A New Dawn

by J. J. Johnson

  In his distraction the next swing came from Draugr. It caught his sword, wrenching it from his hand. He now stood unarmed before his deformed kinsman. The beast formerly known as Fairand lifted the axe to deliver the finishing blow. That’s when an autumn blur pounced over him. The flash of golden light streaked across the mountainous fiend. Before him stood Lydia, Dawnbreaker in hand and at her feet the head of Draugr.

  The Felled Ones who had gathered around to witness the fight backed away at the sight of her weapon. With a fearless cry that would make her father Doran proud she ushered their men to press the attack. Filled with a newfound courage, they championed her battle cry and charged. She turned to him extending a hand.

  “Now, now does the mighty Geralt need a shield-maiden to save him?”

  He rolled his eyes but accepted the help, “Save it.”

  She smirked before rushing off, sending a teasing command as she went, “Ya best find your sword, yer going to need it.”

  He couldn’t help but grin. A soldier came rushing to his side offering him back his blade.

  “Come on, we don’t want them to have all the fun,” he said as he took it in hand.

  Lancelin:

  Off in the distance he could see a tower had reached the center of the wall. They had their own problems to deal with. As Ulric’s men approached, the main host of his forces had broken off and headed toward their section, likely thinking it would be less guarded than where the royal standards flew. They would be right to think it. If The Outsiders reached the top of the wall, they would soon be overrun. He glanced over at Izel who was ordering a battalion of archers to rain down fire at the climbing attackers.

  For now it worked to keep Ulric’s men at bay, but eventually some would be able to reach them. As he peered over the wall to see what progress the enemy had made, he could see shields covered by arrows slowly plodding up the dizzying heights. They had a tower of their own to worry about as well. It would soon draw within arrow fire taking away the precious bolts used to hold those on the ladders at bay. It was only a matter of time.

  “Fire!” came the order from a nearby Sahra captain. The first wave of blazing darts crashed into the nearing siege tower. The hopeful flames quickly turning to embers. Another wave filled the sky bathing the hosts below in flickering light. Lancelin turned to the captain giving the orders.

  “When that tower reaches the wall…”

  “If it reaches the wall,” interrupted the captain.

  “If,” Lancelin repeated, annoyed. “You must have your men dip their swords in oil and light them. It is the only thing that will affect these monsters.

  The captain gave him a sideways look.

  “Trust me,” Lancelin said.

  “Fine, but not until they reach the wall.”

  With the confirmation he moved with haste to Izel.

  “We are running out of arrows,” she said as he approached.

  “I know. Soon we will have no choice but to confront them on the ramparts.” He gave her a nervous look.

  “I’ll be fine. I may be at my best with a bow, but you did show Zuma and me how to use a sword, don’t forget.”

  “When the fighting starts just stay by my side okay?”

  Moving close she gently kissed his cheek. “Of course.”

  He couldn’t help but feel the red creeping up his neck. “I don’t need any distractions.”

  She smirked but her smile quickly faded as her gaze fixed behind him. He turned to see the first of Ulric’s men climbing over the walls. Withdrawing his sword he didn’t hesitate to fend them off. Dawn’s Deliverer made quick work of them. Even as those on the ladders fell to his blade, he could see the dreaded tower was almost at the wall. He watched as an arrow from Izel whizzed by, hitting its mark. A small fire had caught just below the door giving them a faint ray of hope.

  “Concentrate fire on the tower!” he shouted above the noise of battle. With swift obedience a wave of arrows fueled the growing flames. The flickering fire whipped into a growing frenzy. The siege weapon’s door was now ablaze just as it reached the wall. It crashed into the defenses, sending shards of wood and metal flying into the air. A host of defenders were thrown back into the perilous drop below. Ulric’s men who had been waiting to assault the walls leaped from the crumbling structure. They were met with the end of swords and spears alike. A small group of them were able to land safely along the allure, and that’s when Lancelin saw him.

