by Matt Moss
“And I,” another said.
Soon, all of the tribes voiced their allegiance and raised their weapons high. Hobba nodded and raised his bow along with them. With a thunderous war cry, the tribes joined the battle.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Careful not to trip over the countless bodies or fall in the muck, Cain joined the battle. A sword from a fallen soldier caught his eye among the many, and he picked it up, pleased enough with the blade. “You’ll do,” he said. In the chaos of it all, he surveyed the scene and couldn’t tell who was friend or foe—everyone was from the same cities, from the same kingdom, wore the same clothing and armor. And all of them were covered in blood and mud. Only the tribesmen stood out with their brown skin and lightweight leather armor as they joined the battle.
Unknowing of who he was fighting, he jumped into the thick of it. Immediately, a man came at him with sword raised high. Cain punched the tip of his sword through the man’s stomach before the dying man could bring the sword down. Cain looked for anyone familiar, scanning the carnage as the two armies were locked in with one another. One man stood out, two heads taller than most of the other men—Karn. Cain clenched his jaw and cut his way towards the giant.
Arrows continued to rain down from the flanks and strike the enemy line. Cain knew it was Lyla and Joko that continued to aid them from afar and hoped that he didn’t catch a stray arrow in the mix. He heard Karn bellow, commanding a group and pointing in the direction of Lyla and the archers. Fifty men armed with bows and swords left post and made their way around the backside of the valley, towards the small grove of trees where Lyla and the Order were.
Cain’s heart sank as he watched them stalk towards her, behind the chaos of the fight. Cain watched as she continued to fire into the main line of Victor’s army, unknowing that she was in danger. “She doesn’t see them,” Cain said out loud. Anger washed over him like never before and he tore through three men that stood in his way. He left the fray and ran along the backside of the Order’s line, seeking the quickest way to warn her and stop the enemy assassins. Like a madman, he waved his arms and called her name as he raced towards her. His frantic behavior worked and she looked at him like he was crazy.
“Get down!” he cried, but he was too far away to be heard.
Arrows zipped by Lyla’s head and half a dozen men and women fell around her. She ducked low and crept behind a tree. Cain soul tapped further and ran with all his might. Within moment’s, he was beside her. “Are you alright?” he asked as arrows zipped all around them.
She nodded, shaking. “I’m fine.” Her eyes looked into his, desperate.
He knew that he was the only one that could save her. “Stay down. I’ll take care of them,” he told her, his eyes twinkling. Fearless, he stepped out into a hail of arrows. Fully enhanced, his tap made him faster than ever before. Arrows flew at him in slow motion and he effortlessly dodged or cut them down with his sword. Dashing between the trees, he found the assailants and descended upon them with the utmost sense of clarity and rage. The first man didn’t even drop his bow as Cain’s sword arced and cut deep across his chest. Three more attacked him in unison with thrusts and chops. Cain ducked and spun, detaching limbs and leaving them screaming in pain.
“Heretic bastard!” a man cursed and shot an arrow into Cain’s shoulder. Cain didn’t even flinch as he stepped towards the man, pulled a knife and cut his throat. He brought the sword up, parrying a blow from behind, and rolled away from a chop. As the man’s blade dug into the ground, Cain kicked the man in the face and spun back to his feet. Four more attacked him at once. His blade danced at blinding speed, blocking blades and cutting through each man one by one. A quiver of arrows lie next to a bow. Five archers drew back and aimed at Cain, releasing at once. Cain rolled away from their attack and picked up the bow and quiver. Crouching, he fired off five arrows in rapid succession and dropped three of the men. The last two ran for their lives as each one took an arrow to the back of the neck.
Another group of men, at least twenty strong, came at him with swords, and Cain knew it had to be the last of them.
I hope it’s the last. My tap’s running out… I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up.
The enemy fought ferociously, attacking him from all sides. He fought back and dropped four men before he took a deep gash across the arm. In the thrill of battle, it didn’t hurt, but he was unable to move it as the blade sliced through tendon and muscle. He grit his teeth and pressed through, decapitating the man who delved the blow.
