by K M McGuire
“Come on!” yelled one of the older warriors, echoing out his pointed helm, thrusting his brilliant sword towards the peak of the hill.
He raced forward, and Blossum begrudgingly followed. Chaos was strewn across the valley. Bodies were flung from one spot to another, banners indiscernible through the heavy haze. Down the slope of the hill, streaks of red painted along the green leaves, dripping dark charred meat and clumps of chipped bones. She felt something snatch her ankle. She nearly shrieked, pulling her sword and leg away from the infirm grip, only to see the handsome boy groping in the dirt, twitching with delirium. He clawed at her again in a demented sort of way, his head painfully looked up at her, his groaning mouth glossed with rectangular cherries. His eyes were prisms of pain, though a glance would explain how ineffable the sentiment was—even he who was in pain could not make it clear to what kind of torment his body was in.
In her horror, she looked across his body, only to find it end where his stomach once was; the edges of the skin torn by the implosion was singed like the ends of a rope, leaving the strips of skin blackened with pockets of milky white boils to contrast the texture. In her shock, she failed to notice his groping for her. Yet she was unable to move, and she saw his innards were now caught on a rock.
“K…kill…” he sputtered, his eyes glazed, halfway in the ethereal. As he coughed, the blood caught in his throat. She squirmed at the request. She felt the emotions shudder along her spine, ripping into her heart. Her eyes began to burn with tears, somewhere between empathy for the dying boy and an inability to cope, unable to hold her composure. If she even had some. Her mouth trembled as she plucked her sword from her scabbard, shaking as she pointed the curved blade at his skull. Her eyes clenched, hanging the blade over his head. She couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t bring herself to feel his life expire, trying to erase her emotions, it was not something she could do—
She felt a gentle nudge at the tip of the sword, followed by a quiet hiss. He pressed his head against the tip of her blade, eyes pleading as a trickle of blood dripped off his brow, mingling with his tears. She felt her face screw up as the pressure of the thick bone succumb to her blade. The bone crunched beneath the skin and then slid almost too easily through the gel of his brain, turning her stomach, and it added a dissatisfying squirt to the noises. She squeamishly shook, trying to pull the blade from the gored cavity, unable to escape the horror of the wet sounds echoing inside. His head dropped from her sword, resting calmly, the silence stark to the devastation just down the hill. Again, she felt her heart pray to the Beyond that the boy could have peace. Even he deserved better than this.
She couldn’t bring herself to look at the blade, knowing the darkened fragments of material would cause her to remember what she wanted to cry over, but there was so much fear, it packed itself further inside her chest with each sound throbbing in the valley. The only thought she had was of the swelling pond of blood that was sure to be at her boot, and she hated how she feared that the most in this moment, as if her boot desecrated something sacred. She knew her only choice was at the bottom of the hill, no matter how she wished to refuse the thought. She took an uneasy look back where the boy’s blood and brain matter casually flowed down the hill, and she trembled.
With a lump in her throat, she forced her legs to head down the hill towards the raging battle, where sword and axe danced with red and rang against one another in painful strikes. Explosions forced her head down, as flashes of blues and reds and plumes of green clouds colored the wood. She looked to her left where another soldier was hit by a streak of green, bursting into a viridian cloud, and he fell to the ground, choking and sputtering, soon spitting up foamy blood as his skin was stripped of its color. She realized that these strange explosions of despair must have been what the soldiers called arcarine crystals: arcane rocks that required a great deal of magic to create and had devastating effects. Much more than that, they had not been taught. She made it a point to avoid those at all cost.
She caught sight of Estra, crushing her axe deep into the center of a rather tall Tastin’s chest, caving in with her strength, forcing the air out of him before his body knew the pain he was in. She pulled up on the axe, swung it around over her head, and swiped another Tastin, lopping off their head. The headless body collapsed like a house of cards on top of the mound of bodies piled around her, moving as if she was born of lightning. The Tastin tried to hit her with the arcarine crystals, but she dodged them with little effort, where the blue explosion gave birth to violent shards of ice, firing in all directions.
