“Captain Troy was it? I greet you to my quarters.” said a lovely, womanly tone. Rilwen returned by herself with a bright visage.
Anvalth was even more surprised to find out she knew his captain. His confusion caught Rilwen’s eyes and she continued as she turned to him.
“I asked captain Troy here about you and if I could recruit you in my ranks.” After a short pause in which she exchanged glances with the captain, she continued. “And we had a few drinks.
“My humble camp doesn’t compare to your grand encampment here. Even half emptied, it’s much livelier than anything I’ve seen. We were just passing by. There are preparations to be made. See you all on the road.” Troy and Val left their quarters in a hurry. Rilwen turned to everyone and spoke loud and clear after clearing her throat.
“We have been assigned as leaders of the extermination party, and we will be assisted by the lovely gentleman and his band of mercenaries.” Her vocabulary felt somewhat cruel to Anvalth but it was simply the truth. “After our mission will be over, we will join with the main forces and begin the assault on the Demon Queen’s fortress.” Everyone jumped up at the sound of her name. Rilwen was in quite the mood to be so daring. “We will avenge our brother Henrick right this day! Gather everyone in the quarters and prepare everything for departure!”
A collective “Yes, dame Rilwen!” echoed from her subordinates. Each scattered to do their usual tasks when they went off to battle. Anvalth was the one sent to retrieve Liam and Rousseau from their sparring match. The clash of their blades was like a song of steel, ringing in his ears as he approached. While he wanted to fulfill his task, Anvalth was also struck with curiosity.
Liam was sweating heavily, swinging wide and wild with his marvelous claymore. Rousseau was on the defensive blocking his hits with a large, metal buckler. In the other hand he wielded a one handed, curved blade; a scimitar. Liam’s relentless assault was futile for Rousseau was able to push back each and every attack. Despite their visible difference in size, he had no problem moving the shield around and maintaining it up against the powerful swings of a claymore. Liam leapt forward, striking from above but this time his hit slashed the air, hitting the ground and raising dust. His opponent dodged to the side unexpectedly and pushed him in the ribs with the shield. Liam lost his balance and fell to the ground with a scimitar at his neck. But it wasn’t over for his hand moved on its own and he parried the scimitar to the side. He used the length of the claymore to his advantage, forcing Rousseau to back away from him, enough for Liam to roll to the side, stand back up and grip the hilt tightly with both his hands. He wiped his sweat pouring in his eyes with his forearm and in that moment his opponent closed the distance. He put his claymore in front of him, blocking the oncoming strike and pushing into Rousseau with might, which was forced to bash him with the buckler before dropping it on the ground and tripping himself.
Liam thrust forward but Rousseau managed to parry it to the side. He tried to follow it up with a kick to disarm him and leave Rousseau defenseless on the ground, but his move was read and in less than a second he found himself on the ground, without his claymore. Rousseau stood up victorious, lending his comrade his hand. Liam picked up the claymore and grabbed his hand.
“That was impressive, but if I were a demon you would’ve died the moment I first knocked you to the ground... fifteen minutes ago.” Rousseau sheathed his scimitar and wiped his clothes of dust. Anvalth finally stepped up from the shadows into the training ring.
“Rilwen calls for everyone to quarters. We’re leaving to battle today.” Their brows furrowed, hearing his words. Rousseau ran past him but Liam was still in place, with his claymore unsheathed.
“There’s something I wanted to ask you, rookie. What’s the source of your power?” Liam could have bet his life it wasn’t skill. There was no way someone like him could be that much better through training and experience alone. And if it was as he expected…
Anvalth raised his gaze and pointed upwards.
“I knew it! That’s perfect!” Anvalth was startled by his excitement. Liam approached him with greed in his eyes. “There’s one thing I want from you… let me drink some of your blood, to fuel my Telaar.” His expression was utterly terrifying. He reverted to the one Anvalth first met.
“What do you mean by that?” Anvalth was getting nervous and slowly moved backwards, trying to distance himself from Liam.
