“Gods of battle and stone watch over us, spirits of my ancestors guide my hand in battle.” A soldier to my left recited with a tremble in his voice, as we looked out onto a battlefield no one currently alive had ever seen.

Our enemies were arrayed across the field to us, eight armies, all enormous, spears bristling and banners raised. I couldn’t help but feel intimidated, individually, we were all blades of grass, ready to be blown away and discarded like scraps of paper. Perspective didn’t always put one at ease.

The only consolation I could have was the one I couldn’t see. Our army outnumbered theirs, and this advantage was mitigated from their side by the one army in the centre, flying a banner that, I was told, contained a boar. The strategist, the thorn in Tarepar’s side. Towards him, I felt cold fear.

The day after the battle, burying the dead had been the first order of business after everything was under control. Their faces elicited memories of our interactions, their wounds and putrid bodies reminded me of the corpses I’d made myself, mercy kills, they’d called them, merciful for the victim.

A low rumble of voices was building, as we watched the opposing army and took our measure. Trying to prepare ourselves for the clash ahead. Our leaders watched us carefully, keeping us from losing the discipline they’d drilled over the course of several months and multiple engagements. Alida looked out, jaw set, hands tight on the grip of her spear, having managed to gain one due to a request.

The horns sounded, clearing away all sound and giving way to war cries and screams. We charged across the plain, and as I ran, I swear I heard the twang of bowstrings from behind me. I gritted my teeth, and ran faster. As an archer, I would aim for the centre, no point dropping arrows where they might not hit anyone, and at this distance, accuracy was very, very low. I ploughed ahead, to the surprised grunts of my squadmates, keeping myself just away from being winded.

The arrow rain fell, mostly behind me, and grunts of pain, along with simple silent thuds, sounded from behind. A few arrows nicked my torso, and one nicked the side of my buckler. I had deactivated the nanomachines, I needed all the endurance I could muster to survive a prolonged engagement.

I kept pushing myself until just before we clashed, and held back just enough to integrate into the infantry line. The spears of my enemy led, and I pushed them upwards with the buckler, while some of our fellows and our enemies were impaled, sometimes fatally. Beyond enemy lines I saw the banner of the general I’d dreaded, and yet, this battle lacked the surprise and ferocity I’d expected.

I sank into routine, assessing, lunging, retreating, parrying, we slowly pushed forward, only to lose some ground immediately after. It would have been frustrating, but I’d learned to tune out, fall into routine. No breaks in the line started, no routing or flagging in spirit, their eyes showed the same determination as when we started. I guess they’d been impressed upon that this would be the decider, the final measure of win or loss.

Despite this, the human body could only take one so far, but what happened was unexpected. Simultaneously, breaks in the line occurred across the front lines, both on our side and our opponents. The front line broke down, suddenly, I and a handful of people lacked the support we originally had to our sides.

It took me five seconds to break from routine, five seconds following an inflexible method in a situation that had rapidly fallen out of control. I snapped out of it just as a spear stabbed in from the side, I ducked backwards by reflex, bewildered. My allies had dropped back slightly, forming a semicircle to defend against the onslaught. I was “taking point” due to my refusal to back down.

I quickly cleared my head and revaluated, Alida stood to my left, nodding slightly as I finally pulled back, pulling the spear closer so she had more control. Loran was to my right, with two people between me. His face was grimly determined, and he swatted away two spears, parrying a blade like it was a minor annoyance. Our group was wounded to varying degrees though, the small cuts I’d gained from the arrows had been aggravated, and a new cut drew itself across my arm. Some of us had small cuts on our legs, others had stab wounds, some more severe than others.

We were being hemmed in, cut off from our main army like a cell bud, surrounded. I snarled in frustration. The army behind us had receded, pulling back into the shape of a crescent far behind us. What the heck now? I lunged forward, under the clumsy stab of an opponent, to jam my blade into his throat, settling my left hand on the pommel to twist the grip and rip the blade out his throat.

[They’re thin.] Page suddenly noted. [Putting effort into separating us left their line weaker in front of us.]

That’s an insane plan, where to go after we pierce through? They’ll end us. I thought, pulling myself together. Clarity, clarity, find a target. Bannerman? No, that’s the general’s guard isn’t it? Quite some metal in their armour, horses and a person with a commanding bearing. Yes, it had to be.

I signalled at Alida, gesturing toward the banner, her face flashed with incredulity, then acceptance. Loran balked, nearly getting speared, before snarling and rallying the rest. Our enemies looked confused as we rallied together, bunching up. As one, we pushed back suddenly, scaring our opponents behind and leaving empty space before us, then we charged forward.

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We weren’t relying on momentum and surprise, not fully. The order had been barked, and we’d feinted forward, before moving back in unison as our opponents lunged into empty air. Now as we charged we batted the spears aside, catching the sword users with our spears. I dashed forward, cutting into my enemies with quick controlled strikes. We slaughtered them, and pushed forward.