Blossum hesitated, covering her face from the possible shrapnel, only to find a dark-haired Tastin barring her path forward, his black eyes filled with a reflection of all the things he meant to do to her. He swung his well-crafted stone hammer, just missing her feet, digging the bludgeon into the loamy ground. His eyes widened with mania, dilating with blackened vengeance. There was no longer a sheen to them, eyes falling into the blackness of the void. Angry snot pooled at his nose, hanging to the bone stuck through his stretched septum. She only now noticed his hide armor covering just his torso and hips, leaving his arms and legs exposed. His muscles were large, covered in black markings, but he had begun to hoist his hammer before she could discern what they were.
A roar erupted from deep in his throat, swinging the hammer at her again. Paralyzed, she screamed, unable to process what to do. The hammer swung over her as she fell and rolled out of the way, just missing her head. But the hammer caught her ponytail, planting it in the grimy mud. She writhed, trying to rip her hair from the hammer, and the Tastin snorted with a grim pleasure. He released his grip on the hammer, while Blossum sunk further into fear, flailing even more to release herself. As the Tastin lifted his mighty fist, her hand brushed against a leathery handle.
His fists clamped together above his head, ready to crush her skull, and he swung with all his strength. Blossum thrust the sword through the air, letting the weight of the Tastin press the point through his adam’s apple. His eyes sparked with surprise, which quickly turned dull, and he made a grumbling coughing noise, splashing a thick dark fountain of blood from his neck, ebbing from the laceration, dripping onto Blossum’s pale face. She lost her hold on the sword, unable to balance the weight as he slid down the steel and fell beside her, staring off towards nothing in the sky. She pulled desperately again at her hair, grinding her teeth as she took hold of her sword. She bared her teeth as she grabbed the Tastin’s thick neck, wrenching the blade from his throat, the flesh sucking against the steel.
The feeling of it was putrid to her, but she couldn’t think of it as the body convulsed. All the pain coursing through the brain before it ended. She needed to survive for Estra’s sake. No, keep the thoughts buried, and when the blade was freed, she hacked her braid until her head was free to move. She felt her shortened hair, a bit dismayed at its new length, just barely against her shoulders, and looked at the mound of flesh next to her, where the only memory she would retain was the very instance his life fled from his body. Her nightmares would make sure of it. She couldn’t understand how anyone could get used to this.
She wiped the blood from her face, shivering at someone else’s essence sprayed across her skin, frantically cringing for cleanliness. She caught sight of Estra, still slaying Tastin’s with ease, battling multiples at a time, kicking the one into a stream bed nearby and hacking her axe against another’s shoulder. She was unstoppable. Blossum set out towards her, hoping to at least have her as protection. Blossum was about to call out to Estra, when her eyes caught sight of a dark shadow rising on the opposite hill. Estra knocked back her final foe, kicking the gored body into a ditch. She turned and locked eyes with Blossum, and her face paled for the first time since Blossum had known her.
She held up her hands, stopping Blossum in her tracks, “NO!” She hollered, shaking her head. “Find somewhere to hide, lass! You no longer belong here!”
“You can’t be serious!” Blossum responded. She
now forgot about her surroundings, focusing on Estra. She hardly felt the rush of air as an arrow slipped through her hair.
“Blossum, we are finished,” she said calmly. Another Tastin tried to strike her, but she dodged, knocking them to the ground with a well-placed kick. “Leave now! They will kill you! The Beyond has abandoned us. We no longer have hope here! The battle must be won from home! Save what you can while there’s time!”
The shadow on the hill was now glaring down into the valley as a raging crash splintered the nearby trees, transforming them into wooden debris. Blossum fell to the ground, covering her head in response. The ground stopped shaking, and the spray of earth settled. Blossum jumped to her feet, looking towards Estra. She could see Estra kneeling, axe laying at her feet.
