Chapter 8 — Weakness
Enough systems had passed for Soranth to know that the twins had been his companions for most of his life. As he had once warned them, they had passed adolescence even before he entered puberty, a fact that annoyed him for years until he finally grew to an acceptable height when he stood next to Haraldr. The younger male frequently brought up how much he regretted not being able to see over the Prince’s head anymore and their subsequent mock fights had ruined more than one of his many bedrooms.
However, an unexpected occurrence took place as the twins hit adulthood. They simply stopped growing. Many of the castle’s inhabitants envied their immortalised youthful looks and Soranth had taken the opportunity to get them back for all the times they had teased him.
At that moment, they were racing each other across the Flatlands, one of their latest haunts that the twins had introduced him to. Compared to Boulder Ridge, its hidden valleys and sharp inclines formed a perfect playground for young adults—youthful in vigour but not in mind.
They had only begun to explore the Vermillion Plains recently after the Queen finally relented to Soranth’s constant begging. However, she had tasked Chulsa to create a tinier version of himself to keep a watchful eye over them. He didn’t resent her over-protectiveness, not when Soranth was equally defensive of his mother.
Valda was seated at the crest of a rather steep hill, comfortably fletching her arrows with the stiff silver leaves of the goldenglow tree. From her position, she could easily watch the sword fight below her. Her brother was swinging a new double-sided blade he had received on their birthday as a gift from the Queen. She too had received an intricately carved bow made out of wood from the great magis mahogany tree dominating the castle’s throne room.
Soranth had presented them with a hand-carved wooden figurine. Being that he had only just picked up woodworking a few systems ago, the statues were mere unrecognisable shapes that the twins had gratefully accepted and promptly hid away. However, she had been less pleased with her brother’s thoughtful gift of a wilted pixy bine he had picked along the way. Her gift of a well-fitted black shirt spun out of the silky fur shedding of weasel-lizards (which she had of course lied about making it herself) was far superior.
He was wearing it now, the smooth material stretched across his pectoral muscles and looser around the well-defined abdomen. Soranth, on the other hand, was wearing a rather loose-fitting white shirt that pressed against his body with every darting move. They were talented swordsmen, that much was certain from the experienced lunges and impeccable footwork. Clone Chulsa hung to the back of the scene, looking far more morose than they’d ever seen the original Chulsa being.
She returned her attention to slicing the leaves into perfect halves but suddenly paused and perked up. At the bottom of the hill, Soranth had managed to slip under Haraldr’s guard, executing a flawless parry and twisting the blade right out of his hands. However, that wasn’t what had caught her attention. “Listen!” she snapped as she rose, knowing Haraldr would hear her anyway. True enough, her brother reached out and placed a warning hand on the Prince’s shoulder as both of them twisted to look up at her.
Overlooking the dusty red terrain of cracked earth, Valda’s position gave her a bird-eye view of the plains as it stretched from one side of the horizon to the other. The verdant green of Maraciel’s forests was just a tinge in the background, dimly lit by the pinpricks of starlight. In the stillness of the air, her position also afforded her a superior hearing of anything that moved within the hilly Flatlands as noise bounced off hard rock and echoed up to her.
There it was again. A thin, reedy mewling. It took a few motionless seconds to identify the origin of the sound and without a moment’s hesitation; she grabbed the end of a coil of rope attached to a grappling hook and simply leapt forward into the empty air. The rope trailed along above her, its grappling hook still securely latched around a wrinkled boulder behind her. She used the incline of the slope to take several large hops, slowing down her rapid descent.
As she neared the bottom of the hill, Valda wrapped her hands and legs around the rope, waiting patiently for the painful jolt as the rope stretched to the maximum. The sudden halt pulled the sockets of her shoulders just as she was beginning to think it would never come. She ignored the burn streaks the taut rope left on her limbs and instead stepped right off towards the direction of the cry.
The other three trailed along behind her, still confused as to what she was looking for but trusting her not to lead them in circles. They shared resigned shrugs behind her back but didn’t ask any questions when she paused at an intersection. On one side was a narrow pathway that would require them to sidle up between the tight rock walls where two monumental-sized boulders had fallen against each other. On the other side was a cratered dip with a smattering of spire-like stalagmites.
She was close enough that the choice between where to go was easy to make. Turning sideways, Valda slid her body through the narrow gap and kept her head turned to where she was heading. Her back scraped against the rough boulder as she tried to hurry along the constricting corridor. From the muttered curses and pained grunts, Valda guessed that neither Haraldr nor Soranth were able to follow her in. For some reason, the emotionally-repressed version of Chulsa didn’t seem inclined to follow her and once again, hung to the back.
