High War - Chapter 25.2

Soldiers and Beastmen clash across the field of battle, encumbered by armor or agile without, armed with weapons new or broken. Their eyes gleam red, reflecting light from the many bonfires roaring on either side. No quarter is asked, none is given. Lives continue with each lucky dodge, each lackluster strike, each step backward. Lives end with each passing breath.

The gate of the fort lies smashed. Soldiers fight a pitched battle in front of it, holding the sea of Beastmen at bay with shields and spears. The captain with the glowing claymore holds the apex of the line, her claymore sweeping back and forth, while the Small Folk captain with twin spiral lances stands just behind her, his lances punching through the Beastmen that try to surround her. The shield wall parts for soldiers in heavy armor to charge out and break the largest crashing waves. Those that don’t make it back become part of the red tide underfoot, along with the broken bodies of animals.

In the fort’s courtyard, Klax and several other priests in white stand in a large circle, facing the center with their eyes closed and their hands together in prayer. A towering spike of white light rises between them, topped by a radiant orb. The sides of the spike ripple like the folds of a cloak, and the light from the shining orb is warm and beckoning. Soldiers stagger into the circle, fall upon the ground with their heads bowed, and emerge from the circle later with injuries and fatigue vanished.

Atop the wall, Jorg and the bow-wielding captain rain down stones and flaming arrows. Other black priests and archers hold the rest of the wall. Priests in white, standing in groups of three to five, lift their hands below floating orbs of harsh light, from which white rays slice across the ground below. Beastmen leap at the wall along the entire length, with some almost reaching the top or even gripping a thin lip along the sides. A rare few succeed in climbing up to the wall-top, where the priests and archers hold up cudgels to counter their flashing bone knives.

Crab-type MEKs lumber through the battlefield, their large sword-shaped legs piercing the earth and mulching the corpses. If they get within a hundred helms of the walls, they break into a run. A figure appears before any of them can reach the fighting. The Drunk is sweating and red-faced, his shawl gone somewhere. He picks them up by a sword-leg, spins them around twice, and throws them back toward the valley walls. With no time to rest, he dashes off for the next oncoming MEK.

A lone vulture circles high above. It flaps off towards a rocky mountain ridge, lands, and morphs into Rusty. He stretches his arms and yawns. “Be there any news?”

Sah and the orc Rams sit around a small campfire. Rams shakes his head and goes back to his meditative pose. Two others look up at Rusty’s arrival. One is a human boy bundled in a large white robe, with corn-yellow hair covering his eyes. The other is a rail-thin Small Folk female wearing a light red cape, her sallow skin hanging off her bones.

Rusty grunts and sits beside Sah. “The groundlings be doing well, with the help of their captains.” He rests his head on Sah’s shoulder.

The human boy in white reaches up, plucks a hair from his head, and sticks the follicle into his mouth. “The beasts do not fight with Kem’s guidance.” He gulps and smiles. “With His love, their wrath would be unstoppable.”

The spectral wolf leaps out of Rusty’s back and stalks away to pace beside the cliff edge, its gaze glued to the distant battle. Rusty places his arm up on Sah’s shoulder and turns his head to the wolf.

“Be you concerned for the beasts, boy? Attacking a defending force be part of their training. The strong will survive.”

The wolf huffs, and shakes its fur. Rusty frowns, then turns forward again. He finds the Small Folk woman staring at him, her eyes drilling into his. Rusty blinks, sits up straight, and glares back at her.

“Mage, while you be under my command, be not using magic to communicate. Speak!”

She opens her mouth and works her jaw back and forth. Her voice emerges in a dry whisper, “Sir, is your wolf not a spirit totem manifestation?”

Rusty shakes his head. “He be my friend. I be hearing the like before, but he be not what you think.” He glances back at the spectral wolf. “We met soon after I be accepted into the Phoenix Army. He attacked me in a mountain forest, we fought to a draw, then because I be impressed by his power, I invited him to go with me.”