“Estra!” Blossum screamed.
Estra struggled to stand, holding her stomach. A thick splinter of wood lodged itself into her stomach. Blossum felt her fears welling at her eyes, trying to wish Estra’s doom away. Estra turned to Blossum and weakly smiled, chortling painfully. She did not make any effort to grab her axe. “There’s a lot more of me left if that’s all you have!” she yelled towards the shadow. She shot a look towards Blossum, “Carry on, lass! I should have never allowed for you to come into this war! I am sorry! It’s time now to save yourself! Who will fight against the lies if none of us are left to tell the truth?” The Tastin she had tripped finally stood, but Estra threw a hard kick across his jaw, freeing a spray of teeth from his mouth.
Grimacing, Blossum felt her mind tearing her asunder. Her emotions urging her to help, but she didn’t want to disobey Estra’s order. Her feet were about to turn and go as a Tastin leapt onto Estra’s back, pulling on her arms. The now toothless Tastin stood up, wiping the blood from his mouth and seized the splinter stuck in her stomach, twisting it as he smiled scornfully.
Her face fought against the agony. “Is that all you can offer me?” she coughed gruffly.
The Tastin seemed to have said something in response, and he suddenly yanked the wood from her gut. She grunted, miserable, collapsing to her knees. Blossum watched the cataract of innards sliding sloppily out of her new cavity, drooping over her hands. The Tastins roared with pleasure and spat on her head, now taking off to find more humans to slaughter, leaving her to die. The toothless one paused, digging inside his satchel. He pulled a spherical red gem from his bag, smirking at the pristine facets.
Time or Blossum’s memory—she was rather unsure which was affected—stood still as a bittersweet smile spread across Estra’s face, her mouth seeming to form the words, “Now I can go home.” Estra stared serenely into the sky, almost thankfully, as the Tastin hurled the orb with as much disdain as he could summon. The orb rolled through the air as if it were the final grain of sand falling to the bottom of an hourglass.
A mass of red permeated outward, consuming Estra in the bloody shade, her face screaming silently in shear pain, only to follow the sound of bones crushing into the epicenter. Her body began to crumple, where bones turned into powder, her skin boiling from the pressure. The explosion outward that followed obliterated whatever else there was left of her, flinging out the pieces like red pollen. All that remained of her was a burn on her axe.
Blossum did not refuse the sonic wave that buffeted her back. She fell against her bottom, still trying to process the images of Estra vanishing from the world. Not even dust remained. She sat, holding her tears as tightly back as she could, knowing she needed to obey Estra, but not able to convince herself to go, let alone accept what had happened.
Another explosion brought her back to reality. She sat up and saw a Tastin excitedly grab Estra’s axe, now running out towards a group of her fellow soldiers closing in on the location where Estra had been pulled from the world. Estra’s voice chimed in the back of Blossum’s head: Run, lass! Run! RUN!
She felt as though Estra’s spirit had found her and lifted her to her feet, pushing her off in some direction that was hopefully away from the battle. She ducked behind the bushes, searching the surroundings a moment before rushing towards the next location she set her eyes on. Survival was all about caution, creeping through the trees and catching her breath in the brush. She paused, clasping her hands to her mouth as rushing feet pattered past her. Her heart could not be any louder, beating every fear into her ribcage. It was lucky, she thought, that the scurrying boots and clamorous cries were even louder than her pulsing heart. The marching faded away, screams ringing out in an old language. She felt now was a good time to brave a look. There was a path through the brush she felt was easy enough to get to. It was time for her to be decisive.