The desperate cries intensified in volume until it was practically all she could hear. As she edged further inwards, Valda came to the realisation that the small hovering lights in the darkness were not the exit she had assumed. Instead, they were large unblinking eyes. The corridor tightened around her torso, tapering down to a small cave at the end. In the cave was the source of the mewling.
The creature was young, still bearing bald patches from birth but it had grown enough for intelligence to shine in its wide red pupils as stared up at her rather intimidating figure. The creature shivered, drawing in spindly forelegs that were already growing sharp spikes. The bat-like ears that were pressed flat against its skull were unlike any other, as was the weak, razor-sharp tail that lashed from side to side. What caught her attention the most however was the ring of fur around its neck that led up to a smattering of black scales. They gathered under a dangerous hooked beak that was wide open as it released another desolate cry.
“Shhh,” she hummed gently, twisting uncomfortably to lower herself down. Valda held out her hand to the hungry youngling, trusting it to not bite it right off. Carefully and slowly, she reached towards its beak so it could learn her scent and before long, she was scratching the deprived babe behind its ears. The sound of its cries changed to a deep purring that she could feel vibrating up her arm. Decisively, Valda swept her other arm around its tiny body, tenderly caressing its growing mane the whole time.
The walk out was harder than before as she had to keep her arm curled so as to not hit the walls and her back hurt from pressing against the walls the whole time. Yet, it was worth it to look up at Haraldr and Soranth’s awed faces as they studied the sleeping nagacougar in her arms. This would be the first time any of them would have seen the legendary species—having long been known to be nomads that escaped from the bunker years ago the moment they were free.
The baby was perfect. The rescue was perfectly executed. Therefore, when the growling came from across the crater, Valda wasn’t expecting it. As it turned out, the baby’s cries had attracted more than friendly parties. Clone Chulsa stiffened.
“Take the baby and run.” Haraldr held an arm out to push her back as he automatically fell into a guarded stance. She met Soranth’s eyes as he gave a slight nod—agreeing with Haraldr’s judgement. She pivoted on her heel and ran, keeping her arms as steady as possible while her own feet flew through the rising dust.
She darted down another passageway, tearing through the meandering ridges and slopes. The bow she had received for a birthday gift was still slung around her shoulder, as were several half-finished arrows. Valda scanned her surroundings before spotting an ideal hill that was easy enough to climb without using her hands. It was the perfect height, placing her feet slightly above the heads of Haraldr and Soranth.
As she crested the hill, the fight taking place below grew in volume. She had come up in a full circle, right behind the beast and in sight of Haraldr and Soranth. The creature had a familiar Doberman-like figure with a slender and elongated snout. However, the one sound that made her freeze, the sound that dogged her nightmares, was the terrifying hiss of its tail as it rattled. It was a Slyrdion hound.
The two of them looked rather battered while Clone Chulsa had somehow acquired a new set of limbs that were growing out of the sides of his thorax. She spotted a line of sharp pincers from the clone that were now embedded in the beast’s side, but it hardly seemed to slow it down.
Soranth was panting harder than Haraldr but when a familiar, mulish look settled on his face, Valda knew he’d finally devised a strategy.
“Chulsa, go hide behind that pillar,” Soranth ordered, readying himself for another strike at the beast. Haraldr was heaving against one of its sharp claws with the blade of his sword, the metal squealing as it strained from two unbending forces. “Har, I need you to let go and draw it back towards me!”
“I can’t!” The younger twin grunted, his face puffing up with herculean effort as he wrestled against a beast four times larger than him. Soranth frowned before pulling out the two daggers from the sheaths attached to his boots and hurling them right at the beast’s eyes. The hound snarled, hot saliva and gas rushing out to engulf Haraldr as it smacked the daggers away with one of its claws. However, this distraction allowed the twin to jump back, hopping several times to regain his balance.
The Prince slowly retreated, placing one foot behind the other. His sword arm was still straight out but pointed low to the ground. “Now,” he said in an undertone, “pretend we’re admitting defeat, Har.”
“What?!” his companion cried. The hound jerked back slightly at the noise before leaning forward once more, baring its fangs.
“Do it!”
Haraldr cursed but dropped back, letting his dominant arm fall limp.
Out of the corner of his mouth, Soranth continued, “When it passes right over you, I want you to shoot out with all your new pincers.”
Clone Chulsa gave no indication he had heard the Prince and for several heart-racing moments, all three of them wondered if it had simply drowned in a meridian of misery. But just as the beast crossed over yet another stalagmite, just as it leaned forward far enough to rustle their clothing with its breath, the clone attacked.