  Ulric along with several others were slicing their way through the wall’s defenders. He felt his blood boil at the sight of the man. With animal fury he rushed to meet them. Dawn Blade in hand, he cast aside Ulric’s entourage with ease. Their weapons turned to ash at the touch of his own.

  “Ulric!” he cried pointing the tip of his blade at the lonely foe.

  A cocky grin stretched across the man’s face. “Should have killed you myself. But now it looks like I’ve been given a second chance for my mistakes.”

  “Why? Why would you serve such a monster? Do you not see that all he does is bring destruction and death?”

  Ulric’s face shifted as he looked around them. Beneath a coat of floating embers the dead and dying littered the wall. Wails of those being cut down filled their ears. Death was the filter all around them.

  “You think I have a choice?” he asked.

  “We always have a choice.”

  “Naive,” Ulric sneered. “The story I told you and your friends, it wasn’t a lie. Maluuk does rule the world and he takes and he takes.” There was a bitter hatred in his words. “But he also gives to those who will bow the knee. This fate would have been avoided had you only listened the first time. In fact, it was you who failed. You see, my father wanted to live by the old way of things, too. But it would have destroyed our people. Maluuk came to me with an offer to save my home if only we would serve him. So… I did what needed to be done, unlike you.”

  In that moment it dawned on Lancelin. Staring at Ulric now was like looking into a mirror. He was not unlike himself. Ulric was royalty, had charisma, and a passion for his people. He even believed Maluuk could offer him the power to save those he loved. At one time he had thought all these things could be true as well. Until… until Eloy had returned.

  “What’s that look?” Urlic said, annoyed. “Don’t pity me! It should be me who pities you. You are the one who is about to die here. It’s your home that is destroyed. Not mine! I saved my people! I have given everything for them!”

  It was pity he felt for this ruined man. He had believed the lie that what he truly wanted was the good of others, while the allure of power ate away at his core. He had become a hollow shell in the hands of his master. He could no longer see that it was by his own hands that all this pain, all this death, was due to his master. He had become his tool through which he could pour out his wrath.

  Ulric rushed at him with primal rage, forgetting the weapon that lay in Lancelin’s hands. With one quick motion of Dawn’s Deliverer Ulric was stopped in his tracks. In his careless anger he committed to the blow and found it a fatal mistake. The sound of his sword hitting the cold stone rang across the wall. Lancelin looked down at the feeble man clutching a stump for an arm. A stream of blood poured from the wound and gathered in a pool beneath him. All his majestic garments now ruined by the crimson liquid. Everything he had come to prize and cherish made meaningless by the fate that awaited him.

  “Mer… Mercy,” Ulric begged as he raised a feeble hand.

  Lancelin stood over him with sword to his chest. “You don’t deserve it. How many have you showed mercy to servant of Maluuk? But so that you may know what kind of master I serve, you shall be given your mercy.”

  “Thank you…” That’s when a glint passed over Ulric’s now silver eyes.

  A sharp pain spiked up Lancelin’s leg, dropping him to his knees. Ulric rose to a knee with a sinister grin. “You Islandians are so stupid to fall for the same trick twice.” The small dagg
er in Ulric’s hand came darting toward his chest. Just as the blow would be delivered, he felt the whiz of an arrow pass his cheek. The bolt found its mark in Ulric’s throat. His eyes grew wide as he choked on his own blood. With a final gasp he slumped back. The dagger that had caused so much pain fell from his grasp down into the depths below.

  With a grunt of pain Lancelin looked to see Izel with bow in hand.

  “That’s for Zuma,” she said with tears streaming down her cheek. Dropping the bow she dropped beside him to examine his leg.

  “Are you alright?” she asked, wiping away stray tears.

  “Nothing I can’t recover from,” he said with a wince. “We need to reach the others before more Felled…”

  He was interrupted by an ear-splitting boom. They turned to see the far side of the wall erupt, sending the once proud structure into a cascade of shattering stone. Dust and debris permeated the air creating a thick red haze where the wall once stood.

