Battle of Mythics

by Damon Glatz

  Too easy... She is fighting them off too easily.

  Darius took a moment to study the battle. The tribesmen warriors fought fiercely, on both sides. But once Sierra divided them, and would strike at the enemy, they stood no chance.

  The tribesmen are only trained to fight other tribesmen. Sierra was trained by an Orbis military. Studied and well-practiced. An expert in strategy and martial arts.

  Darius frowned, his eyes darted around the field of battle. Watching everyone's movements.

  The entire Orbis army has spent their lives studying and practicing the art of battle. Each and every soldier is in the military as a career.

  Darius sheathed his sword. The battle was winding to a close. The remaining red hand members were driven off by Ohitekah's tribe. Darius looked away from them.

  These tribesmen stand no chance in battle against an organized military. Not a shot in hell.

  Lance’s torch danced in the darkness. The air was thick and musty, attempting to choke him and leave him here to rot. Which would have been appropriate considering where he was. The ancient crypts under Castle Magnus. Home to the tombs of the first Kings of Ashland. These crypts had been locked and forbidden since the start of the third age, sealing away the royalty of the old Ashland. Since the Fire Mythic had been killed, all subsequent kings had been cremated, Lance’s father included. Lance, however, cared not for the superstitious rules of lesser men, he could tread where he pleased.

  He strode boldly, defiant of the archaic history he was sullying with his footsteps. All his research had led him here. Restless nights in his study, dwelling on his mistakes, made it clear what he had to do.

  After his last fight with Daisuke, Lance had developed a theory. There was something about Daisuke’s blade. Lance thought he had forged himself a perfect weapon, but it was still no match for that ancient black steel. The more he thought about it, the more he noticed that Daisuke never sharpened his blade once during their travels. It never grew dull, never weakened. Weapon strength was not a property of being a Mythic; otherwise, his stick would not have shattered when they sparred. No, it was something about his sword specifically. The black blade Kaminoshi, the very blade that cut through the neck of the dragon Mythic.

  It wasn’t just Daisuke’s blade, but Nicholas’ as well. During his many clashes against enemy steel the blue blade of the Vatnic kings never blunted, it even sliced through the scales of the Water Mythic like it was armed with paper. Nicholas’ sword was carried down through generations leading back to the first king of the Isles, and just like Daisuke’s, it shared the same properties of strength and durability. There was something about the relic swords, some sort of attribute that the ancient blades of kings had to possess that made them superior. Exactly how or what that property was, Lance was unsure about. But he knew Ashland had a similar ancient blade of its own.

  Drake’s Sword. The scarlet blade. Draco Regnator.

  Lance read every book and scroll that he could on the subject. He learned everything that was written.

  The texts never agree on where the sword originated. Each story has its own tale of the creation of the scarlet blade, each more fantastic than the last. However, the histories become clearer when Drake the First takes possession of it for himself in the second age. After witnessing the uncontested destruction caused by the dragon, he used the scarlet sword to challenge the Mythic of Fire in Brann Mountain. The battle was fierce but there was no victory on either side. The God of the Sun admired the skill and bravery of the man that fought his Mythic to a draw. The God made an alliance between the Mythic and the mortal. Drake, with the God’s blessing, was to be crowned a king of all humans. All those who followed him were only to worship the God of the Sun and his Mythic, and no other deities. Anyone swearing loyalty to the King, and worshiping the King’s God, would be protected by the Mythic of Fire. And in times of desperation, the King could call upon the Mythic to fight for them.

  This began the first kingdom of men. Soon, rival kingdoms would appear across the globe, each worshipping their own god, all claiming to be Kings of the world. Drake eventually died and his sword faded into legend. His lineage continued and Ashland grew to become one of the strongest nations in the world.

  Lance thought he had reached a dead end, being unable to research at the Library of Orbis, Lance was stuck with whatever was left in the studies of his home. Last night, Lance had discovered a transcript of a poem that was performed at King Drake’s funeral, something that might point him in the right direction.

  “The blood of King Drake was wrapped in his cape. In darkness, it hides from the Sun God’s Eyes.”