A row of sharp, needle-like limbs shot out, striking right at the Slyrdion hound’s more vulnerable underbelly. It howled, curling up against its side in an attempt to try and protect the wounded area. Soranth and Haraldr struck, weapons high and battle cries rising into the air. And yet before they could reach the shuddering flanks of the beast, a trio of silver-fletched arrows embedded itself right through the back of the skull, downing it forever.
The two warriors looked up at her with cheated expressions as Valda smugly hung the bow over her shoulder and picked up her new partner-in-crime. “I claim it as my kill,” she announced, hopping off the peak and landing on the back of the beast’s cooling corpse. They inspected it for a while, taking a good look at the first Slyrdion hound ever recorded to be killed. The young nagacougar shifted in the cradle of her arms and Valda lovingly rocked it, falling ridiculously fast for the small, helpless creature.
“So what’re you going to call him?” Haraldr said, giving a considering look at a particularly bloody fang peeking over the lip of the downed beast’s mouth.
She nuzzled the soft fur at the top of the nagacougar’s head. “Oh sweet babycakes, his fur is so soft!” she exclaimed.
Haraldr gave her a droll look. “You’re not calling him sweet babycakes.”
“Sweetie pie? Sweetheart?” The sly twist of her lips gave away how humorous she was finding her brother’s disgusted expressions.
Soranth grinned and couldn’t help but add, “Snookums? Honey bunny?”
Haraldr began to look ill, his nose and forehead curling up in revulsion. “All of those names suck!”
His twin raised her eyebrows and said sweetly, “Oh? Then I suppose I’ll call him all of it!”
----------------------------------------
There is much to be said about the irrational things mentioned during the heat of the moment. While not quite unexpected, this—Soranth felt—was perhaps one of the worst things that could have happened in the middle of a war. Sibling rivalry was not uncommon when close proximity and time worked in unison. And yet, something about this fight made the fine hair on the back of his neck stand up at an end.
Thus, Soranth was left at an utter loss as to what he could do while watching as one of his best friends disappeared into the mob while the other had a minor breakdown. Grasping at straws, he tried his best to cajole her with a course of action they could both focus on. “Let’s go after him, Valda. We’ll stop him before he does anything stupid.” He glanced at the weakening line of soldiers holding the others back.
She nodded before taking a deep breath and releasing it, her expression clearing of any crippling doubt. “Into the breach once more?”
They delved into the panicking mob who’d somehow managed to get even louder as the army of shadows first attacked. For the first few minutes of mindless shoving and bulldozing through stubborn troops, Soranth couldn’t understand the fear infecting what he knew were well-trained soldiers. Then between a sudden hush of clanking armour, he heard a familiar voice cry “You have to let us go! You can’t expect us to fight these monsters! We’re all going to die!”
The hubbub rose again, this time with more righteous fury than before. The Prince’s hands clenched at his sides and he let himself be pushed around by the ocean of soldiers now surrounding him. Cresil, his thoughts swirled with a vile contempt, you cowardly bastard. He looked at the general direction the voice had come from—right at the rear of the army where he had just come from. He had to stop him. But he also had to stop Haraldr.
Groaning, Soranth knew exactly what was expected of him as the Lord Commander of the army and yet, his heart tore. But the choice was clear, everything his mother had drilled into him from birth would allow no less. “Valda!” He called loudly, hoping she would still be able to hear him. A soldier in front of him gave the Prince a reproachful look but then seemed to realise who it was and hastily bowed.
He half-heartedly nodded before continuing his one-sided conversation, “You go on ahead, I have to deal with something.” Before him, the soldier had stepped back to give him some space and was brow-beating his comrades to do the same. Even though a large portion of the younger warriors still resented his leadership, the respect for his position as the royal Prince couldn’t be denied, especially when he was standing right in front of them.
Like a rippling lake, acknowledgement of his presence amidst them eddied outwards, settling soldiers around him. Soranth arrived at a startling realisation that aside from camp, this would be the closest he’d ever mingled with the soldiers. He eyed the nearest soldier that was still standing in front of him, a brown-coated chemycus whose head was still bent from greeting him. “Soldier!”
The royal guard snapped at attention, as did several others around him. Soranth scrutinised the soldier closely—his helmet was slightly askew from the riot with flushed tan cheeks and guilty blue eyes that refused to meet his. The Prince nodded, he’ll do. He put on his most commanding voice and addressed the soldier, “Bring Cresil to me.”
----------------------------------------
Valda prided herself on her agility and reconnaissance skills. Yet in circumstances such as these, the only authority the soldiers listened to was brute force. Something that her slim physique was simply not capable of presenting, especially in a heaving throng of single-minded warriors. Instead, she slid around their ungainly armour, dodged clumsy fists and gave the assorted weapons a wide berth.
