Chapter 17 - Invasion

The Sun marched forth, his dark cloaked honor guard following him. High pitched cries burst from the forest. They weren't screams of fear or chaos. They were the sounds of a soul rending war cry. An all too familiar war cry. Mosaic winged creatures soared into the sky. Scantily clad beast women —each over seven feet tall— came charging out of the forest. Their eyes glowed bright. Brighter than the light of flames reflected within them. Each of their steps were akin to a distant rumbling of thunder. Each one threatening to split the ground asunder. "Run!" The Sun cried. "Meet them and slay them! Send these devils back to whatever hole they crawled out from!"

The dauntless honor guard rallied behind their lord but were soon stopped in their tracks, as was The Sun himself. The beast women halted their charge. They stomped their feet. The very ground quaked with tremors, cracking in several spots. Burning Flames! They truly can split the ground!

The winged women descended to the ground. They were few. They stretched out their hands and thick roots tore out of the soil, each one like the tentacles of an overgrown octopus. They lashed out at the honor guard, sending each flying. Armor bent. Joints twisted. Bones were broken. Three roots descended towards The Sun, each one more than capable of splitting his skull in two. His hands flashed. The Thousand Sun Sword went through the roots like a hot knife through butter. "Butter knife…" he muttered, "maybe it does work for a weapon. I wonder where it is."

He had no time to ponder on such thoughts. The beastly women were charging straight at him. He grit his teeth and plunged his blade into the dirt. The hilt grew hot in his hands as the gold of the blade brightened in color. A brilliant light burst forth as if silent lightning had been called. The high pitched war cries had halted. The darkspawn women clutched their eyes in pain. "Now! Kill them while they're blind!" The honor guard rose to their feet and ran forward. Bones that should have been shattered had mended. The Chronary runes upon their bodies kept them alive. Their entire lifespan had been bound to the current year, giving them one year to live but also granting them near immortality for that one year.

The golden blade sank into thick flesh. There was more resistance than The Sun expected. The beast women's skin could be likened to stone. But swing hard enough, and they could be cut. He severed many heads before him while his honor guard were three to each woman, their plain iron swords struggling to slice. The beast women flailed their arms around blindly, catching few unawares and sending them flying several dozen feet. They were not what worried The Sun. He searched for the winged ones. They'd retreated to the edge of the forest. A storm of leaves formed behind them as they waved their arms with careful precision. The Sun ignored them and continued to slaughter the blind beast women. He would need his honor guard to shield himself from the thousands of blade like leaves that were being prepared.

He stared at the blood stained gold blade. In stories told, the brilliant flash of light the sword could produce was said to vanquish all darkspawn that it touched. "Perhaps your powers have dimmed. Or does the fault lie with me? Can I not bring out your true strength?"

The scholar sighed at his own foolish words before exhaling a brief laugh with his mouth closed. The beast women had been fewer than a hundred. They were all dead now. Each wound left by the Thousand Sun Sword smoldered, creating charred lines of flesh that caused a repulsively sweet scent of cooking meats to flow out. The hilt was growing hot. Dark cloaked guards formed ranks behind their lord. "A dozen in front of me," the Lord Sun ordered. They did as they were told and then began marching forward once more.

***

Everything had happened so quickly. Sar'tara inhaled through her mouth as her legs continued to move, the sound of each step pounding against her eardrums. She constantly wiped her blurring eyes. She didn't want to look back, afraid that her Mother would be following.

Sar'tara felt hollow. Nothing mattered anymore. She'd fulfilled her life's purpose. Had proved herself enough to meet Ny'Danis again.

But she'd killed her siblings to get there. She had robbed them of the same thing that she wanted then. A Mother's love and the right to become the forest's defender.

And then what? Sar'tara had taken the Trials. Had succeeded in them, though their nature left a bitter taste in her mouth. The Trials took place on an alter plane. They had no bearing on the real world, except for the final Trial where she witnessed a memory. But it made her sick to know that she was capable of such dark things. Of killing baby animals. Of killing a man who had suffered a tragedy. And at the end, when expecting consolation from her Mother, Sar'tara had instead found a murderer who'd killed her dear sister.

"Why?" she breathed in between gasps. Another rumble shook the ground and she tripped over her own feet. She pushed herself up, spitting out dirt from her mouth, eyes completely fogged. The smell of smoke entered her nostrils. Orange emanated from multiple parts of the forest.

