Ballet of Violence

7th Day of Harvest,

766 Karloman’s Peace

The screaming woke Ekkehard.

He sat bolt upright.

Dazed and confused he tried to make sense of his surroundings.

His vision was blurry and all he could make out was shadowy figures darting through the darkness around him. There were sounds of clashing metal mixed amidst shouting and screaming.

Something sharp gripped his arm and Ekkehard’s neck snapped to one side.

Auriana was clasping onto him for dear life, her nails digging into his arm. She shrieked into his ear as something from the blackness tugged at her, pulling her away from him.

Ekkehard realised something had caught her by the ankle, and in a panic, he scrambled after her.

Ekkehard grabbed Auriana by the arm with one hand and pulled her back to him. He stretched back with his other hand searching for the sword he kept beneath the bag he used as a pillow.

The thing in the dark wrestled to pull his wife free and his heart ached to hear her desperate pleadings. Ekkehard clasped his hand around her wrist as tight as her dared and dug his heals into soil beneath him. Not matter how hard he strained his muscles, however, he could not pull her back to him.

He tried to see what it was that had her.

It was for naught. The night around them was so consuming that he could barely make out his wife let alone that which was struggling to take her.

Whatever it was that had her, it was stronger than him.

As it pulled at her again, his arm was almost jerked from its socket.

Each lurch pulled her further from their sleeping place, dragging him along with her, and further from his weapon. A final lurch pulled Ekkehard so far from his pillow sack that it was now entirely out of reach.

He looked at the silhouette of his wife's face and saw the desperation in her tear-filled eyes and hated himself for what he was about to do.

He wouldn't lose her, but if he stayed where he was, that would inevitably happen.

He looked and in his own mind, apologised.

Then, he released his grip on her.

Desperation turned to terror as Auriana saw that Ekkehard was abandoning her, and she fought to maintain a grip on him.

‘No! No!’ she shouted at him, her voice hoarse and shrill.

Ekkehard pulled his arm free of his wife, and the thing pulled her free of him. She disappeared into the darkness, screaming as she went.

He had to be quick.

He turned and scrambled on all fours toward the pillow sack. He pushed it over and retrieved the blade from beneath, unsheathing it as he climbed up to his feet and began to race after the sound of his wife's screeched pleas.

In the chaos of the night, however, he lost track of her.

So many noises competed with her screams that he couldn’t distinguish hers. He heard a woman scream ahead of him, another to the left, and a third to his right. He heard what he thought must have been Audomar shouting orders to some of his other brothers. Other voices, voices he didn't recognise, shouted and screamed their bloody intent all around. All of that was joined by the clanging of steel on steel.

Spectres were dancing in the darkness around him. He felt his throat seal tightly and his heart panicked as he realised, he had lost his wife.

He should never have let her go.

He was a fool.

Then, clear as day. ‘Ekkehard!’ he heard her voice screech his name through the night, guiding him to her.

He rushed toward the sound and came upon two silhouettes. Whatever had Auriana was no longer dragging her. It had picked her up, carrying her between two burly arms as she kicked and screamed in protest.

He charged the pair, shoulder-barging the creature, causing it to tumble as it threw Auriana loose. Both he and the thing fell to the ground.

‘Fucker!’ the creature shouted at him as they each raced to be the first to their feet.

Ekkehard realised it was just a man. A large, broad, and muscular one, but just a man, nonetheless. He had large bushy beard and poorly kept wild hair, appearing savage in nature.

As he got to his feet, the wild man reached for something at his hip.

Ekkehard didn't wait for him to reveal whatever it was.

Before Ekkehard was even standing on both feet, he swung a wide, arching slash with his blade, aiming for the wild man's neck. He hit his mark, and a dark substance burst from the man's throat as he dropped to the ground, clutching the wound, choking and spluttering as he went.

Auriana crawled to Ekkehard in a panic, sobbing and trembling as she clutched at the linen of his trousers.