  Lance stopped his step and raised his torch, he brushed off a layer of dirt to read the name on the tomb.

  Could it really be in here?

  King Drake. Lance smiled, this was it. He reached over and dragged the heavy lid across the stone sarcophagus. He let its own weight crash it down onto the ground, breaking it apart at his feet. In front of him lied the corpse of the first king of Ashland, Lance’s oldest recorded ancestor. It was mostly dust, some hair, and some teeth, what may have been a skull and part of a burial robe. Lance reached inside the chest cavity of the skeleton and felt around.

  His eyes lit up.

  He grasped the hard object and lifted it, breaking the bones of the body as he forced it through the remains. What was left of Drake himself was shattered as Lance retrieved his prize, he gave no thought to the body he was desecrating.

  Lance unwrapped the silk robe with caution and gazed upon his trophy. He gripped its hilt and drew it from its sheath. Even in the dark, its blade glistened as if it was wet with fresh blood. This was it, Drake’s legendary sword. The only equal to Kaminoshi. The one sword worthy of the King of Ashland.

  The sun was beginning to set over the plains. Darius took a moment to sharpen his blade. Ohitekah was sitting next to his mother, consoling her. The rest of his tribe was rebuilding their homes and supplies. He had lost a lot of men before Ohitekah arrived. Their tribe was badly beaten, probably would have been destroyed otherwise.

  We showed up just in time.

  Darius looked at the wounded and dead warriors. The ones that were alive still were from Ohitekah's tribe. Sierra had killed many of the enemy tribe herself, but most of them had retreated.

  These Tribesmen don't engage in battle like the other Nations do. They rush into the enemy while the enemy is unaware, attack with speed and ferocity, and retreat before they themselves suffer losses. This way, a smaller force can even defeat a large one over time. I've never considered this strategy before. No one has.

  Darius stood up and walked to the tent Ohitekah was beside. His mother was weeping onto his shoulder.

  No... This probably isn't the best time.

  Darius turned away.

  "Everything is okay," Ohitekah said to Johanna softly. "We're here now to protect you. You are safe now."

  Her sobs slowed down after some time.

  "I was so afraid. But I knew you would come."

  "Ohitekah!" A familiar voice shouted. Mae ran over and embraced him. "Thank the gods you came!"

  Ohitekah glanced to his side, Sierra was watching them intently. Her hand on the hilt of her sword.

  "Mae. How did this happen?" Ohitekah asked nervously, pulling away from the tight hug.

  "It was Goleih. He left the tribe. He hated us after you came back. He was always so aggressive... But I never knew he could do this."

  Goleih. I never could have guessed he would betray us like that.

  "Well, It’s okay. He won't be coming back." Ohitekah comforted her while avoiding the painful glare of Sierra.

  "That’s right." Mae stood up. "Not with you here to defend us!"

  Ohitekah glanced away again. Sierra and Darius were walking over to him. He stood up to introduce them.

  I need to be careful. I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea.

  "Who are your friends, Ohitekah?" Mae stood up as well.

 
"Hello. I'm Darius." Darius gave a slight wave with his hand "Ohitekah and I battle monsters and other things. No big deal. He's alright."

  She gave a smile and waved back.

  "Hi! I'm Mae! Ohitekah and I have been friends since we were little."

  Ohitekah swallowed a lump in his throat.

  Mae looked to Sierra, who, at first glance, Mae had mistaken for a man. However, it was not her face that fooled her. For her face was sharp and even through its toughness, beamed with a beauty of its own. It was also just not her unusual clothing, or armor, or weapons, which Mae found strange for a woman to be wearing nonetheless. It was the way she carried herself. She stood straight, her body was commanding. Mae had never seen another woman walk so strong and proud. Mae was immediately filled with fear and respect for this warrior. Mae had witnessed this girl fight and defeat several of the enemy tribesmen, men in her own tribe struggled to beat. Out of her, the older man, and the Mythic of Thunder. It was clear who was really in charge.