By the time she reached halfway through the mob and Haraldr was nowhere near—who must have easily navigated to the other side with the ease of a swimmer parting waves—Valda was out of breath. Thankfully, the half closer to the attacking enemy had mostly decided to focus their attention on the oncoming rush. Closer to the frontline, the wicked noise of battle rang in her ears.
Sounds filtered through; she absently recognised the whistle of arrows and swords, the dull thud of spears against the cracked soil, the screaming of rent armour and an occasional wail. The death cries of her comrades. However, none of these were what she was after.
It was a specific sound, floating above all the others, that caught Valda’s attention. Her brother’s battle cry. His distinct, guttural roar placed him somewhere close to the wide bridge. She swallowed the taste of unease, a bitter pill that sat at the back of her throat. Bull-headed in her determination, the crimson-skinned Lieutenant braced her shoulders, lowered her head and ploughed straight towards the bridge.
She didn’t apologise when she knocked a soldier off-course nor when she interrupted a two-on-one battle against a weakening chemycus. She did, however, slide down a dagger from one of her arm sheaths and slice off the head of one of the creatures to even the battle. In the distance, her attuned senses picked up a familiar, high-pitched voice that would have usually sent her cringing.
“You shouldn’t be here!” the red-headed Lieutenant screamed.
“I have every right to be here!” It was Haraldr.
“Where’s your sister?”
“Somewhere!” he answered defiantly. Valda could almost see the distinctive tinge of red skin between shifting bodies and patches of shadow. So close.
Nearby, she spotted her beautiful pet lashing out with controlled violence, decapitating a shadow with its quick tail and piercing another right through with the deadly spikes extending from its elbow.
“Go back!” Alizar yelled out even louder, ferociously slashing her opponents with a sword that moved like quicksilver.
“NO!” her brother thundered as he whirled his favourite golden spear in an arc. The amber necklace was still gleaming at the bottom of his throat, looking out of place on the battlefield. Valda allowed the tension to bleed out of her shoulders. She was finally close enough to be able to keep an eye on her little brother and concentrate on the battle at the same time. Soranth’s delay was to be expected considering his position but at least Haraldr had one—two really—people looking over his shoulder. Even though he wouldn’t appreciate it.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
For the first time, she took a good look at their enemy. At first glance, they were a tangle of amorphous smoke with odd-shaped bodies or tentacle limbs. Then she started picking out a pattern. Some were smaller and had long ribbon appendages that could parry swords but died instantly if anything connected with their small, rounded bodies. When the creatures died, they didn’t leave a trace of their presence on the ground but merely sank down, twisting and pulling into a small pinprick on the ground before vanishing entirely.
Other creatures were middle-sized—these, she reasoned, were the warriors while the smaller ones were cannon fodder. The large warriors resembled down-sized versions of Uzza the Giant, complete with six arms and stocky legs. However, unlike the blue-skinned behemoth, they were completely and entirely black which made for a disturbing sight whenever one of them roared. A loud thud suddenly broke her out of her examination of the battles around her. Then she realised that the thud was only the first one she could hear in a series of slow thumps that increased in volume.
They were footsteps.
She looked up. There it was, slowly lumbering across the unbreakable bridge and completely blocking the path from a horde of smaller impatient shadows. Rising on two steady legs, the monstrous black demon loomed over its fellow scattered shadows. Coarse black fur grew shaggy at a low, rotund belly and stretched across large, hunched shoulders. The beast’s arms were as bulky as its legs and extended into wrinkly paws with lethal, curved claws. A wide jaw tapered into a narrow muzzle, rounded ears extending from the back of its skull.
Thin lips were drawn back in a snarl, revealing a forbidding grin of sharpened incisors and canines. Unlike the compact power in Slyrdion hounds’ build, this creature was brute force, a powerhouse of savage destruction. Every hulking step shuddered the earth; every crushing swing of its paws sent its own fellow shadows flying. Calling it a rampage would be an overstatement. It was more of an eventual, certain death.
Valda couldn’t but feel shaken as she, alongside her stupefied comrades, watched the savage beast stamp its way through hordes of smaller shadows, approaching closer and closer. Its indiscernible eyes glinted in the starlight as it roved over the chaotic formations of their army. Then, it met hers. Valda didn’t have the slightest inkling of how she knew where it was looking with its lack of pupils except for the curdling fear in her gut. Its pernicious glare soldered the soles of her feet into the chalky ground, drowning all the sounds of battle as blood roared through her veins.
The infernal army boasted creatures Valda had never seen before but if she hesitated to take a guess, she would have identified the ebony beast as a bear. A humongous, rapacious bear, taller than anything she’d ever seen before. The bear’s gaze shifted towards the right, unravelling the knotted bundle of nerves clogging her chest. She greedily sucked in the air she’d simply forgotten to breathe.