Ekkehard dropped to his knees and wrapped his free arm around Auriana, his sword kept outstretched, point aimed at the dying barbarian. Auriana wrapped her arms around him and he flet her convulsing with every exhale of traumatised breath.

The sounds of battle and hysterical shouting surrounded the two as a ballet of violence played out around them. There were many attackers, and he could tell his brothers were struggling to fend them off.

They needed his help.

But what about Auriana? She couldn’t protect herself. If he stayed by her side, however, others would die. Perhaps they all would.

He couldn’t lose anyone else.

He got to his feet, pulling Auriana up as he did.

‘Come quickly, find somewhere to hide,’ he ordered her.

She did not resist and followed him, still clutching his arm. The two darted to a small cluster of trees a few dozen metres from the camp. They took cover behind a tree, and Ekkehard ushered his wife onto the ground, getting her to lie flat.

‘Stay here,’ he whispered to her before turning to rush back into the fray.

Before he could escape, something tugged him back. Auriana had grabbed at Ekkehard, clutching his arm and pulling him back to shelter with her.

‘No,’ he whispered, turning back to her. As gently as he could, he pushed her away and peeled her fingers from his arm. ‘You have to stay here, but I have to help the others.’

‘Ekkehard,’ his wife pleaded in a terrified but hushed voice grabbing him again, ‘please.’

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

‘No!’ he hissed through gritted teeth as he yanked himself free of her grip once more. He quickly took a few steps back from her before she could grab him a third time.

‘Just stay here,’ he whispered to her, scanning the area to ensure no one had noticed them, ‘I'll be back, don't worry.’

‘I don't want you to go,’ he heard her say as he turned and ran back towards the sounds of combat.

As he went, he heard her softly calling his name call his. He prayed to Spring that Auriana would listen to him and stay where she was and then to Lady Summer, so that she might give him courage for the coming fight.

As he reached near the camp once more, he readied himself

Ekkehard saw two shadows clearly locked in battle and raced towards them. As he ran, he tripped over something and crashed into the dirt. Scrambling back to his feet, he looked back, swinging his sword in fear of an assailant.

No one was there.

Looking down, he saw the outline of a motionless body.

It was too dark to tell if it was friend or foe.

Deciding it was better not to know, he turned and charged once more towards the duelling shadows.

When he was close enough to intercede, he paused, looking from one shadow to the other. Each was tall and armed with a sword, parrying back and forth, neither showing any clear signs of familiarity. Ekkehard didn’t know which to attack.

Then, one shadow called to him. ‘Ekkehard!’ it hissed, ‘help me!’

Florentin's voice.

Wasting no more time, Ekkehard thrust his sword towards the other shadow, cutting deep into the side of their chest. Gripping the hilt of his blade with two hands, he drove the blade home. He felt the bones of the man's ribcage give way under the pressure as the metal pierced through into his heart and lungs.

The shadow slumped onto the ground, almost taking Ekkehard's sword as it went.

He yanked the sword free at the last moment and stepped away from the lifeless foe. Florentin grabbed Ekkehard by the shoulder and pulled him close, placing his forehead against Ekkehard's. In that proximity, Ekkehard could finally recognise his brother's features.

‘Bandits. Hillmen,’ Florentin informed him. ‘Must have been spying on us as we approached, waited until we fell asleep, the bastards!’

‘How many?’ Ekkehard asked. From the screaming and shouting, Ekkehard thought there could be as many as a hundred of them.

‘No idea. A dozen, I think. Maybe more. I don't know; it's hard to tell. A cloudy night with no stars or moon,’ Florentin answered.

Looking up at the void of the lightless sky above, Ekkehard felt a palpable dread. When he looked back down, Florentin was gone, rushing off to fight more of the bandits.

Ekkehard tried to follow but was intercepted by a screaming shadow, rushing at him from his left, cutting him off.

