Ru Wai tamed his mustache back in its well trimmed place.
“Should we go to meet my troublesome offspring?” He chuckled under that thick black mustache.
“We Shall.”
The two Patriarchs could not help but stare at Ru Shi, subjected to an incessant interrogator questions. Argea, had somehow managed to get down from her room on the first floor, her wheelchair nowhere to be seen, the stuffy excitement she spoke with bore down on Ru Shi.
“You’re so Gorgeous! Who are you? Doesn’t Matter! How many piercings do you have?! Are those clothes comfortable to wear? They’re so soft! And your skin is so dark and glossy! What’s your name?”
Atlas had no intentions of helping in any way as he laughed loudly a small distance away. A shiver traveled straight to his brain as the dead cold stare of a predator snapped to him. Argea raised a single brow.
“You’re laughing?”
“… Who’s laughing? I am not! No, you see nothing. OH! FATHER! You’re back with our guests! How fortunate!” Atlas scampered off the stairs and run straight for his father. He stood in front of the two Patriarchs with a slack smile. Half a head taller than the two much older men, he bent down, presented a hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Atlas Laertis, and that wonderful person right there, is Argea Laerti, my little cousin.”
“I see, it seems that her interest in my daughter is fierce. I would not dare ruin their fun, My wife had taught me that lesson well, during her time with our daughters.” Ru Wai said and the hair on his mustache stood on end. Flashing a comb from within the folds of his clothes he showed the pure meaning of elegance as he straightened his mighty mustache.
“Is your wife not here with you?” Atlas asked.
“We had thought this would be an emergency situation. Right, Shi’er?”
“Dad! Don’t worry about it. Smile, Smile.” Ru Shi rushed over to her father, leaving a pouting Argea behind that was soon found and grabbed out of the stairs by a scrambling Xanthip. She was whisked back to the house, legs dangling hopelessly in the air.
~~~~~~~~~~~
The Ru Clan pair stood near their healing family member inside the largest room the Laertis Clan held. “What kind of healing salve did you use? And was covering the man in bandages necessary?”
“I didn’t give him a salve. I pounded a quick pill out and fed it to him with little water, I scattered some on the wound and then tied him up like a present.”
“What did you use for the Pill? Without a cauldron at that.” Patriarch Ru tested.
“Sweet and Spicy grasses, you know, those we’ve matched to our own recipes, and then that odorless jell.”
“You mean the Fire-Jade Grass and the Silk Water Lily, as well as the Bodhidharma Frog Slime… We’ve gone over their names, a hundred times at least.” He scolded, a single hair at the edge of his mustache standing in protest.
“It’s fine. I don’t need silly names to identify them. All I need is my nose.”
Ru Wai flipped his attitude the next moment. “Hm~ My daughter is talented as always.”
“Not as much as my sister was.” Ru Shi’s face went dark, Ru Wai bristled at the mention and a gloom spread in the pause of their conversation. Atlas stared at his father at the sudden change.
Then came the shrill shriek of a wooden horn. It enveloped the clan ground. It spoke of danger and screamed of emergency. The Ru warriors stood still in shock as men and women dropped their business and rushed to the northern wall. People were already there, weapons being passed along to every capable hand.
A front was formed behind and atop the walls, archers and slingers, strong men with rabble, spears and swords, knives and even meat cleavers stood right behind the gates. Some wooden shields handed to those with the most muscle, they knelt at the front and braced in sweaty, anticipating silence.
Ru Shi did not stand still, she unfurled her bow, called on her people and rushed atop the walls.
Atlas stood, now, He had grabbed the binoculars from his Uncle, Carius, and watched an emerging horde of wild boars tested their traps. Which were already dud and useless, having been filled with animals throughout the day. “Their smart, First the Crow, now the Pigs. And how did the spike traps get filled with bodies.”
“They had been coming every since the party of outsiders came, but they had seemed weird, not following a trail of blood. But instead…”
“Running away from something.” Atlas finished the thought as he caught the fiery glimpse of eyes red like rubies in the shadows of the forest past the clearing.
The stomped on the dirt, pushed aside young trees, and gulped down shrubs in one fell swoop. Hot steamy breaths escaped their stretched nostrils, deep growls came from their throats along with drool. Their fur shone a dark orange, muddied with dirt and blood. While from their heads and down their backs light gray hair, coarse and tough, grew thickly.
The two Patriarchs stood with the men, organizing their warriors into teams. “The Spirit of Five!” Reminded Patriarch Laertis of the ancient mortal tactic. Five men fight as one.
It was then, As the beast leading this growing mass of boars nearing the size of man, that Atlas turned his attention away from the binoculars. He saw Argea approaching the battle. She had seemingly rushed all the way to the front lines with Aunt Xanthip rushing after her. Clasped between her legs and waist Argea was carrying a fine spear belonging to the Clan. One of its heirlooms. Atlas rushed to her from the tower, he shouted at her. “What are you doing here?! It’s dangerous!!” He took the spear out of her arms, stopping her in her tracks.
