Settlement Eight (2)

Templar Andor weaved between the trees of the Greatwoods. He was a blur on the dimly lit forest floor, sprinting with reckless abandon. He din't bother trying to move discretely. He needed to get to Settlement Four fastlike.

The screaming and shouting from the battle slowly disappeared from behind him. Every step he took, the commotion became more distorted, the sounds bouncing awkwardly off the dense woodland. Soon enough, even the bright orange glow the settlement produced began to recede into the darkness. Physical distance from the settlement seemed to slightly ease the burdon on his conscious. For the sacrifice of his brothers and sisters to not be in vain, he had to make sure to deliver the news safely to his comrades. But just because he was getting away from the settlement didn't mean he had escaped the Nomal just yet.

Andor couldn't ignore the growing rustling of bushes a couple dozen meters behind him. He didn't bother to turn and look becuase he knew he wouldn't be able to see anything that far out without a source of light. While he wanted to believe it was merely a result of his overactive imagination, he knew that it was most likely not the case. This new horde master was different from the others. He wore armor, something never seen among the Nomal ranks. For the Nomal under his command, they acted more reserved, obedient. They usually ran directly towards any enemy they saw. But these Nomal exercised caution. He must have even placed his current tail near the back of the settlement as a safety measure for potential escapees. Andor had only every heard of hordes and how frightening they were. An endless mass of violent killers and viscous beasts, they trampled everything in their path until they were completely destroyed. Now, one was forming for the first time in generations. But that wasn't all. Their leader was special. If this horde master were to unite more clans under his horde and grow his ranks, there would be a chance the horde manages to spill over onto eastern soil. Andor couldn't deny the brutal intelligence in the Nomal's eyes. If a Nomal could speak English and build siege weapons, what was next? They were beginning to evolve. And it needed to be stopped.

Andor tightly clutched his son's drawing in his hand. He would never let his wife or son fall victim to the savages.

...

Andor was crouched behind a larger Greatwood taking ragged breaths. He made himself as small as possible and tried to calm his breathing. He was being much too loud for his liking. Fortunately, the calls of night fauna had resumed, masking his own noises to a certain degree. His right hand gripped the hilt of his sword. His left still held onto his drawing. His eyes darted between the trees and bushes, willing any hiding Nomal forth.

He had been running at near top speed for nearly an hour. No matter how desperate he was, he was still human. He could only run for so long. He hoped to have lost the Nomal sometime during the chase, but he highly doubted it. The Nomal were much better trackers and hunters, the Greatwoods their domain. They had keen eyesight, perfectly adapted to hunting both animals and men in the darkness of the woods. He knew the longer he stayed, the more likely he would be discovered. For all he knew, they could have already spotted him. They could already be surrounding him, slowly closing in like a noose tightening around his neck. But he needed the rest unless he wanted to collapse mid stride.

Ten more minutes. Just ten more minutes.

Andor took a small sip out of his water skin. He probably had just enough to get to the next settlement. His last meal was not too long ago, it would keep him satiated his entire trip. If he needed, he could always forage some of the wild mushrooms and berries that grew on the forest floor. He just had to make sure not to eat anything that would turn his stomach inside out.

Andor heard a sudden rustling to his left. He whipped his head to the side to investigate. Barely visible seven to eight meters away, the outline of a hulking Nomal crept through the low brush. The Nomal looked from side to side, searching for his prey. Andor sunk right up against the trunk of his tree, willing himself to become invisible. The lightness in the Nomal's step was unbelievable. He had barely heard the giant advance from merely a couple body lengths away from him. He then wished Fa's Blessing had a way for him to melt into his surroundings. A couple long seconds passed. Luckily, it seemed the Nomal truly was unaware of his position. Andor had no clue how many more were still on his trail. If there were any nearby. While staying still and gathering information would provide to be incredibly valuable, he also saw that this was the perfect chance to take the Nomal by surprise. Andor weighed the ideas in his head.