The head of an axe emerged from the darkness and swung at Ekkehard. His old war instincts kicked in and Ekkehard’s blade parried as he backstepped, putting distance between him and his attacker.

The shadow pressed him and took two more reckless swings. His assailant was strong, and each time the axe struck his blade, he felt his arm shake from the impact.

Ekkehard parried and retreated again.

Whoever his attacker was, they were untrained, attacking with no regard for their own safety. Ekkehard could exploit that, but he needed to be careful, lest his foe's recklessness kill them both.

When another swing came, Ekkehard sidestepped and slashed, striking his opponents side, then quickly backstepped, avoiding any death throes.

The foe did not fall, however, and rushed him again, swinging his axe with deadly intent.

Ekkehard parried another blow and another, backstepping each time. After the eighth blow, the wound Ekkehard had dealt finally took its toll, and the man fell to his knees.

He wouldn’t rise again, and Ekkehard knew that. He put several paces between him and the foe before turning back to the rest of the battle.

Ekkehard tried to trace Florentin’s steps, but he had lost the direction during his duel. Fortunately, his eyes were finally starting to adjust a little to the darkness, and he picked out several groups locked in battle. Three warriors fought far to his right, five more struggled against each other ahead of him, but to his left, three men attempted to bring down a fourth spearman.

‘Audomar!’ Ekkehard thought to himself.

He rushed to his elder's aid.

As he charged through the darkness, a woman’s scream cut through the cacophony of sounds assaulting his ears. He stopped and looked for the source of the scream but could not find it. A cold chill enveloped him, and he prayed to the gods to keep Auriana safe.

‘Watch over her,’ he hissed quietly through clenched teeth, and charged his brother’s would-be killer once more.

They did not see him coming.

Ekkehard swung his sword in a two-handed grip as he reached the first of the men. The blade buried itself in the man’s back, cutting several inches through his collarbone and into his torso.

The man wailed in pain as he dropped to his knees and his two companions turned in shock.

Audomar seized upon the distraction and thrust his spear into the belly of a second bandit. Seeing both his allies fall in quick succession, the third man, a slight man with a malnourished frame, turned and ran.

Ekkehard and Audomar did not pursue. Ekkehard nodded to the silhouette of his brother. Audomar said no words of thanks. Ekkehard had not expected any.

‘Go help Gerwald!’ Audomar shouted, pointing toward a pair of duelling shadows. Then, the eldest Reubke rushed past Ekkehard and headed towards another group of fighters.

Ekkehard did as he was ordered.

Reaching the duelling pair, he called out to his brother, ‘Albatross!’

‘Here!’ a familiar voice called back from the shadow on his left.

Ekkehard took up position on the other's flank and together the two Reubke brothers surrounded their foe. Suddenly outnumbered, the raider backed off several steps but did not turn his back on the brothers.

Ekkehard made the first strike, but the bandit parried.

Gerwald made two more strikes, each deflected, before Ekkehard lunged in with the tip of his sword. The bandit blocked the strike at the last moment but was finally laid low when Gerwald, with a mighty, low-arching swing of his sword, cleaved open the man’s thigh.

The man dropped to the ground screaming in agony, and arterial sprays showered the two brothers.

Gerwald placed a heavy boot on the shoulder of the man, pinning him in place, and impaled his sword through the man's heart. The man had tried to beg, asking Gerwald to wait, but his pleas fell on deaf ears.

He soon fell silent.

Gerwald withdrew his blade from the dead man's body and turned, panting, to look at his brother.

‘What was that about?’ he asked, breathlessly, ‘I had him.’

Ekkehard chuckled, a small chuckle that surprised even him given the circumstances.

He was suddenly reminded of how young Gerwald was. It was so obvious to Ekkehard that Gerwald had struggled with their journey so far. He cried most nights, and he was quiet, far from the showy braggart of a young man he had been. Ekkehard feared there was nothing left of the boy who had been so eager to prove himself to his brothers on a hunting trip.