“I can steal people’s Telaar as long as I drink their blood and they are willingly giving it to me. I can only wield one Telaar at a time and only for a period of a year, time after which it returns to its former owner.”
“It’s not a blessing, but a curse. You shouldn’t-”
“What does it do? Does it enhance your instincts? Can your eyes read the moves of your opponents? Do your arms swing with greater force and your feet push you farther? What is your secret?” He was avid for knowledge or perhaps just greedy, but either way it was freaking Anvalth out.
“When suffering intense emotions or under terrible stress, you lose control of yourself and you become a slaughtering beast, unable to discern friend from foe.” Anvalth stopped and looked him right in the eyes, continuing with utmost determination. “That is the very reason I will not lend this power to anyone else.” His nerve was what set him apart from anyone else Liam met. This time in particular, because his tragic experience marked him for life and whenever someone made light of it, he would go out of his way to prove it is a curse upon the bearer.
“It is the only way for me to vanquish the Demon Queen-”
“Stop shitting around! This is not a joke, I’m telling you-” Anvalth cut him off, angered by his stupidity, but he was interrupted himself.
“And you’re letting it go to waste! You are useless, you can’t even fight anymore. Give it to me and I’ll prove to you that it can bring retribution upon the demons!” Silence fell after his words. Liam was beginning to regret starting the discussion, and he realized how greedy he was to assume he would simply be given it.
“Yes, I am useless. That doesn’t change the fact I won’t let you ruin your own life.” Anvalth turned his back on him and was about to head to the quarters.
“After doing so much for you, and even coming to respect you as a warrior and a person, you’re still the same. Annoying…” Blood splattered on his clothes as he swung his claymore at Anvalth. Liam looked around worriedly, but there was no one in sight. He pulled a vial out of his belt pouch and filled it with Anvalth’s blood. “I’ll have to make an excuse for this. Oh, whatever…” He wiped his blade clean and sheathed it, picking him off the ground and putting his arm around his neck. He carried him back to the quarters, and with a distressed look on his face he screamed out.
“Help, he’s injured! There was one more witch… I barely slew her!” He was breathing and sweating heavily. His act was so formidable that everyone fell for it. After a short interrogation from Rilwen, she healed Anvalth’s cut and brought him to consciousness. Now it was the moment of truth for Liam, whether or not he could pull it off depended on what Anvalth remembered.
“W-What happened? Where was I?” He looked at everyone around him, save for Liam who was about to burst of excitement. He managed to trick everyone. Afterwards, he convinced them there was only one witch who vanished away and that there was no need for worry, they didn’t have time for it anyway.
The preparations were ready and the squad of the maiden left at once. The paladins and knights met with the numerous mercenaries outside their camp and Rilwen took the lead of the entire battle group, seconded by the dwarf Erik. The sole woman of the troops was also the sole mounted knight. Anvalth was oblivious to anything happening between the troops for he was enchanted by his surroundings. As they travelled farther from the camp, the vegetation changed drastically. The forest surrounding them was of conifers and the grass beneath their feet was much denser and had a more intense nuance of green. The very air he took in with every breath was something out of that world. On
each side were mountains with snowy perches reaching for the clouds. Their marvelous, imposing stature over the mountain pass was astounding and terrifying at the same time. Anvalth looked straight up and noticed the sun was hidden by rather dark clouds, gathering around. Rain was soon to be upon them. He felt a sudden nudge in his back.
“Hey, you look awfully gloomy. You aight?” Anvalth turned to him and inspected his visage for a moment. His green eyes were somewhat reminiscent of Rousseau’s.
“Sebastian, was it?”
“Aye, that’s me.” His accent was surprising for a human, more akin to that of a dwarf.
“I was enjoying the view. I’ve never been to such mountains and beautiful forests.”
“Keep your eyes peeled on our surroundings. There’s no telling when the enemy will be upon us.” He crept slightly closer to him and yelled “There!” startling Anvalth. He looked around worriedly but someone else came from behind him and patted him on the shoulder.