The forest is under attack, she recalled. Sar'tara finally cleared her tears away and looked around. She still had her home. Her sisters. A family that wouldn't abandon or betray her. All of that was under threat. They needed to know. Needed protection. The Selharr had few adults left to protect the village. The girls would be scared. Sar'tara stood up, steeling her resolve. She checked her surroundings for her many mental landmarks to confirm her location before running towards the village. It would take a near full night's worth of running to get there. She needed to return and fast.

***

The few remaining defenders of the forest glared at their enemies. The gathering leaf storm behind them had tripled in size since The Sun had last seen. The nearby branches that had supplied them were left barren. The women outstretched their arms and every leaf, straight like small daggers, flew towards his group. He ducked low behind his guards. They formed a tight circle around him. The blade storm passed like a breeze. The armor and cloaks of the guards had been torn to shreds. All of them had dozens of cuts from where blood flowed. Wounds that all closed with the blink of an eye. The Sun wondered how many years of life had been shaved off of the guards with that attack alone. Their life force needed to last the night. Else the plan would fail.

The winged women scowled as if confused by their enemy's resilience. They took to the sky once more, beating their beautiful butterfly wings with blinding speed. Gusts of air pushed The Sun and his men backwards. They crouched low, enduring the heavy winds. Once the women ran out of stamina, the honor guard would triumph. Roots tore out of the ground again, soil spraying. The Sun pushed to the van, clearing a path for his men. His golden blade flashed, cutting through many tentacles and searing all that they touched with a hiss. The darkspawn, with little option remaining, descended. Their wings faded to dust, leaving them to look like ordinary women. They had been forced to exhaustion.

The Sun rushed forward. The wind against his sprint made his white cloak billow in the air. Sword raised high, he bellowed. The women before him had drawn the spears that had been tied at their backs. His eyes had missed them. His attack was easily deflected and a spear tip aimed for his eye bit into his cheek as he dodged to the side.

A single woman stared him down while six others went after his men. The Sun raised his sword, holding the gleaming blade before his own face, his reflection with in it distorted and blurry. The dancing light of flames from both in front and behind him only increased the majesty of the Divine Artifact. The woman before him took a stance, gripping the spear with both hands, each about six inches apart. A stance that he recognized. She was an expert with the weapon no doubt. His blade came down in a vertical arc. She shuffled her feet and twisted her arms in a swift move meant to deflect the sword and strike his temple. It proved futile before the Thousand Sun Sword. The blade burned the wooden shaft of the spear. It cut through as if being waved through wind and delivered a mortal wound to the woman.

The Sun turned around. Near fifty guards and only six women. Six women that were going through each well trained guardsman like they were a group of children with no knowledge of combat. Every guard fell one by one. Then they all rose again, years of their lifespan shaved off. At that rate, their immortality would be eaten through before dawn even arrived.

The Sun turned back and cut the women down from behind, his blade leaving burning wounds in each. The hilt was getting too hot to hold. His hand began to burn. One enemy remaining, The Sun decided to sheath his blade to let it cool off. The honor guard still struggled with the single enemy, the spear in her hand twirling around and striking vitals with careful precision as her bare feet delicately danced upon the grass. "You fools!" he barked. "You cannot die. Just kill her!"

The shout expelled the fear that had gripped the soldiers. They finally charged in recklessly and held the woman down. She screamed aloud. Her cry halted as suddenly as it began. An iron blade was pulled out of her throat. Blood flowed from the open wound as the woman writhed on the ground. The red of it was visible in the dark as the light in the clear night sky shone upon it. Glowing flowers grew where it had spilled. Eventually, the woman came to stop moving altogether. Flowers littered the field alongside corpses.

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The Sun stared down at the lifeless body. He knelt before her and tore her clothes apart.

"Your Brilliance!" the honor guard gasped.

"Silence!" He took out a small knife at his side. His fingers ran down the quickly cooling almond skin of the woman as he traced her center line. The knife in his other hand followed his finger as he made a surgical cut upon the body. Multiple precise cuts later, he split the body open, revealing all that lay inside. His guards turned away in disgust. Brutish men that could slaughter at a single command cringed at the sight of guts.

Ironic as it was, even The Sun, with his wealth of knowledge in many subjects, was disgusted. He enjoyed the act no more than the next person. But he needed to confirm his suspicions. He carefully cut through delicate arteries and slowly pulled out a warm heart. He held it up to eye level, letting moonlight touch it. Carved into the heart were delicate Chronary runes.

The Sun sighed at having read the runes, his suspicions confirmed. He placed the heart back where it belonged. He then wiped his stained hands on the grass, ridding himself of only some of the blood. He drew the Thousand Sun Sword once more and plunged it into the lifeless body. The corpse became ash in a matter of seconds. It would have been rude to leave the body there with its innards revealed.