She crept along the shrubs, holding her head low, eyes fixed to the path, ears fixed to the air. Even when the occasional noise grew close to her, she kept her focus onward, begging no one would peek in the row of bushes she crept through. The brush led to a thick grouping of trees, and she stole a few quick glances to make sure all was well. She swiftly squeezed through the trees and found herself in a new thicket, just as a fierce swordfight broke out. A Tastin pushed her fellow soldier against a tree. The Tastin’s eyes flared white, and a flurry of roots burst through the earth, impaling the man to the tree. He groaned terribly, squirming as the roots pushed their way through his eyes, but Blossum had turned her back, trying not to let the sounds get to her.
Just keep moving. Her progress slowed as she crawled under the arch of bramble that snagged her skin, and at times, the coverage became too thin, where she caught glimpses of armor chasing each down like wolves. Fear tingled across her neck like the breath of a rabid dog, begging to tear out her throat.
Her people were taking a serious beating, falling like autumn leaves, but she was determined to escape. She knew none of them would see reason to leave, and if they did, they needed to conclude that themselves. She crawled on, taking care not to drag herself through the smears of crimson, and she would see every so often a limp soldier shadowed against a tree, branches shamelessly piercing through metal as if the soldier had dared it to. Some had jaws wrenched from their skulls, still gurgling out their own eulogy. She nearly screamed as one soldier crawled aimlessly in the mud, just feet away from her, deliriously crying for someone familiar, even crying for the Beyond to take them, but only the earless trees bent down to listen.
She could not compress the emotions and visions inside her head, and paranoia battered her mind, telling her the worst had not yet come. She desperately tried to forget; she had to press on. Even with her silent tears, she could gain no reprieve to settle her mind. Quiet, iridescent orbs dribbled down her cheek, leaving moist remnants of pain to etch trails across her soiled face. She felt the glaze of a mist settling in her eyes, distorting her pain, when her foot was snagged by a mischievous root, casting her down to the earth. As she gathered herself, she looked at her foot caught in the root and gave it an angsty pull. She yanked it harder than she intended, and she slid down a small embankment, rolling into a nook nestled beneath a large tree, where the ground was eroded from beneath it.
She rubbed her head, biting her lip to fend off the pain. After a moment, she found a touch of comfort among the roots. It seemed a fairly decent place to stay for now, at least to gain her composure. The willow branches drooped over top of the hole, making it nearly invisible. In her new hiding place, she could catch her breath under the adoring locks of the tree.
She allowed for time to calm her nerves, still trembling at the noises echoing around her, only for them to begin to recede, ebbing her further into the comfort of the gnarled root. She leaned back against it, breathing a silent sigh.
Please just be a nightmare, she began, as if singing a lullaby to herself.
Her mind buzzed with a static of emotions and memories, battering like swords against her armor. The thoughts would not diminish her insecurity. She couldn’t calm down, and a droplet broke against the crown of her head. She lurched, looking all about her, then realized the roots above her head only played a small prank on her. It was enou
gh to settle her back against the root.
Please, let this be a dream.
A pebble bounced off Blossum’s folded arm, jerking her immediately awake. Her eyes jolted across the tiny knoll, surprised by how active the soil had become. Now, tiny multi-legged creatures scuttled hither-to across her armor, asking for no permission to use her as a bridge. She glanced at the bright palette of vegetation that fanned the dirt outside her hollow, still well hidden from the rest of the forest, and perplexity took root along her face. She was unable to understand how a pebble could hit her so soundly. She heard no noise that made her think the war still waged, just the chatter of birds, gossiping through the trees.
No sooner had she poked her nose out of the eroded shelter, her heart throbbed painfully against her sternum with despair. Just out of view was a young Tastin boy. She supposed him to be about her age but realized she had no real way of knowing since everything she had been taught was derived from fear. He crouched with curiosity, jaundice arms lain across his bent knees, about to cast another stone into the burrow. He nearly jumped at Blossum’s sudden appearance and decided to jump down into the space with her. She reached for her sword, just out of reach against the thick root she had slept on, but the boy was too fast for her. His rough hand slapped against her mouth. As much as she wanted to scream, she fought the urge as he snatched her arm groping for her sword.
