by CJ East
It stalked the edge of the darkness, half into the open, emitting a low, rolling growl like thunder. The beast was immense, with long legs displaying powerful muscles, a disproportionate bulky neck, and shoulders rising to the height of Kinch’s own shoulders. The wolf’s head slung low and menacing, locked on Kinch, ready to leap.
Kinch had made no move, offensive or defensive, but froze studying a beast the size of a muscular plow horse. Was this Argus? It’s gray, thick hide was smooth like a rhinoceros, with long, deep scars and bite wounds from past battles. There was something familiar about the wolf. It held an aloofness, almost superiority - a certainty of confidence in his abilities to kill, if the circumstances demanded.
The wolf turned its shoulders to face Kinch and raised its monstrous head high. Kinch felt a heavy, dull telepathic pressure. It pressed upon his mind, and he answered, “Argus?”
The wolf looked to the side and raised his nose as if interested in catching the scent of some other, more interesting event in the Wilds. Kinch smiled and slid off his shield and tossed it to the ground, averting his eyes from the wolf. He hoped the same rules of nature applied here on Mars, eye contact was an aggressive act. He drove the sword into the soil and looked up to Argus. The wolf looked away and sat down on his haunches, watching Kinch out of the corner of his eye.
Kinch took a few slow steps forward, “It’s OK buddy, I’m not so sure about you either. One thing is for certain: we had better set the tone right here and now.” Argus snapped his head and locked eyes with Kinch, his lips curling into a slight snarl.
Kinch moved his arms down to his side and continued forward, “Yeah, I know, me too. I don’t much like people either. But you and I, we are either going to be friends or we are going to kill each other. Mostly because I’m terrified of you.”
Argus lowered his head and stood, emitting a low rumble. Kinch finished his last step and came to the most casual stop he could fake. “Okay, that is close enough for me to.” The two stood facing each other only a few feet apart.
Argus’ growl became deeper and louder. His eyes darted from Kinch back to where he had entered the glen. His ears, ripped from conflict, twitched back and forth, until flattening backwards in anger. Argus turned, positioning his body toward something at the edge of the tree line.
Kinch felt it too, something else was coming fast upon them.
Dux
The approaching force was manic. Feelings of anger, violence, hatred and fear assaulted his mind like discordant instruments. A mob of brutish, unorganized voices crowding into his mind. He assumed they grew louder as they approached, though he couldn’t hear any physical sound from the Wilds.
Somewhere beyond the frightening chaos another singular presence was felt. Hurried and urgent, but familiar.
The confusion and turmoil became maddening. Argus faced the direction of the threat. His leathery ears were pinned back, his mouth stretched back displaying a vicious, snarling bear trap of teeth.
The presence continued to escalate, now causing mental pain. He shifted his focus from the voices, blocking both the chaos and the familiar bridges. A silence surrounded him inside and out, only the threatening snarls of Argus drove his adrenaline to action.
He turned and ran from Argus’ side to his cache of weapons on the grass. He plunged them tip down into the soil near the blue portal. The two swords first, the long spear, and then his iron staff. He slid the large golden disk onto his shield arm and retrieved the golden sword from the soil.
He called to Argus who was watching out of the corner of his eye, “Argus, come here,” and nodded the way he would to a puppy. Argus glanced and returned his attention to the danger. His immense body lowered as he snarled, interspersed with spasmodic, feral barks.
“Argus,” he tried again in a soothing tone. He waited until Argus turned his head back. Kinch motioned with his arms to come near, his voice lower and more calm, “Together. C’mon boy, we’ll do this together.”
Argus relaxed from his crouched position, his huge hunched back and alert head grew to a full eight feet tall. Argus surveyed the battlefield with ears twitching, then leapt to Kinch, crossing the distance in a single bound. He wheeled with a speed shocking to Kinch and resumed the same low attack position.
Kinch could hear them crashing through the vegetation of the Wilds in an insane wave of screams and barbaric yelps. He shifted his right leg behind him and brought the shield to the front of his torso as the cacophony hit a fever pitch, bracing for impact.
