Ajax Silvermane

“Spread out. Archers, stay behind. Laras and Oron, with me.” With the grace of and slightly less noise than a wildcat nine shadows moved through the snow covered, eerily silent forest like a gentle breeze. I smelled the cold on the air, heard the sad creaking of branches, bending under their white load, but my gaze never wavered from the small, curling trail of smoke, slithering through the trees, the only trace that one of our farmyards was hidden behind the canopy. A family of seven should have lived here, nourishing and harvesting the mighty oaks to deliver precious timbers to the court, but I didn’t expect to find them alive. Unless I was sorely mistaken only corpses were waiting for us behind the curtain of powdered snow and dark, frozen bark.

Half an hour ago we had felt… a hiccup in the weave, the likes of which usually accompanied a powerful ritual. With the first battle against the fey already fought we had been sent to patrol the borders to the north of our capital, far away from the well maintained roads that connected our larger cities. At first I had thought it to be a waste of time, but apparently I had been mistaken. I couldn’t yet smell the stench of their magic, but I knew, deep in my bones, that it was already around us, like a hidden miasma I felt but couldn’t see.

“Oron, transform,” I ordered. “If we’re attacked, you will run. Don’t look back. Report to the garrison. The king needs to know that the shield has already been breached. They’re here.” The quiet, dark mountain of an elf only threw me a disgusted glance.

“With all due respect, sir, no. I’d never make it out of the woods. If anyone should play the messenger it should be you. Even the wind can’t catch you when you really try.” A shiver ran down his spine and his already impressive girth more than doubled. While dark, matted fur covered his face and his mouth transformed into the gaping maw of a gargantuan black bear he rumbled: “but I will change my skin, if you don’t mind. Are they here?” In most units this kind of insubordination would be met which either the whip or even an execution, but after more than 150 years of service discipline had gone to shit. Those weren’t my soldiers, they were family.

“You can bet your hairy ass they are,” the last distinguishable words I’d utter for a while. Heat singed my veins, my bones elongated and a second later I was on all fours, warily shaking out my long, silver mane. The freezing air suddenly felt warm and cozy against my bulk, as the strength of a lion set my blood ablaze. With the whispers of torn silk I extended my claws and tasted the air, my tail slowly moving from left to right.

Fire and ash, the faintest hints of baked bread and lavender incense but most dominantly blood. Freshly spilled blood and the traces of elven magic, gone like a dream. A growl built in my throat but I immediately suppressed the sound. No need to alarm our hosts.

My mind reached out to Reva, the only other telepath in our unit. “The locals are dead, the fey are probably still here. Set up a circle, we will go in. Funnel your strength to Laras or me, as soon as we encounter the enemy. If it looks like we’re losing, you will seal the circle and run for the hills. Someone has to reach the Marshall.”

“Understood. Four minutes. Take care, Ajax.” I didn’t bother with a reply. We had known each other for literal centuries. The best thing I could do, we all could do, was getting out of here in one piece with the bodies of our brethren on our shoulders. I wouldn’t leave them to fertilise those abominable plants the fey had brought.

I raised my paw, four claws unsheathed. Oron hunkered down, his unbelievable bulk of over five metres capable of surprisingly nimble movements. With a shrug he turned himself into a breathing wall, sheltering Laras from sight. In contrast to us he couldn’t transform, his family hadn’t had the resources when it had been time for his consecration, but he was the best spellslinger I knew. While our comrades would etch their runes into the ice, he’d prepare his signature enchantment, a glowing armour, almost like a second skin, that would keep us alive against a few powerful spells. The magic of the fey was, unfortunately, strong enough to overcome the ethereal protection, but we’d gain a few moments, enough time to show them what an enraged, mythical animal with the mind of an elf could do.

While he worked, his mana condensing into a steady stream around us, he whispered: “that’s the third time we’ve come across our butchered kin. Why do you think they’re still here, this time?” Because the fey didn’t use rituals for fun and games and the forest was much too quiet. If they had been gone, the birds would have sung again. While my throat was capable of devouring men and beasts alike, I couldn’t form words coherently and was reduced to crude gestures. Still, I got my message across well enough. Laras swallowed dryly, the stream of mana thickening while he added an extra layer of protection.

“Understood. All set.” We didn’t have to wait for much longer until the lonely cry of a star owl sounded from the thicket. The runes were ready.

