227 P.F.

Kellan had looked on helplessly as Gideon and Ava ran from the crimson beasts. He had cried for help despite knowing none would make it in time. His heart twisted in pain when he saw Gideon suddenly alone. All his being screamed for him to run out there and support him. To not leave him alone.

He had made it only five steps before the adults had pulled him back. His pleas for help had spurred them into action. The music had stopped and yells for help now carried on the night’s wind. A flurry of motion from mothers corralling the children into the center of the festival grounds while the other adults grabbed whatever improvised weapons they could.

Kellan now found himself behind a loose line of adults bearing anything from tent poles, torches, a pitchfork, and even a few hunting spears. He found himself standing still, uncertain of what he was supposed to do now. Everyone else seemed to inherently understand what needed to happen now.

But what was a twelve-year-old supposed to do in this kind of situation?

Howls signaled a pursuit by the beasts. Still the adults did not give chase.

Why? Why won’t they go and help him!?

Kellan’s face twisted in anger. He stepped forward, ready to give the adults a piece of his mind.

“Kellan!” His mother called. “Kellan, where are you!?”

The anger slipped from his face as familial concerns warred with his sense of responsibility. He frowned but turned towards his mother’s call and shouted with a waving hand.

“Mom!”

In short order, his mother barreled through several adults muttering apologies before breaking through the last of the crowd in front of him. Her face broke out into joy as her smile reached her oak-colored eyes. She flung herself into a bear hug with Kellan sending her raven-colored hair flying about the two of them.

“Thank goodness you’re okay!” She sobbed into his shoulder.

Kellan felt the tension leave his body under the comforting hug. Guilt nagged at his conscience as he pulled away from her.

Cries echoed in the night from a women’s wail as Kellan focused on his mother. “I’m sorry, mom! We were playing just like you asked when those hounds showed up. Gideon and Ava were the furthest out.”

He choked on the next few words. “And… When they were chased Ava just disappeared leaving Gideon all alone.”

He took a shuddering breath and continued. “He ran away into the tents with the beasts still chasing him. We need to go after him!”

“Shh. It’s okay, baby.” His mother said while brushing his hair back. “We each have a duty to fulfill right now. All the adults are making sure everyone is safe from these beasts. Mr. Mercer is summoning in his guards and will be able to repel this attack.”

She pulled away from their embrace and guided him away from the line of defending adults. “Come now. We need to help your father prepare a triage tent.”

Kellan blinked in surprise, “A triage tent? Why do we need one when there are only five of those beasts?”

His mother bit her lip as she searched his face, judging if he were ready for some revelation. She let out an exhausted sigh and said, “Kellan, we’ve encountered these beasts before. They always start out with a small scouting force that probes for food to hunt. Every encounter with a scouting force has always resulted in casualties. Their small numbers always bloom into larger numbers. If we-”

“Mera!” Kellan’s father shouted from Mr. Mercer’s tent pavilion. “We need to finish setting up!”

She waved in acknowledgement before turning back to Kellan. “Look. I’ll answer your questions later. Right now, we need to set up the triage station.”

She turned away and tightened her grip on his hand as she almost dragged him with her towards the tent.

Kellan eyed the other adults as they passed by. He could see the fear spreading amongst the mothers corralling children into a packed center between the bonfires of the festival. A nervous unease trembled along the air of the defending adults.

His gaze returned to his father who was speaking animatedly amongst a group of adults with Mr. Mercer. “How long do we need to hold out until the Bastion can send help?”

Mr. Mercer glanced at Kellan and his mother’s arrival before answering, “I estimate needing twenty minutes. That’s how long one of my summoners will likely need to get an army summoner here. Until then, we hold out.”

Mr. Mercer waved to the inside of his tent and then to the nearby supply chest of goods. “Take and use anything you need.”

He pulled out a pocket watch from his jacket pocket and examined the time. He nodded his head and turned to his assistant Mr. Thomas. “William, aid the Wynn family. Gather our porters and get the barrels of water and wine over here. I’m placing you under Atlas’ command.”

He checked his watch and started walking away. “Excuse me. I need room for my guards.”

He slid his pocket watch back into his jacket as he strode ten paces from the nearest person. He took a steadying breath and then closed his eyes in focus. Kellan watched on as his father fired off some rapid orders to Mr. Thomas.

Mr. Mercer exhaled a slow breath as he lifted his arms parallel to the ground, hands spreading as if he were releasing seeds onto the wind. As if in a ritual, he paused his exhale and remained motionless for eight seconds.

His eyes shot open as he inhaled sharply clutching his hands into balled fists and pulled his arms in towards himself as if he were pulling a great weight. The air warped in response to his actions as heavily geared guards popped into existence one after the other. In quick succession, twenty-one guards gathered around Mr. Mercer who was now bent over himself breathing rapidly.

