WHO AM I? - PART II

A warrior never reveals what causes joy or pain; it provides exploitation of opportunity by your opponent.

-ancient warrior adage

The lone mercenary cast her silver eyes downward her whispers twitched, searching for any nearby movement. Multiple targets emerged neared her.

Her eyes violently twitched back-and-forcing attempting to focus on all the opponents that appeared in her line-of-sight. The various half- dogrel, human, full dogrel, feline, demon-cat, bird, draconic, Elvin, and other sentient alien races she met and killed over the course of her deadly career stalked closer.

The soured expressions on their faces told her that none of them were going to be as friendly as preacher-guy. Quickly scanning for the most threatening of opponents, she dashed towards the largest figure she saw. Her blades tore into an older dragon. From the edge of the battle, she heard a faint voice calling out.

She pushed deeper further into the maelstrom of battle. Faces appeared to her with crystal-clear clarity.

People she once called who battle-brothers and sisters, who switched sides at a critical moment, attacked with furry. Still, other attackers were from past battles where she and her mates had outnumbered the enemy. Others she recalled were cut down while conducting a defensive retreat.

Her victories and losses didn’t mean anything at this point; she was fighting for her sanity, for a brief chance that the Ancestors would take pity on her and let her soul rest. Though she had little to offer the Ancestors, she wasn't about to give up without a fight.

Through the fog of battle, a famine figure was fighting to reach her.

“I’ve come to assist you!” she yelled.

The warrior was of the dogrel race. A shape-shifting species, like hers, but their kill-form and lower cousin forms took the shape of wolves or as the humans would say werewolves. Living all her life in the ghetto and as a mercenary, she knew never to accept a free lunch.

“I think today I’ll make the exception,” she said diving the way out a whizzing knife that flew by her face.

A demon-cat with bat-like wings and jet-black fur lunged for her face, his claws outstretched. He narrowly missed her and landed on his stomach. She sidestepped the attack and he bowled over some human guards. The demon-cat recovered to his feet, but it was too late as the newcomer dogrel chopped his head off with her razor-like claws. The feline mercenary carved out his lungs and heart with the swing of her swords.

“Dance with me,” the newcomer commanded.

She nodded to the newcomer in agreement, “Sure what do I have to lose...my life?”

The couple stood back-to-back. Their tails intertwined as they spun around swinging weapons, kicking and biting at any figures that neared them. The whirling blurring mass of furry turned final foes into wisps of smoke.

Its form of martial arts was typically reserved for theater or festivals, but according to historians, was originally conceived for fighting in mass melee combat. She remembered practicing this over and over with her troops. The combat instructors taught her that this form was to be used against weaker opponents where it was numbered against skill.

“I surprised dogrel, that you were taught the circle of death,” she said.

“I didn’t know kittens like you knew this style as well,” the newcomer said.

The last opponents faded away. The newcomer turned to look at the mercenary.

“The Ancestors sent me to help guide you through the Stygian Fields back home, follow me,” the dogrel said.

The mercenary turned and followed her.

“Sometimes when a child is lost a guide is sent out. I’m sure you noticed that not all enemies will fight you in close combat,” she continued. “We need to hurry because the last person you killed shows up is the strongest.”

“WHO AM I?!?!?!?” The voice cried out to her in her mind.

Mucking through the scrubland, she followed the dogrel. The music became fainter.

“Was my time running out? Something’s wrong. If I have one last opponent to face why isn’t Newcomer in a defensive posture?”

The mercenary switched her swords positions and she thrust them into the newcomers back. The newcomer let out a howl of pain, but before she could finish her off, the newcomer pirouetted on one foot and hit her with an unknown force.

“How dare you, you piece of half-cat trash!” the newcomer yelled at her, as green electricity arced across her hand and blue liquid oozed from her mouth.

The dogrel’s kill-form towered over her.

“She has me on endurance and might,” she thought. “I have to outmaneuver her.”

The dogrel’s hair was ash gray and bristling. The eyes were glowing yellow, and she was fidgeting on her feet.

The feline knew this look and often saw it in her comrades and foes. The cool and balanced demeanor was absent and replaced with rage. The 10-foot beast bared her dagger-like fangs.

The merc stood her ground, and she crossed her swords together forming an “X”.

“Too bad this opponent wasn’t someone from my race, at least she would give her the honor of telling her what martial art form she was going to fight in,” she thought. “Most likely she will trade blow-for-blow till she wears me down with burst damage, not good.”

The mercenary repositioned her right foot to get a better grip, than curled her tail to give her some additional agility.

“You wield magic, have fine sleek fur, and are a trained fighter. Are you of noble birth?” she asked.

The newcomer answered back in a low guttural voice, “You are never going to make it to your pathetic Ancestors, I’ll see to that!”

“Normally, I would have ran off. Then call down Heaven’s Wrath to snipe her and be done with it. If she is a full-blooded noble, a half-breed like me, stands zero chance of winning a melee fight. So I need to think my way out of this.”

“What did I do to you?” she asked as a claw swiped from the newcomer narrowly missed her throat.

The wolf disappeared and reappeared behind her. She spun in place and parried the second claw with her sword. She aimed her parry towards the dogrel’s arm, but bounced off armor. Chips of metal shrapnel broke away from her sword.

The newcomer launched herself toward the mercenary. Her claws were whirling and spinning, trying to connect with her neck. She repositioned herself for the incoming onslaught. The storm of claws she locked against her swords, stopping the raging werewolf from any further attacks.

“I don’t remember killing you,” she said.

“You did, right after you killed my Lord!” the newcomer growled back.

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The merc kneed her in the stomach and used the momentum to push her back to gain some distance between them.