  “What could cause such a thing?” Izel said stunned.

  “Whatever it is, it has doomed us,” he said with a sinking heart.

  Imari:

  The full force of the Felled Ones was on them now. The Bomani alongside Nabila and her fiercest warriors stood at the center of the attack. Several siege towers had found their landing now. With the might of Ulric and the Felled Ones combined, they would soon be overwhelmed. Imari found his spear Daybreaker made quick work of his foes, but the Sahra defenders were not so fortunate. It went without words that Nabila and her men were unprepared for this foe. Only the Sulta herself had the power to keep this enemy at bay. Dawn’s Light, the scimitar now returned, was the only beacon of hope.

  The rest of her men began to retreat like a receding tide as they continued to see one comrade after another fall prey to their sinister enemy. Imari could see the tide of battle shifting, and with a cry he called his Bomani to take their place beside the waning forces of Sahra. Together they tirelessly fought to repel the endless hordes. With all his remaining strength he pressed forward, not giving an inch of ground to the menacing ghouls. The phalanx of the Bomani, bolstered by the two Dawn blades, fought until the remaining Felled Ones retreated in fear. In the short break from battle Imari could see Henry approaching with heavy breath.

  “We have slain more than I can count, yet…” his gaze fell to the horizon where the sprawling number of foes still stretched beyond sight.

  Imari shared his dread. Even with such a weapon as Daybreaker in hand, it wouldn’t be enough. The strength of his arm would give before he would see the end of such a force.

  “Is there a way to light them on fire?” Impatu asked as he approached.

  “There is not enough pitch and tar in the world to light them all ablaze,” Nabila replied disheartened.

  Khaleena drew near with Amira at her side. “We have given the order for more of the dead’s Light Bringers to be gathered. Still… the men grow weary.”

  “Maluuk hopes to outlast us,” Imari said.

  “And he will, sooner than later,” Henry replied somberly.

  Imari turned to Nabila who stood staring out at the enemy. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Thank you for doing what was right.”

  She turned to him with tear filled eyes. “I have failed my people, Imari. In arrogance and pride I have left them to slaughter at the hands of these monsters. All because I would not heed your words.”

  “The battle is not over yet,” he said with a faint smile.

  “Please, Imari, I am not a child. I can see what fate awaits us.”

  “There may be hope still.”

  “What hope is that?” she asked. But his response was cut short by Khaleena’s voice behind them.

  “I see movement!” she said pointing down at the forces below.

  “Another wave of attackers?” Impatu asked.

  “No, this is something different,” Amira commented as she peered over the edge.

  Beneath them dozens of large carts pulled by armored beasts of burden streamed toward the base of the wall. A mix of outsiders along with Felled Ones stood with shields raised to fend off any stray arrows. Fluttered dusty cloths covered the contents. Just beneath a thick black powdery substance could be seen.

  “What could it be?” Henry asked.

  Behind them a captain barked out an order to the nearby archers, “Archers! Focus fire on those carts. Whatever it is, don’t let it near the wall!”

  “No wait!” Amira screamed. “I’ve heard rumors of this strange powder. ” But it was too late. A stream of arrows whirled toward their targets. Several found their mark striking several of the beasts of burden. One arrow in particular caught the side of a cart, starting a small fire in its side. Imari watched as those around it scrambled to put out the flame. But it continued to grow and those who saw it began to flee.

  “Why would they?” That was all he could mutter before all around him erupted into a blur of flame and dust. He watched as the stone evaporated beneath his feet. It was all a violent fury. Indiscernible images flashed before his eyes and then… darkness. Nothing but cold, bleak, nothingness. His whole body was wracked with pain. He felt trapped in a nightmare of paralysis. Unable to move, unable to speak, unable to see, he was afloat in an ocean of meaninglessness. His throat was bone dry, and each swallow was a labored effort. Suddenly he felt a tug, as if something was pulling him up from the depths. A jolt of ringing stimulated his ears.

