A decade ago…

The sounds of dying and magics being flung were the bass to the melody of metallic weapons and shields clashing. The hum of the ballad of death almost drowned out the frantic voice in Stella’s head; a voice of reason and fear.

I shouldn’t be here. Why am I here? What am I going to do here? She thought to herself. She forced herself to keep in step with the two others soldiers on her, garbed in the same threadbare gabenson that would have been better suited for a blanket instead of armor. She looked over her shield, hands clutching her worn sword, staring at the chaotic dance of death between her commrades and the Daemon King’s army.

There’s not enough of us? We were just supposed to be killing the monsters plaguing the small towns, our towns, my town. Not taking on a detachment of of the Daemon Kings Army. I … I … I’m just the a barkeeps daughter. I just wanted to make sure we could be safe. Was father right. Was I too hasty in choosing to join this.

The rush of a large creature shattered her thoughts, and nearly her shield as it crashed into her. Her hands gripped tightly the small wooden shield as fangs bit overtop its top, and smashed her into the ground. Eyes closed as the charge knocked her off her feet. The sound of her shield failing became her nearly all encompassing focus as she felt the shield splinter under the force that gnawed from above. Her brain distracted and overwhelmed by the pain back caused by landing onto rocks, hands wringing onto the shield like a diver grasping onto their last breath.

I don’t want to die here.

Her thoughts rang back to her, the faintest of echos in her mind as her soft eyes, eyes that yet knew true combat, or even love, were now tasked to open up against what would be the maw of death.

Though flooded with tears, her eyes obeyed. Her eyes beheld her wrecked shield, in the mouth of a beast that shadowed her, with a jaw that caused the shield to creak underneath its force. Yellow eyes, like rising suns of death, bared down upon her with unrelenting intensity. It’s fur was jet black and ended in shark spikes. It was a Fogshadow Hunter; a creature once a wolf or a dog turned by dark magics; tainted and now heartless killing beast.

She had been worn about them in her training to be apart of this ragtag company of farmer-to-warriors. She was told that they were one of the great beast of the tainted. A creature who roamed solitarily due to its great hunger and aggression. A creature, afflicted by the taint that could show up anywhere. A creature whose spirit could only be calmed by leaders in the Daemon Kings army. But of the monsters to meet, rare, finding more than one together as rare as kicking a rock and finding gold underfoot. To her underwhelming luck, the militia she fought with must had all been told to kick rocks.

Because it was this day they encountered over a dozen. Their numbers, backed by the soldiers of the Daemon King’s detachment ripped through their numbers. They had only a fighting chance because the second in command, some sort of paladin, had finagled a way to get all of their crude weapons blessed in the off-chance they would come across tainted creatures. A great idea, but it did not stop the chaos that was created and separated her and a few others from their protective formations. And now here she was, staring a welcoming death in the eyes, and consequentially, the mouth as well.

The tears continued to flow, but her eyes did not closed.

She squeezed her hand tight, nearly surprised that she had held onto her weapon; the years of holding mugs had made her grip strong, and she would thank her father for that if she happened to make it out alive. Feeling the right weight of the blade, she angled up her blade and thrusted.

****

The tip of the blade felt resistance at first, but she moved past that, like how training taught her to stab through the straw until you got to the “meat”. She didn’t know what that meant, until now as her blade penetrated, pushing back soft unseen organs and sinew whose’s movements made the tip of her sword tremble and vibrate all the way back to her hand. She withdrew and stabbed again. And again. And again.

The muscles in her shoulders and arms wanted to cry out.

Eyes, unrelenting like a desert sun, beat down upon her hopes of escape. The Fogshadow Hunter growled, leaving her with the feeling of being next to a war drum. She stabbed, it crunched, and her shield gave way.

So this is how I’ll go.

