I’ve sent the weapon out for a test. The prototype, even in its unfinished state, was devastating. It performed beyond my wildest imagination. It was a small force, yes, some small mercenary group that thought they could take over Sanasira for themselves while Legosia was away. But they were wrong.
Now their bones lay crushed, their bodies ripped apart. It’s a just end for those would-be usurpers. And to any future nations who would go against us. Elneshe won’t fall to you.
-From The Last King of Elneshe’s 8th Note.
The rain let up, and that meant war continued. Rozu flashed across the battlefield, a talwar in his hands that he’d taken off of a dying soldier. He ran from company to company, taking out soldiers and demolishing their formation before a Bladeborn could come rescue them.
Then the fun began. He was caught in a sword fight with some random soldier. He couldn’t really keep up with Rozu, but the persistence with which he fought really annoyed him. He’d put his full weight behind each deflection, making it difficult for Rozu to slash at him.
Instead, the Devourer raised his talwar up and pushed. No matter what the man tried, he got pushed back. He fell to the ground and dropped his blade. He then tried to grab a nearby fire lance and fire, but Rozu cut the shaft before he could aim.
“Please…”
And without even any final words, Rozu cut open his throat and left him to die. Something slammed into his back a moment later and Rozu fell the ground. He was dragged across the grass, grunting as it scraped against his face.
He grabbed whatever it was behind him and elbowed it, tossing it aside as he slowed to a stop. Rozu stood up, the talwar now gone from his hand. He looked towards the form of the Afterburner who had come for him. The man had a maddened look about him as he started flying towards Rozu again.
Rozu popped the first thing in his pouch, which was a small piece of iron. His body gained a sheen and he became denser, the Afterburner crashing into him with a crunch. Rozu looked down to see blood on the Afterburner’s face. He then slammed him into the ground with both hands. The man went limp, but Rozu could see breathing.
He pulled out his Katar, only a moment after which he saw his mark. There he was, weaving effortlessly around two Devourers. He moved like a leaf in a breeze, infuriating Rozu just by the sight of it. Without sparing a glance for the Afterburner beneath him, Rozu ran towards Dero.
He enhanced his body, drinking in bewl at the same time. As soon as he came close, however, Dero began to run.
“Get back here!” Rozu shouted over the sounds of the battle. Fire lances fired out over him, drowning out his voice as he gave chase to the old man. Dero jumped over Afterburners ready to tackle him, spears thrown at his back and arrows falling from the sky. He dodged each and every one of the projectiles, Rozu having trouble keeping up. The other two Devourers beside him hadn’t even bothered chasing him for the kill, something Rozu was grateful for.
He chased the old man across a trebuchet, a giant rock flinging as he followed. Dero then took a turn into the forest abruptly, forcing Rozu to correct his angle. Every time he came close to catching the old man, he would be tripped up or misled.
But he wouldn’t give up so easily. He dragged his feet across the mounds and hills of the forest, around the creeks until the ground began to descend downwards. Rozu took the opportunity to jump after Dero, but the old man ducked. Rozu fell on the ground tumbling, turning himself upward as soon as he stopped.
He held out his Katar instinctually, finding Dero at the edge of it. The old man backed off and scoffed, giving Rozu time enough to catch his breath and stand up.
“I’ve finally got you, old man. And this time, I’m bringing your head back with me,” Rozu said, chuckling.
“Are you perhaps insane, boy?” Dero asked.
“The only insane one is you. You’re about three years to the grave and yet you’re fighting on the losing side? If you’ve got a death wish, just tell me.”
They began to circle each other in a small clearing. Neither side took their eyes off of the other, Rozu holding his Katar outwards. In the midst of that forest, the sounds of the fight seemed almost muted, which gave Rozu plenty of time to savour his victory.
“Losing side is subjective. A single battle lost doesn’t mean the war is forfeit, boy,” the man lectured.
“Old and stupid, then. Good combination,” Rozu replied with a grin.
“You’re the one chasing me across the battlefield. Is a single old man’s life really worth the effort?” Dero asked.
“Yup.”
Rozu then lunged towards Dero.
****
Dolish stood like a pillar among his forces. He had his hand grasped on a dagger, his Commander field shining around him and signalling him to his enemies. His honour guard surrounded him, fighting off other Bladeborn while he focused on issuing commands.
Squad 1, get your Soulweaver to set up some snares at the entrance of the forest.
Squad 2, ready the grenades for the ambush.
