Our bicorns dash through the Sersia forest like lightning. The glowing trees pass in a hazy blur as we cover distances that would’ve taken us many minutes. Casthus rises on his bicorn and laughs like a man possessed. They shout and joke, but all I hear now is the thunderous rumbles of hooves as I sink into my thoughts. Did we truly escape by the grace of this Infernal Emperor? I sigh. If true, I will give him more sacrifices and gain his favor. Would an animal suffice? I’ve only heard Plaara speak about sacrificing fellow demons.
Anyway, those Sersia bastards will be scared to leave their fortress now. I intend to hit them while they are down. I grip my chest. Swinging my saber so wildly seemed to reopen my wound a little, but the pain is bearable.
We breach the forest line before we move at a trot. I take in the fresh air before gawking at the night sky, an oil painting of a dark purple nebula, vast and void of stars. The glowing grassland we traverse sways in the cool night wind, like dancing stars. I can’t believe what I am witnessing. How is any of this even real? “Dux!” Cassiun shouts, snapping me from my thoughts.
“What is it?” I say setting my eyes on Cassiun heavily.
Cassiun clears his throat, “What do we do from here?”
I exhale, mind racing. My sights are now set on Casthus. “How…did you manage to be captured?” I ask.
“I’m glad you asked Dux. When we arrived at the wooden supply house, it was cleared of enemies, but I fear we became too complacent after seeing the supplies. We hadn’t even noticed they had arrived,” he says before sighing. “We were outnumbered. I didn’t want to lose our men in one place, so I made the ultimate sacrifice of giving myself up. Not without a fight of course,” he smirks. “I killed the bicorn belonging to the dux of Sersia. Knocked her off her mount and turned the attention of all the bastards to me; told my daemons to run.”
So that’s what happened to the fifth bicorn.
Casthus continues, “I would’ve been knocked out of the game if it wasn’t for her. She made them tie me, took a lot of supplies with them, and I believe you all know the rest,” he says looking forward with a smug smile on his face.
I pause, “You could’ve reduced my demon force significantly, Casthus.”
“It could’ve happened, but thank the infernal emperor it did not,” he says, chuckling nervously.
“Hm, I guess so,” I say, thinking again. “To your question Cassiun, we will head to the supply house, take whatever is left, and prepare for battle. I do not intend to give Sersia any leniency,” I say.
From atop my bicorn, I feel powerful, like a true leader. Somehow, somewhere Ercassiel will be watching, and I intend to put on one hell of a show.
<<
We arrive at the wooden supply house. It isn’t fancy. The bicorn Casthus killed is still where he left it with a spear erupting from behind the elbow of the horse. The house is as big as a garage and filled with sacks of food and boxes of utilities. I order my accomplices to carry as many supplies as we can, to be put on the bicorns, it will ultimately slow us down, but the loot is worth it.
After stocking our bircorns full of supplies, we head to my fortress.
<<
The fortress is a sight for soar eyes. Our approach has not gone unnoticed by my guards. Most of my classmates stand on the battlements with faces of grim determination. I scan the crowded battlements for Inrissa, and our eyes meet. She leans over the battlement before looking at Skarius and pointing at me. Yes, tell them Inrissa. How dare these fools greet me this way. I stop with my troop at the fortress doors.
“Would you kindly open the door?!” I shout. “These bicorns are tired.”
Inrissa dashes from the battlements and Skarius follows behind her. Can these simpletons move any slower? I tighten my grip on the bicorn’s hair severely annoyed at the hostile greeting I received. Cassiun tries to get my attention, but I just ignore him. The doors finally open and I nudge my horse to enter faster than it should and knock Inrissa and Skarius down.
I jump from my bicorn and rush to Inrissa’s aid feigning an apology and my sympathy. “Goodness! Inrissa, are you hurt?!” I shout, holding her back and hands, “ I lost control of my mount, I apologize.” she sits up, her natural face markings blotched by dirt. Her red eyes search mine as she assures me that all is well. Hauling her to her feet, I dust off her ass and place a kiss on her cheek.
“I hope you missed me?” I whisper in her ear.
She nods, whispering, “Not a day passed without me wishing we were together again,” she says, before parting her lips in hopes of a kiss. I ignore her invitation and focus on the other daemons who now make their way to the bailey.
The foraging team greets Casthus. “Praise be to the emperor,” Barxire says before embracing Casthus. I am positively fuming. The hate I feel is intense, but not overwhelming enough for me to do anything about it. I take slow breaths trying to hide my disdain. The greeting I received still bothers me greatly…and now this.
“How did you manage to escape?” Ozemon asks, dumbfounded.
