“Stop holding your sword so tightly, loosen your grip, breathe.” I looked across to the man coaching me while arrows pelted us like snowflakes in a blizzard. His eyes showed none of their earlier mirth, only a sense of knowing I was jealous of. With a nod and a look of harsh determination, I returned his gaze.
“What’s your name?” I called out. If I was to die today knowing my self-selected teacher would give me some peace of mind. The arrow fire began to calm, with volleys coming to a stop soon after.
His laugh took me off guard, but it subsided with his response. “My friends call me Clay, you may call me as such. What an odd fellow you are. I don't recognize your face from any campfire or gathering of men. One moment you look as though you'll shite your pants at passing flatulence. Then the next you're asking questions while under arrow fire. Odd indeed.” He finished with a shake of his head.
I didn't know whether to be upset or appreciative. “Well right back at you old man. How does someone look like they should be taken care of by their grandchildren, but swing a sword like a man possessed? That plus your equipment. You're not like everyone else here.” I gave him the most accusatory side-eye of my life. Peeking around my shield to see if the rain of arrows had truly stopped.
The burst of laughter didn't surprise me this time although a few men close to us gave a withering glare. “It seems we both hold secrets lad. Though your honesty is refreshing. Now prepare your feeble frame, the real battle begins now.” With that, he began to push his way toward our left flank, men stepping out of his way like water around a rock. I couldn't help but wonder how Clay processed such exceptional skill at his age. Also why he seemed so out of place among the soldiers that surrounded us? Clay's enigmatic presence, coupled with his unmatched skill and peculiar equipment. All of it fueled my curiosity further.
I ran after his gait with renewed passion. I wasn't willing to give up on my only ticket out of this hell hole. Even if it meant attaching myself to someone's war-crazed grandfather.
Finally, we arrived at the very edge of the leftmost part of our formation. The flank was a chaotic scene of clashing swords, shouts, and flying arrows. The air was thick with tension and the smell of blood. Men fought with fierce determination, their faces contorted with rage and exhaustion. The ground was littered with fallen bodies. Creating a gruesome backdrop to the ongoing battle.
I had been trying to observe as much as possible since I woke up the second time in this haunted place. It included counting how many men we had in an attempt to gauge how large a scale conflict this was. Based on a rough estimation of length and width. Our main body of men comprised 50 across and 10 deep. Not including the elusive cavalry unit that I had spotted banners of earlier.
500 men felt so small a number when compared to how large it felt when shoulder to shoulder fighting for your life. Clay tapped his shield into mine to regain my attention. “Stay focused. You are not veteran enough to strategize for anyone other than yourself in this coming fight.” He scolded me, misinterpreting my far-off look while doing mental math.
“You're right, I'll have enough on my plate keeping your creaky bones intact.” I jibed back subconsciously. He smiled while smacking his shield a little harder into mine this time.
“If your sword arm works a fraction as well as your arse of a mouth, we may just live to see another morning." For the first time during this nightmare, I cracked a smile.
Our banter stopped when from the haze, the rhythmic stomping of boots grew closer and closer. It was show time. I wish I hadn't bought a ticket to this sickening display.
Soon I could distinguish a massive line of men with shields up and weapons drawn. Their field officers set the pace for their march keeping the formation orderly. All the while our side squirmed in place, nervousness and trepidation mounting. How have we had no defensive fortifications built? Or set battle plans were beyond my understanding, even given that I had arrived here only hours ago.
"This all feels so... unnatural," I spoke out loud to myself. I never noticed Clay's eyes giving me a somber look.
I had afforded myself enough free time that morning to think. Even while defiling the dead for equipment. Attempting to piece together a collection of memories. Searching for any of before I had woken up in that field, but it was like trying to catch a breeze with a bug net. Nothing but vague blurred images. It felt like someone else's life flashed by with no real information. Frustration overcame me at the time with the lack of progress.
There was common knowledge remaining. Unfortunately, it told me that as a far-outnumbered force. We should not be standing waiting for the enemy to squash us like a bug. Yet my very own name was far from my grasp of recollection. It was infuriating beyond belief, like a sneeze that was building up with no release.