Electricity flashed through his veins as his heart hammered in his throat. His whole life he had waited for a battle. He trembled with anticipation as he fed on the tension and the primordial growls thrown from Argus. He looked to the monster hunched beside him, “Whatever crosses that perimeter, kill it. No quarter asked, no quarter given.”
Just then the tree line exploded with bodies. Large men covered in black armor and leather, smeared with old, blackened blood splatters and dirt. They screamed savage, animal sounds as they poured into the glen, forming a wide circle around Argus and Kinch. Ten, then twenty gray humanoids circled the glen. They moved in fear, advancing and retreating with unsure steps like dumb animals.
Their dress had no uniformity except for a theme of black leather and dull metal. They were protected by grimy armor adorned with bones, and an occasional helmet with horns or tusks. Their armaments were an impressive collection of long swords, double daggers, crossbows and spears. The faces of the soldiers were wide and pale gray, with eyes set too far apart to look intelligent. Most had broken or jagged teeth, biting at the air as they choked out their savage sounds.
They continued to spew forth from the tree line until Kinch counted thirty three warriors. Argus and he stood ready as they surrounded their prey against the cavern wall in a wide semi-circle. They advanced, closing their ranks, jostling and pushing for position.
When the savagery had reached a fevered pitch and it seemed attack was seconds away, a solitary warrior appeared at the back of one of his soldiers, touching his shoulder. The soldier moved away in fear and allowed the warrior to stride into the semi-circle. He had the same wide-set eyes as the others, but a composed and more intelligent expression. His face and appearance was not smeared with dirt, but clean and absent of bones, horns or tusks.
Kinch felt the telltale pressure of a mind link extending from the man as his eyes moved from Kinch’s golden sword to and studied Argus. Kinch pushed away the bridge as Argus was driven wild by the warrior’s direct gaze. The great wolf rose to his full height, snarling and lashing out.
The line of soldiers staggered back in fear, then retook the ground they had given with feral snarls and a ferocity of their own. The warrior raised a single hand to silence the horde, then clasped his forearms behind his back. He turned to the side and walked, evaluating Argus.
Kinch lowered his shield and regained his relaxed, wide stance with a glowing hatred in his hot face. The leader was a sharp contrast to his force. His bearing was composed, almost dignified. When he walked in front of the soldiers, their fierce attention moved from Argus to their strolling leader. They shrank from him like baying hounds awaiting the signal from a cruel huntsman.
The man was unarmed, except for a long, two-handed sword fastened to a back harness. He stopped and smirked at Kinch as he spoke in Low Latin, “Your powers are weak, young one. You push away my thoughts with a gentle hand.”
Kinch remembered the inscription on his totem, ‘A soft word turneth away wrath’. That was a different time. A different world.
Kinch didn’t take the bait, “Remove your animals from this place and you will live.”
The warrior unbuckled the thick leather strap of his back harness to free his great sword. He looked up, not acknowledging Kinch’s offer and asked, “Do you have mastery over the dire wolf?”
Kinch shot a quick glance at Argus. The wolf ceased his snarling as if understanding the words or sensing he was the object of discussion. Kinch laughed with hi
s new found leverage, “Nothing masters the beast, not even death itself”. His guess worked, for the savages stepped back reflexively in fear.
The commander was undaunted as he examined his polished five-foot long sword, “A pity. Then I shall lose five, maybe six men taking it down and you forfeit any offer of a quick death.” He looked from one bowman to the next opposite him and back down to his sword. He wrapped both hands around the long handle and hoisted the heavy blade straight up. The chilling snarls of the soldiers resumed, anticipating an order to pounce.
Kinch felt the primitive tension amplifying from Argus. He would stay close to Argus and try to divide the force. Four, five and six.
As he was pivoting to his right a loud voice pierced the chaos. It was Lucius, panting as he burst into the glen.
“Kill the Dux!” Kinch understood the Latin title ‘Dux’ to be captain. Welcome to step two, Captain Obvious.