  His eyes blinked open to an array of dust filtered stars in the sky. Time had passed with calloused precision leaving him with an even greater sense of disorientation. As he went to move, a crippling pain roared across his body forcing him to collapse with a tired whimper. Shakily he lowered a hand to where he felt the pain radiate. He touched the source, feeling the pulse of streaming blood flow from his body onto the the thirsty desert floor. Raising his hand to his face he could see the crimson soaked fingers illuminated by the moonlight.

  Slowly, he turned his head to see a landscape covered in rumble and ash. All around him chunks of debris and dead men littered the ground. With shaky breath he tried once more to lift himself up to no avail. Forcing himself to look he could see his legs crushed beneath the rubble. Panic began to rise at the sight, but he forced it back with several deep breaths. All sense of feeling below his waist had evaporated. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks as he let out an agonizing cry.

  “Imari?” came a husky voice.

  A shadow moved across the crumbled stone in his direction.

  “Yes,” he said feebly.

  “Imari, it’s me, Khaleena.”

  He swallowed, but the pain radiating from his wound robbed him of speech.

  “Imari are you…” her voice faded as she broke into a sob. The dark shadow of his sister loomed over him now, blocking out the night sky.

  “Shuka, Imari, you’re… no, no.” She began hastily throwing aside the rubble that covered him. “No, Imari, no,” she repeated over and over as she dug.

  After some time she was able to dig his legs free, but all it had done was reveal the true damage. His torso had been pierced by a shard of debris. The gaping wound leaking into a pool of blood beneath him.

  “Imari… Imari… Imari,” was all she could utter between gasping breathes.

  He lifted a tired arm to her cheek. “It will be okay, sister.”

  “No! No, it will not! I can’t lose you. Who else will I have?” She bent over washing him with her tears.

  “You must keep fighting, Khaleena.” His fingers fumbled for a small shaft of wood nearby. With his last bit of strength he grasped it and held it out to her. In his hand was the broken spear of Daybreaker. Reverently, she took it in hand, unable to speak. Slowly his eyes closed as the picture of Khaleena with spear in hand faded away.

  Lydia:

  Gloom was all that remained. The small beleaguered force postured themselves before the gaping hole that was once the Grand Wall. Amidst the rubble a small cleari
ng had appeared where the forces of Maluuk could be funneled. With Geralt, Lancelin, Izel, and Aiden at her side they would make their final stand here. The grizzled veteran warrior showed no signs of giving up, but she knew beneath the tough exterior he must be wearing thin. Lancelin and Izel looked unscathed by the blow, a blessing only one section of the wall’s defenders had received. The jade scales of his armor still shone with polish, and the woodland woman only carried a few cuts and bruises. Her brother Aiden had avoided the worst of it, but his forehead had a trickle of blood running from his fiery locks and his face was covered in dust. She could only imagine how she must have looked. Much like she felt, she was sure. Before pity could pull at her, something caught her eye. In the faint flickering of torchlight she could see a form sobbing among the ruins.

  “Survivors!” she cried. A few soldiers rushed to the source and shortly returned with the weeping Khaleena.

  “Imari?” asked Geralt.

  A new wave of sorrow washed over her as she affirmed their greatest fear. Behind them a sudden shift in the rubble revealed a bruised and beaten Nabila. A few Sahra warriors that remained moved to help her free. She brushed them aside, eager to rise to her feet. Covered in soot and bleeding, she moved to join them.

  “Imari is…” she said in a faint quiver.

  Khaleena gave her a feeble nod.

  “Show him to me.”

  Khaleena brought them to the still frame of the Khosi a few yards away. Nabila bent down in a pool of tears at his side. The others looked somberly at the corpse. Lydia felt the firm hand Geralt placed on her shoulder. “Come, lass, give her a moment.”

  She nodded in agreement and returned to those who remained. To their great surprise, Henry and the Bomani commander Impatu now stood among the other soldiers. Henry, not missing a beat, stood issuing orders for the needed formations for a final stand.