“Don’t mind him. He’s just as anxious as all of us. Truth be told, now that the final fight is so close, his pretty nervous; personal reasons that is.” Anvalth turned to the person now walking next to him on his right. He couldn’t really remember his name but as long as he didn’t have to ask him anything he needn’t worry. There was one thing on his mind though.
“Sebastian, how come you have such a strong accent?”
“Well, ye’ see… I have been orphaned by the One-Not-To-Be-Named and I was sent in the east, in a village of dwarves. Interesting folks they are, diligent yet hateful to outsiders, especially elves.”
“Does that mean you’re acquainted to Erik before you came here?”
“No lad, the land of the dwarves is vast… vast and arid. Funny thing you see… come closer.” Sebastian leaned towards him, whispering in his ear. “When I first got ‘ere, Erik mistook my voice and accent for that of a friend of his. Quite the peculiar thing that was for him.” Anvalth chuckled, trying to imagine the confusion on the dwarf’s face. Sebastian and Joachim slowed their pace, engaging in friendly banter.
Anvalth thought to himself how interesting it was that every single soul gathered there had a different reason for following the same path. And what caught his attention looking at his companions was the variety of weaponry. Anything but a simple short sword or long sword would be an uncommon occurrence among the mercenary camp. In front of the group were the ones carrying large weapons such as Erik with his warhammer and Oswald wielding a massive halberd. He stood right behind them as flag bearer and to his left and right were Liam respectively Caldwell, both of them having marvelous claymores. Behind the three of them was Rousseau with his scimitar and buckler, wearing gear which allowed him to swiftly move to the front and the back of their squad. After him were the elven brothers Haldris and Atheol being the ranged support of the group with a longbow and a crossbow. And lastly were Sebastian with a standard long sword and Joachim wielding a mace and a kite shield with the symbol of their flag depicted on it.
The grass beneath their feet was previously trampled by the numerous troops that left the day before, resembling a hidden pathway through the forest. The farther they went, the vegetation was getting scarce and the trees lost their verdant beauty, switching to trunks without pine needles across the branches. The ground itself was somewhat coarse and the sun was obstructed by a dark blanket of clouds.
Out of the blue, the front stopped. The others took notice and stopped as well, along with the line of mercenaries following behind on the narrow pathway. It all happened in the span of a moment… deafening roars, thundering footsteps, blood flying around, lights flashing blindly, pained screams, names thrown around, and incomprehensible orders. It was a massacre.
Anvalth was pushed around, unable to understand what was going on in that sea of lights and noise. He could discern shapes, larger than those of people. His heart was beating wild, about to break out of his ribcage. He felt like suffocating and fainting at the same time. There was one thing keeping him from blacking out.
“Anvalth!” screamed Rilwen, swinging wide with her greatsword. She was soon to be surrounded by demonic amalgamations, fiends more hideous even than the fearful behemoths. With an inhuman leap, Caldwell split in two one of the creatures encroaching on Rilwen and they stood back to back, fending off the hordes. Erik obliterated another demon with a single strike of his mighty warhammer while Joachim and Rousseau were trying their hardest to protect the elven brothers who swiftly cleared entire rows with their precise arrows. Blood rushed through Anvalth and he gripped the handle tightly, raising the flag high in the air. He was their beacon of hope, the only one capable of raising the morale in such a time. He didn’t have the choice of dying on them. Seeing as they were overrun by the seemingly endless numbers of the enemy, he strapped the large flag to his back with a tight belt and drew his rapier. It was uncomfortable to move around like that and to swing with only his left arm, but he had to. His eyes scouted the battlefield, and two terrible things caught his attention. The mercenary army was being obliterated by the chaotic fiends, and one warrior was running amok, swinging his claymore blindly. Anvalth clenched his fist around the hilt and bit his lip, seeing how Liam actually used his blood eventually. He only played the fool to not get Liam in trouble for he could understand his feelings, those of inferiority.