Valda’s mind raced. There was no feasible way to defeat the beast before it reached them. There was no feasible way to defeat it after reaching them. Perhaps, she twisted her arm to pull an arrow from the quiver slung over her back but was interrupted by a low snarl. She looked down.
It was the smallest of the enemies but from her observations, its size was not an accurate indication of its strength. The creature flared a flexible hood that enveloped the top of its blob-shaped body, an opaque membrane tinctured by a network of black strands. The tentacles protruded from raw nubs with several lower ones helping it move in awkward, scurrying motions.
There was no head or face to look at. There was no neck she could simply chop off nor a heart she could aim for. Hm, she gave it a searching look, this could be harder than I thought. Her opponent lashed out first with a testing strike, a quick uppercut with a flattened appendage. Valda realised, as her rapier met the limb in a clash of sparks, that the arms doubled as weapons.
She cursed as an array of long inky limbs rose in the air, surrounding the creature like a halo. Even with its lack of a mouth or lips, she could have sworn it smirked at her. The tentacles darted forward.
----------------------------------------
He didn’t have to wait long before the ex-lieutenant was dragged before him, struggling in the grip of the stone-faced soldier he had enlisted help from. The surrounding soldiers gave them a wide berth and opened an empty circle around the Prince. They seemed to settle into an uneasy semblance of order around him. Nervous shifting and recalcitrant murmurs started up at the edges of his awareness but most were pacified into a respectful silence under his calm gaze.
Under the watchful gaze of countless of his people, Soranth knew that his body language had to convey everything he himself didn’t. He had widened his legs in a relaxed stance, leaning back confidently with crossed arms. The expression on his face was cool but aware, and the soldiers seemed to recognise the gravity of his deliberate actions. They stilled as Cresil was dragged along by his fellow chemycus, paying close attention to Soranth and the scowling soldier.
Soranth felt the heat of their gazes and allowed it to fuel his anger. He struck quick and hot, “What do you think you’re doing out there?”
The hubbub of the distant battle faded away as the world narrowed to the circle of soldiers with the Prince and soldier at its centre. Cresil glowered, his zircon eyes lit like blue flames. “Saving our lives.”
“And who,” the Prince said as he cocked his head to the side before taking a step forward, “gave you the authority to do so?”
The pressured soldier blinked. His black tail swished restlessly behind him. “No one did.” Both he and Soranth were aware that he couldn’t bring his uncle, the General, into this or the Prince would be forced to question the General’s capabilities. Then he straightened his back and raised his sharp nose, looking down on the diminutive Prince compared to him. “There was no need to. I was just doing my duty as a servant of Maraciel.”
Then he bowed low, one arm wrapped around his armoured abdomen and stretched the other out in a slightly mocking manner. Soranth couldn’t stop the strict lines forming as his mouth tightened nor the narrowing of his eyes. Cresil was trying to undermine the Prince’s authority by goading him.
Instead, Soranth allowed his hands to hang by his sides and began to prowl around Cresil rather predatorily. “I have to say I... admire your tenacity in the face of danger.” He gestured at the far-flung battlefront. “But explain to me this, what exactly is this duty you speak so highly of?”
Cresil gaped, losing his cool for a few seconds as he twisted around, hooves clopping as he tried to keep the Prince in sight. “I... to serve you of course,” he bowed his head humbly.
“Then,” Soranth questioned as he stopped behind Cresil, giving the surrounding soldiers a puzzled look. “Who do the Generals follow?”
“You, of course.”
Soranth had to stifle his smirk when he heard the slight dread in the soldier’s last two words. He shot a flitting look back at Cresil, pleased to take note of the tight lines of his shoulders and the clenched fists by the soldier’s side. “So if you serve me and the Generals follow me, then shouldn’t you serve the Generals too?”
As he was still looking out at the surrounding soldiers, Soranth was in the perfect position to see several mouths gape open and eyes avert in shame. Cresil didn’t reply, leaving the Prince no choice but to prompt him again as he continued to stalk around the furious chemycus. “Well?”
“Yeees,” the word was dragged out painfully from between clenched teeth.
“Tell me, soldier,” Soranth said silkily. Cresil stiffened at the touch of a cool blade at his neck and he twisted incrementally to meet the burning viridian eyes. Soranth steadily held his hand upwards, ignoring the uncomfortable ache in his arms as he stretched to reach Cresil’s superior height. “Why you ignored the Generals even after they repeatedly ordered you to head into battle?”
Cresil allowed a snarl to pull at his lips but didn’t offer an answer. He was ever mindful of the fatal sword ready to behead him at a wrong word. No royal has ever ordered an execution before but there was always a first time.