The Fogshadow Hunter reeled back its head, tossing the remnants of her shield to the wind. Lips pulled back in a snarl, it opened its maw, revealing rows of jagged teeth, more than she had any creature should have. It snapped its head down readying to tear at her. She gathered what lasts bit of strength she had, knowing the end was at hand.

I…. I will not look away. Goodbye father and mother…

****

She heard it before she saw it. The sound of yelling and then the creature rocking over followed immediately by a blur of bodies going overhead.

What?

It took her am moment to grab her wits. But just a moment. She rolled to her side, stood up, sword in hand to see her comrades overtop the creature, stabbing at it. It was laying on its side, breathing heavy with blood pouring from a multitude of wounds. Knees and shields dug into the creature as her comrades used everything they had to keep it there as they stabbed.

They must had been attacking it this whole time.

She came dangerously close to the creatures mouth as it attempted to snap back at her and the others. Guessing where the mass of his neck would be, she plunged her sword through, repeating the action as she could hear the creature gurgle and spit; suffocating on its own juices, until the creature’s movement came to a halt.

The trio stopped, catching their breath.

One of the men, who had shaggy brown hair and blue eyes smiled up at at her from onto the creature. “Well Stella, think I can get free drinks the rest of my life at your dads bar?”

The other man piped up “Oh, don’t let Ailmar have that one Stella. He’d waste the bar and his life away,’ The man said, sweat dripping down his pudgy cheeks. He pushed his shoulder length, shaggy brown hair back to the sides.

“Brother!” Ailmar contested.

Stella was taken aback by the brothers banter. Their smiles was like a sudden light entering a dark room; startling yet, somehow welcomed. She laughed.

“No. Flinar is right. Since you two hero’s saved my life,” a rue smile crossing her lips “we’ll have a drink name after you.”

“Dragon Slayer! Call it dragon slayer made in honor of the great Yeshana brothers!” Ailmar said.

“Dragon Slayer? Har! After us? Or named after you Ailmar? You’d piss yourself if you saw a dragon. I’m sure you pissed yourself just a little bit fighting this thing.” Flinar said, his tone teasing.

Narrowing his eyes “No, I did not. I am a mighty slayer. Think on it brother! A drink dedicated to us like this? All the woman will want it.”

“It’ll take two moments for them to know you ain’t no mighty slayer. And I only slay pies” rubbing his belly, “outside of this thing. We don’t need that title.”

“Brother!”

“Fine. Stella, here’s a name for it. Call it Dragon Piss.”

Ailmar’s eyes widen, like someone had taken the last piece of desert before he could get any.

Stella and Flinar both laughed out loud. Eventually, Ailmar laughed too.

“Dragon piss it is then,” Stella said smiling.

Then Ailmar and Flinar’s eyes grew wide and their mouths open wide, but it was too late.

****

Stella felt enveloped in sudden heat as something whipped past her shoulder.

Ailmar and Flinar’s eyes widened. They whipped up their shields, yelling something unintelligible to Stella. But the glow that came upon them like a rising sun was the true herald to their shouts. A sphere of pure fire the size of a barrel hurtled at them. It smashed against their shields, blackening them instantly on impact. As it hit it exploded into a rain of fire and smoke that poured over the two brothers.

It happened so fast that she didn’t have time to utter a word. Yet, the blaze of fire, their bodies falling over seemed like it lasted forever. Agonizing screams brought her back to the moment, she turned to see two soldiers of the Deamon Kings army approaching.

Their armor was a beautiful black that soaked up the sun’s rays around it, spiked, and accented in red dark red. They looked formidable. They both wore similar armor, but one looked lighter than the other. One had a short sword and another a large shield and flail. She could not see their faces, as their helmets, designed like a goats skull covered them; except for their eyes. Their eyes were a glowing yellow that she could still see from feet away.

The solider barring only the the sword spoke loud enough for Stella to hear “would you look at that, I missed her.” His hand was still outstretched, smoke encircling it. He put it down. “I was going for a three for one deal.”