He prayed. Just a little more. Grant me strength for just a little longer.
With one hand, his blade whirred and his feet danced as he fought on. Time seemed to slow. He thought of Lyla. Instincts took over on the battlefield as he let his mind wander, recalling the times he spent with her. Flashes of her face, her smile, the way she carried herself around him and the manner in which she talked. He would give his life and more to save hers if he could.
You are the reason I am alive. You are my purpose. I’m here to protect you.
His soul caught fire and time sped up. He fought like never before. Blades rang out and clashed against each other, too fast for the enemy to comprehend, as Cain unleashed a flurry of attacks. Quicker than the enemy could imagine, Cain’s abilities left their faces struck in awe, frozen in their last throes of death. Victorious, he ran back to meet Lyla, passing members of the Order as they put the finishing touches on those that Cain had wounded in the fight.
She ran to meet him, her face wet with tears upon seeing him. She placed a hand to her mouth. He wondered why she looked at him with such sorrow after he just won the battle and saved their lives. His tap faded away and he felt all strength drain from his body. He smiled at her, fixing the moment in his mind forever.
“Cain...” she said and began to weep as she looked down at his chest.
Cain looked down and saw the arrows sticking out from his chest, stomach, and leg. He tried to move his injured arm out of instinct, but couldn’t, finding it nearly cut in two above the elbow. Blood flowed from his wounds and the sword slipped from his grasp.
“You’re going to be alright. I’m going to take care of you. You’ll be alright,” Lyla said and touched his cheek with a shaking hand.
“Lyla…” he croaked out and collapsed to his knees.
Lyla placed both of her hands on his head and focused as she fell into the tap. Tears fell from her eyes as she channeled all of her energy into healing Cain. A warm sensation took hold of his body and his eyes went wide with wonder. He gazed upon her in wonder, thankful that she was alive and safe. He closed them and inclined his head to the sky. Thank you.
Warm, healing powers coursed through his veins and the wounds began to heal, pushing the arrows out of his body and binding his flesh shut. He basked in her healing touch as it was the best feeling he’d ever known. Better than the time Victor had healed him. Better than the kiss that he shared with Lyla. Better than...
No.
His senses took over and he stood, breaking away from her hold. He tapped, turned around, and saw Karn holding a withdrawn bow, facing towards them. Cain saw the arrow too late. He jumped in front of Lyla and held her at arms length, his back to the arrow. What surely would have pierced her heart, he took instead. A punch came from behind, midway up, and Cain flinched upon impact. Not wanting to look down at the arrow that protruded from his chest, he fought through the pain and gave his best smile to Lyla.
Not wanting to look down, Lyla fought through the pain of losing him and forced a smile back at Cain. She placed her hands back on his head and tried to heal him once again. She tried with all her might until her arms shook and her fingers dug into his scalp.
“Lyla…” he wheezed out. “It’s alright…
She let go and screamed out loud. Sobbing, she cradled his face “Cain, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t have anything left to heal you…”
“Lyla… I love…”
“I know,” Lyla said
through overwhelming emotions. She bit her lip and nodded to him that she knew. “I know…”
He gave her one last smile. I love you. I’ve always loved you. I always will…
She helped him lie down on the ground after she knew that he was gone, the smile that he gave her lasted on his face as he welcomed death’s embrace. She wept and fell upon his body, knowing that saving him was beyond her control. She wept in losing him; her friend and protector.
She wept for him as the remaining men and women of the Order gathered around.
She kissed his head and left him lying under the grove of trees as the rain came down.
She picked up her bow and rejoined the fight.
For the Order.
For justice.
For Cain.
THIRTY-NINE
The entire force of the two armies were locked in with one another after the tribes charged into the bulk of the Religion’s forces. Horses either tripped over bodies, or slipped and fell in the mud, dashing their riders to the ground—the battlefield soaked with death and rain. Through sheer determination, both armies pressed on. Those who were still standing were showing severe signs of fatigue.