“By the grace of our glorious leader of course,” Casthus says, pointing at me with an open hand, and half-bowing curtly.
I fake a smile before walking toward them imperiously. Cassiun, Dharron, and Andreus take the horses to tie them up.
“Casthus was saved, but not without trouble,” I warn. “While on the mission to save the damsel.”
The Bailey erupts in laughter. I continued, “ I recognized something disturbing. Sersia was given bircorns, which we now possess, but they were also given cannons,” I pause letting my words settle.
“What?!” Barreus asks in surprise. The entire Bailey now erupts in confused chatter.
I raise my hand for silence, stifling a smirk at how quiet it has become. “What do you believe this means?” I do not let them answer. “It means we were meant to lose!” I would blame Cassiun, but then I lose a potential asset, so I divert. “We will show them the error of their choices by winning against all odds.”
They all look at each other and nod. I have them.
“So, steel your hearts, men and women of Nutarth, we attack at dawn, but firstly, let us plan.”
<<
My plan is in motion. My wounds are healed by Inrissa, who is adept at healing magic. I have not gotten a wink of sleep, but I feel reinvigorated; it is the adrenaline. I went through the plan with everyone in the halls of our fortress. We are no longer divided, we are a single unit, driven by fear of failure. I alone am propelled by something greater.
I ride on my bicorn with Inrissa who holds me tightly. Cassiun and Casthus ride beside me, and Dharron and Andreus ride behind. They, along with four others are essential to my plans. Everyone else is a diversion. We arrive at the forest edge of the Sersia woodlands. If they have scouts, they will have already seen us coming. Their forces need to be focused on one area. I send my scouts ahead to scan for any signs of an ambush or signs of those damn cannons. They return seeing nothing out of the ordinary. They must be scared shitless. We continue through the woodlands, unbothered by any predatory animals.
We are now three hundred yards from the fortress; far enough to still be covered by the dense forest. My scouts are sent to give me a count of soldiers on the battlements and a description of their defenses. They return five minutes later. “What have you found?” I ask.
Guichar’s brows are furrowed, so I turn my attention to him since it seems he has something on his mind. “What seems to be the problem?” I say, stopping my bicorn from moving wildly.
“Dux, I would advise against attacking the fortress. The cannons you mentioned are inside the walls Dux, aiming at the forest,” he warns.
I go silent, thinking. Cannons in the wall? Those bastards can wipe us out if my plan is not tweaked. From what I’ve learned during training, there are certain elevations that cannons cannot reach. Should I send them closer than originally planned? No, they’ll be in the open, ripe for the picking. I hold my chin, my mind racing again.
“Gui, how many guards man the battlements?”
“Ten, Dux.”
Fuck it then, no change of plans. I’ll take four extra guards from the diversion group. “Casvir, Kachar, Armong, Barreus. You’re with my group.” I command. “Everyone else ready your slings, you know what you must do.”
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
I let out a piercing whistle. They’ll know we’re coming now. I dismount and tie the bicorn to a tree before moving away with my group of thirteen. The diversion group begins to move forward rapidly toward the tree line. From the fortress, I hear the commands of artillery crews in the distance. “FIRE!” My heart races as the cannons roar, releasing their non-lethal balls. They whistle through the air before passing over the diversion group's heads and exploding in clouds of red smoke behind them. In return, my group ignites their missiles using externum imperium, before loosing them toward the fortress walls with their slings. Fiery stones crackle toward the enemy scattering them, they regroup before returning fire with a mixture of flaming wooden spears and a cannon salvo that again misses my group.
“Time to move.”
We circle the fortress using the forest as cover, going to the opposite end of it. We unload our ropes and hooks and get to work. Scaling the walls is much easier this time, and our entrance is uncontested. This is too easy. Another salvo of missiles from the diversion group rains down on the Sersia defenders catching one of their guard's clothes on fire. Attention is turned to him quickly and the fire is snuffed out. More Sersians pour out of the keep to reinforce the walls.
I have an itch to hit these defenders while they are distracted but our plan is running smoothly. I signal for my team to stay low and move quickly. We enter the keep and dash for the stairs that lead to the towers. The ascent is long, but we finally reach the top. I see the light illuminating the top of the stairs and slow my rapid ascension to a crawl. I creep to the edge of the entrance and listen. “Why aren’t those bastards trying to push the wall?” A male voice asks. “And our cannons are practically useless.”
“They’re trying to bate us out,” that familiar female voice says. “Holdfast.”
Oh, this is lovely. These muppets are fucking clueless. Inrissa taps me and tries to speak, but I place a finger on my lips, before continuing to listen.