Time for more soul-searching would have to wait. With the last couple dozen yards, it began to close between both sides. Their front line seemed to be at least twice as wide and of similar depth to our own. “Don't let size discourage you." We are not here to kill them all. We only need a small gap, then we can make headway into the forest to the west. There we have a chance of freedom.” Clay's words were little more than a whisper but I heard them. All I had to do was live long enough to see if the old man was full of shit.
There was no inspiring speech from our once-seen commander this time. Only the battle cry of the enemy force and the fevered pitch of a battle underway. Luckily we were in the fourth rank so the initial surge of carnage did not reach us. Watching men impaling each other with spears and smashing away with maces. Our force sustained the majority of the casualties within the first few moments. Emboldening the assailants to keep pushing.
Soon enough our line was forced into action. I locked myself at Clay’s side and held my shield forward. Soon enough our line rushed forward in relief.
The first enemy waded towards me. I could see the rage burning in his gaze as he locked his eyes on me, seeming to smell weakness in my stance. I grit my teeth and prepare to absorb a blow to my shield as I see his mace-wielding arm rise.
A flash of steel too fast to see blinked into my vision. The next moment those rage-filled eyes stared at me from the ground. The rest of his body slumped to the blood-soaked mud like a puppet with its strings cut.
“Lesson one, do not wait for an opponent to attack if you can attack first. Strength means nothing if you cannot reach them before they reach you." Clay said nonchalantly. Whipping the blood from his blade with practiced ease. His voice carried a gravelly tone I had not heard before. I shuddered at the bodiless head rolling near my feet and at the cold demeanor of my would-be mentor.
The next few minutes were as horrifying as the past battle, if not more so. Allies fell left and right with Clay being my only bastion of hope in the onslaught of blood. His sword tip burst through a man's neck right before he would have finished a swing aimed at my chin. The arterial spray shot into my face and almost caused me to fall retching on the ground. A firm hand kept me standing.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Lesson two, never fall to the ground no matter the pain or discomfort. Your stance is your life. Lose it and the others will follow.” He let go of me quickly to fend off another probing enemy. I fought back the need to puke, wrestling with control of my body. I wanted to punch myself. I was so damn weak, pathetic. I steeled my eyes on Clay and rushed to his aid. I wouldn't be the dead weight that slowed him down God damn it.
I don't care who I was before, I'm not going to be a coward now!
Clay had raised his shield in a practiced block of his opponent's sword strike. Allowing an opening to the underarm where very little armor resided. Yet the strength of the blow seemed to surprise him and the pained grunt he released was not a good sign. Not allowing him to take advantage of the weakness.
I slapped away a long spear strike from his flank with a grunt of effort. I followed the movement with a thrust into his opponent's armpit. Spraining my wrist from poor technique. I felt the blade slipping through flesh and grating against their ribs. Once again the urge to vomit was all too compelling, but I wouldn't succumb. Pulling the blade free with a roar and smashing him with a shield bash to provide separation. I prepared myself to face the next. I didn't notice the glimmer of pride in the old man's eyes as he regained his footing. Placing himself back side-to-side with me.
“Now is the time. Keep up no matter what or die trying!” He shouted before flinging his shield into three more opponents. Each one seeking revenge for their comrades.
In a burst of light, he lifted his sword as it shone with an ethereal blue light. The men around us almost seemed to pause to take in the miracle that was happening before their very eyes. I could not afford myself that pleasure as my mind consumed itself with following in Clay's wake.
The first two-handed swing of his bastard sword cleaved a man in half from hip to hip. Continuing halfway through another poor soul. The one action defying every logical bone in my body. The shine continued to permeate his sword like a beacon. Wisps of energy seemed to waft off him like steam over boiling water.
Whatever he was doing was far beyond my understanding. Yet, I couldn't shake the feeling that it was not indefinite.
Why would he only start using it now after all?
I then heard a commanding shout as the old man continued to lay waste to the left flank of the enemy. “You cowards! Bring down the Awakened bastards!" There was a physical force behind the voice. Reminding me of that all-inspiring speech we had received from our commander. Something very strange was going on here, and that was the understatement of the century.