Continue to run away without confronting the Nomal or fight. If I run, I will most likely get caught at some point. If I fight, I may die. Either way, I'm going to have to fight them at some point. Might as well do it while I have the element of surprise.

Andor steeled himself. He slowly rose from his crouched position, fully extending his hunched body. Thank Fa, his knees didn't pop when he extended them. As he rose, he picked up a sizable rock from the ground. He tested the weight in his hands. It would do. Andor had no disillusions that he could sneak up on a Nomal. Their senses were much too sensitive for that. And Andor wasn't much of a sneak. But he did have incredible aim.

Andor took his time to line up the throw. He knew that if he missed, he would lose his element of surprise. While he could hold his own in direct confrontation, it would cost him precious time and blood. If the Nomal's friends came to join in on the fun, Andor would most likely find himself dead within minutes. The Nomal began to slow slightly, making less turns and instead proceeding in a straight line. This was exactly what Andor needed. The Nomal soon had his back turned to the templar, ever so slowly retreating into the distance. He was around a dozen or so meters away now, further from Andor than before but in the perfect position. No trees were standing in his way. Andor took a deep breath and prayed.

Please, help me Fa.

Andor put everything into his throw. He tried to be as precise as possible. He couldn't miss this golden opportunity. The rock flew silently in a large arc, rising high enough to reach the low branches of the Greatwoods. Its vertical climb into the air began to slow before it hovered ten meters off the ground. It then began to pick up speed, diving towards his target. The Nomal collapsed the instant the rock struck the back of his head. It was instant incapacitation. The Nomal's body was swallowed by the bushes as it fell, not a trace left to the visible eye. The thud of his body hitting the floor was muffled and barely noticeable. Andor let out the breath he had been holding in.

Thank Fa.

Just like than, he removed one Nomal from the fight. As much as Andor wanted to approach and finish off the kill, he didn't want to expose himself just yet. Andor silently watched his surroundings for some sort of reaction. For another Nomal to jump out of the darkness and look for the source of the attack. But no one ever came. He waited another minute in the deathly silence of the forest. He soon realized no one had witnessed his actions. Even if there was, they refused to show themselves. Either way, Andor needed to take advantage of knocking out the Nomal before he woke up. If he did, it would spell major trouble for the templar.

Andor slowly began creeping towards the bushes where the Nomal fell. His heart was beating within his very ears. The pumping was deafening. His knuckles turned white on the hilt of his sword. With every step he took, he half expected an enemy to attack from the darkness. Every step he took was merely met with the silence of the Greatwoods. At this point, he wanted his assailants to show themselves. He couldn't take the mental stress anymore.

After crouch walking all the way to the fallen Nomal, he found himself hovering over his unfortunate target's unmoving body. He had fallen face first onto the forest floor. Andor's rock lay nearby. Blood was oozing out the large gash on the back of his head. He had broken his nose from the fall. Andor raised his blade directly above the nape of his neck. He stabbed downwards with all his might. The elion smoothly slid throw the Nomal's neck, the sword embedding itself a couple centimeters in the dirt. The Nomal's eyes snapped open in shock, gurgles escaping his hung open mouth. He reached towards his throat and clawed helplessly at Andor's Jian. For many moments, the Nomal refused to die. He writhed in pain, unable to scream. His feat weakly kicked at the ground. Soon, he went still.

One down. However many more to go.

Andor sighed to himself before he begun crouch walking once again. This time, he moved west. He had lingered much longer than he had intended. He needed to get as far away from the body as possible. Once his friends realized that he was missing, they were most likely to come investigate the area he was last seen. Andor didn't want to be anywhere nearby when that happened. He trudged silently through the bush, cursing at the burning in his thighs. His sword threatened to get caught within the branches of the undergrowth, potentially alerting possible Nomal. Progress was excruciatingly slow. But there was no other option. He had made it approximately a hundred meters far when he suddenly froze. The blood in his veins stopped flowing. He held his breath and grit his teeth at his bad fortune.

