Nathaniel Ark
Everything has gone to shit of late, forests are expanding, animal movements have changed; people are awakening to powers all over. Lyana Grayson's whole family, the Swamp Grayson's they're called. A servant family under Urmdandger lording exiled to the unpleasant Tsetse Swamp can control swamp plants with strange powers that have been the talk of the town.
The wilds have been becoming more dangerous of late as well, nothing good can come of this. A Hunter troop was wiped out last Urmber by firefoxes it's reported. I wild rumour, since when have firefoxes been able to take out a troop? Yet nowadays its not so far fetched a story.
*Sigh. Hunting has been sporadic and much more dangerous, the old soldier Quincy lost his leg while fishing not event a ten-day ago. Everything has been just ridiculous, not to mention the tremors and strange weather that’s been persistent. You'd swear the cult criers are onto something with their crazy doom, gloom and coming of the gods predictions.
"The gods have mercy on us!" A voice shouts out in the quad.
"Shut that idiot up!"
[Zap],
[Cri],
[Zoo]; the idiot spasms and whimpers sizzling smoke from the various spells. The serious gloom of the news of another city fallen settles heavy on all our shoulders.
"Maybe the crier heard it wrong?" Someone suggests tentatively, "I mean, Puza has the Planar Pyramid Shield, I mean..." the young private looks around the room but gets no reassurance from anyone.
"Pipe down kid, we know what you're saying," Staff is shaking his head. "Royal Messengers have not been know to be wrong, and that's the third group passing through the city with the same news."
Royal Messenger's are how the king keeps an eye on all the city-states and outer territories, they cannot be barred from any meeting or home and they're never wrong about news sent to the criers.
All the Messengers to pass through Helia these passed days have cried out openly about the invasion from the west. The news surprisingly keeping the kingdom lords from cannibalising each other in these strange opportunistic times. Fear maybe, at least the Royal and State Army hasn't been politicised from doing it's job.
''More wars to be fought,'' I mumble silently.
''What was that?'' I answer the nosey drunkard next to me with a stink eye that has him going elsewhere for war gossip.
News has been alarming coming in from the refugees Swasa's Unit has been charged with guarding, all of it completely fantastical but the refugees are here and they look like they've be through it. No question about that so at least some of the horrors they speak of must be somewhat true. No refugees from Puza have come yet, the city a defensive stronghold that has never been breached. I doubt many there even thought to start packing until they were in the shit.
No one there could have known better, the west of Rabat has always been considered one of the safer frontiers of the Kingdom. Before today that is.
''Well boys and girls if Puza has really fallen the rest of Western Rabat best prepare itself for an invasion,'' some woman says raising and chugging her cup down. The sword on her hip and mail on her torso looks well cared for, the two men with her are hard faced but stoic.
''Better take care how you look at that one, she aynt about taking a sour look from you in silence,'' the tavern keeper says placing a cup before me.
A permanent scowl is plastered on my face at the thought of a war, at the thought of having to stand in another shield-wall or palisade and fight other men with my life staked on the line. i sip from the cup to sour my mouth preventing me from starting a fight I'll end up regretting.
To the western border of this corner of Rabat is the Surefire Plain. Uninteresting land of scattered nomadic tribes, some short underground dwellers, Twaregians and the vast unknown of inhospitable desert. To have such an unprecedented attack on the kingdom come from that direction has been a shock that had the armies mobilising in record time in all the territories of Rabat.
Helia especially, being the next westernmost territory after Ahara. So far conscription and training are going smoothly since the Invasion Cry two moons back by the first Messengers. I can't believe I'm even thinking it about those nosey bastards but we're lucky to have them give such early warning.
The last war fought from the west is the reason Rabat only stops so far and goes no further in that direction, the Plains were called the Wastes after the war with the Twaregian Alliance. A blasted land of blood and death neither Rabat nor the Twaregians gained anything but grief from.
The recent refugees speak of naked giants demolishing everything in their paths. Never before seen or heard of giants impervious to spells. It's ridiculous, but they had to have left their homes some without even taking a coat for good reason.
Puza was one of the stronger defended cities in Ahara State.
"Helia stands ready," Buck affirms raising his ale.
"Aye,"
"Aye,"
My voice joins the rest in rot acknowledgement with my cup of spirits raised high.
We're ready and the rest of the kingdom is mobilizing behind Helia and Korint, us two territories now in the way of these invaders coming further inward.
Helia stands ready.
*
[HHAAA]!
[HHHAAAAAAA]!
The shouts of our war-cries shakes the air between us and our approaching foes.
The invaders come as they steadily have been these past several ten-days having sacked every hamlet, village and town in their path through Ahara.