The pack of soldiers wheeled to the voice behind them. Kinch tossed his sword to his shield hand, tore the spear from the ground, and heaved it hard into the leather-clad back of the closest archer. The creature squealed and fell forward on his chest. Kinch retrieved his blade to his sword hand and flung it hard at the midsection of the bowman now turning toward Argus.
The sword pierced the leather armor and smacked a dull thud as the hilt of the sword slammed into the archer’s chest.
The horde had now lost all discipline, their attention moving from three different points in a matter of seconds. The Dux had remained focused on Kinch. He thrust a fist into the air and yelled, “Awake iron!”
Before he had finished the words, Argus had leaped the three paces distance and landed on the first soldier and snapped the arm from another in his crushing jaws. Kinch turned and plucked the silver sword from the ground and jumped back as the tip of a five-foot longsword sang past his chest. The Dux curved the arc of the sword in a figure eight and slashed towards Kinch’s head in the opposite direction.
Kinch dove to the left of his opponent, rolling on the ground and free of the cavern wall which barred his retreat. He rolled to his feet and threw his shield arm up to block the downward chop of a great battle ax, then spun his body up and around, severing the lower leg of the ax man.
He swung his blade at the neck level of three surrounding soldiers, his blade missing the first two and ripping through the shoulder armor and chest of the last one. Four attackers rushed from behind the remaining two as he searched frantically for Argus and Lucius.
The Dux had maneuvered his heavy longsword at Kinch and was midway into a stroke which would split his torso when Kinch dropped to one knee, his shield angled for the glancing blow of the sword. The blade sliced the air over his head, the Dux being unable to alter its momentum.
Kinch spotted Argus and Lucius at the opposite end of the glen. Kinch was blocked by the oncoming pack, so he rolled backwards and tried to flank them. The soldiers moved with a calmness he had not witnessed before, synchronized as if guided to block his flight to his friend.
Lucius stood alone on the opposite side of the glen, his sword held vertical in the defensive position, watching the action. Argus whirled a few paces before him, tangled in a screaming scrum of ten soldiers. The slashing of their swords were a futile terror-driven reaction.
The Dux stepped in front of the squad of now disciplined gray soldiers and hoisted his sword over his shoulder. He swung in a wide figure eight pattern with an expert whip of his wrist. He repeated the pattern as the blade moved faster, forming an oncoming wall of blade. A gray soldier skirted each side of the Dux, protecting his flanks, extending the approaching column to almost twenty feet long.
Anger flushed Kinch’s face as he staggered his retreating feet to time a thrust between the Dux’s figure eight pattern. He made two attempts to charge after a passing swing, but each time the soldier protecting the Dux’s flank parried his blade away. He retreated to the edge of the glen in frustration.
Kinch lowered his sword and met eyes with the Dux. He let loose a brutish yell and took two long strides into him, his last step the leap of a long jumper. Kinch sailed over the head of the Dux gripping the hilt of his sword in both hands. The momentum of longsword would not allow the Dux to maneuver as he watched Kinch vault overhead. Kinch landed behind the row of the Dux and his flanking soldiers, into the group of oncoming gray soldiers. He brought down his blade into the closest soldier, cleaving the helmet with his silver blade.
In one quick motion Kinch ripped his sword from the skull of the dead soldier and swung the blade behind his back. He spun his head in time to adjust the trajectory of his swing, severing the neck of the Dux.
An instant chorus of inhuman screeches split the battle clamor freezing all motion. Kinch turned and lifted his sword arm to face the screaming horde.
Then, as if on command, the soldiers dropped their weapons and sprinted into the Wilds in all directions. The three from the House of Amica were left standing alone among the dead and dying.
The monstrous wolf bolted into the Wilds after the soldiers; their sudden, clipped screams a grisly testament of Argus’s speed and fury.
The silence of the battlefield was interrupted by the faint death rattle of some lingering soul. Kinch looked across the crumpled and hacked bodies strewn about the glen at the lone standing figure on the opposite side, Lucius.