“Quickly to the left. No looking back now!” Clay's hoarse voice rang out. I joined him as we finally broke free of the engagement. Beelining for the forest that was the frame for the bloody canvas of battle we left behind.
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The first few branches slapping into my arms and face were more painful than I'd like to admit. The sharp twigs left a stinging sensation on my skin, leaving behind red welts and scratches. I could feel the tiny droplets of blood trickling down my arms, a painful reminder of the encounter with nature's unforgiving terrain. The relief that washed over me realizing that we were now within the confines of the dense woods brought tears to my eyes. The tears were not only a result of the physical pain but also a release of the tension and fear that had built up during the treacherous journey. The woods represented a sanctuary, a place where I could finally feel safe.
“Don't stop running now lad I have little doubt our timely retreat will be noticed and unappreciated by both sides.” Clay’s voice came out in a sort of wheeze as the blue mist that once surrounded his weapon and body had completely disappeared.
“What kind of crazy magic trick did you pull back there? What did you do? It shouldn't be possible.” I asked while chasing after him looping my shoulder under his arm to help carry some of his weight.
“You've never seen an Awakened use their power lad? Even an old one like me can do at least that much!” He laughed out while giving an appreciative nod to my helping hand. Scrunching my brows didn't help make sense of anything he was saying. Wracking my mind looking for any information about the Awakened brought me nothing but more confusion. He must have noticed my look because he matched it.
“You have heard of an Awakened before haven't you boy?” The impulse to lie and cover up my lack of knowledge almost won out, but this man had saved my life more times than I could remember in our short time together. He deserved better than that.
"I don’t remember, I don't remember anything Clay… Nothing.” My head sank after I spoke though we continued our hasty prance through the woods trying to avoid shrubbery and branches as much as possible while letting Clay lead me with quick points in the right direction.
“Well, that is concerning without a doubt. Let's make haste for now and reopen the topic when our hides are no longer on the drying rack." His reassurance was welcome though I could feel the slight stiffening of his posture as we continued.
We had been running for what felt like hours before Clay finally accepted that we couldn't continue without risking complete bodily exhaustion. I slowly lowered him onto a moss-covered stone while gasping for deep mouthfuls of air. Looking down I noticed just how pale he had grown over time. Where there had once been firm strength, it now seemed to sag and deflate with each passing second.
“Are you alright? Are you wounded anywhere?” Crouching next to him attempting to spot any seeping red spots that were not from another man's demise. He let out a pained laugh at my passionate scrutiny.
“You’re a good lad Shome. Your future from here will only continue to become a maze of questions and mysteries that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy, let alone you.” I met his warm gaze with a look of surprise.
“What do you mean? Wait… you called me Shome, is that my name? How?” My questions stopped as he held up his hand while looking up into the sky with a look of sad acceptance.
“I wish I could tell you more, but I am merely an echo of who I once was… it's been so long. So long I've waited in this sick twisted dream. Imprisoned with no hope of escape. Finally, my time has come. My duty is over.” The more he spoke the greater my confusion grew. Grabbing his shoulder I squeezed it trying to return his attention to me.
“I'm sorry… what is going on? Tell me something man, what the fuck is going on?" It felt like I was losing my mind. Panic was setting in watching the only person I thought I could trust spout nonsense. He finally looked back down at me just as the hand I had rested on his shoulder slowly sank through it as if it wasn't there. His entire being seemed to take on an ethereal shade.
“This is the beginning of many trials and tribulations you will experience in your new world Shome. A test created my powers and energies that we can never hope to understand. I had forgotten the memories taken from me until now, but now I remember. You will return, and everything will be different. It has taken it because it must give more. The world as you know it will have changed. You have done well here, and you will be rewarded for it. Strive for more. The energy must go somewhere somewhere, Shome. Never forget that. I wish you luck.” His final words came out barely over a whisper as the woods around us began to unravel like a finely woven tapestry. Every physical object undoing itself slowly whispering into strings of light flashing through more colors than I could comprehend.
I quickly looked down at my hand noticing the same occurrence. Panic coursed through my body as I began to feel consciousness leave me. Then a reassuring presence drifted across my being, feeling very similar to the weight of a hand on my shoulder before thoughts and feelings left me completely.