  Sierra stared down the tribe girl. Her grip loosened on her hilt when the girl took a step back from Ohitekah. She gave Mae a fast up-down glance. She was beautiful. She had long black hair and a slender body. Sierra thought self-consciously about her own appearance. Her own short brown hair that never even covered her eyes. She had never cared about her physical attractiveness before. Her hair only got in the way of her fighting. Long hair was a weakness in battle.

  Sierra remembered her past, living alone in the streets. Pretty girls were victims, they couldn't fight. They used their looks to secure a man to defend them from other men. They were pathetic. Sierra did everything she could to make herself stronger, smarter, and faster. She wanted to rely on no one. Fear no one. But here she was, for the first time, jealous. Which only served to make her angrier.

  Why am I jealous of her? I bet she can't even throw a punch.

  She looked at Ohitekah. He had never mentioned this, "Mae", before. Why was she so happy to see him? She studied Ohitekah. He was breathing heavy. Good. He should be afraid right now.

  She should be jealous of me. I don't need anyone watching over me. I can defend myself.

  She could tell Ohitekah was trying to think of something to break the tension.

  He's horrible with words. I should just say something.

  Ohitekah's eyes scanned the ground. His mouth trying to open.

  Actually, this is quite funny. He got himself into this.

  Sierra changed her face and smiled at Ohitekah.

  Ohitekah's eyes opened wide. Why is she smiling at me? he thought. She’s messing with me again. She knows how uncomfortable this is.

  Ohitekah glanced back to Mae who was easier to look at currently.

  "Mae... This is my friend, Sierra. We trained together for a while in Orbis."

  Oh is that all I am?

  Mae nodded. Sierra returned the gesture.

  "Nice to meet you, Sierra."

  "The same."

  Ohitekah let out a sigh of relief.

  I don't even know why I'm so embarrassed. I never told either of them how I feel about them. So, there's nothing to feel guilty about.

  Darius sat in the back of the group, watching the situation. He knew Sierra well enough to tell when she was flustered. He smiled.

  Ohitekah, it looks like you got yourself into a mess. I would not want to be on the bad side of Sierra.

  Darius scanned Mae for a second.

  She is pretty though. Hmm, I'm not sure to be jealous of him or happy I'm not involved at all.

  Sierra stared at Ohitekah.

  "Ohitekah. We have a job to do. Let’s meet the elders."

  "Yes! Let’s go." Ohitekah jumped up at the chance to walk away from the situation. He was happy to get the group moving again.

  "Here, I'll show you where to go."

  Mae stepped beside Ohitekah and clung onto his arm.

  Ohitekah froze in place, afraid to look at anyone. He could hear Darius restrain a laugh behind him.

  This is the worst. Oh my god. She’s going to kill me.

  "Yeah, I think the elders are in their tent... Where they usually are," Ohitekah said dryly.

  "Oh okay. You had been gone for so long I wasn't sure if you remembered. Having all those adventures and battles. Sure must be exciting."

  She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.

  Ohitekah remembered fighting the Earth Mythic. Losing many of his friends in the cave. It wasn't exciting, it was horrifying. Sierra understood what battle was like, the sacrifice each time they drew their weapons. It’s a life Mae would never know, could never know.

  Ohitekah cleared his throat.

  "Yeah... It gets exciting. That’s one way to put it. Mostly I'm just trying to keep my friends safe though... You know?"

  "You're so brave! We talk about you all the time here. Out there, protecting us. You're our hero. To all of us."

  Ohitekah gave a slow nod.

  I can't protect you. I can't defend the plains on my own. I'm here to ask for help. Because I'm not strong enough.

  "Yeah, about that." Ohitekah rubbed the back of his neck.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  The Plans of Men

  "War you say." The Chief Elder sat quietly for a moment. Ohitekah noted that his clothes and parts of the hut now were decorated with large yellow feathers. They must have scavenged the Thunderbird after all. "These plans you have... Nothing like this has ever been tried before."

  "I understand." Ohitekah sat in the large tent of the Elders. The sun had set, only light from the stars were being shown through the opening at the peak of the tipi.