Soranth’s hand tightened around the hilt of his sword and he opened his mouth to demand an explanation but was interrupted by a piercing, desperate yell from the battlefront.
“MAX!”
----------------------------------------
Tentacles, one at a time, were easy for Valda to defend against even though they had the tendency to change shape or size at any given moment. When multiplied by ten, her job became infinitely harder. Other warriors carrying spears were at an advantage, they merely had to whip the long weapon in a circle and stab right down its vulnerable body. Of course, she had chosen to master the art of shooting arrows rather than throwing spears, something that she was quickly coming to regret.
In a single instant, Valda had to use her blade to deflect at least half of the stabbing appendages while her feet danced out of the way of longer whip-like limbs. The other half she had to slide her body around, ducking and weaving through loops and wider swipes. Occasionally, she’d leap to the side to catch her breath for a moment before it was on top of her once again, relentlessly lashing out at her. She already bore several injuries—physical evidence of her carelessness—and a particularly deep gash scored across her left arm when she missed a sneaky attack from under her guard.
Valda panted and took a step back, not realising that there was a body right behind her. She tripped backwards, slamming her spine into the hard ground with a whump as breath escaped her lungs. Panicking, she propped herself up on her elbows and began to crawl back from the advancing creature only to be stopped by a large black shadow that fell across her lap.
It was her darling, her nagacougar. She breathed a sigh of relief and allowed herself a moment of rest to massage her bruised tailbone. Her pet was growling, the low rumbling vibrating all the way from its chest and rolling out in threatening waves. Her assailant shifted back slightly on uncertain tentacles, unsure of its new opponent’s measure. Unlike Valda herself, her pet was uniquely suited to single, devastating strikes with its deadly tail and happy to take advantage of it.
The nagacougar lowered to the ground, allowing its rapier thin tail to whip over its head and right through the creature’s network of appendages. Her opponent shuddered, a small trembling that was echoed by its halo of obsidian limbs, before pulling all of its appendages tight against its body so it resembled an oblong featureless shape. Then it sank into the ground, pulling and sucking in the black mass into a small speck on the disturbed red terrain. The black spot disappeared before their eyes, leaving them staring at unblemished soil.
She absently reached out and stroked her pet’s mane to calm its tense body, already updating the profile in her mind that the creatures curiously died after a single strike. While it certainly made it easier to kill, it meant that they still had to be able to last long enough to actually get behind its defence. Valda wrapped her arms around her baby and pulled herself up using it as leverage.
An alarmed cry caught her attention and her eyes automatically searched for Haraldr, spotting him facing off against the larger enemy. Alone. With his spear several feet away. She cursed and darted forward, the nagacougar loping easily and melding into her shadow. Between her and her brother was the faun Lieutenant, Rizoel, who she faintly recognised. He too was battling against a miniature giant—miniature compared to Uzza of course but it still towered a good few feet above the tallest chemycus—and didn’t seem to be winning.
In fact, he seemed to be losing pretty badly. Rizoel had both his swords out and was slightly bent at the knees, puffing and panting. One arm was extended before him, the blade still pointed at the giant while the other was tucked close to his body, shaking so badly it trembled loosely in his grip. Valda hid a sigh. His arm was most likely dislocated or worse, broken.
She shot a look beyond the battle in front of her; Haraldr had managed to pull his sword out and was straining against a fist as large as his head. She cursed the little voice in the back of her mind and decided that her brother should be able to hold his own for a few minutes. With that, she promptly shelved all thoughts of him away and scrutinised her new opponent. It looked just like the other enemies: large, black and dangerous.
Unfortunately for Rizoel, the giant seemed to be immune to the quick strikes of his flashing blades. The skilled Lieutenant’s whole body was shaking from the effort of holding his injured arm up and his face turned steadily redder. His sweat-matted brown curls were plastered against his neck but the determined light in his dark eyes never receded. Against her will, Valda found herself impressed with the stoic young faun and sidled up beside him, drawing her sword in a clean, snappy motion.
The Lieutenant spared her a quick glance and the utter relief in his expression solidified Valda’s decision. She turned back to the beast, finally able to dissect it up close. “What are its weaknesses?” It also occurred to her that this was the perfect opportunity to give the faun more experience.
“There aren’t any,” he said grimly, shaking droplets of sweat with his denial. The giant leaned forward, raising both of its uppermost limbs while holding the other four close to its body.
“There’s always a weakness.” She darted forward instead of back as Rizoel had done, quick as she ducked under a crushing fist and tucked her sword back into its scabbard. The middle hands shot out at her but she used the momentum of her run to help her twist around and sling a hook attached to her belt over its uppermost arms.