The human boy in white nods. “Kem has said that family can be found anywhere. War shall make all the world as one family, with one purpose.”

Rusty rolls his eyes. “He be traveling with me, that be all.” He sighs, and turns to lay his head in Sah’s lap. “I think he be searching for something, or someone.”

Sah frowns down at him. “Searching for who, sir?”

“I be not knowing, my curious … ly comfortable desert cactus.” He smiles up at her. “I be attempting many times to communicate with him, but the magic be not working. He be not speaking.”

“Then how,” but Sah shakes her head and looks away. “Never mind, sir. It is not my place to ask questions of a superior officer.”

Rusty nods. “But as my love, it be your place. You be wishing to know why I say he be searching for someone?” He pats his chest. “When he be resting within, I be feeling impressions from him. He be always searching, wandering, wanting - like I be, before I be finding you, my straight box canyon.”

Sah looks back down at him with an eyebrow raised. The human boy in white sticks out his tongue and turns away from the couple, while the Small Folk woman leans forward and stares at them.

Rams opens one eye and turns to the spectral wolf. After a moment he closes the eye. “The spirit’s mind cannot be read, or there is no mind to read.” He turns to Rusty. “Sir, in regards to our primary objective. Waiting here does us no good. We should enter the groundling fort while they are distracted by battle, and retrieve what we seek.”

Rusty grimaces. “That be fine, if we be knowing where it be, or what it be. I be seeing items from other planes before, but never something from outside our reality. The idea that there be something left over from the scouting force of an invasion be difficult to believe.”

“You doubt Kem?” The human boy rises to his feet and sneers down at Rusty. “You may be equal to Him in rank, but He is a god, while you are a mortal. When He says something is so, it is so!” The boy sits again and plucks another hair from his head.

Sah nods. “The word of Kem is absolute, sir.”

“We are all gods,” Rams intones.

Rusty grunts and pulls his head off Sah’s lap. He stands, walks away, and stops beside the spectral wolf watching the battle at the edge of the cliff. The claws slide out of his fingers, then in again. He snorts and turns back to the others.

“What I be wanting is information on what this thing be looking like. Be that too much to ask? Without it, we be needing to search the place from top to bottom, and several times if it be not apparent.”

The boy in white clasps his hands and lifts his face to the sky. “We are on a holy quest for God Kem. We shall find what we seek with His loving guidance.” Lowering his face back down to them, the boy smiles. “You will know His wrath if you press for more information than He has already graciously provided.”

Rusty grunts at the boy. “And what guidance be that?”

“That we were sent with you.” The boy in white smiles. “As a priest of Kem, I am of course closer to His thoughts. If I see this thing, it will be obvious to me.”

The Small Folk raises her hand. “If the artifact is magical in any normal sense, I can detect it from close range.”

“Now there be a good idea.” Rusty grins and points at the two. “You both will search for it while we oversee the battle. Use your magic to get inside the groundling fort, and report back if there be some problem.”

The boy in white scowls. “You wish to do nothing and make us work.”

Rusty shrugs. “I be your commander on this assignment, that be in my power.” Then he smiles. “But no. I think the beasts be struggling enough. While you be inside, we be doing something about those troublesome captains. And be not you wishing to find the thing your god wants? I be giving you the credit, if you find it. Now go.”

The Small Folk woman and the boy in white glance at each other. He grins and rises to his feet again. She stands and reaches toward him, while drawing glowing sigils in the air with a finger. They vanish after clasping hands.

Sah looks up at Rusty. “What are your orders, sir?”

He turns to stare at the battle. “The large man be only tiring himself out. And I be thinking it best to leave someone that strong alone. So there be two captains on the wall top, two at the front gate, and one in the courtyard. We be splitting up.”

Rusty points at Rams. “Stop the priests in the courtyard. When you be finished there, join Sah.” He turns to the half-human woman. “I be dropping you on the wall-top. Kill one or both of the captains, and defend the position. I be killing the defenders at the gate, then joining you on the wall. We be leaving, and the beasts be taking the fort. Be there objections?”