Here we’d done the simple, push past minimally trained infantry, with credit due to how Loran’s squad were experienced, even if they weren’t all from the same original squad. I hazarded a look back as we moved, our manoeuvre had disorganised them, and the rest of the army had begun to assert themselves again.

I steeled myself, the guard was going to be tough, they were likely hardened soldiers, given good training, equipment, and fed well. We had, by a small margin, a numerical advantage, but we only needed to kill one person. The guard closed ranks, forming a wall. We slowed down, forming up yet again, adrenalin coursing through our veins, we stared them down for a moment, and rushed to bring Death to the field.

The strength of their equipment was proved almost immediately, and their skill soon after. Two of my comrades died on first contact, I narrowly avoided that fate, slashing with my blade only to graze their armour. Our discipline seemed to give them pause, had they expected ill-trained rabble? The thought angered me, for no real reason, and I pushed forward to strike again.

Alida struck down the first one, though one might say that was to be expected. She slid sideways past a slash and stabbed under his arm, into his armpit. She then found the chink between the neck-guard, before sliding away like a ghost.

Despite this, we were still being cut down, Page assessed our situation to be unviable, unless some miracle occurred, we were all going to die here. I gave it thought as I traded blows. Could I run? Honestly, no, if the melee was still ongoing behind me, we’d just be swallowed under sheer numbers.

I was left… unsatisfied. Somehow death just seemed so dull, a cold hole in me. Drowning it out was the fear and anger that my companions were dying, or would die, in the next few moments. Everything’s so wrong. I gritted my teeth, later, all of it was for later.

I slapped his sword aside with the buckler, catching his wrist with my left hand. I stabbed quickly with my right as his attention was taken, sinking it into his side as I reversed my grip. I quickly jerked it out, and pulled it across his throat from right to left, moving forward, and pushed him down.

Lunging forward, the next guard growled at me, he only used one type of slash, as I learned from watching him. I ducked under it, drawing the sword against his side, slicing through leather, and a small amount of flesh, as the tip passed his waist, I stopped with my left leg, twisting my body so the sword pierced below the metal plate on his back, into his liver. I jerked it out, and the man turned to attack me, I deflected the stab and while he began to be unsteady from blood loss, stabbed from the side for his heart.

Five of the guards left, who weren’t busy taking Alida, Loran and the one veteran we had left, turned to me, and I smiled viciously. I lunged forward, whirling to start the fight. I fought them evenly for a while, managing to take two down, had to thank Alida for that later. The first sword to seriously wound me went into my right arm, I felt the muscle go limp as the blade passed through. I grunted, tripping another of the guard and using the dagger I’d drawn in place of my buckler to stab him right in the eye. Three. I thought. The next one pierced my back, passing close to my kidney, I winced, the blade being twisted inside. I shifted forward, dislodging the blade, and a light flashed as my head was pummelled by another, as a sword pierced my leg.

I fell, groaning, and turned aside, drawing my dagger into a parrying position. A sword falls to my side. I see Loran standing over me, the final guard slumping to the ground, as Alida stands triumphant over the corpse of the general. Horns sound, next to us, the enemy? Concussion and the blood loss made everything foggy, I don’t remember when I black out.

I wake in a medical tent, a strange sense of uneasiness present, just as a physician was wondering whether or not to trepan me, I stare very warily at him as he makes the suggestion to do so anyway, and declined. Loran grins at me as I wake up. “Heck of a fight you put up, though I don’t think we would have survived if the enemy hadn’t just suddenly surrendered.” He mimed a few of the movements I’d used. “Nice strikes, saw some moves I don’t think we’d learned.” I grimaced as I sat up. I’d been in a few other fights before, street fights with simple thugs, and I tell him so. Loran just grinned, and hugged me. “Those were not simple wounds, you are a very lucky person.”

Alida was apparently receiving some kind of trophy as a reward for felling the general. I limp out of the tent, Page tells me I’ll get full functionality in half a day. The enemy troops are nursing their wounds a few kilometres away, and I watch them. Strange, how quickly they surrendered, the army doesn’t look that battered. Page mentally shrugs, and I continue to limp, passing over to where Alida is. She holds a simple, but well-made sword, Loran tells me it was the general’s. It takes her a short while to notice us, before she walks over and pulls me close as well, I nearly stumble and trip. She releases me and tells me how she talked to her sister just now, grinning ear to ear. She probably didn’t know what Yinea had asked of us. “Are you better now?” She asked. I simply nodded.

I, Alida, Loran and the last veteran buried the bodies together, solemnly saying a prayer for the departed. A few people from other squads came too, paying their respects to fallen friends. I continued to stare out at the enemy army. They put me at unease, the veteran drew up beside me. “Feels wrong, doesn’t it? That general dies and suddenly all the horns sound, like they were waiting for it you know?” His eyes dance across the horizon, watching.

[The pull, it’s back.] Page said. [I can feel it now, it’s been back since you woke up.]

So it can feel it now? I knit my brows together. I could feel it as well, under the throbbing pain and aches, it pointed west. I watched as Loran and Alida started drinking nearby, toasting our fallen. Time to say goodbye then.