They don't even flinch at the cackling bite of the war-cry channelling clawing at them. Peoples using no powers but all standing over 2m tall with powerful bodies unnaturally resilient to both magical and physical damage so far.
HHAAA!
HHHHAAAAA!
[DU.DU.DU.DU], weapons bang on shields at the signal prompt through my chest insignia.
The atmosphere visibly distorts with each concussive echo on our shields held steady across the ranks, the banging charging the Repulse on the shields. A Repulse powerful enough to stop a charging centaur in its tracks.
We’re here to stop them now, over 300 000 warriors assembled from every part of the western States still free from the scourge of invaders. The battle lines have been drawn, the barriers and traps set, the mages looking regal as they set and prime their planar spells. The invaders coming steadily onward without trick or tactic, just intimidating overwhelming force.
Nervous excitement fills me to see so many career warriors of the kingdom assembled at the same place. I’ve been a soldier my whole life, been in several battles, a veteran of the Seven Year Border Conflict. But never in my life have I seen the army come out in such force with even the nobles and ruling class about adding their strength under the direction of the Generals. For once it seemed politics actually worked to the betterment of regular people.
‘’Let's send these scum back from whence they came!’’
HAAAA!
YEAAAAH!
I tune out the speech already as psyched as I’ve ever been especially with the Buff the clerics have bestowed upon us all. Even the cults have been stirred to action for once, I flex bulging muscles filled with energy. I feel invincible under the magic of the Blessings.
The invaders are humanoid and tall, but we've faced taller; they wear dark loincloth wound around their groins carrying clubs, maces; a variety of bludgeoning implements. Out muscling and out massing any single warrior easily, but we outnumber and out armour them. There are no reports of even rudimentary spells in any of their attacks from the scouts and Messengers so far.
We will crush them flat, they stand absolutely no chance.
They charge forward in large undisguised numbers running headlong with no visible cohesion. The ground trembling under the rush of the billowing savages, no order in their movement. Each running forward out-pacing each other.
[TLLLLAAAAAA...!]
The visceral crunch of over a thousand men crashing into each other with teeth crushing force is not something I hear often but I hear it multiple times today in pulses within split-seconds of each other as the wave of men from half the men in two States crash against the invading force of giant madmen.
The lines gnash into each other in a mist of blood; screams, shock and pained wails of surprise fill the air as the giant savages smash into our lines decimating the fore-guards in a suicidal rush.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Unbelievably strong madmen!
Blood, limbs and people fly overhead from those taking the first brunt. I brace myself, [dluu...]!
I feel my teeth rattle as shield knocks on armour and another at my back keeping me steady on the 4th line deep stopping their charge cold at the 2nd and 3rd lines.
There is a primal moment of silent after that first collision in which I see clearly and feel deeply yet everything is a muted buzz. Many are already dead on the battlefield and its clear to all with eyes we are overmatched in raw power by that first exchange. Savage looks of glee are unnatural, no one should look eager to be at a place like this.
Especially not after just witnessing that carnage, with the scent of blood still hanging heavy in the air.
Ripping, screeching, screaming, squirming metal bends as Frogcatcher Jivs is folded in half by a muscular adonis of a man two and a half metres tall with hands as wide as pans. With veins bulging, lips quivering Jivs’ waist brace protests the unnatural geometry being forcefully induced.
[KRTRAAA], bones all along his spine pop scrunching sharply as what was once a man folds like a cloth. My line is now at 3nd giving me a clear view of the disastrous fate about to befall me as well.
[Bang], something bouncing off my overhead shielding pulls me blinking out of my dazed stupor of fear. Stilling jittery nerves I push my weight on Forantha’s back as the soldier ahead of him takes impact on his shield pushing all three of us back a step. Recovering quickly, we retaliate the giants taking wounds on naked flesh but heed them not, bashing aside spears, denting shields, smashing plates with vicious swings of their crude weapons decimating the defensive lines.
Heedless of wounds they spread out amongst us, having broken into our ranks 4 lines deep in places, gleefully wielding black and bloody maces to terrible effect on the battlefield. Knocking on shields, knocking on armour as they wiggle themselves in the mists of the ranks in places. I've never seen suck a suicidal charge in my life!
"Keep tight formation!"
Immediately I feel squeezed on either side as we push ahead in perfect unison. Our power is in our formations, my insignia directs and we move as one pushing them back.
[Aaargh]
Stabbing, shoving, stabbing, shield up; I make sure my shied is up!
[Tlraaphh] A red mist sprays into the air as whoever was to my left falls to a mace that opened his head like overripe fruit. Shield up! I keep my shield up stabbing wrestling sweating through the onslaught of giants.
Ha... Ha... Ha... Ha..., breathe, keep breathing. I grunt falling from an impact on my shield. I'm dragged back through the bloody mud between stomping feet by an invisible arm to be yanked back to my feet unceremoniously on the third line of defence. Thank the gods for the psionic units.