He hoped he was wrong.

Ekkehard could just about make out the bleak expression on his younger brother’s face as Gerwald examined their surroundings. The fighting had died down; their attackers had either fallen or fled, but there were bodies in dark.

On the very edges of the night’s horizon, Ekkehard could see a few distant shadows running away from the camp to disappear back into the hill ranges. Nearer, a group of shadows was running towards him, and Gerwald raised his sword, ready for a fight.

Ekkehard reached out to his brother and took hold of his wrist, pushing the weapon down. As they neared, Ekkehard recognised Florentin’s stature. Alongside him was another man, one of the farmhands still travelling with the group. They joined Ekkehard and Gerwald, and Ekkehard nodded a greeting to his other brother.

‘Are you okay, brother?’ Ekkehard asked.

‘Well,’ Florentin answered in a raspy voice.

Before they could talk any further, another shadow marched toward them, spear resting on one shoulder.

‘Is it just the five of us?’ Audomar demanded a report.

‘It would appear so,’ Florentin replied, hanging his head in remorse.

‘Did we win at least?’ Gerwald asked meekly.

Even in the darkness, Ekkehard could see the frustration on Audomar’s face, and he feared the elder would chide the younger harshly for his words. Fortunately, Florentin replied before Audomar had the chance.

‘I don’t think there is any winning little brother,’ Florentin said, ushering Gerwald away from their eldest brother.

Audomar seemed content with Florentin’s intervention, and no chastisement came.

Then Ekkehard’s heart seized.

Turning on the spot, Ekkehard tried to make out his surroundings, looking for the small copse of trees where he had left his wife. The memory of a screaming woman made him go cold with dread. He made out some silhouettes of trees a short distance away and ran towards them, abandoning his brothers.

‘Auriana!’ he shouted as he neared, ‘Auriana, where are you?’

There was no reply.

‘Please gods, say she is safe,’ he prayed to himself. ‘Auriana!’ he shouted once more.

He rounded the trees and saw a motionless, shadowy figure curled in a ball at the bottom of a tree. His heart raced even harder, and it felt as if it would break free from his body.

‘No, no, no, no,’ he started to mutter to himself as he slowly approached, reaching a hand towards her shoulder.

‘Auriana?’ he spoke, his voice now shaking.

As soon as he touched her shoulder, he was startled back by a shrieking howl.

Her arms flailed, hitting and slapping him repeatedly as she tried to fight him off.

Ekkehard exhaled.

The sensation of relief was so powerful he barely felt her strikes.

‘You're alive,’ he said, more himself than her, as tried to pull his wife into his arms.

Auriana balled her hands into fists and punched Ekkehard in the face.

He tumbled backwards.

She scrambled and put her back against the tree, buried her head in her knees, and locked her arms around them. She was trembling and sobbing silently.

Ekkehard’s relief turned to concern as he watched her. He felt his own mouth begin to waver and his eyes moisten. He had failed her. The woman he loved lived in utter terror because of him. She had been pushed beyond her limits, all because of his selfishness.

His whole family suffered because of him.

If only he had joined the priesthood. Perhaps then Hanib’s lies would never have worked.

This was all his fault.

He hung his head in shame.

‘Auriana,’ he whispered, ‘I am sorry.’

She didn't respond; she simply sat shaking, refusing to look at him.

He crawled on hands and knees toward her, and reached out slowly with one hand, gently gripping her arm and trying to pull it free.

She resisted, refusing to be moved.

Ekkehard grabbed her arm with both hands and pulled her grip loose, causing her to fall towards him.

That broke her, and she scrambled towards him, wrapping her arms around him and curling herself up in his arms. Her tears dampened the skin of his neck, and he held her tightly.

‘I’m sorry, my love, I’m so sorry,’ he repeated over and over as he rocked her back and forth, stroking her hair, trying his best to comfort her.