Rulaheim 182

Caerwyn told me that the two kings had agreed to meet on even ground halfway between Ironwall and Lowen. The terms were simple; whoever lost or surrendered first would rule the other’s kingdom. They wanted to have the fight far away from either kingdom so as not to disturb the civilians of either kingdom, which was a surprising courtesy.

We had previously been travelling slowly upward on a gentle rocky incline as we got closer to the army of Lowen, and once we reached flat ground again, I saw Lowen’s army marching toward us with their standard being carried by a soldier atop a horse next to Lowen’s king.

Once the two armies were dozens of yards apart, they stopped. Both kings had a white flag in hand and the two rode to the center of the soon-to-be battlefield to parley with a single aide riding with them.

At the back of the army, I wished I could feel deathly afraid as I once would have in this situation. Instead, I felt very little. I was sick at heart and had lost almost all passions. My only two goals left were to protect Caerwyn, and to especially protect Terry.

It was still freezing—although the rain had stopped drizzling--and I looked around at the faces of all the soldiers by us to see if they were afraid. They looked fearless and ready for battle.

Caerwyn, who was on his horse beside me said, “I’ll protect you no matter what.”

I nodded silently.

King Torr rode back to the army. There was a moment of silent tension before both armies began riding full speed forward.

There was so much chaos, noise, and screaming that I could barely think straight as the armies clashed and steel rang on steel and rent the air.

I was afraid again, and I was glad to be afraid again. That jolt of fear made me feel something, at least. But this was fear that froze me in place as I saw men getting cut down in front of me and bleeding to death.

I snapped to my senses after a moment when I saw Terry in the distance riding through the crowd with his palms glowing gold and healing whoever he saw who happened to be wounded. If he could be brave, then I could, too!

I had my bag of salves and medicines ready, and I looked around for anyone who needed my help as my hands trembled.

Caerwyn, being the mighty warrior he was, rode to the aid of a man being overrun by six enemy soldiers. He brought his horse along the backsides of the enemy soldiers and caught two of the six soldiers off guard by slicing their backs.

The other four soldiers turned to look at him in surprise, and the man surrounded by them spurred his horse to get away from them. Caerwyn brought his horse about and held the handle of his sword steady, ready to dispatch another enemy soldier with a quick, clean, and strong swing.

I worried for him, but turned my attention to a man yelling for help in the din of the crowd to my right.

The man was missing an arm and had been unhorsed. I rode to his side—climbing off my horse. I reached into my bag with trembling hands and felt dizzy at the amount of blood the man was losing. My head spun and I froze for a moment with my hand enclosed on a salve that helped heal the wound and medicine to lessen the pain.

The man grabbed me with the arm that had not been dismembered and yelled, “what the hell are you doing? Help me!”

I came back to reality and rubbed the salve on the stub of the man’s missing arm while simultaneously using my free arms to bind the man’s wound. I felt sick to my stomach at the blood on my hands.

I glanced behind me and saw a large man charging me on horseback. I screamed and ducked as he jabbed his spear at me and barely missed—I had plastered myself to the gravelly ground to avoid his thrust.

“Caerwyn help me!” I yelled at the top of my lungs—keeping my head down/

Caerwyn, who had been aiding a different man, left his side for a moment—with the man immediately getting killed—and rode to me instead.

The large man was bringing his horse about and he charged again.

His wrist was poised to let the spear fly, but Caerwyn aimed his own sword steadily and with deft aim tossed it with pinpoint accuracy at the man’s head. The spear was dropped and Caerwyn rode by the man’s body and retrieved his sword from the man’s face.

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My heart pounded wildly and I felt incredibly guilty at Caerwyn letting that other man die in favor of me.

Caerwyn asked as he rode by, “are you okay?”

“I’m fine! More men need you!” I replied and waved a small purple flag that informed the other physicians I needed assistance. The male physicians came to help me move the armless man away from the fighting.

After that, I continued searching the battlefield for more wounded men.

As my eyes scanned the battlefield, I felt a deep rumbling beneath my feet.

The earth was splitting under the feet of Ironwall’s army with a loud roar. I heard yelling all around as a fissure began opening up in the earth and dozens of men fell into it.

I had no idea what was happening for a moment—but then I realized the moth gods were interfering. My eyes flitted about wildly and locked onto a female moth who I assumed was Tyre, the moth God of Nature’s prophetess.

She looked strained and exhausted as she slowly moved her four arms away from each other and as she did so, the fissure in the ground kept widening.

With a quick motion, she clapped her four arms together and the fissure closed and crushed the men within it with their screams getting cut off as it did. I had been close to the fissure and saw them being crushed firsthand. It was a traumatic experience.