“VENASTIAN!” someone shouted from above him and landed. The crazed Phasgorian tried to run him through with a spear, but Dolish side stepped it. He punched the man, sending him spinning. Dolish grabbed him before he could fall, turning him away and slitting his throat.
The man gargled, falling to the ground. Dolish let him choke on his own blood, sensing the spirits of the other combatants.
Squad 1, now! He shouted into their minds, just in time for them to snare the soldiers who were sneaking through the forest. They cried out as the grenades blasted them apart, Dolish turning away from the sight.
Borne came down from the sky, wiping sweat and blood from his face.
“How are you holding up, Venastian?” Borne asked him.
Dolish was about to answer, when someone vomited beside him. He looked over to find the Afterburrner he’d fought, his nose and mouth covered in blood.
“You think you can take me out, Ravenishtani scum?” the man said.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“What’s he saying, Dolish? Translate for me,” Borne asked.
“Take him out, Borne. I’ve got other orders to give.”
Dolish turned back to the spirits in his senses, noticing something awry about them. There were seven more dots near the forest than he’d seen before. Squad 3, check out the forest near Squad 1. Report back to me on what you find.
His orders given, Dolish looked towards the flying rocks and arrows from the Phasgorian side. Though they’d ambushed them from all sides, the Phasgorians seemed to have a few more tricks to use.
“Borne, take as many free Afterburners to those trebuchets and sabotage them,” He ordered the man, who let go of his current target. The man’s life was snuffed out anyway, purple on his face. Borne took a moment to drink up some bewllan before he flew off, not even asking for clarification.
Dolish looked back down at the man who’d tried to kill him, his disfigured face and unbecoming expression, like a dead fish in water. Sighing, he knelt down and closed the man’s eyes, to give him some modicum of pride in death. Bark came down a moment later, returning from his mission.
“Did you find out what the Phasgorians were planning?” Dolish asked him.
“Nothing major, sir. They seemed to want to surround Latren for an assault, but a scout spotted them early on,” Bark replied.
“Did any of them make it past Latren and into Sanasira?”
“No, sir, I did a check of the city from above. If they did, I’m guessing those ancient defences got to them before I could,” Bark replied.
“Good work. Go support your brother in the air. I’ll give orders momentarily, so stay within range,” Dolish ordered. Bark saluted and took off into the sky again, jets flaring on his hands and feet.
****
Rozu thrust over and over, but Dero would dodge out of the way just in time. It seemed impossible for him to bend the way that he did, until Rozu realized how he had done it.
Rubber. He’s making himself stretchier with rubber. It explained all the unnatural angles, the bending, and his fear of Rozu’s blade. Rubber wouldn’t rip until something sharp hit it.
Rozu thrust again, feinting and throwing a handful of dirt into Dero’s eyes to blind him. The old man raised a hand and his robe caught the dirt. He then kicked Rozu into the tree, bark cracking under the force of the blow.
“Are you sure you want to keep doing this? What purpose does this serve to you?” Dero asked.
“It serves the purpose of shutting you up,” Rozu replied, spitting to the side and picking up his Katar once again.
“You love that weapon, don’t you? Tell me, is that your surname? Katar?” the old man asked.
“Stop asking questions and fight!” Rozu slashed at the man and cut some of his clothes. He kept slashing, creating shallow cuts across his skin with the blade. Bolstered by the progress, Rozzu went in for a heavy slash, but pain erupted from his hand.
A moment later, Dero kicked at his arm and the Katar flew from his now missing fingers. Rozu looked at the old man to find in his hand a small, but wickedly sharp dagger.
“You used the same movements too many times. It’s bad form,” Dero said, before kicking him across the face and dislocating his jaw. Rozu ate dirt and leaves as he fell, wondering how the old man had been fast enough to cut his fingers. He tried to reach his pouch again, but found the bewllan missing.
“And you should keep better care of your belongings. You didn’t even notice for how long your crystals were gone, did you?” Dero said. Blood dripped out from the cut ends of Rozu’s hands, but he still pushed himself up despite the pain.
He looked towards Dero, mind racing and wondering how long the old man would let him live. No… Not like this. Rozu realized just how big of a mistake he’d really made.
What are you made of? Rozu wanted to ask, but his voice came out mangled. The expression on the old man’s face changed upon hearing him. He stopped in his tracks and looked around, his eyes closed and his ears perked up.
“‘Assimilate, Integrate, Become.’ That is the mantra, is it not? Assimilate this lesson then, Katar. Integrate it into your world. And then become someone who doesn’t live for… this,” he said, waving around himself.