“Who was your Lord? Was it that scary guy with the big axes?”

“How dare you talk as if you know him!” the newcomer shouted.

She lunged again and the merc jumped to the side. Sticking to defensive maneuvers the werewolf missed again.

“I never killed him and I don’t even remember you,” she said honestly.

“Your whole rotten race only sees the death of the body. My Lord was next in line to become the next Alpha Leader of his clan! You dishonored him by cutting off his war braid. He’s now considered dead by his own blood, pack and me, and his wife!” the newcomer spat back.

“To have your entire honor tied up over a simple haircut? That sounds stupid, not honorable,” she replied.

“You know nothing of honor! You’re nothing but poor peasant trash, you lived as an alley cat, you have no family, and no one will mourn your passing. Even your own Ancestors won’t help you. I’m going to enjoy killing you again and again so you will spend an eternity in endless repetition,” the newcomer said coldly.

The merc closed in on her, again locking swords with claws.

“You’re a common soldier who knows nothing of nobility and real honor,” the newcomer said in a growl.

The merc paused for a moment, reflecting on her life. Had she been nothing but a common soldier fighting for other’s ideas and motives? She killed whom she was told, she defended what she was told, and she took orders and gave them when it was asked of her.

Now the circumstances of her predicament were different, and she now had in her possession something she only had a few times in her life, a choice.

She was under no obligation, no contract, and no restrictions. The only thing she had left in this afterlife was her memories and her sanity. They belonged to her and no other. The only thing that held her back was…herself.

She now had the answer to the question, “Who am I?” the singing got louder and she knew what to do.

“Thank you for the help!” she said with a smile and winked at her.

The dogrel looked back at her in surprise.

The mercenary head-butted the dogrel and kicked her with her foot. Unprepared for such a amateurish attack, she stumbled back.

The newcomer chanted a few arcane words and increased in mass. Her claws grw sharper, her teeth elongated and she began glowing with a bright orange light.

“I’m more powerful than you could ever be. I am death manifested before you,” the newcomer said as her voice shook the ground.

“You’re right, you can kill me because you are more powerful and stronger, but...” The merc smiled and took an offensive stance, completely exposing several vital areas.

The newcomer paused, her jaw opened as she cocked her head to the side.

“First…you gotta catch me.” she threw both her weapons at the dogrel. “Bigger doggie makes a bigger target!”

The first sword caught her in the upper thigh; the second hit her in the arm. The weapons were not strong enough to do any real damage to the Noble born warrior battle-mage, but they did provide a long enough distraction.

Her bones cracked and popped. Legs grew shorted and the body shifted to a smaller, sleeker form. Once the merc was on all fours, she dashed away. She didn’t even bother to look back or even try to listen to see if the mad-wife-dog even pulled out additional weapons, though she assumed she would have.

The celestial singing grew louder. A chorus of a thousand Angels called to her. Behind her, the claws of the newcomer tore into the ground sending debris behind her as she narrowered the gap.

Ahead in the distance, the mercenary saw a group of felines. Some of them in full-kill form, others were in their half-human-cat form, a number of others were on all fours in their lower-cousin form.

The singing has stopped and turned to cheer. They were cheering for her! The power of their singing emboldened her and she burst forward. Behind her bitter cold inched up her tail. The tip of the newcomer’s claws was getting closer.

“I still have a few tricks up her fur,” she shouted back.

“Don’t run away. Fight me you coward, you honor-less trog!” the dogrel yelled at her.

The merc dug her back claws into the dirt and threw dirt back at the dogrel’s face. Using the momentum she leaped into the air.

The dogrel Noble ran under her. She fell she sank her claws into the shoulders and flanks of the newcomer and twisted her claws into the flesh. The dogrel yelped out in pain, and with a push, the merc jumped off her. The dogrel fell into the dirt. She picked herself up.

Her muscles and tendons were twisted and out of place. The sections of flesh she had shredded began to reconnect incorrectly.

“Good luck trying to regenerate that. Either suck up the pain or stop to re-grow it,” she thought.

The dogrel growled and continued her pursuit.

The newcomer lunged off her feet. When she landed she narrowed the gap. Again the dogrel leaped into the air, her mouth open wide as she was inches from the mercenary’s neck.

Before she could complete the attack she hovered in the air. A group of felines quickly formed a wall protecting the mercenary.

“How dare you interfere with my kill. She was mine!” the Noble dogrel yelled.

A 15-foot tall feline stepped towards the levitating dogrel. His aura was bursting with divine command and divine dominance. The mercenary knew him from his pictures; he was the first Emperor of the feline race.

The dogrel glared at him, her eyes locked on to his. He waved his hand brushing her away, as a tiger would brush off an annoying flea. She cast her eyes downward first.

“My unfortunate acquaintance, I assure you that this is no fata morgana. The quarry you so desperately seek to rend and obliterate has now been embraced by the Revered and Exalted Ancestors, you have no power here,” he said tapping his foot.

With the flick of his wrist, the dogrel began to fade from the realm she intruded upon.

“You receive a ‘no go’ at this station,” the mercenary said behind the wall of the ancient power of her Ancestors, and with that, the dogrel vanished before her eyes.

“So my child, do you know who you are?” asked the First Emperor.

“Yes I do,” she said confidently. “I am the unknown soldier. I fight battles in remote corners of the universe, for people who see me as a number. I take and give orders. Sometimes I win, sometimes I lose, and the fight is done the Unknown Soldier never gets the glory. The pages of history won’t remember my name, but I remember. I’m Anna-Heart-Ripper, one of many unknown soldiers, and I will fight for those who have no name or family to speak for them.”

Her new family surrounded and embraced her. She was home and no longer alone.