A grizzled man with steely gray eyes and short cropped salt and pepper haired stepped forward and barked orders to the newly summoned men. “Alright men! Fall into formation! Henderson! Take squad one and distribute spears to the front line! Set up our secondary line of defense and actively defend with your rifles!”

Henderson, a man in his mid-thirties and messy wave of black hair guided his men to take the spears from the other guards. In short order, ten of the guards led by Henderson ran off towards the defending adults with the spears. Kellan’s attention was drawn back to the grizzled man.

“Benford!” The commander barked. “Take squad two for overwatch duty! You’re to use your ammunition sparingly for key targets! I want one shot, one kills!”

The man turned to the remaining guard that did not go with squad two. “Blaine. You are on anchor support with Mercer until you receive the summon sequence from the Bastion.”

Mr. Mercer had gathered himself and was standing tall again. His face was strained in concentration as he turned towards the commander he had summoned. “Garret, there are five hounds hunting down a potential asset. Take two men and Ms. Wynn to retrieve the boy before more hounds arrive. We need everyone gathered here before they summon a horde.”

Garret grimaced before saluting. “Yes, sir!”

“Davis! Jamal! With me!” Garret barked as he turned towards Kellan and his mother. “Ms. Wynn, lead the way!”

She cupped the side of Kellan’s face. “Help your father. We’ll be summoning the injured soon and he’ll need every hand he can get.”

She braced Kellan in a tight hug. “Love you! And be strong!”

She whirled away from Kellan and set off at a jog with Garret and his men. Flashlights lit their way as they retreated from the festival bonfires.

“Kellan!” Barked his father.

“Sir!”

“Start tearing these cloths into bandage strips for me while I move these tables into place.” Atlas said as he placed a knife down by the indicated bundle of cloths.

Kellan stepped into position and picked up the knife. His family’s training kicked into gear helping to ease his nerves as he fell into the steady repetitions of preparing emergency aid supplies.

“Good.” Atlas said as he checked Kellan’s work while manhandling the tables into position to create clearer walkways inside the tent. “What’s the triage priority in this scenario?”

Kellan fumbled with the knife as he was caught off guard by the sudden inquiry.

“Quickly boy! And don’t stop your work!”

Kellan refocused on his task and recited from memory, “We can likely sort based upon the severity of injuries. Deceased or soon to be deceased are marked black, these are the ones that are beyond help. If deceased, then we leave them where they fell. If death is expected regardless of treatment, then we leave them to other assistants to ease their pain in passing. The heavily injured that need immediate transportation for treatment are marked red. These patients will die if they do not receive the proper treatment in time. Rescue Summoners prioritize transportation of red marked patients out in the field. But we don’t have any Rescue Summoners…”

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Atlas waved away Kellan’s concern and said, “I’ve already sent the pulse sequence to my team at the Bastion. They’ll be ready for my summons when the injured arrive. Continue with the priority.”

Kellan bobbed his head as he sliced his knife with practiced motions into the cloths. “After red, we mark injured that can have delayed transportation as yellow. All others with minor injuries get the green mark.”

At that moment, Mr. Thomas and two more assistants from Mr. Mercer’s camp came into the tent hauling metal pails along with two barrels of water. Atlas quickly directed them to set up a wash station near Kellan.

So focused on his task of preparing bandages was Kellan that he jumped in shock at the first echoing gunshot in the night. He glanced outside the tent flaps as the Mercer guards shot carefully into the advancing swarm of hounds.

Kellan’s eyes went wide with shock as what appeared to be over a hundred of the crimson hounds charging the defensive line.

The man, Benford, if Kellan was recalling the name correctly, shouted, “Squad 2! Aim for the hounds summoning in the back lines!”

Kellan squinted into the darkness to see what the man was talking about while each crack of gunfire sent his skin crawling. There in the distance he could see the warping of space around the beasts in the back tree line.

Another crack of thunder from the rifles took down one of the summoning beasts and shunted a pack of them back to wherever they had been called.

Kellan’s attention was drawn back to the defensive line of men. They did their best to fend off the advancing packs. Those with hunting spears fared better than the ones using improvised weapons. Soon the injuries started to appear. First, simple cut wounds. But as the beasts pressed the line, more vicious attacks made it through.

One man buckled under the assault as a beast tore a meaty wound in his thigh before his fellow defenders slew the beast. Kellan leaped into action with a bundle of cloths in hand. His father yelled for him to return before cursing and running after him.

In short order, Kellan was bent over the man whispering reassurances. His training took over as he pressed the clean cloths to the wound and applied pressure. He was about to start wrapping when his father arrived yanking the wrapping from Kellan’s hands. He looked Kellan in the eyes with a soft and concerned look before shaking his head and wrapping the bandage.