I rest as much as I can on a bloody battlefield, taking the time to look about and despair at the state of our lines sagging dangerously on multiple areas. I push on the one in front of me as I’m pushed from behind, my arms laden after only a few minutes at the front, has it only been minutes?
Too soon I find myself on the second line helping those in front of me stay upright by shoving forward keeping my shield overhead as had been drilled into me since childhood.
Ha... Ha... Ha..., breathing, I’m exhausted yet its my turn at the front next.
[Kre-tlaa-] I urinate in my pants as the blood geysers out from where a head used to sit on the guy I was behind. Before me stands a towering figure in loincloth and sandals, wearing nothing else but the spiked mace on his belt and blood. The mace is clean I notice as time slows with approaching death, by mechanical rot my shield comes up.
A fist comes down, [dong]!
*
I wake with a start, sticky wet and in pain but I’m alive. ‘’I’m alive?’’
The splash next to me has me turning my head; someone is walking down the line of prostate figures on the muddy ground pouring a pale of water on each of us. My arm throbs with every heartbeat causing a hot spike to shoot to my head and back to my fingers, but I’m alive.
‘’On your feet soldier! No time to be slacking about here,’’ an upside-down head yells.
‘[Yeee]’, I’m yanked to my feet by the collar spinning around to find an unfamiliar Sergeant pointing me towards the crackles, explosions and screams sounding to my left.
Yea, I’m not going back there. I hold up my sagging left arm with my right with the most pitiful expression I can conjure on my face, ‘’my arm- it’s broken.’’ My voice cracks reminding me how parched I am. ‘’I need- a- healer,’’ I say eyeing the conjured defensive wall to my right which the healing tents are yearningly.
[Humph], ‘’the healers have more urgent business.’’
What could be more urgent than a soldier with a broken arm in the middle of a battle I don’t find out. I’m thrust up, injected with some numbing agent and a shield is strapped to my now splinted left arm. All in a matter of minutes, joining over a dozen sorry excuses for soldiers assembled together waiting for instructions on which position to help defend next.
Ha.. ha... ha..., keep breathing Nathaniel, shield up, always shield up dam it. I stab when I see a gap but mostly I’m just trying my best to stay alive. We are pushed back; ever we are pushed back though I heard we outnumber the invaders 3 to 1 yet we are pushed back.
Powers of all sorts crackle overhead, scorching, cutting raining all manner of hell down on the huge brutes but they take it, pushing us ever backwards they take it. Some eventually even burning out from directly enduring spells. Still, the fuckers are impossibly tough, and not just against magic either.
I stab, block block block, thrust miss, block block, thrust swatted, block block, thrust stab. Backwards we are ever pushed backwards by the large unfeeling savages, bare-skinned grim-faced savages that tower head and shoulders over most of us wearing nothing but loincloth, sandals and blood.
Who comes to battle naked as they are? Savages through and through, mad savages at that but they break our lines on multiple places, bash through armoured knights I've admired my whole life, unbelievably pushing the combined armies of western Rabat backwards.
*
I wake with a start reaching for my sword, I stop as I hear no screams and explosions. Moaning, hushed whispers, the wind rustling leaves, crackling fire but no fighting. With a grunt, I’m up taking in my surroundings with my sword comfortingly in hand.
Numerous fires light up the night, we must be in the Kama Woods but we can’t have been pushed so far back after a single battle, could we? A bowl of something is shoved into my chest by a passing person, I flinch my sword coming up.
‘’Be at ease,’’ someone says illuminating his face with some spell before again shrouding it in darkness.
‘’What happened?’’
‘’We lost half our men,’’ someone says.
‘’I heard we lost Korint,’’
‘’Aye, news came, it’s said they took the city in two days without even using siege spells, can you believe that?’’ A lost voice say.
Silent shifting about the fire, I sip on my soup broth grateful that it’s warm, grateful that I’m alive.
‘’I heard the beastmen of the Klamara are also under attack, there is talk of an alliance.’’
‘’That will never happen, we’ve been killing each other for centuries.’’
Uncomfortable silence, groans and moans.
I honestly don’t even know how I got here, I’m still in my armour as useless as it is. Sword close by, my left arm completely purple and hot but the fingers still follow commands.
Stomach full I let my heavy lids drag me towards sleep.
*
I wake up shivering, I’m hot, I’m burning all over. Shit someone cast a spell on me! I’m burning up, it hurts but I can move reaching for my sword, why am I sweating? [Eeewaah!] Pain, so much pain, [kraggggg] blood fills my mouth, [traaa] my spine bends unnaturally!
What the fuck!?
[Shhh..] ‘’Be easy be easy, you’re Awakening.’’ The man with the shrouding ability says looking at me placatingly; I know no more.
