gíla avoided what she could, blood weeping from where the greatsword had cut deep enough to cut open her protective hide with inhuman power. Gíla fought back with wild bashings of her hammer, denting his once immaculate armor, drawing more and more breath from his body.

Alden jumped back in, leaping from his feet, sending the hardest punch he had ever thrown into the knight's unprotected face. His front teeth became splinters from the punch that broke one of Alden's knuckles, and his nose became bent like a spoon. The knight retorted the strike with an equally forceful swing of his sword, faster than Gíla or Alden could anticipate. Iphino fell to the ground, grasping at his entrails-leaking belly and growing paler by the second. He had pushed Alden out of the way. The knight's mighty sword had carved through the mail like butter.

"Now you die," the knight decided.

The world flashed white again, a crackle of flame filling the clouds, and the sky wept tears of bloody rain. Alden swore he heard a voice then, a voice pleading for him to survive. A trick of the mind of course.

"Charge!" Gíla and Alden, dumbstruck by their comrade's sudden fall and the mutation of the world, spun to see the Duke's army bounding forward with shields, clubs, hammers, spears, and swords in hand. They had broken through the offensive line of the King's army. The latter writhed on the ground in pain. Loukas Tamasos, eyes smoldering with cinders of power, and Misandros Tateas were leading. Eos, Astera, Derkylos, Keteus, Kriton, and Artemios lead their own companies alongside them, survivors of the garrison hollering in rage at the desecration of their home.

Alden cheered and turned in time to jab for a loyalist's face, the metal edge of his sword carving through the left side of the woman's mouth and cutting off half of her left ear. She roared in pained rage and batted for the boy. Gíla jumped, tackling her down. With a surge of strength, she kicked the woman away and, in the same breath of motion, rolled to her feet with the axe still clutched in her right hand.

Eos the Colossus leaped in now, dueling with the roaring knight - challenging the man by uttering his name. Ocytos, he was called. Alden cheered again, as did his friends Chiore, Cyberniskos, Dexicos, and Anthusa who joined him and Gíla. For one minute, Eos and Ocytos dueled. The Colossus held the strength and endurance, Ocytos the speed and skill. Those watching were enraptured by the bout. The loyalists cheered on their champion with raucous elation, as did the rebels. In the end, Eos bellowed, taking down Ocytos with a swipe at his torso that, had he been using a blade, would have carved him clean in half. Ocytos clambered to his feet, only to meet the end of Eos' hammer breaking through his skull. Bits of skull and brain spilled onto the road. Ocytos' body squirmed in place before Eos kicked it down.

The loyalists were run off by Chiore, Cyberniskos, and Anthusa - led by Eos who claimed Ocytos' greatsword as a trophy. As the loyalists were pushed back in an unprecedented second wind for the Duke's army, Alden finally allowed himself to feel exhausted and fainted.

He awoke some hours later as a lull had finally settled over the village and the armies took up another moment of stillness.

"About time you woke up," Alden heard the familiar gruff voice of Goscelin chuckle.

His eyes widened as the grizzled smith came into view, his face swollen and bruised. "Gos! You look awful."

Goscelin scoffed. "You're no better yourself, boy. That big lad, Ocytos, beat the hell out of me. Healers' said I was lucky to walk away at all."

Alden slowly sat up in what appeared to be a makeshift cot in a small room dimly lit by half-melted candles. There were other cots in the room, all of them empty, and a small desk with an uneven chair. "I'll say. Where am I? What happened?"

"The kingsmen fucked off to the northern half of the village. Misandros and Loukas rallied a defense it seems," Goscelin explained with a slurred, pained voice. "We've held for while now, but not long enough for reinforcements."

Alden was puzzled. "A while? For how long?"

"Two days. Maybe longer. I'm not sure with the rain still going. Buildings are flooded, fires are going out, and everything stinks to Heaven and Hell."

Alden tried to move off the cot but found himself aching. He returned to being content merely sitting up. "Where's Gíla? She was badly injured when I last saw her."

Goscelin snorted. "Some of those who thought ill of her swooped to get her to a healer as soon as they could, believe it or not. Guess they were impressed she actually fought alongside us and not just run when she could."

"I told you," Alden pointed at the smith. "She's strong and good, and I saw that from the start. Now they will too."

Goscelin laughed and rubbed his face as the pain visibly rushed through what unswollen bits remained. "I've been meaning to ask you about that. Why are you so different from the others? Trusting her and being all...nice."

"Why are you?" Alden immediately shot back.

"I read, so I know her kind isn't as bad as the rest of Khirn either does or blatantly chooses to. But you're just a boy. So what were you before joining? Merchant's son? Scholar's kid? Someone with access to books?"

"Farmer's boy," Alden answered quietly.

Goscelin nodded. "Your father have books on the Drayheller?"

"No."

"Did you?"