Then he kicked the young Bladeborn across the face one more time, sending his consciousness tumbling into the void.
****
Grenades fell from an airborne barrage at Dolish’s command. Soldiers engaged each other with their spears, Ravenishtanis pushing Phasgorians back in greater numbers. And Dolish stood among them all, the relay that delivered messages, the beacon that gave them hope.
It wasn’t something much talked about among Commanders themselves, for it was a subtle power. As subtle as the power of a Blue shining pillar could be, anyhow. Dolish felt not just the thoughts of the Bladeborn and soldiers around him, but their emotions as well. Each as bright and visible to him as his own field.
Fear, exhilaration, stress, hatred, madness, all of them. He couldn’t separate them from each other, but he could influence them. He touched upon the souls of his soldiers, easing their fears and concerns while enhancing their confidence, their hope. He subdued those emotions in his enemies, snuffed them out when they came into his range as he continued onwards.
Some soldiers came for him, but most would change their minds from a little mental touch and the presence of his honour guard. He didn’t much like influencing the minds of others, but in a war it was necessary. He dare not touch his own emotions, for the addiction it would bring.
Vartel had taught him not to, and he’d heard of other Commanders, despaired from what they had to partake in, who’d fallen into the same habit. He stopped walking at that moment, someone screaming over from the other side of the battlefield.
“Retreat!” he shouted, and Dolish felt the emotions of the Phasgorians change in an instant. Some of their fear expanded, but others actually felt glad at the order. It was an interesting change to note. What would a scholar do, had he the knowledge of people’s hearts that I do? What kind of understanding could he bring?
The Phasgorians began to move away, disengaging while Dolish gave his final orders.
Come back and start patching up the soldiers.
Borne, grab your brother and head back for more bewllan, we’re going to need much more of it.
He then retracted his Commander field, letting out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding. The stiffness in his shoulders felt all the more apparent now. He wasn’t built for wars like these anymore, he acknowledged to himself.
Raisha came out of a portal next to him huffing. A thin line of blood ran from her scalp, but the cut itself had healed over.
“General, we’ve got some prisoners. What should we do with them?” Raisha asked him.
The words of king Selerin echoed in his mind, against his better judgement. If you’re so interested in better understanding us, General, then ask some of your prisoners.
“Bring them to the camps,” he ordered her.
“But General, the cells are almost full,” Raisha replied.
“Still, Raisha. We need to learn more about the enemy. And this is the best way we’re going to do it,” Dolish told her. She seemed satisfied with the answer, saluting him before opening another portal into the middle of the scarred battlefield.
Dolish himself walked away, Borne and Bark watched him from the skies, while a weary Jerre kept step with him.
“Do you have bewl, Jerre?” Dolish asked the man.
“Enough for the road, I hope,” he replied.
“They’re going to bring a palanquin for me. If you want, you can join,” Dolish told him.
“Nah. These bones were made to work, not laze. Take someone else with you, if you want,” Jerre replied, the conversation falling off as they started the trek.
****
Rozu awoke in the middle of the forest at night. His cheek felt cold and wet, and he looked up to find a fawn licking him.
“Get away!” he shouted with a garbled voice, pushing it off with his mangled hand. The fawn whined and ran off into the darkness of the deep green. Rozu felt a fresh pang of pain go through his arm, the stumps of his fingers horrifying him. He looked around in that forest, black and harrowing as it was, before pulling out a bewllan crystal from his pouch.
Thankfully, in the time he’d been unconscious, the crystal had regained in shine. Enough so that Rozu could see the poor state that he was in. He grunted, righting himself up into a sitting position, before placing the crystal in front of him.
He then looked at his hand, concentrating against the pain, and sent bewl through it. An arduous process though it was, the stumps began to grow, and in a minute or so new fingers took the place of his old ones. He could still see his old digits lying on the ground nearby, almost vomiting at the sight of them.
Then, he set to the hardest part of his task. He took his swollen and dislocated jaw in his hands, strengthened his body, then snapped it back into place with a crack. Tears came out of his eyes that Rozu quieted by cycling more bewl to his injuries. In just a few moments, he was now as right as he could be.
The perks of a Bladeborn, he supposed. But the freedom from the pain only gave him a reminder of greater wrongs. Of how he’d lost those fingers of his. His rage returned in full force, his embarrassment at the unsightly display he gave to the old man.
Damnit, not again… and then Rozu shouted into the sky, birds flying off from the sheer volume and leaves shaking from the sound.