“Return to the triage tent. Runners will bring them to us. I can’t do my job if I’m worrying about you running out here.”

“But-”

“No arguments! Return immediately!” Atlas roared before turning to Mr. Thomas who had trailed behind him. “Will, send your men out here to help me carry him back. Keep them running the line for the others. My team will be cycling the summons shortly.”

Mr. Thomas gave a short nod before relaying the orders. Atlas stood up from the bandaged man and jogged back to the tent dragging Kellan by the scruff of his shirt. He released his shirt when they arrived by the washing station.

Atlas dunked his hands into the smaller bin and flung the water droplets from his hands. He eyed Kellan before reaching into his leather satchel and pulling out two jars of ink. He set them down before Kellan allowing him to see the vibrant green and daisy yellow colors.

“Delayed and minor wounds.” Atlas warned. “That’s your duty in the station. Use this to learn and be of assistance. And remember to have patience and trust in the process!”

Atlas reached out an arm and patted his son reassuringly on the shoulder. “Stay focused!”

Atlas turned his gaze to the wailing man they had just brought into the tent. He reexamined the wound and muttered to himself as he tightened the bandage wrapped around the man’s thigh.

He laid a hand on the man’s forehead and steadied his breathing as he made a grasping motion with his right fist. Upon the closing of his fist, the air warped as a Rescue Summoner popped into existence next to his father.

The black-haired tanned man scanned his surroundings as he acknowledged Atlas. “Doss, reporting. Sitrep?”

“Demon hounds swarming. Initial casualties are rolling in. One hundred hounds at last estimate.” Atlas replied in quick succession. “Pivot cycling every five. Do you concur?”

Two more men were dragged into the tent as Doss and Atlas surveyed the situation. Doss laid his hands on the man Atlas had been tending to and took over applying pressure. “I concur. Acquiring vitava signatures for these initial ones.” He looked up and out at the defending men. “How many civilians?”

Atlas grimaced as he and Kellan moved to work on the new arrivals. Kellan marked his patient with yellow as Atlas swiped his with red. Atlas tied off a tourniquet as he said, “Festival night at the Hawking Outpost. Add in the trade caravans from the Bastion and I’d estimate upwards of four to five thousand civilians.”

Doss grunted as he moved to the next two men and laid his hands upon them. He closed his eyes in concentration and asked, “That gives us a basic security of what? One hundred to two hundred guards?”

“Plus, the twenty or so that Allen Mercer is maintaining.” Atlas sighed.

Doss shook his head in frustration. “That’s going to be a lot of injured if the hounds keep summoning. Might be a repeat-”

Atlas cut him off with a glare. “This outpost is not going to fall. We’re not going to have a repeat of Doxton. The call should have gone out and the military should be summoning reinforcements.”

Atlas glanced at Kellan. “We just have to hold out for ten, maybe twenty minutes.”

Doss followed Atlas’ gaze. “Right. No repeat, tonight.”

Kellan wanted to ask his father about Doxton but was stopped by the arrival of several casualties. Atlas and Doss both stepped forward and the three of them began examining the new arrivals.

Kellan checked the three adults in front of him. Two were carrying a man between them who cradled his rendered guts in his arms.

“I’ve got a red! Critical with black possibility!” Kellan shouted to his father. “You two! Carry him over to the center by the other two men!”

Doss abandoned his group of two men marking them with yellow. He glanced at Kellan and said, “I’ve got the reds, direct these yellows to the side. Atlas, I’m cycling after this signature. Prep the rotation!”

“Prepping!” Atlas grunted as he roughly tied off another bandage. “Keep pressure on that!”

Kellan directed the marked yellows to the side. He looked them over for any quick aid he could provide. Mangled limbs with superficial wounds. Nothing was immediately life threatening for this group of yellows.

“You two stop dallying in here. You’re green at best! Clear out!” Doss shouted at the two lingering men who had brought in the red critical case. Doss called over his shoulder to Atlas, “Can you maintain two summons? We’re going to need security here.”

“I can maintain three for the time that we have. Hurry up so I can anchor and release you.”

Doss nodded and focused his vitava on pulling in another. Again, Kellan watched as there was a flow that seemed to travel through him into a warping point that popped out a navy uniformed man.

The newcomer blinked as his eyes adjusted. He made eye contact with Doss who shouted, “Triage security, five pivot cycle.” He pointed at Kellan. “Triage assistant in charge of yellow and green.”

Atlas clasped the newcomer’s shoulder. “Atlas Wynn, rescue summoner on site. Anchoring in five, four, three, two, and done.”

“Sean.” Called out the navy uniformed man as he took up position by the tent entrance.