“Turn back! You even brought Aunt Xanthip all the way to the walls!” He lectured. Concern overcoming him.
“Atlas?” It was Carius that spoke up. His long hair tied in a ponytail rose to the skies in shivering fright. Reminiscent of a steel rebar.
“Don’t worry too much Atlas. I know we can do this! The Laertis Clan is strong after all! I only brought you a weapon that Aunt Xanthip was going to deliver anyway! I did it faster though. I can be useful too you know.” Argea grumbled by the end.
“Atlas? Everyone!?” Carius dropped his binoculars, they tumbled down the watchtower. Carius turned around, and screamed with all his might. “GET AWAY FROM THE WALLS!” His voice cracked as he cried.
‘Shit. Damned Fates.’ Atlas gritted his teeth, spun her wheelchair around and pushed her forward. “Thank you so much, Argea! You did great! Now rush back to Aunt Xanthip to inform her of the successful completion of your mission. This spear will prove very useful, for sure!” Atlas placated. Still focusing only on Argea’s reseeding back.
“BRACE!” The order belted from his father brought Atlas back to reality. He turned around, he saw Carius screaming for him to back away atop the wooden tower, he lurched back, too late to matter. The wall shattered. Torn open as if it was paper, as a massive hulking muscle bound beast with bright red fur and hair made out of flames pierced its two massive ivory tusks through it. It carried its force, with Atlas right in its path. His eyes widened in shock as they locked onto the blinding fires that were the beasts eyes. The Spirit Beast; named so by his ancestors, brought its head to the ground and then up, great white tusks ready to be washed in blood, it aimed to skewer him whole. Atlas acted, bringing the ashy silver spear in front of his body, he jumped up, still to late to dodge. Hiss elbows met the force and nearly buckled, yet through clenched jaws he took the blow and was thrown through the air, through walls and fences and yards, bouncing on the ground in a heap until he could move no more under the rabble of his own creation.
The Flaming Spirit Boar held its head high and flared its nostrils in a fiery breath. It basked in its own undisputed majesty as behind it its herd pushed and stepped on each other to rush through the gap it had made.
The King of the Boars locked eyes with the two Patriarchs. Both on opposite sides of the battlefield. It would not move in yet.
From atop the walls arrow fire punctured the King’s flesh but it paid no heed, but its swarm grew further incensed, heads bashed into the wall, their skulls crushed by their own force, yet the concrete crumbled more with every hit.
The real bulk of the horde though was upon the warriors of the Laertis Clan.
The Shields did their best, heels digging into the ground, they withstood the first charge, catching the momentum, only a few trickled past only to be skewered. Yet the second wave would not be so easy. Men were pushed aside, thrown to the air, or lost under orange hides and mud filled hooves as the boars overflowed.
“Father!” Shouted a young spear bearer. His eyes wide, screams caught on his throat. He stumbled side from his father’s push and watched as he was impaled by dirt caked tusks. They punctured straight through him. Even as bile and vomit of blood splattered out of his mouth, the old warriors screamed. “FOUL BEAST!” He punctured its flesh as it lifted him in with a painful squeal, its eye bursting in a deluge of blood.
The whole clan stared in shock as the man was tossed from the hurting boar into the Cimarron of boars. The cracks of his bones and his shouts as he was stomped and chomped apart spread horror to the hearts of men.
“How dare you!” The son with eyes as red as dawn screamed. He threw himself at the boar whose tusks were wet with his father’s blood. He latched onto its face and dug his spear into its only good eye. He hollered in glee as he felt the soft membranes give, he grew ecstatic at the shrill squeal of the pig under his crotch, and manic as he moved and pushed and pulled his weapons within the cavity of its skull. “Agh! Agh! AAAH!”
Those screams of madness were the last the young man would utter as the King finally found its chance. With blistering pace it had arrived, lording over the young human. With a fiery glare at the two Patriarchs it passed its judgment. It chomped the young mans head, clean off. The rest of the teenagers body fell to the ground like a wet towel, it splashed on the dirt before the boars frenzied over it. They tore it apart with every means possible and with flaring nostrils and burning eyes they charged with even greater vigor at the rapidly retreating men and women of the Clan.
“XANTHIP” Archeseus called. “Lead the men! Kite the Beasts! KILL THEM ALL!” He bellowed and his words finally ignited the fire within. A black raging heat burst from within his people. The indignation, the disgust, the fear, it all turned to rage. It was Xanthip’s job to direct it.
The two Patriarchs flew over the horde and stood to meet the Boar of flames, an existence not of the mortal coil, one that had already taken in the Qi of the World.
“Come, overgrown pest!” Archeseus taunted and the Flaming Boar charged. Archeseus with spear black like the night and Ru Wai with bow of metal and tendon drawn tightly faced off against the truck sized behemoth. Its flames reached high and burned bright as ever.