  "Holy Shaman... What say you in this matter?" The Chief turned to his left, the Shaman had been seated quietly for the entirety of Ohitekah's speech.

  "These are certainly troubling times. Our people stand on the edge of greatness... Or destruction. Together we can fight for freedom. Or separate we can be forgotten into the histories... But uniting our very separate tribes and clans so would seem like an impossible task. But, if the Mythic of Thunder leads us... We can unite as one."

  Ohitekah nodded.

  "Shaman," another Elder spoke. "Do you believe in our abilities to win? United or not. We stand against a great enemy."

  "I know nothing of the wars of men, or what drives them to success... But I do know our Ohitekah. He knows what is best for us all."

  The rest of the Elders nodded.

  Ohitekah stood. "I know this is a challenge, but we must rise to face it. Our people must stand and fight together. What I need our tribe to do, is send out riders in every direction, and spread the word. I can't gather our people alone, tell each and every tribe, ‘War is coming. And the Mythic of Thunder is going to lead us all to victory. We are going to meet at the southernmost point of our territory and group up. Send all the warriors each tribe can spare, and send the women and children to take refuge west, near the shores.’ If the army of Orbis marches onto our land, we will be ready to defend it."

  "Very good, young Mythic." The Chief agreed with the plan. "We will send our riders immediately." He paused. "Where shall you go?"

  "I am going to travel to the Vatnic isles. There is another element of our plan that requires the King of the Vatnics."

  "That is fine," the Chief stated. "We shall see you again shortly then."

  "Yes. We will. Thank you all."

  "No. Thank you, Mythic of Thunder."

  Ohitekah gave a nod and exited the tent.

  "Ohitekah." Darius stepped to his side, he was waiting for him outside. "We need to talk about something."

  Ohitekah paused. "Okay, sure."

  Darius took a moment to collect his thoughts. He took a deep breath. "I've been mulling over our strategy here, and I am not sure we’re going about this the right way."

  "Yeah? What’s on your mind?"

  "When Galius came up with the plan, I don't think he really understood too much about your people. Your… Very unique culture."

  Ohite
kah frowned.

  "Let me be clearer. Galius was probably under the impression your men would engage in battle like every other nation. Line in formation, fight in units, a civil command chain, but your tribe's people have a very unorthodox fighting style."

  "What do you mean?" Ohitekah narrowed his glare at Darius.

  "Let Falko invade the plains."

  Ohitekah took a step back.

  "What?!"

  "Listen to me." Darius raised his voice. "I looked at our advantages and disadvantages. Your men, the tribesmen, are not soldiers. They cannot become soldiers overnight either. It’s impossible."

  "Oh?" Ohitekah clenched his fist. "You think we're just some savages? A bunch of animals compared to your advanced military?"

  "That's not at all what I'm saying." Darius took a deep breath. "I'm saying we're not using your techniques to their potential. If we line your people up and pretended to fight like another military, it would be a waste of their skills." Ohitekah shook his head. "What we need to do is have your men fight the way they have been for hundreds of years. Hit and run tactics. Rush in, do as much damage as you can, and retreat before the enemy can begin to defend themselves. It’s a strategy Falko has never considered. It’s how we can get the edge on him. Your men know the territory, his don't, and you know their weaknesses and when to strike the hardest. Let him move into your land and chip away at his men. It’s not a quick win, but it’s the best shot you have to keep your nation intact. Eventually, his men will be so worn out and demoralized they will have to pull out."

  "What about the army from the North? Daisuke's men are coming to back us up. What about the invasion? We can end this whole war before it begins, one decisive battle."

  Darius shook his head.

  "That plan is assuming Daisuke can even gain command of the samurai. He's a great leader, but we have no idea that he will be successful. And King Nicholas? There will be another time for that, but not now. If your plan fails, there’s no coming back from it, that’s all our chips on one bet. If we let Falko take the plains, and give him hell for a while, he will be unable to continue his campaign. That would lead to a type of war he has never fought before, a type of war your men are experts on. Your country can win without the help of any other nations."