With the defenders now dead, the legions of the Astral Union pressed forth, entering the Papillion Forest. Only a few remained to gather everflowers. Flowers that never withered would fetch a high price, further funding the Union's military exploits. The Sun and his honor guard entered the burning lush, heading for its center and racing against the spreading flames. "Ny'Danis… You hypocrite," he whispered to none in particular.

***

Sar'tara halted her run. The color of flames pierced the darkness of the forest. The light came from the direction of the Mäkhain village. Sar'tara clenched her teeth. She looked towards her target destination, the Selharr village. And then back at the burning Mäkhain village.

They were all her siblings.

She wouldn't abandon them while they struggled. Not when she could see their plight with her own two eyes. She wouldn't leave them to fend for themselves just as Ny'Danis had left her daughters. Sar'tara turned towards the Mäkhain village, bow and arrow in hand.

A sudden scream stole her attention. A spear bearing woman jumped out of a tree and stabbed towards her. Sar'tara dodged to her side, barely avoiding the attack. She drew back her bowstring but paused upon seeing her assailer. A Mäkhain sister.

"What are you doing here Selharri?" the woman growled, crouching low and aiming her spear in a threatening manner.

"The fire. I was returning from Mother's—" even saying the word felt bitter, "from Mother's grove. She said the forest is under attack. I'm here to help."

The Mäkhain huntress spat. She looked towards her own village, eyebrows pressed together and hand tightening around her spear. "You need to leave," she hissed as she began walking away.

Sar'tara grabbed the woman's arm. "And leave while your village burns? We are all sisters! Where are the enemies?"

"These aren't mere iron clad soldiers, Selharri!" the woman cried. "Our village is in ruins! The Mäkhain are all but dead. There is nothing to help with. They've focused their attention on the center of the forest. Go. Call for aid. You must still have Sister Stel'Na in your village. We need the strength of established Guardians. I don't know if even Mother will be able to fight against these armored men."

In ruins? Already? And to defend the center of the forest? To defend her Mother's grove when… No. The nymphs were there. The young daughters were there too. It needed to be protected. "Then I'll come with you to Mother's home." Stel'Na still had the power of a Guardian. She would be capable of defending the Selharr. Sar'tara changed her priority to her infant siblings. She couldn't leave them to her Mother. Ny'Danis couldn't be trusted.

The Mäkhain huntress grabbed Sar'tara and pulled her in close. "The strength of Guardians is similar to that of our Mother herself. We had three former Guardians in our village. They're dead now, killed by men unafraid to die in exchange. Hurry and—" the woman was cut off. She gasped as she clutched her side. A small bolt was stuck there. An arrow of sorts, too small to be fired from a regular bow. "Run!" she gasped.

Sar'tara turned around. She spotted two armor clad men in the forest. They held a strange device in their hands. A bow of sorts by its look. They weren't drawing back but fiddling with its strange mechanics. She glared at them, drawing back her bowstring to her chin in a swift movement. A bolt zipped past her, cutting through her bowstring and splitting open the skin on her arm before being firmly embedded into the bark of an oak tree. Sar'tara stared mouth agape at her now useless weapon.

The Mäkhain huntress stood up with the aid of her spear. She cried as she ripped the bolt out from her side. Blood gushed out as if it were a fountain. "Run!" she roared. "I'll grab their attention. Go! Go get Stel'Na!"

Sar'tara didn't listen. She reached for a knife, bending her knees and baring her teeth at the assailers. Her sister pushed her out of the way just as another bolt pierced the air between them.

"Go!" the Mäkhain woman screamed again.

Sar'tara looked from her sister to the attackers. Abandon her? Abandon her for others just as Mother proclaimed? Sar'tara finally began to run in the opposite direction, shedding tears. She was doing exactly what she didn't want to do. Exactly what Ny'Danis had done. Running from the problem, convincing herself that it was necessary. Was this the burden her Mother had to bear?

Sar'tara wanted to scream. She needed a moment's respite. Events had occurred before she had time to consider their effects. The war with the Kreiva, the Guardian Trials, her Mother's murder, and now, an attack from outside.