“Sync completed, release!” Doss called.

“Releasing!” Atlas confirmed as Doss was shunted from the tent.

“Clear!” Atlas called as he focused on summoning a replacement for Doss.

As a replacement warped in, the casualties that Doss had examined and synced with began to warp away one after the other. Room was made for new arrivals as Kellan’s father exchanged quick words with Doss’ replacement who carried several metal bands imbedded with a turquoise crystal.

Kellan felt overwhelmed by the jargon being thrown around and the hectic environment. He was unsure of himself and untested but knew that he had to do his part as his father was only going to get busier as the night progressed.

He took a steadying breath and took comfort in the man Sean standing guard at his shoulder. Quickly he got back into the mindset of analyzing the wounds of new arrivals. Scan for any obvious trauma.

Bone sticking out or blood spurting uncontrollably? Call for a red.

Limp? Green

Bleeding with possibly head injury? Yellow.

On he went into the rhythm. Check. Analyze. Mark them.

Green, green, yellow, green, red, yellow.

Again, and again he marked and examined the new arrivals. Time seemed to flow slowly for him as he methodically checked them.

Any time someone argued over his judgement, Sean would step in and usher them away.

Kellan did his best to stay focused. He tried to push out the sounds pressing in on his mind. Tried not to focus on the blood and gore that was accumulating around the tent.

Identify the injury.

Assess the priority.

Yellow.

Move on to the next. Don’t focus on the increasing number of screams. The shouts of pain and anguish. Ignore the slowing rate of thunderous gunshots. That could be a good thing or a bad thing. Bad if they were running low on ammunition. Good if the hounds were finally dwindling.

Focus on the present. Next casualty. Shallow ripped throat with bloody air bubbles popping out. Red, possibly black.

It’s getting worse. There are fewer greens and yellows now.

He fought back a shuddering wave of sadness.

Please let us make it through the night!

He moved on to the next group. Two yellows and another red. On he moved through the night, performing a different type of dance on this festival evening. From patient to patient, he flowed coming to a stop when he reached for more yellow ink and came up empty.

His actions were broken by the empty container. He stood dumbfounded about what he should do. That moment of hesitation and uncertainty shattered the protection his focus had given him.

The cacophony of pain and screaming from the suffering around him pushed in on him from all sides. Calls for help went unanswered as he froze under their wailing cries. He turned in place taking in the pained expressions around him.

Sean stepped in front of him blocking out the view of those calling out for him. He looked down at Kellan and gave him a tight-lipped smile. “You’re doing well. Take a breath.” He paused to take a deep breath with Kellan. “Now let’s get you something to drink before we get you back to this.”

Kellan wanted to protest, but the mentioning of liquids brought immediate attention to his throat feeling bone dry. Instead, Kellan followed along with Sean as they made their way through the triage grounds.

Halfway to the triage tent, a cry of cheers sounded out from where the fighting was occurring. This was swiftly followed by a rapid-fire series of thunderous volleys. The crackle of gunfire continued for a solid minute before dying down to more sporadic bursts.

Cheers of victory and celebration roared up to meet the falling silence in the aftermath. Tears of joy could be seen falling down the faces of those on the triage grounds.

Kellan turned away from the celebrations with a small smile on his face wiping away his own tears of joy. He made his way back into the triage tent where he found his parents working diligently on both the patients while also maintaining the summoning rotation that was being used to pull the injured to the Bastion’s main hospital.

The area was now a flurry of activity and seemed to be sparking with energy from the active use of vitava summoning people. Kellan marveled at the chaotic yet organized environment as everyone worked together to save lives. As he moved over to the wash bin, Kellan noticed the dirty blond hair of Gideon crouched over someone in the back corner of the tent. Next, he noticed the absolute mess Gideon’s clothes were in, with his jacket and shirt being shredded in several places and covered and blood.

Hesitantly, Kellan approached Gideon picking his way carefully through the triage tent so as to not disturb the ailing patients. As Kellan moved closer, he noticed the lack of movement from this side of the tent. This is the black section… And that’s his mother…

Kellan’s joy from the victory evaporated. He whispered, “Gideon…”

The boy barely stirred at his name being called. Instead, he turned his body as if to block off Kellan’s view of his mother as he tightly clutched her hand.

“Gideon, I’m so sorry for your loss…” Kellan tried again, arm reaching out to comfort Gideon.

Gideon replied just as Kellan was about to touch him with a lifeless and monotone voice, “I’m alone now. I’ve got no one…”

Gideon turned to Kellan with tears in his eyes. “What do I do now?”

Kellan embraced Gideon in a soft hug. He shook his head as he muttered, “I… I don’t know.”

Gideon simply broke down into tears as the Festival night gave way to a night of mourning.