“Still, something does not feel right about this, Shaza. I’ll go to the walls, and hel-”
“No!” Shaza interrupts, “You're staying here, Damzire, until those pesky Nutarth try to scale the walls or run back to their hole.”
“Shaza, it is clear this is some deception. Nutarth is not attacking in full force which means...”
There is a long pause, and Shaza now realizes the gravity of the situation. “Make sure those rats aren’t in our keep!” She shouts, but all too late.
I’m smiling from ear to ear and receive looks from Inrissa, and Casthus as if I am mad. Let’s finish this. I erupt from my hiding place before they storm out and I say, “Tsk, tsk, tsk. It's a little too late for that now.”
They all step back and unsheathe their wooden machaeras. Shaza stands dumbfounded with the prism in hand.
I laugh, unable to contain my joy any longer. “Damzire, why didn’t they just make you centurion, it seems they chose muscle instead of brain,” I tease, eyeing the very muscular Shaza. She is a tall woman. We are all seventeen, but she might as well be a fully grown woman. Her orbs are massive, and she has thighs as big as a horse's, with arms almost as big as them. Her skin is greyish-pink, and massive ram horns grace her head. Her eyes are black marble, and she grips the prism tightly in her left and unsheathes her machaera.
“You are going to lose, I suggest you just give up quietly,” I threaten. They might be able to win, but intimidation can still work. Ultimately, it doesn’t.
“Are you mad?!” Shaza asks before laughing. “Time to show you the error of your gall!”
She unsheathes her massive custom machaera and shouts, “Show these rats why they are going to lose.”
Everyone stands in defensive stances. They are all scared, and reluctant to attack I am as well, unfortunately, but time’s wasting, and I intend to leave this forsaken battlefield so, I attack. I lunge for a boy with black hair, and green eyes, with cream-colored horns erupting from his forehead. He meets my attacks, but I am too fast, and his blade end is swatted away leaving him wide open. I am about to lash him hard on the head when his accomplice intervenes. I am harried away by a girl who twirls her blade as if this is a circus show. I stop her attack with my blade and make a circular motion letting her machaera rest on my own while it completes the circumference. When the tip of my weapon is where I need it, I shove it forward, and she drops to the floor coughing after I hit her in the throat.
I step back with the hilt of my blade resting on my left chest, and I stare at the girl as she catches her breath. Eventually, she does. She leaves the battle, as she is now eliminated. Damzire, who looks to have affection for the girl looks like he is about to burst into flames. Our eyes meet. He spits and says, “KILL THE FUCKER!” Raising his machaera toward me. I open my arms wide as if to embrace them in a hug before shouting, “MHAHAHA, I’d LIKE TO SEE YOU TRY!”
A fast mover holds his weapon behind his neck hoping to lash me hard, but Cassiun halts his attempt, and the two erupt into a flurry of parries and attacks. My group screams and charges forward. The room erupts into a cacophony of clacks and twacks as wood meets wood, followed by grunts and screams, as daemons are slapped with wooden weapons.
I strike expertly, as Plaara taught me, and I dominate. The enemies I finish with are left holding bleeding noses, broken wrists, or fractured jaws. Whoever attempts to attack me is swiftly dealt with, and a rift opens up as students fear attacking me. I can practically walk to Shaza who defends the prism like a beast possessed.
Foolish Ozemon attempts to fight the bitch and pays dearly for it. Their weapons connect in a flurry, and she dominates. She parries Ozemon’s stabbing attack, making his arm swing high into the air before spartan kicking him full in the chest with her horse leg. I swear I hear something crack. Ozemon is flung right in front of me, and he clutches his chest in pain. I’m honestly surprised he’s not dead.
I step over Ozemon, my attention now on Shaza, and hers is on me. Right now, no one else exists. It is as if everyone else disappears. Will I be penalized if I kill her? I think. I can make it look like an accident. She is pointing her machaera at me now. She rests the prism back on its podium and stands en garde. I in turn stand high guard.
As if sensing the tension between us. The twacks and clacks begin to subside. Our soldiers stand back with the machaeras still in hand waiting to see how this fight goes. “Get him Shaza!” One of her classmates shout. “Break her face!” That’s Inrissa now.
Shaza’s eyes are only on me. She looks like a shark ready to snap. “You’re going to lose, Nutarth,” she says abruptly. I have nothing to say so I meet her blood lusted gaze. We circle each other and take note of each other's strengths. She looks me up and down at least twelve times.
If she doesn’t kill me, then the anticipation of the fight would. My heart is beating against my ribcage. We circle each other again, and I realize she is scared to attack first. If I don’t start, this fight is going nowhere. I hear students from the crowd shout. “Fight! coward! Hurry up and settle this,” etc.