With barely a sound I jumped to my feet as Laras carefully climbed onto Oron, a long, pearly white spear manifesting in his right hand while his left clasped a small, ruby talisman to his chest. I bent my legs, gathered my strength and with a single jump scaled the closest tree. The iron hard wood groaned under my weight but held firm, allowing me to peek over the greenery. Behind a thicket of leafs the top of a small cottage, erected on the branches of a massive oak tree, were just about visible, the chimney still smoking. It would have seemed peaceful, homely if it hadn’t been for the dark droplets of blood marring the front porch. Normally I wouldn’t have been able to see them over the distance but my cat eyes and my sense of smell made them stick out like a sore thumb. I closed my eyes and held my breath, listening for anything out of the ordinary but aside from the distant, mournful caw of a winter crow the forest laid in silence, almost as if it had sustained a wound.

With another jump I quickly soared over the gaping abyss and landed in front of a sturdy door, swinging sadly on its hinges, but otherwise there was no reaction. Maybe they had left after all? Should I try to get through the door? Probably not. Who knew what surprises awaited me on the other side. Instead I gathered my breath and let out a deafening roar, powerful enough to blow the fresh snow off the closest trees. That should get their attention and also…

With barely a moment to spare I managed to leap backwards, just as a several tons of muscle and spite thundered against the trunk. The tree trembled and creaked but it withstood the first onslaught. The second one not so much. With the sound of exploding rocks the thick, almost black core wood broke and eighty metres of crushing weight tumbled towards the forest floor, obliterating everything in its path. I pressed my eyes shut against the rain of splinters while I listened for a sign of movement or a surprised exclamation, but silence was my only reward. What was going on? Had they spread out? No, the others would have found them, or at the very least put up a…

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A long drawn, bloodcurdling scream made me clench my fangs, and when a desperate image, accompanied by Reva’s final plea entered my mind, I bit threw my tongue. She was on her knees, a dark, fuzzy creature, reminiscent of a gnarly tree, towering in front of her. Spear like protrusions covered its body and with an almost serene sigh, it drove a whole bunch of them downwards and through Reva’s torso and neck. Her heart was pierced in an instant and our link fizzled out, her spirit no longer tethered to this world. Just like that, one of my friends had died.

Another roar cleaved through the silent cold, this time filled with grief and anger. Without a second’s hesitation I whirled around, ghostly, almost translucent streams of mana accumulating around my maw. A blinding flash of light thundered through the frozen air, leaving behind nothing but charred debris and smouldering holes where it had cut through the towering trees. Oron didn’t yet know what had happened but my actions were all the incentive he needed. Like mayhem unleashed he barrelled forward, blindly forging a way towards the target of my magic.

On his back Laras was chanting softly, occasional discharges around the enraged bear the only sign he was working his arts against whatever magic the fey had conjured. An angry hiss, like an agitated swarm of wasps, surrounded us as a solitary streak of black struck through the pale sky. The arrow multiplied, turning into a deadly blanket that covered the entire section of the forest. With a low growl I protected my eyes, the enchanted tips not much of a threat to my silvery hide. Once the volley had passed I took another deep breath and this time I could smell them. Over a dozen fey lurked in the shadows, the magic they were channeling the only reason why I could finally sense them. Most of them were busy keeping the cresting tides of power at bay, but the rest were on the hunt, moving through the forest like dreams of a bygone age, chasing my people. The faint, almost intangible scent of blood turned into a suffocating blanket as another one died, unable to even utter a curse. There had been a reason why I had told most of our unit to remain behind, their prowess in an actual fight much less pronounced than their ability to manipulate the weave, and the lifeless bastards were taking full advantage of my mistake. While Oron, Laras and I had been distracted they had struck and now we were too far away to help immediately. Or so they must have thought.

Trunks exploded, trees toppled and whenever our strength might have been insufficient, a crimson red blast from Laras talisman burned us a path to reach our comrades within seconds. Just as the despicable coward withdrew its needle sharp appendages from the bloodied corpse of my friend, Oron’s jaws closed around his body and, with a resounding crack, snapped it in two. Meanwhile I vanished, my own spell bending the light around me to make me almost invisible. A moment later I appeared behind another creature, ethereal and graceful with a humanoid shape and long, flowing hair, to tear her head off with a single bite. The acrid, almost poisonous taste of fey blood filled my mouth and I took care to spit it out immediately. Sylleth breathed a thank you, her face white as she laid on her back, staring at the spot where a second before her doom had lurked. The resigned, accepting expression on her features fuelled the burning anger in my veins and without pause I allowed my senses to spread out and guide me to my next victim. The fey were powerful and I didn’t want to find out what would happen, if their magic reached its conclusion. We had to kill them all before they could complete the spell.