He just noticed a pair of eyes staring at him from the darkness. A dozen meters to his northwest were two dark pits for pupils contrasting against a bright white scelra. The eyes hid low to the floor within the shadow of a Greatwood. They both stared at each other, unmoving. Andor dared not to blink or break eye contact. He couldn't manage to tear himself away from the eyes' gaze. It was as if his feet were rooted deeply into the ground. Cold and thin tendrils of fear began to burrow deep into the base of his skull. Goosebumps rose on his skin. He waited for what seemed an eternity. And then the figure let out a bone chilling scream. Andor flinched at the sudden outburst, just barely recognizing the uniqueness of the old tongue.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Fuck.

Andor immediately rose from the bushes and began sprinting. He needed to get away as fast as possible. Hopefully if he managed to put enough distance between him and his pursuants, he would be able to get away and hide like before. This time however, he wasn't as lucky. He made it a total of thirty meters before two figures materialized in front of him. They slinked out of the murk as if born directly from the shadows. Two Nomal blocked his advance. The Nomal before from earlier blocked his retreat. It was a three-on-one. The odds were greatly tilted against Andor's favor.

The templar cursed under his breath. There was no easy way out of this situation. They were too close for him to run and shake them off. Andor would eventually find a blade in his back. He was afraid that this time he would have to use his sword. The three Nomal began uttering low glottal chants, their throats reverberating with deathly ardor. A foreboding sense of doom washed over Andor. The savages beat their chests once, then raised their left hands in a half formed first. Their fingers were pressed tightly against themselves, their palms open to form what seemed to be an animal's paw. They held those hands at their clavicles, palms facing the earth. On each of their faces was a wicked smile. Soon, the familiar white glow of a Blessing washed over the Nomal weapons. Andor growled.

"Pray to your pagan deity. I'll send you all right into his cold embrace."

He made his Prayer to Fa. The power of the Blessing rushed from his navel into his body. He focused a portion of the Blessing on his sword, the rest thinly spreading across his body. He knew that his weapon wouldn't be able to take the beating without it. He sat into his stance, clearing any lingering fears from his mind. Distraction would be fatal in the coming moments. The Nomal raised their weapons, preparing themselves for a battle to the death. They all chanted in old tongue what every soldier feared. What every soldier wished they never had to hear.

"U hunra alpha eph Druva!"

Druva, this hunt is for you!

And then they rushed forwards, ululating manically. Andor immediately dashed towards the side, positioning himself so that all the Nomal were in his line of sight. He knew the only way to fight multiple Nomal were to use the environment and their incoordination against them. Andor dodged behind the trunk of a Greatwood to block an ax from cleaving clean through his body. The weapon embedded itself near halfway into the thick bole. The Nomal didn't bother trying to retreive it, instead dashing to the right and around the tree to catch Andor with his long hooked knife. Two of the others were lagging behind, unable to advance with both the tree and their ally in their paths. Andor delivered a powerful two-handed thrust to the side of the tree. As the Nomal had appeared from behind it, Andor's blade found purchase in the dense muscle of the Nomal's gut, predicting the savage's movements. The Nomal didn't even flinch while lashing with his own attack. His move further impaled himself on Andor's sword. The templar managed to condense his Blessing just in time to stop the blessed weapon from cutting off his arm at the shoulder. While Fa's Blessing prevented the knife from penetrating his armor and flesh, the mere impact of the blow caused his entire left arm to go numb.

Andor was sent reeling and almost left his sword stuck in the Nomal's stomach. He managed to pull it out with a sickening squelch just in time to deflect another Nomal's strikes. The savage attacked with unrelenting ferocity. There was no rhyme or reason to his attacks. Brutal strength and unreal speed threatened to overwhelm the smaller man. Only Andor's experience at the Line and long arduous training he had received at the Babelion Institute saved him from dying on the spot.