Torin's axe split a man’s unprotected head open, and he wrenched it free as the body fell to the ground. He took a step back to catch his breath and survey the carnage around him. Rico was near him, fighting adeptly with one arm. Torin grinned, white teeth showing bright against his face painted of red and brown. “You’re still alive? I didn’t think a one-armed man would last that long,” he japed.
Rico finished off a man with a flourish that opened the front of the neck, then stood beside Torin. “You’d be surprised at how good you can be with one arm when that’s all you have.”
“I don’t want to know,” Torin told him.
Rico pulled a waterskin and drank deep. When he was through, he passed it to Torin. “Save your strength, brother. This battle is just getting warmed up,” Rico told him. “Keep the water. I have more,” he said, and rejoined the fight.
Torin quenched his thirst and scanned the scene. His eyes locked onto Karn as the giant towered over the rest. “Sumbitch,” Torin growled to himself and took one last drink. He shoved and cut his way through the fight, fixing his aim on Karn. The giant saw Torin approaching and shoved people aside to clear a space, cursing and threatening anyone who came near. He held his hand out, motioning Torin to come. Torin made his way through the fighting and entered the circle.
“Torin. Finally, we meet again. I’ve been waiting for this day,” Karn said, holding his long, wicked blade at ready. Three arrows jetting from his body.
The axes spun in Torin’s hands. “Big n’ ugly, I’ve been looking for you. Let’s dance.”
Karn roared and swung the menacing sword hard, the blade arcing towards Torin’s chest. Torin stepped to the side and slashed the giant across the arm, the axe cutting deep into the sinew. Karn grimaced and spun away in fury. Torin held the axe up for Karn to see—fresh blood dripping from the tip. The giant spat to the side and charged. His strides were long and off-time, drawing Torin’s eyes to his feet. In surprise, Karn tossed the blade at Torin sideways; an attack meant more to strike instead of puncture. The act caught Torin off guard as he brought his arms up to block the blade. Karn charged, crashed into his chest, and drove him to the ground.
The impact stole Torin’s breath, and the side of his face was pressed hard against the mud, one of his arms trapped beneath his body. Karn slammed his forearm into Torin’s head, driving his nose and mouth deeper into the mud, pressing all of his weight down as he controlled Torin’s other arm. Leaning in, he spoke—his breath hot and foul, smelling of decay. “Doesn’t this look familiar? Where have I seen this before? Ah, yes. That time in the Lodge. Do you remember?”
Torin squirmed, trying to break free. After a moment, he found his breath and managed to raise his trapped arm. Karn caught it, locking hands. “Yes, you remember. The day your precious home was burned.”
Torin threw his free arm back and knocked Karn off balance. He rolled and reached for Karn’s throat. The giant gripped Torin’s free hand and bore his weight down from the mount, growling with hate. He opened his mouth to take a bite, his long pointed teeth slavering for blood. Torin spat in his face. Karn smiled and his mouth came closer, wider. Torin closed his eyes and pulled the tap from deep within his soul. Growling with a righteous anger, Torin brought the giant’s hands together and pressed him up. Karn’s eyes went wide with surprise and admiration right before he was rolled onto his back. Torin crushed the giant’s fingers in his grasp and began pounding his head into the mud—each skull-crushing blow driving it deeper and deeper. With his head buried up to the sides of his eyes, Karn lie still, his face broken to pieces and bleeding out. Victorious, Torin raised up and spat on his mangled face. “Now, that’s a sight for sore eyes. Beautiful.” He stood up and breathed, looking around for the next victim. Men fought all around, blending together in the madness.
He looked up to the high priest. Victor held a soul stone—glowing green and dark in his hand.
A lone man dressed in black walked up the hill to meet the high priest.
“Shit.” Torin quickly scanned the ground and found his axes. As he picked the second axe up, he looked back at Karn.
The giant wasn’t there.