Somewhere to my right a breathing, black thunderstorm tore through wood and flesh alike, leaving behind broken branches and rendered limbs, his maw caked in green, blue and red blood, while his rider had turned into a shimmering apparition of pure mana, bolts of energy and more complicated spells thundering from his outstretched arms like raindrops in a storm. The circle my friends had etched into the ground activated and my vision shifted, the outlines of our enemies appearing before my inner eye like a map. Eight, eight of them were left. With a little luck we might just get out of this one with only two casualties.

A red haze drowned out my vision as I allowed my instincts to take over, a bitter, metallic taste filled my throat as I tore through strange, almost plantlike bodies, a dull ache invaded my limbs as poisonous darts and weak spells peppered my hide but I never stopped. Through the lofty canopies, between the towering trunks we clashed and battled and every bite, every sweep of my paw saved another life and condemned one of our foes to oblivion. Oron’s rage became louder when he misjudged and thundered past an animalistic fey, a panther with a wooden crown, only to whirl around and find one of our friends on the ground, pale and bleeding, his hands clutched to a jagged cut on his stomach, his entrails marring the white snow like wriggling, crimson snakes. With astounding speed for a creature of his size he threw himself backwards and simple squashed the murderer underneath his bulk, drops of a teal liquid squirting left and right. Four, four were left.

The edges of the circle glowed ominously through the tree line, arcane glyphs rising into the air as the pressure of an unfinished spell bore down on us. A heartbeat later two of the fey, those who hadn’t managed to erect a barrier in time, were incinerated on the spot, their ashes drifting away on a cruel, biting breeze. Two more to go and they weren’t far away but neither was the completion of their spell. I could feel it in my bones, almost like the chilly breath of death on my neck. Side by side Oron and I tore through the thicket, claws extended, blood red tongues lolling form gaping maws. It was a race, either we managed to reach them quickly enough, or…

We got to them, the fragile neck of a fey, a cross between a beautiful boy and a swan, breaking under the force of my paw. Lifeless, azure eyes stared at me with a look of surprise unseeingly before he fell, a mute sigh escaping his torn lips. His brother joined him on the death bed of crushed leaves and broken bodies, their emerald blood dripping form the lacerations Oron and I had inflicted. Breathing heavily we stood side by side as silence returned to the forest, broke only by the suppressed whimpers of the wounded and the quiet flow of multicoloured liquids as they nurtured the ground.

I shivered, never before had I lost a soldier in battle and now three were dead. Despite the tasks we still had to accomplished I bowed my head, a soft whine escaping my clenched jaws. With an Herculean effort I swallowed my bitterness, my anger, and took a deep, calming breath, only to freeze where I stood. Ozone, thick and heavy like it had been poured over me drowned out every other smell. Panicked I looked around, searching, praying for an explanation but as my wandering gaze fell upon the destroyed cottage, almost buried underneath the fallen tree, I despaired.

Tendrils of power coursed through the air, fuelled by the vanishing life of the slain fey and the murdered elves alike. Within a second it coalesced into a shining, greenish portal, behind which I could see fields of crimson grass, a green sky and a purple moon, almost entirely obscured by an armoured figure, reaching out to grasp the edges of the gateway. With an elegant, slithering movement it came through, clad in perfectly white, translucent metal. A cruel smile appeared on a painfully perfect face, the gem like eyes narrowed as they took in the scene of carnage and bloodshed and with a flourish a stream of mana, the likes of which I had never felt before, flowed from its form, anchoring the portal and freezing us all in place. Its gaze fell upon me and with utter disregard for anything else it took one graceful step after the other, slowly coming closer.

“What an exuberant welcome,” a cold, masculine voice reached my ears. “You should feel honoured, elf, not many lower races have ever seen one of the rulers of the fey realms. Consider it my parting gift to you. You’ve fought valiantly but in vain. This war has been over before it even began. Now rest in the knowledge that your kin will join you shorty. If there really is an afterlife for vermin like you, it’s going to become crowded soon.” He extended his hand, a blinding pain tore through my chest and the last thing I saw before I collapsed was my still beating heart, hovering between us, sprinkling the powdered ground with steaming, crimson drops.