It was sheer luck that caused Sar'tara to trip and fall just as another bolt flew past the top of her head. Her single braid rose to the air and then thumped her back as she touched the ground. She still held her useless bow in hand. She dropped it and drew her knives as she stood back up. The sound of running water entered her ears. A river was near. The Mäkhain huntress lay dead a few dozen feet away. More and more armor clad soldiers were coming out from behind trees. They walked in groups of ten with one holding a torch in hand. Their breastplates had the image of a sun engraved upon it. Some within the groups —the apparent leaders— wore deep blue capes with white specks. It reminded Sar'tara of a clear night sky. She backed off as they approached closer.

There were too many for her to take on. This was nothing like facing the many ghastly soldiers within one of her Trials. These men moved faster, could see her, and also had ranged weapons. One of the men held up the strange bow like device again. Sar'tara lunged behind a nearby thicket, recognizing the item to shoot deadly arrows without needing any kind of string to be drawn back.

Multiple bolts flew past. There were hidden soldiers that she hadn't seen firing at her as well. Bolts stuck into bark and dirt. She darted from tree to tree, reducing the timing with which the soldiers could aim. Her lungs begged for a break. Pride screamed at her to turn and fight. To kill those that dared to invade. But she didn't have time to turn around.

The bolts eventually stopped. Sar'tara thought it a bait to lure her out. She continued her pattern of movement, moving from shadow to shadow. This was the one time she wished that glowing flowers wouldn't bloom. They provided too much light. Got rid of too many shadows.

Heavy footsteps closed in from behind. Sar'tara clenched her teeth and exhaled through them. The ranged soldiers had stopped firing to let the melee ones close in. Swords were unsheathed, the ringing sounds of iron hanging in the air like a warner's wail. Sar'tara broke into a full on sprint, not caring to glance back.

"Kill her!" voices called one after another, as if echoing the first.

The steadily drumming sounds of the armor clad soldiers reminded her of the marching Kreiva. Sar'tara felt her muscles tense up. The joints in her arms began to stiffen and cold sweat upon her skin clashed with air. She was already exhausted from the Trials. Her fear would slow her down even further. But she was still faster than her assailers who were burdened down by all the iron they wore around themselves.

Sar'tara knew the Papillion Forest like she knew the back of her hands. She was far more nimble as well, moving on her bare feet. The sounds of her enemies softened with the passage of time. Her breathing became laboured and her empty stomach cried out for something to eat. Even if she had something, she wouldn't dare eat it in fear of getting cramps while running. But a bit of water wouldn’t hurt. The sounds of the river had faded. She had unknowingly strayed too far. Sar'tara swallowed the mucus gathering at the back of her throat if only to wet it for a moment. She paused to catch her breath. Torch fires of her enemies were still visible behind her. But she had run far enough to avoid being seen for the time.

She once again checked her surroundings. She marked a rosebush full of thorns. They were in full bloom. Though, with the fading period nearing its end and evernight soon to come, they would wither away in a cycle or two.

Just like this forest…

"No!" Sar'tara couldn't push away the grim thoughts. She was running as if everything was already over. As if the Vashiri were doomed to die. "Mother will protect us. She will win and…" And what? Go back to murdering her own daughters after that? The Mäkhain were already felled. Ny'Danis didn't really care… "I don't expect you to understand me," Sar'tara repeated. "Nor take my words to be enough…" She buried her head in her hands and wept. Why? Why am I placing my faith in you again? Why am I depending on you again? Sar'tara's chest felt as if it were being compressed from all sides. Why do I still love you, Mother?

She wiped her tears, checking the rosebush through blurry eyes. She set herself to a light jog towards the Selharr village. A river would greet her along the way. The vast majority of enemies, she assumed, would be attacking her Mother's grove. It would be well into morning before she reached her home. After that, her sisters, including the younger ones, would need to be rallied and forced to head towards the center to defend their Mother's grove. An estimated two day trip if they paced themselves well. Things could very well be over by then. Sar'tara hoped it to be over by then. Hoped Ny'Danis to have already won.

All her hopes sank as she noticed what lay ahead of her. Her feet came to a slowing halt. The exhaustion and nauseating feeling that came from a lack of sleep hit her in a torrent. She fell to her knees, clutching her throat. Sar'tara didn’t fear for her own safety. Nor did she fear death. She feared the loss of her home. The loss of everything she knew. It was the same fear she'd felt when she was seven and thrust into a new environment. Except this time, it would be different. This time, she wouldn't have any sisters that would welcome her wholeheartedly. This time, she'd be surrounded by unknown people in a vast and unknown world. That was, if she survived the plains dweller's assault.

No matter where she looked, her eyes only saw the glowing orange lights of torches. The soldiers numbered too many. She was surrounded. There was no way out but to fight.

And win.