“What are you doing?” Sarie asked, her face wrought with worry and confusion as she marveled at the stone in Victor’s hand, perplexed by seeing the legendary power of a soul stone for the first time.
“Putting an end to this war,” Victor replied and took a step forward.
Sarie jumped in front of him and pointed to the battlefield. “Those are your people out there, too! Are you really going to sacrifice their lives so you can end this? You will do this for the sake of winning the war?” she cried out.
His head slowly turned and he met her gaze, the green light of the stone shining brightly in his eyes. “Yes.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “You’re insane. You’re…” His hand slapped her face and sent her to the ground. She looked up at him with hate.
A man disguised as a soldier in the Religion left the line and walked away from the fight. Alone, he stalked up the gentle hill towards the high priest. He removed the brown, tattered cloak, revealing black clothes underneath.
When Sarie saw him coming, she gasped.
Victor grinned at his apprentice. He soul tapped and the stone grew bright, pulsing with energy.
Lucian pulled his sword.
“My son,” Victor said to Lucian as he drew near. “The appointed time is at hand. Come stand by my side as we usher in a new world.”
Quicker than any eye could see, Lucian dashed and the tip of his blade sliced through the high priest’s neck. Victor’s eyes went wide in disbelief, and he put a hand to his neck as the life blood flowed from the gaping wound. He tried to speak but only choked out a faint, indiscernible word.
Lucian cocked his head and stared into Victor’s eyes as his life faded away. Victor fell to his knees and Lucian helped Sarie stand. He led her to the side and she began to cry in his arms. “It’s alright, Sarie. Everything’s going to be alright. I’m here now.” Behind them, Victor stood and began to laugh, his wound fully healed. Lucian turned and looked on in horror at the high priest’s power. He left Sarie’s arms. “I’ll just have to finish the job proper this time,” he said, raising his sword to strike.
Victor held a palm out. “I don't think so.” As Lucian struck, Victor’s eyes flooded white and electricity formed around his body. Lightning flowed from his hand and struck Lucian in the chest, the charge forcing him over the land and forcing him back into the midst of the battlefield. He crashed in the mud and muck.
Slowly, he raised himself up and looked to see if Sarie was safe.
A green beam of light shot up into the sky from the hand of the high priest. Those who saw it knew what was about to come, but most were engaged in the battle and unaware to anything outside t
heir own proximity. The beam disappeared into the heavens, and the stone pulsed bright with limitless energy. Victor waved it in front, a beam of green light striking the battlefield in a sweeping motion. The earth began to rumble and the ground split and cracked. Shards of the battlefield jetted up and fell into gorges as a canyon split open and formed its way around and between the two armies. Men and beasts were cast into the abyss and swallowed up, their final screams deaf amongst the thunderous sound of the quake.
Arkin soul tapped and dashed from one separated island of land to the next before they fell asunder, trying to get to the other side of the canyon to reach Victor. His eyes locked onto Torin scrambling for purchase on to the top ground as he hung on for dear life. Arkin leaped over the chasm and landed near his friend. “I got you, hold on.” He grasped Torin’s hand and hauled him to his feet, saving him from the fall.
“Thanks, Arkin. Can I use these now?” Torin asked and dug inside the pouch for a stone.
“I’d say now would be a good time,” Arkin said and turned towards Victor. The green soul stone had been used up and the high priest stood on the hill, surveying the devastation. Arkin looked around and found a majority of the armies gone, taken by the quake. The survivors continued to fight, and Arkin was pleased to find that most of them belonged to the Order and the tribes. King Hobba howled out from the other side of the chasm and began picking off enemy survivors with his bow.
“I’m glad he’s still alive,” Torin said, talking about the king. He pulled a glowing stone and gripped it firmly in his hand.
Arkin desperately looked for Lyla. He found her still among the grove of trees, safe. She held her bow up, letting him know she was unharmed and searching for him in return. He replied by raising his sword high and waving it back and forth. When she found it, she lowered the bow and held her hand against her chest. Knowing that she was still alive replenished his soul and restored his faith.