Things only got worse.

I saw the lustful god in the body of King Torr emitting a black liquid that spread from his body and enveloped the battlefield around him. But unlike the fissure, I was the only one who appeared to be able to see the black liquid as it spread.

The men of Ironwall suddenly started fighting all the harder as their eyes were triggered black and they seemed twice as strong as they began overpowering the men of Lowen easily. A lust for battle had overtaken them that seemed to be caused by the black liquid.

Caerwyn yelled above the cacophony, “do you see that?”

I nodded as I treated a man who was missing a leg. “He’s using his powers. Caerwyn, if you can, you need to kill Tyre’s prophetess. I saw her standing near the King of Lowen—she’s the one opening the fissures.”

Caerwyn nodded and looked about the battlefield. The prophetess must have disappeared, and Caerwyn disappeared in a crowd of both enemy and ally soldiers as he went looking for the prophetess.

All the while, Terry was saving hundreds of lives by keeping them healed, and largely due to his efforts, Lowen’s army was dwindling while Ironwall’s was prevailing with very few losses so far.

The earth was rumbling under my feet again, however. My legs were weak with fear as the earth shook and I tried to dash away from the fissure opening underneath my feet. I ran as fast as I could, but the last of the earth crumbled underneath my feet and I barely managed to grab onto the ledge of the open earth before I fell in.

Caerwyn saw me struggling with a look of terror on his face. He once again left the fight and tried to come to my rescue.

He wasn’t watching his surroundings, however, and an enemy soldier slew his horse causing Caerwyn to tumble to the ground.

My arms were weak, and I just couldn’t seem to muster the strength to pull myself out of the fissure.

Caerwyn didn’t care for his own safety as he hurried to me and ignored the Lowen soldier who was sneaking up behind him as he ran. The soldier was poised to strike Caerwyn, but Terry rode by and plunged his sword into the enemy’s throat.

I screamed as the fissure began to close.

Caerwyn pushed himself as hard as he could to make it to my side, but he was too far away.

A different soldier saw me struggling and easily lifted me out of the fissure before it closed. I thanked him tearfully and he nodded in reply. I realized he was the same man earlier who promised he would try to protect me on the field of battle.

Hours past, and my feet were so sore that I could barely walk. There was so much chaos I could barely see straight.

One of the enemy soldiers saw me treating a man’s shoulder wound and charged me with a yell. I didn’t want to bother Caerwyn this time.

I unsheathed Terry’s sword—I would have brought the light one the blacksmith in Nui had made for me, but it must have gotten left behind—and blocked his first swing.

“Help me!” I cried to anyone who could hear me as I remembered what Terry had taught me of self defense and kept a firm, but loose grip on the handle with both hands.

Terry trained me to, instead of looking for a way to win the fight since moths were so much weaker than humans, try my best to defend instead.

I did. I kept my grip firm and watched his blade carefully and how he had his blade angled so I could predict how he would swing. I blocked every blow efficiently, but everytime the man hit my sword the shock ran up the piece of metal and vibrated and nearly made me drop it each time.

I yelled for help again and an Ironwall soldier rode to my rescue and cut the enemy soldier’s head off in front of me. Blood from the man’s neck sprayed in my eyes and my body went numb with fear and disgust as I shuddered with revulsion.

A male physician grabbed me by the shoulder and said, “calm down. I’ve got a rag.”

He wiped the blood out of my eyes and my heart was beating like crazy as the worst tremor yet rumbled through the earth beneath us.

It seemed the moth god of nature knew he was losing and no longer cared about how many men of Lowen got killed along with the men of Ironwall. I could feel him combine his powers with his prophetess as the worst fissure yet was formed.

The fissure in the gravelly earth began opening and swallowed hundreds of men with the combined powers of both Tyre and his prophetess fighting for the Lowen army. I ran as fast as my feet could carry me away from the ditch which was fast forming. I heard a horrible cacophony of screams as men fell into the fissure behind me.

I stood at the edge of the indent in the ground and it closed quickly with all of the men therein perishing.

I looked around the battlefield in a panic--searching for Terry and Caerwyn to make sure they hadn’t been swallowed.

I spotted Caerwyn nearby as he reluctantly spotted the moth prophetess and killed her with what I could tell was a heavy heart.

The Lowen army had thinned out considerably and I could now easily spot Terry riding around on his horse and slaying many enemy soldiers as well as healing the men of Ironwall.

Night was falling as the King of Lowen held the white flag above his head. “I surrender!”

Everyone stopped fighting.

In a moment, the men of Ironwall cheered loudly as King Torr, or rather, the lustful god, accepted the man’s surrender.