Andor expertly wielded both his Blessing and sword to shrug off most attacks. The familiar yellow glow of his Blessing flowed across his body, meeting Nomal strikes head on to protect its wielder. He was slowly peeling his enemy apart, small and large cuts appearing on the Nomal's unprotected limbs and torso. At the same time, he continued to sandwich his opponent between the other Nomal that had joined the fray. When the Nomal at the back attempted to assault Andor, he would use the Nomal in the front to block his line of attack. The one he had stabbed was still trying to recuperate by the Greatwood. Andor decided to call the one he stabbed Hole, the one he managed to cut many times Cut, and the last one Nuisance.

Andor managed to roll past one of Cut's diagonal slashes, simultaneously lashing out at the Nomal's unprotected ankle. His sword found its target, slicing through the back of the aggressor's feet and right through the Achilles tendon. Cut's calf muscle violently jerked upwards, the tension from the tendon suddenly gone. Even with the Nomal's incredible tolerance for pain, Cut couldn't help but yelp while falling to the floor. As ferocious as they were, the Nomal were still human. Their anatomy was like anyone else's. Andor was glad that they weren't smart enough to wear armor. Yet.

Nuisance immediately stepped over Cut's falling body, promising death with two wild slashes. Andor slipped one and then used his condensed Blessing to block the other. The yellow glow of his Blessing outshined the white glow of the Nomal's. Nuisance's blade bounced off his blessed armor; it was the opportunity Andor desperately needed. He instantly stabbed twice at Nuisance's chest, hoping to skewer him through the heart. The first was angled incorrectly and bounced off the larger man's ribs. A small cut formed on the skin just above his heart. Much to his surprise, the second stab was caught in the hand of Nuisance. The blade had penetrated the Nomal's chest but not far enough to slip through the ribs. Nuisance grinned manically while tightening his grip on the blade. Andor tried to pull his sword back to slice off Nuisance's fingers, but he found that his sword arm wouldn't pull backwards. The Nomal's other hand was tightly gripping the elbow piece of Andor's armor, the savage's weapon abandoned on the floor.

They were both still for a moment. Then they exploded into movement. Andor, knowing he couldn't escape the Nomal in a competition of strength, dashed towards the bigger man. Nuisance simultaneously moved to headbutt Andor with his Blessing condensed at his forehead. Andor ducked just in time to not eat the strike on his nose but the crown of his skull. He felt the elion of his helm bend under the Nomal's skull. With his body lowered, Andor pressed up against the larger man's stomach, hilt of his sword still in one hand. With the other, he pulled a knife from his belt. With the taller man having a higher center of balance, Andor pushed at the Nomal in a low stance. Nuisance staggered while Andor's knife flashed into his stomach. Once, twice, thrice. Andor pumped his arms back and forth with incredible speed, his hand becoming increasingly slick with dark and warm blood.

Nuisance weakly slapped at Andor, trying to fight off his assailant and find his balance. Even with the Nomal's weakening strength, his blessed fist dented Andor's chestplate with each strike. Andor could feel his bones creak under his Blessing and armor, threatening to break. Blood leaked from his lips as the internal damage in his torso began to accumulate. They stumbled forwards awkwardly, Andor refusing to let up. Only after six more stabs did the savage's legs finally give out, intestines and blood spilling from his mangled gut. He lost grip around Andor's sword and fell, an unmoving heap on the floor. Andor took the moment of respite to breath. He was bruised and battered. His sword felt like a mountain in his hands. Cut was on the floor, attempting to crawl towards Andor, sword in hand. He no longer posed a threat to the templar. Andor looked around to see that Hole was missing. His eye's widened. Then a sharp pain blossomed from the back of his head and his world went black.

...

Freezing cold water was splashed onto Andor's face. His eyes fluttered open in surprise, his now wet hair matte against his forehead. A splitting headache made him wince.