“None.” Rams stands and bows his head. “I wish you both luck and soundness of mind. I go to die today. I am satisfied.” He bows his head twice more, and walks away.

Sah grimaces. “Does he have to always say that?”

“Everyone be having their way of coping with battle, my bold blue rose. And he be right someday.” Rusty helps the half-human woman to her feet, and pulls her close. “And speaking of, I be looking forward to after the battle.” He grins.

She sighs. “I do not want to act as I do after battle, sir. You are enjoying something I consider a flaw as a warrior.” Pressing her forehead against his, she closes her eyes. “With that said … where?”

“I be thinking the dead commander’s bedchambers.” Rusty throws back his head and lets out a shrill laughter. He repeats the tone until it sounds like the hunting cry of a bird. His body grows huge and covered in feathers, his arms become wings, and his legs turn into scaly talons. The roc flaps its wings, grabs Sah by her arms, and flies off into the air with her.



The bow-wielding captain reaches back and finds his quarrel empty. He growls at Jorg, “I need more arrows!”

“Do I look like your errand boy?” The orc’s left hand glows black as he scoops up a rough orb of stone and holds it to the sun. Glowing white, his right hand rubs the stone. “Gods, I call upon you. As the sun and the moon are always present, so too are you. Damned God who commands stone, Light who commands fire, combine your powers.” He throws the stone, which explodes among the horde of Beastmen below. Jorg turns to the captain with the bow. “But I do need more stone. I’ll tell a private to bring arrows up from storage.”

The shadow of a bird flits along the wall, and corkscrews above. Moments later the giant bird flashes past over their heads. The air swirls and tosses sand everywhere, as weapon racks fall over. Soldiers brace against the wind, or fall to their knees.

Sah falls from the sky, covered in heavy, black armor. She carries a thick black shield taller than most humans. Her boots flash a steely gray, and her fall slows until she is only drifting down.

She lands on an empty space of wall, orients on the two captains, and charges with her shield held before her. Her gauntlets flash a dark umber, and soldiers go flying as she crashes past them. She slams into the bow-wielding captain as he is still rubbing sand out of his eyes. He hurtles off the wall with a cry, and into the horde.

Jorg uncovers his eyes and blinks at Sah. He grunts out, “Damned God, grant me strength.” She swings her shield around to bash against him. Black shadow bracers form around his arms, and he blocks the shield, though his arms shake. “Light, grant me fortitude.” A translucent white cloak settles down over his shoulders, and his arms stop shaking.

Sah steps back and spins around, as a dozen projectiles come from every direction. Her shield and armor intercept them all, the arrows smashing to bits against her and the stones rebounding with small plink sounds. Facing the orc captain again, she holds up her tower shield and swings the edge at him, cleaving through the air as she comes at him.

He whispers, “Light, grant me swiftness.” His boots glow white and he skates wide around the oncoming armored woman. “Damned God, fell my foe.” He kicks one of the stones that rebounded off her. The stone scatters into marble-sized chunks which roll below her heavy boots.

She turns to follow him, and slips on the small stones. Her foot flies out from under her, but she catches herself against the ground with a shield. The black armor softens and becomes a black cloak, which wraps tighter until her body vanishes in the ever-constricting folds. The cloak folds in on itself and is gone.

The cloak unfolds in the air behind Jorg, and Sah appears as the cloak forms into heavy armor again. She bashes her shield against his back, sending him flying forward.

He tumbles along the ground, and stops on one knee. He wipes blood from his lips with a shaking hand, picks up a stone, and turns around to throw it. She is standing behind him, the flat of the shield coming down at him. When the stone and shield connect, the stone crumbles and the shield stops. With another step Sah is standing over Jorg, the shield again coming at him. He raises his crossed arms up to block as she pummels him.