There is a right moment, and now is not the right time to strike. The voices of our classmates, mine and hers begin to rise, heckling us to hurry and fight, and I can see she is getting nervous, but she takes her eyes off me for one second and I attack. As a snake would spring for its prey, I lunge for Shaza. She gasps, as my saber hurtles toward her head in an overhead strike. She moves to quinctus, but unfortunately, I’m not aiming for her head. I switch from my feint to collide my machaera with her rib, and my heart races as I anticipate the sound of a crunch. Her reflexes are fast. She switches her saber into a hanging guard, barely blocking my attack. She swipes at my head hoping to fracture my jaw, but I block high and attack hoping to slam the machaera into her shoulder, but life’s not so simple. Shaza has found herself, and she goes on the offensive. She spins her saber expertly, shifting it between her hands as she swipes at me from the bottom, lunges at my throat with a thrust, and flips her saber into her off-hand holding it into a reverse grip, and almost hitting me in the throat. I retreat and take calm breaths as our eyes meet. As I look at her face and body, there is one undeniable truth, she is good. Unfortunately for her, I was trained by plaara, one of the best praecantors teachers in this domain.
“You completed each attack without so much as breaking a sweat. A commendable feat,” I say before bowing. “It is time to show you the difference in our skills.”
I dash for her now, twirling my machaera between my fingers. Shaza stands defensively, nervously stepping back while she does so. I jump and spin in the air with my machaera extended. I twirl like a tornado of pain coming for Shaza. She attempts to attack in my death twirl but her machaera is smacked aside, she tries three times, and her machaera is batted aside effortlessly. Stopping, I aim to strike her shoulder again diagonally, but she blocks it again. She is unbelievably fast.
We again attack in a flurry, and she keeps up with my attacks. We block, and strike, and block and strike aiming for openings only to find a machaera blocking that opening. I increase the frequency in which I begin to attack now, and Shaza’s ability to counter begins to dwindle, she attempts to try and hit me, but has to return to a defensive stance due to my speed.
My breathing is becoming shallow while Shaza struggles to meet my attacks. She pants like a bear while stepping back due to my unwavering assault. Soon she begins to grunt, and I find my opening, she lets her machaera fall at her side out of breath. I aim to slam my machaera into her jaw, but her opening was purposely made. She has an excellent mind for battle, her feint would’ve put any other student into a nasty predicament. She bats my saber aside hoping to collide it with my head. Like water finding a crack to escape to, I move elegantly, my arm over my head blocking the saber, and my body extends forward as if I had just finished a dance. The room is deafly silent, and Shaza’s eyes are wide in shock, but I’m not finished. I flick my saber downward, letting her saber slide off mine before exiting my elegant stance and slamming my saber into the back of Shaza’s head hard. She drops her machaera and holds the back of her head.
My comrades erupt into cheers, before chanting, “Nutarth!” I stride the short distance toward the prism. As I am going to pluck the prism from its podium, a scream of intense rage coupled with fear echoes throughout this part of the tower. I whip my head around to see Shaza with tears in her eyes and a mean-looking dagger in her right hand.
She lunges for me and shatters the podium where I once stood with her dagger in a reversed grip. Her hand is bloody. Shaza looks as if she is about to go insane.
“I’m not dying you fucking rat! I can’t DIE!!” She says, sobbing.
“This is a breach of the rules you oaf, you can’t kill a fellow student!” I retort. I can kill this girl, she’s given me a reason to. I smile.
Shaza, in the blink of an eye, dashes for me. The blade sings as it slices the air overhead and barrels toward me in her muscular hands. My Krav Maga kicks in, and I lift my right hand with an open palm to block her knife. My left arm lands at her bicep tendon and stops as if it hit a break wall before I slam my fist into her throat. She recoils at the attack but even while she still struggles for air she attacks. It takes everything in me not to kill her here and now, but I mostly hold back because they can tell if I intend to kill her by accident or not.
She goes for an underarm stab, but I hold her wrist and punch her in the face before pulling the weapon from her grasp. “You stupid, goat!” I shout, before spitting on her. “Lose with a little bit of honor,” I advise.
She falls crying her heart out. I stride toward the prism with all the swagger I can muster while catching my breath. I take the prism without any resistance. Nutarth erupts into cheers again, and I raise my hand like King Baldwin in the movie “Kingdom Of Heaven.” I grin as the room falls to silence.
“Your prism is captured Damzire. Tell your men to stop.”
He grips his weapon tightly as if he intends to do something with it. Eventually, he loosens his grip. “Drop the sabers, comrades. We’re done,” he says dropping his weapon and walking out. His classmates all drop their weapons before following behind him.