Where am I? Why am I still alive?

It took him a moment for his vision to return. He shook his head and then looked around. What seemed to be two destroyed buildings were on his left. A bunch of hazy figures were sitting silently on the floor a dozen meters to his right. Others were standing all around him. A man in a chair directly in front of him. Behind the man, the ruins of a wooden gate stood. Cain felt absolute dread.

Oh Fa, save me.

He was back at Settlement Eight. He recognized everything. The now destroyed buildings, the walls, the gate. Everything. He wanted to cry out at the world in anger, in rage. Everything he had tried was for naught. He was back where he started. Every sacrifice was in vain. He desperately began to stand before strong hands from behind pushed him back onto his ass. He realized his limbs weren't bound. He then realized that the people sitting to his left were those of the settlement. They were all bound, dejected looks their faces. No, those were the faces of those who had lost all hope. Totaling twelve, they were all women. The sound of metal cutting flesh broke the silence of the night. Andor looked up to see the relaxed Nomal in armor sitting in front of him. A tall Nomal woman stood by his side. Two notable parallel scars ran horizontally across her nose. She stared at Andor with quiet interest. A decapitated head sat in the lap of the horde master. He held a dagger, slowly peeling off the the head's scalp. Andor subconsciously reached into his left pocket, fingering a piece of parchment. But it gave him none of its usual strength.

The Nomal in the chair was staring at him, his skull helmet on the floor to his side. His long black hair hung over his shoulder, his long lashes fluttering. He then opened his mouth to form an eerie smile. The head that sat in his lap was Captain Bellamy's.

"Finally found ... you. No ... running."

Andor stayed silent. Not because he chose to, but because he couldn't speak.

"This man .... put ... up ... good fight. I take ... his ... tongue."

He gestured to the bronze hoop on his belt. There were more tongues than Andor had remembered. He visibly shuddered at the Nomal's casual brutality. Why Andor wasn't dead yet, he did not know.

"You kill Valfrid. You ... cripple Svend. I have ... to kill ... him now. I ... very ... angry."

Is that why I'm alive. To be punished for killing two Nomals? When you slaughter my entire company and take everything from me?

Andor fear morphed into hate.

"You think this is a game? You kill our men! You enslave our women! For what? Fa will strike you down, monster!"

The Nomal violently stabbed Captain Bellamy's head, the blade embedding itself to the hilt. He nonchalantly tossed the head of the man Andor respected the most to the side. He stood up, ambling towards Andor's seated figure. Once he was close enough, he crouched to meet Andor's eyes. They stared at each other silently. Although Andor's soul was held hostage by fear, he refused to look away. The only thing keeping him from lowering his gaze was the blazing rage in his heart. The Nomal's smile never left his face. Andor hated the horde master with all his being. What was the purpose of all this barbarism?

"Why... who... who the fuck are you!"

The Nomal raised his hand high above Andor's head. Then the yellow glow of a templar's Blessing coated his long bony fingers. The Nomal brought his hand down on Andor's head. His fingers met some resistance, temporarily struggling to cleave through the thick bone of his skull. Then his fingers passed smoothly through the center of his face and exited below the chin, splitting the man's head in half. Andor's body temporarily swayed, a look of surprise painted on his face. Then his dead body collapsed to the side, brain matter, blood, and gore leaking out of the wound. The Nomal shook his hand, blood splattering onto the floor. He stared into the Greatwood's foliage, the bright crescent moon shining between the gaps in the dense leaves of the tall trees.

"I am ... the Ghoul."

As the Ghoul walked away from Andor's corpse, the tall Nomal woman that had stood by the Ghoul's side approached the dead man. She reached down into Andor's pocket which his left hand never left. His hand was still tightly gripping onto his son's drawing. She peeled apart his fingers and took the parchment. She opened it up and quietly observed its contents. She shoved it into the depths of her animal hide before she returned to join the horde master by his side.