The solider remarked with a simple “Go finish her. There are more rats to exterminate after her.”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

“I’ll get a three-for-one on the next go. I’ll take care of this one real quick then.”

I should run. I should be running. I don’t want to be here.

She took a step, her legs shaking and stopped. She heard the voice of one of the brothers yelling out to her. She stopped to look at where the brothers laid. She then looked at the Fogshadow Hunter they had slain.

If I leave, they will surely die. If I stay and fight, I will likely die. If they had not stayed and fought, I would have died.

Her legs shook, with the urge to flee, but her foot stayed solid on the ground. Her eyes welled up again with tears again.

I won’t leave them. We don’t leave comrades… friends behind.

Over her shoulder, “Flinar, that sounds like you. If you can run with your brother, run. I’ll distract these two.” Stella said, not waiting for a response, afraid her courage would fail her. She ran to confront the soldiers who were closing in. The solider who had casted the fire spell was closer. She lashed her sword out at him.

He parried the blow, leaving Stella temporarily exposed. He smashed his free hand down onto her face, sending her reeling backwards.

The solider laughed at her. “Oooo. We’ve got a live one here. I’ll make sure to cook you much more slowly.”

Stella grunted. She launched a series of swings at the solider again, he dodged and parried as if he were playing with a child.

I just need to strike him once. If I can just get one good hit on him I can.

A sudden rush of air left Stella’s body as the solider, who had just slipped her attack, landed a solid punch to her gut, her flimsy gabeon providing only meager resistance. She drops to a knee, trying to suck in air, eyes focused on the ground.

Two polished black boots walk up to her.

A hearty laugh comes from above her “I told you I would cook you slow.”

Over her gasping she could hear his chanting.

“Fire biting like my rage….”

Come on. I gotta breathe. I gotta move.

“from an ember down deep to a blazing hurricane,” he continued.

Stella could feel the air get hot above her head, making her want to bow her head down even more but her body fighting for air. Her thoughts raced. I- I just can’t let it end here.

“burn my enemy so that there is no need of a grave…” the solider said, the sound of his chant seeming to come to an end.

“No!” Stella yelled, with the small amount of breath that returned to her. At the same time as she yelled, she swung upward with her sword hand, slashing above her, and forcing herself to fall forward form the awkward movement.

“ Fire Art: Burna-” the solider said, his voice stopping and then turning to a shriek. “Ahhhhhhhh. My arm.

Stella, pushed her self up to a knee, the soldiers blood having leaked onto her head and dripping down her face. Seeing the soldier in hysterics about his Stella saw her moment, and seized it. She used the force of her entire body to plunge her sword forward into the midsection of the solider.

With the soldier now impaled, from her one knee posture she bashed his hips with her shoulder, sending him falling back. She held tightly onto her sword, causing it to be easier withdrawn.

He’s down! And my sword didn’t get stuck. I’ll have to think mother for teaching me to use my whole body too. And father for all the hours of making me serve heavy mugs.

She stood above the man who attempted to hold the gash in hi stomach with his handless arm. He tried to talk but only blood came out.

“You rat.” A deep voice yelled at her.

Stella looked sharply from where the voice came. It was the other solider, rushing at her, spiked shield ready to ram her. She jumped back and starting back tracking as she saw a large ball, spiked, heavy coming her way.

She had took this solider to be slow originally. His armor was heavier that the spell caster she had just defeated and he had trailed behind the other quite a few feet. But now, he was at her, swinging with a ferocity.

He’s like a bull. He’s like those huge men that would get into fights at the tavern. Except, he’s not drunk, uncoordinated, or stupid. I can’t even find an opening to strike at him.

Each attack she made was soundly rebuffed by the soldier’s shield, and each time leaving her dangerously close to a strike from his flail. Stella tried to to flank him, but be it the a jab from his spiked shield or a swing of his flail, she couldn’t find a way through.