“What are we goin’ to do?” Erik turned to Rilwen, looking around at the monsters which kept coming. “’Twas a blasted trap!”
“Is there any end to these vile creatures?” Yelled Haldris, letting loose the string of the bow as an arrow flew right between the eyes of such demon.
The entire burden was put on Rilwen, who had to make the hardest decision while overwhelmed in battle, struggling to survive.
“We’ll carve a path forward and continue towards the main unit! Follow me!” She raised her sword high and it was engulfed in a blinding aura of light. The rays it shone down upon the nearby demons turned them to ashes and she strode forward, beheading monsters. By going forward, it meant abandoning the entire mercenary corps and any who might not be able to make it. Anvalth was torn because of her decision, not wanting to abandon his old comrades, but also wanting to follow her to the ends of the world. As he looked back, he noticed Liam was going deeper and deeper into the ranks of the demons, farther from their squad.
“What are you doing? Move!” yelled Sebastian, pushing him forward against his will. Anvalth broke free from his grasp and closed his eyes. He wasn’t a very religious person, nor did he have any special connection to Liam or the mercenary group, but he knew one thing, that he wouldn’t abandon them. He was foolish to place his hopes in a higher power which he didn’t even believe in, but it was his last chance. His heart was calm and all surrounding noise was suppressed. His body knew only one thing, wielding the blade. He knew only one emotion, rage. It wasn’t an outburst of emotion like a sea on a stormy day, but like a river carving its way through a mountain, serene and precise. It started to rain.
The injured squad barely made it out of that living hell. As soon as they were out of the reach of those demons, Rilwen fell to the ground. Rousseau turned her over so she wouldn’t drown in the mud and noticed her incinerated face. The skin of her head was nothing but raw muscle from which pulsed blood. Upon his touch, even her hair turned to dust and was blown by the wind. Rousseau ripped his entire leather shirt with unknown vigor and strength and wrapped her head with it, cutting small holes for her eyes, nose and mouth with a knife he carried around. All the others sat down right on the ground, tending to their own wounds. Erik was the most uninjured, for the skin of the dwarves was much tougher and his body was sturdy and well built. He looked around at everyone and noticed who was missing. In the confusion of the ambush, they lost Haldris, Liam and Anvalth.
“What’ll we do now? Should we try to continue until we reach Élerion’s army or what?” said Joachim, bandaging his left shoulder.
“M-My brother… Haldris! Where is he?” Atheol’s face was red an
d frightened. Compared to how pale and calm he usually was; everyone else was shaken.
“He’s no longer with us, it seems.” responded Erik, sighing and moving towards Rilwen. “And that’s not all. We lost Liam and Anvalth, while our leader is unconscious and probably unable to fight anymore.” The terrible news struck everyone like arrows through their chests. All of them put their hopes in Rilwen, and now that she was in that state everything seemed pointless. “As second in command, I will take the burden of leading this squad. Ya have time to rest until ye’ tend to yer wounds. We will be returning to camp afterwards. In this condition, none of us is fit to fight.”
“Return where? The demons are still out there, waiting for us, eager to eat our corpses!”
“’Tis settled. We’ll avoid the demons and return to camp.”
“After all, save for Haldris only the weakest died.” mumbled Caldwell with an exhausted expression.
“Watch your mouth, moron!” Sebastian shouted at him. “Liam was completely surrounded by demons yet he was cutting them all down and Anvalth only stayed behind because he didn’t want to abandon Liam and his old friends!”
“Enough, enough ye’ two! Settle down.” Erik was trying to stop any more senseless blunder.
“Dwarf, I’m going to see what has come of my brother. I ask that you do not stop me.” Atheol was pale and livid. He looked more dead than alive. Erik who had bonded with him and his brother couldn’t stand in his way, seeing him like that.
“Rousseau, accompany-”
A World Beyond the Dark Page 5