Kinch turned to the decapitated Dux, the dopplehander sword laying in an open hand. The weapon was well made with a nice balance and heft. He inspected the back harness for the long sword attached to the dead torso. He kicked the headless body onto its back and unbuckled the strong leather strap. “It was a gentle hand indeed, which separated your head from your shoulders,” mused Kinch.
He kicked the body again with contempt, sending it on its chest and freeing the harness from its carcass. A metal cylinder dislodged from beneath the harness and landed in the red grass. Kinch picked it up and examined it. The cylinder was a metal tube, about a foot long, with an ornate dragon head cap.
When the cap was removed and the cylinder tilted, out slid a rolled section of heavy parchment with text and drawings. He opened it up to read a Latin based calligraphy, detailing the attack plans on the center of the Arx wall. The map detailed the position and inventory of a very large siege warfare campaign.
Kinch searched the body and found no other artifacts, except for a large, round amulet made of gold. It was a long, fierce dragon wrapped around a large ruby or garnet gemstone pulsing with life. He slipped it and the silver map tube into his coveralls. He fitted the harness and sword to his body and maneuvered through the gruesome field to find Lucius.
Lucius was on both knees, his silver sword jammed in the soil before him and his forehead leaned against it in prayer. Kinch neared Lucius, navigating in his bare feet through the detached gore and limbs Argus had ripped and scattered.
“Lucius!” Kinch yelled. “Are you all right?”
Lucius leaned back and made a strange motion with his arms, as if pulling something from his chest and releasing it into the air. He opened his eyes and gave a distraught expression as his answer.
Kinch continued to move forward and said again, “Are you all right? What is wrong?”
“You could not understand, Kinch. I have failed in my oath of nonaggression.”
“Failed? How? Did you kill someone?” Kinch asked. “Every time I looked you were in a defensive position. Argus was carrying the load for you.”
“Yes, but you killed the Dux at my instruction. I started this massacre. I failed the test Kinch.”
“What is the test exactly, Lucius? What are you supposed to do?”
Lucius realized Kinch’s ignorance of his test, and thought how to best explain. “Our religion is very small - a few dozen believers. But at one time, it was the light of Our God’s word which brought all Martians out of the Deep Darkness and into The Way. Then the dragons came.”
A chilling scream echoed in the distance as Argus brought down another gray soldier. Luciu
s looked in the direction of the noise then back at Kinch. We fought them at first, raising great nations of armies. The light of the sacred words of The Way joined all of Mars against the dragons. The Oath which binds me to nonaggression is from that time.”
Lucius lifted himself from his knees and stood before his sword. He reached out and plucked it from the soil, cleared the dirt from the tip and slid it into his scabbard. He released a deep sigh.
“During this time I am not to endanger the life of any living creature. I am to sacrifice my own life, if necessary, rather than cause harm to another. The rules are very clear: until I save the life of another, I am forbidden to lift my hand in violence for the defense of myself or others.”
Kinch lowered his head. He kicked a random finger laying in the grass, “Like in the marketplace. You were unable to fight back to defend yourself or me?”
“Yes,” came his response.
Kinch looked to Lucius. “So did you? Did you take out any of those gray creatures?”
“No, but I told you to kill their leader. Ordering someone’s death is the same as committing the violence myself,” he said.
A big smile spread across Kinch’s face. He let out a long, loud laugh. Lucius turned and forced a smile to appear on his sad face and said, “It’s really not funny. There are very bad consequences, Kinch.”
With this Kinch laughed even harder, doubling over with his palms on his knees, “Really? You ordered me to kill the Dux?”
Lucius lost his polite smile. “I don’t understand. How is this horrible news funny to you?”
Kinch straightened, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Oh, Lucius. Did you honestly think I was just standing there waiting for someone to tell me what to do? I had already determined to take out the two crossbows, kill the Dux then split the force in two. You gave the perfect diversion. In fact, it was the heroic act of selfless servitude you needed to complete your oath. You exposed your lanky, nonaggression butt and gave me the seconds I needed to stop the second archer’s crossbow bolt from killing Argus or me.”