“Oh, no!” Stella yelped out. Her opponent had feigned a move in one direction and then switched at the last moment. He was perfectly positioned with the end of his weapon swinging at her skull.

Block, block, block!

She held her sword out in front of her, one palm bracing the flat side at the top of the blade, the other holding on with all her strength onto the pommel.

The spiked ball hit the blade. It took her all to the hold the blade, but she did not let go. However, the blade was not as strong as her will as it shattered, parts of it flying through the air and cutting across her lower jaw. The soldier wasted no time and performed a backhand stroke with his weapon.

Stella moved back, stumbling over something and falling hard onto her back.

What in the abyss?

She looked around to see that she had fallen amongst Ailmar and Flinar. Their amour was blackened and looked like it could crumble from a mere touch. Their shields were essentially non-exinsistant, with whatever left making a small burn pile off to the side. They weren’t talking or moving. She looked down, between her feet, where the beast they had slain led. Overtop of it, like a creature cresting a mountain top came the solider. The yellow of his eyes behind the ram-like helmet, his hulking mass in pith black and red armor made him seem like a monster.

And there he was. Upon her, drawing his weapon hand up and back. There was no space to move. No time to scamper away. She raised her weapon at him. To her surprise it was still in her hand. To her dismay, it was still shattered.

She smiled. It was the type of smile she gave her parents when she told them that her cat had died, after fighting off sickness for months. It was the smile of bitter acceptance.

I hope … I hope mom and dad don’t cry too long. They-they were good parents. They were good to me.

The Daemon King’s solider arm reached its apex. The end would come. And she, she would not look away. Death was a suitable payment for the gift of life, she consoled herself when her cat died. She grit her teeth.

********

Wet, hot, and thicker than water, blood splattered her face and stung her eye.

But she felt no pain.

Blinking through the blood that was obscuring her vision, she attempted to make sense of what made no sense. What she could see now surprised her. The blood on her face was not from the soldiers weapon, it was not her own, but his. He stood there frozen in time over her, the yellow intensity in his eyes fading as he looked to his chest. Erupting from where his heart would be was a blade drenched in blood, blood that continued to drip on her.

There was a sickening slurping sound as the blade was withdrawn from the soldier’s chest. The Daemon King solider dropped his weapon, the sound of its heft being consumed by the corpse of the FogShadow Hunter it fell upon. He fell to his knees, the bottom edge of his shield being buried in the ground. And then he fell forward, onto Stella.

“Oh!” Stella said, hands shooting up to brace herself from the falling body. Her hands caught ahold of body, but her arms quickly gave out from the weight.

Damn, he’s as heavy as a shipment of strong drinks that father keeps in the attic.

She pushed and pushed, trying to move the man, until his body started to get lighter.

He’s being pulled up.

After a few more strong pushes, and grunt from someone from the other side of the corpse, the body was lifted off of her and tossed back.

Stella raised her shattered sword, not sure who or what was going to be on the other side.

Light like staring into a new dawn nearly blinded her with its luminous gold.

A gentle male voice rang out to her “Hold friend. I am on your side.”

Stella wiped her eyes, smearing more blood across her face. Her vision cleared and she was met with a dark, but clear reflection of herself on the helm of her “friend”. The helm was smooth, except for the gold insignias and was a charcoal colored metal. His body armor continued the same look down to his waist where a multitude of vertical straps, in embellished with ornate gold designs hung to about what she thought was mid thigh level. It was hard to tell for her, as a tunic of the same colors extended beyond the protective straps. Looking back up he bore a Lilly white cape and held a large spear that looked more like a piece of art than a weapon for fighting; but the blood that rolled down it told another story all-together.

I’m. I’m not dead. He saved me. I’m not dead!

“What’s your name young warrior? And can you stand?”

I can’t believe it. I’m still alive. I’m still alive.”

“Warrior, your name”

“Uh, um, Stell-stell” Stella uttered trying to calm her mind.

“Stell is it? Very good. Are you hurt?”