*
[Ohhh...],
I feel like I went on a ten-day-long bender.
[Mhmm]
I groan getting up on unsteady feet, what the fuck happened? I feel like an over-used rag but my arm is no longer broken.
‘’Congratulations, you’re an Awakened Lord.’’ Marx Krama says tossing me a blood-stained insignia.
‘’Sarge?’’ Sergeant Marx is not known for his sense of humour.
‘’It comes with a promotion, report for orders at the Eastern Command tent.’’ He disappears as is his habit, rustling leaves marking his passage. What the fuck? I look at the insignia that probably means my death.
Ha... ha... ha... My breathing is steady, much easier to breathe than its ever been actually, I’m not winded at all. My shield is up, ever my shield is up.
[HAAA]!
Slash slash defend, [dong] the shield rings rattling me to my core from a single punch but I take it. The giant is distracted by another soldier wielding a spear, I should really get a spear. I turn to help defend another clump of soldiers hacking slashing and stabbing into a giant wielding a mace to devastate all about. My strike, perfect and true leaves an ugly wound cutting across half its shoulder to its arm but the fucker doesn't even slag in its attacks. Why does it take so much effort to kill these things?
I'm blown through the air taking a full underarm swing on my shield. The landing is breathtaking, not in the good way. I'm up ready to defend a backhand that swats me sideways.
I turn as another sends a defender flying overhead, this one barehanded. Punching and kicking its way through two, three, four defenders, shallow wounds all over its body leaking red tears like open vaginas and I'm in its way.
[Dong], I go down hard. Fuck, that smarts, but again a shield saved my life. I scramble sideways rolling as the fucker stomps but it doesn’t pursue instead focusing on the others around it. I hate melees, I wish I’d never Awakened again so I could stay with the proper shield walls. But I’m much more durable at least, maybe I’ll survive this.
[Bbubububu] the ground undulates in a wave casting me and others into the air, thankfully I land on my feet. The giants fall back to some silent signal fast, they move faster than any people of two legs should, some even running. Fear grips at the behaviour ‘cause they were clearly pushing us back.
‘’Fall back!’’
‘’Fall back!’’
The call comes and I heed it quickly, running back fast making sure I’m not a straggler when whatever is coming comes.
The dust clears and there in the middle of the blood field stand five figures, large like the rest of them with thick muscles displayed by their open robes.
Besides the fact they have clothes, I see nothing different with these five but they must be some sort of generals or powerhouses to elicit such response from the savage army.
I keep shuffling back even as the line readjusts buttressed by mages conjuring defensive barriers, pit traps and such creating a new front line as quickly as it can be formed.
‘’Humans! For a time we will advance no further. We will hold all we’ve taken from you and all remaining within our new borders will be taken as slaves. In a month we will again advance to take the rest of your lands.’’
The voice covers the entire battlefield, speaking blandly as if boredly declaring a decree. Waving dismissively at the warriors we've been fighting for four days of blood now coweing away. Some soldiers slump in imidiate exhaustion where they stand at the words, others jeering out their anger, no one moves to attack.
‘’Who is it that speaks to us?’’ Lord Commando Captain Corolla’s voice booms amplified by a sound spell. ‘’You came here and attacked without word or provocation, what is it that you seek here?’’
‘’You have the honour of being address by Mbali Hawu of the Bantu-jin. What we seek is to take until everything in this little world is taken, you are being assessed about your potential future usefulness as slave warriors,’’ the being curls its lips as though disgusted. ''Consider it an honour.''
I slump at the words exhausted, suddenly so exhausted by the prospect of the upcoming war.
* *
Interlude
‘’Hayi! Sifuna abantwana bethu!’’
‘’Hamba yiya kumyeni wakho utsho abantwana bayaduka pha endle, hamba!’’ The women howl at the elder’s youngest wife chasing her and her slaves away from the watering stream of cleansing.
The woman scurries away insessed by the treatment. ‘’Ndazi ntoni mna ngabantwana babo? Bebengeke bathetha kanje kuYintsakazi okanye kuVunqu qha bazidelelelamna.’’ The elder’s wife grumbles to herself funning already on her way to her husband to report.
The slaves keep their heads down and their ears open, all of them fair-skinned foreigners to these lands. No brand or gease needed to mark them as their own skin betrays their station making escape impossible from current fates.
There is a light in their eyes and questions in their minds though at the news they’ve just received. The other women are chasing their mistress away to go report their sons missing to the elder. But there is usually no danger to the Alderman in the Alderman Foothills, could it be that they are to be rescued? Could the disappearances be used to their advantage?
They sign an entire conversation with each other silently walking behind the fuming mistress plotting their escape with twisting fingers behind their backs.