"Not really, but..." Alden stopped to remember through a hazy mind. "There was an old woman in my village who did. Lived near my father's farm. She spun yarns - actual yarns and tales. She only told me a little bit about the Drayheller before the call from the Duke went out, and I signed up for war. So, I knew enough to know that Gíla and her people aren't bad. Dangerous as the Devil, but misunderstood. Good people."

Goscelin gave as much of a smile as he could. "What did your family think of you learning of the outside world from these yarns?"

"My father doesn't much care," Alden snickered, folding his arms over his knees. "I helped out around the farm, kept out of trouble at the village. As long as I wasn't spreading it around like the Word of God, then...but my mother was a different story."

Goscelin walked over to the small desk and sat in the uneven chair. It creaked under his broad weight. "What about your mother?"

Alden shrugged and kept the slight tears of the memory from his eyes. "She's an immerser."

Goscelin looked away from the boy. "...I'm sorry, Alden."

Alden crooked his lips. "I didn't talk much about the old woman's stories whenever she was home."

"I don't blame you. Immersers make Belanorians look tame."

Alden tried to laugh at this but did not know enough about Belanorians to really laugh. He finally managed to swing off the cot. Goscelin stood up. "Let's go find Gíla," Alden said softly.

"The Dekunians are having arguments with the loyalists. Threatening to leave," someone said as Alden and Goscelin walked by.

"What are they talking about?" Alden asked as he and his companion turned down an east-facing street.

"The revival of our defense by Loukas and Misandros has apparently sparked ire in the Dekunians," Goscelin said. "Gíla killing their commander, Harkides, only compounds the issue. Some half-blind fool named Pophemous has taken command of the army but lacks the ability to command respect like his predecessor."

"That's good."

Goscelin stopped at an intersection. He shook his head. "Don't expect it to last. We're still outnumbered, and all they need to do is mount an aggressive offense. Unprecedented circumstances kept this from happening, I know, but what I wouldn't give to go back in time and tell the people who built this village to build some damned walls. We could have hidden behind them until attrition set in like a castle or a city."

They continued on down the streets until they found the building where Gíla was supposedly being treated for her many injuries. Once a merchant's store, now a ramshackle clinic. Inside, the stench of iron and rot was fresh like sprouted crops. Alden gagged on the smell, drawing a rueful laugh from his companion. "Calm your stomach, boy. It's no different to what you've already had on you."

Alden pinched his nose. "I couldn't smell it much before."

Across the clinic's interior, far too many people were lying in their own filth - dying or dead. Limbless, burned to the bone, skewered through, gashed to exsanguination, entrails wrapped like binding. Alden had never seen such brutality in such stasis. It was in the back room that he and Goscelin found their friend. Even injured and lying on her back, she was still a monstrous beast. Tall, black-furred, and muscular - stained red with her own blood and the blood of those that she had slaughtered in the fighting. A woman in linens stained red and brown was tending her wounds, wrapping a bandage around the slice in her shoulder. She turned her head to the side as Goscelin and Alden walked into the section, her own piece of the clinic that had been cordoned off from the others.

She smiled with ursine lips. "Alden. You live," she expressed joy in a raspy voice akin to that of a grandmother, though wracked with pain. She attempted to reach up with a massive paw, but the energy had been sapped from her body.

The woman took notice of the two newcomers. "Do you have injuries that need mending?"

"No," Goscelin answered.

"Then what is your business here?"

"We're here to check on our friend," Alden said with a slight worried grin.

The woman grunted and, after checking the last of the Drayheller's bandages, turned to leave. "

Goscelin stuck out his bottom lip in surprise as the woman attended to another patient. "Actually getting treatment. Today keeps getting stranger and stranger."

"I am as surprised as you are," Gíla admitted slowly. "I am surprised that I was saved at all."

"It seems your actions in the defense of this village earned you some respect," Goscelin said. "Enough to spare you."

"It was touch and go there for a bit beside that," Alden smiled small and sad. "I'm glad you're alive. You...seem like you took a lot of damage."

"I thought Drayheller were supposed to be invincible," Goscelin mused. "Well, near-invincible."

Gíla frowned. "We usually are, and for the most part, I was. Some among the King's army, however, proved capable of doing...this." She motioned weakly at her injuries.

Goscelin shared her ground. "How quickly do you heal?"

"Quickly enough, though I doubt I will be able to fight within the day," she coughed.

Goscelin cursed under his breath. "We can only hope the dissention between the Dekunians and the loyalists keep them back for a while until you're well enough to hold the line again." He smiled thinly.

Alden agreed to an extent. "If we can hold out until another guild can support us...I've heard that many ravens were sent and some did answer."

"That will not be for half a month," Gíla said to Alden's great despair. "We are on our own. This apparent dissention is the best chance we have for the time being."

"Unless Loukas and Misandros can develop a strategy we haven't heard of yet," Goscelin grumbled. "Tunnels. Night strikes. Something."

"We can only wait," Gíla hissed. She grabbed at her side. "Stay safe out there, gentlemen. Do not do anything to risky."

Alden attempted a bright grin. "You too, Gíla. I still have a lot of stories I want to hear."