Unlike Soranth and Haraldr, she hadn’t been satisfied with the standard scabbard and dagger sheaths. It led her to adding as many implements as possible, including an upgraded version of her old, ungainly grappling hook. This version was slimmer and had a forked edge that helped it catch and clasp onto something. She used it now to quickly scramble up the top arms, still light on her feet as she freed the hook and ran up along its limbs.
The giant’s head moved slowly to look at her and she wisely used that time to swing the hook clockwise several times before throwing it out around the beast’s neck. Its other hand reacted quickly and rose to smack her down but just as it descended on her with a great rush of wind, the hook finally caught on something. Valda didn’t even have time to give it a testing pull and simply threw herself over its shoulders, swinging around in an arc behind its back as the rope snapped tight.
As she did so, Valda noticed a discoloured patch of filmy black right at the back of its neck but didn’t have time to give it a closer look. She landed on the giant’s other shoulder while it was still turned the other way as it tried to look for her. There was a single moment’s break where she looked up and met Rizoel’s awe-filled eyes but it was quickly broken when the beast realised what she’d done and roared. The deafening roar blasted right by her ears as she’d been standing right by its head and sent her stumbling off its shoulder, clutching her bleeding ears.
The freefall didn’t last long as her faithful pet once again saved the day, gently catching her on a warm back and carefully carrying her back to the worried Rizoel. Valda managed to straighten herself but that was the extent of it. Her ringing ears sent lighting strikes of pain right through her skull and barely allowed her to think through the blurring pain.
“V—da! —Al—! Val—!”
Faintly, she realised the faun was shaking her shoulders with his good arm, unknowing that behind him, the giant was raising four stalwart arms in retribution. A blur of red interrupted her vision and for a second, Valda thought a fire had started. But it was Alizar, in all her glory, who’d managed to slide between them long enough to catch the giant’s attention before darting around to the other side.
She struggled to tell them the information she had learned but with her uncooperative eardrums and swimming vision, words were hard to form on ungainly lips. She tried again. “N—ck.”
“What?” he asked softly, leaning nearer to bring his ear close to her mouth.
She wet her chapped lips. Her tongue felt large and bumbling but it was sufficient. “Neck!” The Lieutenant froze for a second and Valda vaguely recalled his inexperience at his role. Perhaps he doesn’t know what to do?
Yet, the young faun didn’t disappoint her. He whirled around—but not after setting her down carefully—and yelled at his fellow Lieutenant. “The neck! Hit the neck!” His voice, unintended though it was, rolled across the battlefield and surrounding soldiers seemed to pick it up. Alizar nodded and pointed up with her left hand. Rizoel faltered for a second, shooting a look at his broken arm. A heartbeat later, he was pulling out his sword with his good arm and nodded once at her.
Valda watched through half-lidded eyes as Rizoel promptly disappeared from the giant’s vision and Alizar stepped right in front of it, authoritatively stamping the butt of her golden spear into the ground. The spear was most definitely eye-catching and similar to Haraldr’s in style except instead of four spokes, hers had five. Four formed a box while a single, longer spike was right in the centre.
Then she roared and charged at the giant, hooves thundering in the billowing red dust. Their opponent lowered itself slightly as four arms reached out once more, intent on crushing her between its palms. So focused was the giant that it didn’t notice a single faun leaping off its stumpy knees onto the curved spine of its lowered back. It didn’t feel the determined gait of a young soldier running up its back towards the vulnerable neck.
So fixated was the giant that it didn’t feel the sharp blade of a single sword slicing through the thinner skin below its skull nor the vicious snarl on the Lieutenant’s face. The giant dissolved in a miasma of ochre liquid and Valda watched once more with a clearing vision as it disappeared into a tiny pinprick in the ground. Finally seeing the first giant defeated, the soldiers of Maraciel army cheered and threw themselves back into the battle with an unmatched fury.
The ringing in her ears finally died into an acceptable hum, allowing Valda to faintly hear the fight raging around her. Her eyes shot straight to Haraldr once more and noticed with a fierce burst of pride as he singlehandedly destroyed his adversary after seeing their performance.
Most likely inspired by the Prince’s new toy, the returning boomerang, Haraldr had tossed his dagger high in the air before retreating slightly, taunting the giant with occasional jabs of his sword. Similar to their own opponent, the giant had bent low to better attack Haraldr with its upper limbs and forgotten about the shiny dagger hurtling back to Earth at breakneck speed.
Her brother roared in victory as the giant disintegrated. It was a loud raucous yell that caught the attention of the surrounding soldiers on the battlefield and unfortunately, the interest of one very deadly beast. The bear.