“I don’t think so.”

Before Stella could say anything else, she saw the man look left and right. He then began to chant, “From whisper wings of hope and faith, a new dawn of adventure awaits, heal thy spirit and the souls of thy feet: Divine Art: Healing Light” At the end of his words he started to glow a an intense mint green and soon Stella found herself in the same light.

As the light enveloped Stella she felt a reassuring warmth like a hug from her mother, that started on the outside and then saturated the core of her body. Her strength felt renewed. Her face tingled as she could feel the cuts on her face close. Not able to hold her words, she shot out “You’re him. The paladin!”

“I -” he stopped mid-sentence, rotating his body and swinging his spear. His spear collided with a ball of flame, knocking it easily back the direction it came.

He just knocked it away? How?

“They’re coming,” the paladin said from behind his helmet.

This is no time to be laying down. I got to- we got to get going.

Stella sat up and turned to the bodies laying next to her. She shook one body and then the other calling out the names of Ailmar and Flinar. “I-I don’t think they’re breathing. Can you help them”

Before the paladin could responded he performed several spinning motions, batting away a volley of of fireballs.

“I can’t get a moment to think. Give me just a second second Stell.” He said, and then he began to utter something. Stell could not see the words, but she could see the bright luminous gold and white aura that encircled the paladin. In a moment they were covered in some sort of see through dome.

“What is this?”

“It is something that will shield us,” he said, coming to kneel at the head of the bodies. He placed his hand on the necks of both Ailmar and Flinar.

Kblam! A blast of fire exploded onto of the dome, causing Stella to duck. Lifting her head back up she saw Flinar’s glowing with the same mint green aura that the paladin had used on her.

Wait, why isn’t he healing Ailmar?

“Hey! Paladin. Heal him! We need to get them both out of here.”

He didn’t respond.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have commanded a paladin. But please, heal him. They both protected me, their brothers and -”

“No.”

“What? What do you mean no? Why won’t you heal him?”

The paladin clicked something on his shield and the front opened up like a lid. He turned to look at her. He was clean shaven, dark haired, with an apparent military hair cut. He didn’t look much older than her, perhaps mid-twenties at best. His equally dark eyes were said. “It is not that I choose not to. It is that I can not.”

“Ailmar’s …. Dead?” She said. But it was a question she knew the answer to when she saw them hit by the fireball. But thinking something, and truly knowing something is different.

“Yes. He is dead Stell. I am sorry.” He rose, closing the visor on his shield. “And we will be too if we do not fight. My spell will keep the other protected, but it won’t last forever, especially with these magic attacks.”

Stella looked between the two brothers.

“They saved me… and I couldn’t save them.”

“We can’t save everyone. But that doesn’t mean we give up.” He walked to the edge of the shimmering golden dome and then looked back over his shoulder. “We honor the dead by living Stell; by living.” He promptly walked out of the dome, taking on multiple soldiers at a time.

Still looked at Ailmar’s body and then at Flinar with his shallow breaths, and then back at the fight happening outside of the dome. She stood up and raised her broken sword to eye level.

“That won’t do.” She shook her head and sheathed the remains of the weapon. Her eyes caught glimpse of the flail draped by her deceased enemy. She lifted the weapon. It was heavy, but her grip held strong. And she charged out of the dome, never looking back.

*******

Current day on the Isle of Bridgeburg.

Stella blinked her eyes, having been lost in another old memory. The sounds of minstrels playing and the chatter of a full bar came back to her. She continued to clean mugs from her position behind the bar. Her eyes saw the vast variety of people, mostly humans, a few orcs, a few sea-elves and still others. But they were still just background to her.

Her crystal eyes kept attention on one man. He wore an old, dingy and frayed cloak, unkempt dark hair, and drank to his hearts content. A simple staff propped next to him was his only company.

Old friend. Your acts saved my body that day. But your words saved my spirit. What would you have told yourself now, if you could have seen what you had become.