It had just crossed the bridge, freeing it up for a whole ocean of shadow enemies to flood their side of the plains. The monstrous beast dropped to all fours in an achingly slow motion, throwing everyone off their feet when its forepaws eventually slammed into the ground. Small craters formed where it stood and the subsequent cloud of dust made nearby soldiers choke and squeeze their eyes shut.
By the time they had recovered and looked up, the beast was already upon them with its midnight coat and sharp claws. The brute strength of one of its swipes was enough to completely twist several soldiers’ heads around to an unnatural angle. The crack of broken bones echoed through the faltering battlefield as soldiers once again suffered under the oppressing hopelessness of doom.
The bear was headed right at Haraldr, who had engaged with the smaller, multi-armed shadows. Valda stood up unsteadily, still swaying on her feet as she tried to scream a warning. Rizoel had rushed to Valda’s aid while Alizar had seen the same thing as she had and was rushing towards his side. The beast stumped closer—Haraldr’s proximity to the bridge meant that the slow-moving monstrosity didn’t have to go far.
It carelessly stamped on Haraldr’s opponent, squeezing the life out of its fellow comrade without hesitation. It shook out its fur coat, sharp bristles settling back into shape when it stilled and yawned at Haraldr’s face. The yawn said many things: that it had a mouth filled with razor-sharp teeth, that its breath stank as it rolled over them and that it found him to be boring and not worth its attention. If Valda had been thinking clearer, she would have wondered at the beast’s intelligence but all she could think of then was Har won’t be happy with that.
True enough, her brother seemed to take exceptional anger at the latter implication and tensed in a familiar stance. Valda felt a rush of dread. Haraldr yelled his guttural battle cry and charged, golden spear held aloft. The bear reached out lightning quick with a paw—the same paw that had crushed the skulls of talented chemyci and fauns only seconds ago. Haraldr pulled his weight around desperately to come to a screeching halt and tried to duck backwards away from the beast’s outstretched claw.
It was too late. The demon was close enough that he wouldn’t be able to escape in time. Valda screamed alongside others when her brother’s body lifted off the ground and spun in the air, landing several feet away from the bear. She tried to stumble forward but Rizoel was holding her arms tightly and muttering something that she wasn’t paying attention to.
It felt as if the entire world had stopped to look at Haraldr as he lay face-down on the ground—even the bear turned to give him a look, still holding out its paw. Then Valda suddenly realised that entangled between its sharp claws was a familiar, amber necklace. A burst of hope shot through her and she couldn’t help the sigh of relief as her brother stirred. The beast had caught his necklace instead, sending Haraldr flying as the thick gold chain was ripped off his neck.
There was no denying it—they were weaker when separated. Valda’s thoughts progressively spiralled in a self-incriminating circle: she shouldn’t have yelled at her brother, she should have stopped him earlier, they should have waited for Soranth. It seemed like the endless pile of bad decisions had finally racked up the consequences and they were suffering for it. Haraldr finally managed to get back up but the beast’s attention didn’t waver once.
Her whole body tensed once more as the bear crossed a foreleg over the other as it turned to face her brother. The surrounding soldiers had long retreated into a safe cocoon of shields back with the rest of the army, leaving only the four Lieutenants standing in the open. Alizar was still sprinting to reach Haraldr’s side—having stopped in horror when the beast had first attacked—while Valda and Rizoel were near where the first giant had been killed. The minor shadows—minor compared to the weapon of mass destruction before them—had gone after the soldiers and started slamming on metal shields.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The bear raised the same paw up. The scene would have looked exactly the same as before except this time, Haraldr lacked his spear and only had his sword to defend himself. He held it up now, his arms up at chest height while his knees were bent and apart in a fight stance. As the deadly claws descended, swinging all the way from bulky shoulders, Alizar charged up at it with her golden spear.
She looked incredibly fierce with her long red hair streaming behind her, bright cherry lips and narrowed eyes. Her grip on the spear was steady as she drew up towards the side of the beast that still had its paw raised. It didn’t look back at her. It didn’t even acknowledge her. It simply turned the colossal breadth of its shoulders slightly to allow it more freedom of movement before lashing out, striking backwards with its upraised paw.
Valda didn’t quite realise what had happened until she heard the dull thud of a body landing on the ground. In a split second, the mammoth-sized beast had ripped the spear out of her hands and slapped her head around so painfully hard that it sent the Lieutenant flying in the air.
Her choked gasp hung in the air for several seconds as all the three remaining Lieutenants on the battlefield stared at Alizar’s twisted neck in disbelief. Then like the breaking of a dam, Haraldr loosed a raw, desperate howl and charged towards the apathetic beast. With a bone-deep certainty, Valda knew at that moment that her brother would lose his life today. She screamed the name of the only person she thought could save him.
“MAX!”