Stars' Light, page 29
“General,” a younger Fallen said, bowing. His horns were not even fully grown yet. He must have been born in the Dark.
Markos turned. “Report.”
“The demons have been fed and contained for the day. We have them under cover and guard to the south of the main camp. The regular units are bivouacked as per your orders.”
“Thank you, Captain.” Markos nodded and turned back to the sunrise. He noticed the young captain was still standing close by.
“Do you have something more?” His voice had a harder edge to it, and he placed his cigar into his mouth, so his hands could be free. You could never be too careful. You never knew when another was going to attempt to take your place.
The young captain took two steps back to signal an intention to not challenge. “Only if I may, General.”
Markos nodded, but remained wary. He had not survived this long by being stupid, and his thoughts earlier about his previous life were stupid. Thoughts like those could create doubt.
“I am curious, general. Will we be able to stay lightside this time? Do you think our great enemy is still here? Are we going to get the chance to face actual Tracian Knights?” His young face was eager.
“I do not know. It has been some time since we were last here. It is possible they have all died out but a few. You should be careful what you wish for. A Tracian Knight is not something you should be excited to face, boy. They are tough warriors, and should not be underestimated. Their Rimerian blades are the bane of our existence. The Tracian Knights were trained specifically to hunt us down, and the Rimerian blades were specifically crafted to destroy us. Many of my brothers died upon those swords.” He paused, relaxing.
“If the Darkness is on our side, the Tracian Knights are all dead, and their order has vanished into the annals of history.” Markos gave the boy a dismissal nod and waited for him to leave the immediate area before he turned back to the sunset. He hoped that Jorian had left, because if he was still here, it was going to be a lot harder to win. It might even be impossible; although, his master would also be coming, and that might turn the tide in their favor.
Markos shivered, remembering the battle of Adako Plains. That had been the single most destructive experience of his life. His entire army had been destroyed. Jorian had been relentless, coming after him specifically. If it had not been for his master, he would have been destroyed there. That was the first time he had actually faced a Rimerian blade.
He frowned, turning towards his tent. He entered it and sat down on his cot. He looked over at his small table. He cursed, seeing no reports. “Where are those light damned reports from Asenath? What the hell are they doing?”
Asenath spent the night in her room, crying. It had been amazing. The amount of light coming from the General and Kiril had hurt her, but she could not leave. She had to see it. What had really gotten to her was just after the General made his promise to Sarannya, a halo of light erupted around Sarannya the moment she took the swords.
It was something she had only seen once. It was during the War of Light at the very end, when Aviel had been defeated by the Great Four, a halo of light had erupted in the sky over the entirety of Baral. It was the moment she knew there was no way out for her. It was the moment she had known she was doomed.
Her tears kept falling, and her sobs racked her body. The small chimes tinkled in time with her sobs, so that she did not hear Koios enter. She flinched when his hands lightly touched her shoulders. “My Queen, what is it?”
“There is no hope for us. I fear that I have led us to our doom.” She looked up at him, her eyes red from her crying. The small accents of purple in the aqua blue were hidden amongst the red and puffiness of her emotions. “I fear the Darkness that I have promoted and propagated cannot be undone. You should have seen it. You should have seen them. We can never be like them.”
Koios sat down on the bed and cradled her close. “It is done. You have sworn to the General and the light. There is no going back now, and the rest of us are ready to take the pledge with you. Anything is better than this. He gestured to himself with a full curl of horns, red tinged skin, and his burnt orange eyes. “What you saw was the potential that we can aspire to someday. We only have one direction to go, and we shall see it through, my love.” He bent down, placing his cheek on hers.
Asenath cried more, truly feeling his love for the first time since her fall.
Jorian and Sarannya stayed up long into the night.
“How does this all work?” Sarannya asked in regards to the swords, her, and the coming battle.
“Not any different, really. You will learn how to use the sword while you are learning how to do the rest. Zorian is probably right about that, too. I have never really had a time in which I was training and didn’t have a Rimerian.”
“You came here with a Rimerian?” Sarannya asked, shocked. She could not imagine always having these swords hanging from your hip. She was still in awe of them, and she had only held hers. She had drawn each one in the library, and was surprised that they were actually two longswords instead of the traditional one long and one short. Her long sword was slightly longer than normal, but thinner and shorter than Kiril’s. It was a lighter, more lithe blade. Her short sword was only about four inches shorter than her long sword, but the curves of both of her blades were almost as distracting as Asenath’s curves.
“Yes. Arturos Rimerian crafted them shortly after my birth, after I came into creation.” He was watching her closely and listening to her thoughts even closer. He was waiting to see if she would remember any of her past embodiments.
“How come Kiril’s sword and mine are plain in comparison to yours? Your sheaths are decorated, and your handles also have a more extravagant butt cap. Did you have those added later?” Sarannya asked, running her hand along the length of War Bringer.
“War Blades all come plain. Only through experience do you earn decorations. They will signify defeats, victories, lessons learned, and they will not all come from combat or war. They can come from life experience, the births of children, marriage, and the building of your house. The War Blade becomes a piece of you; it becomes an extension of your will upon the physical plane, and it will follow you into the spiritual as well. Upon the death of their bonded, all War Blades break. Their physical form is no more, and they return to the Golden Shores with their knight.”
Sarannya was paying attention, but it was very hard to keep her eyes open. She had been up almost all night. “You should go to bed,” Jorian commented, seeing Sarannya’s eyes struggling to stay open. They had already been talking for some time.
“When do I need to be up for training?”
“We’ll get up later than normal. I’ll send one of the girls to get you. Just go and rest. Also, don’t forget to use the War Blades. They can help revitalize the body. You can sleep less and not feel tired. They will show you how while you are sleeping.” Jorian got up from the couch in his sitting room.
Sarannya frowned.
“Don’t worry. It will be restful training.” His eyes laughed at her.
“Is there such a thing?” she shot back sarcastically over her shoulder, heading for the door. She paused, noticing the paintings in his room. Many of them were her brother’s. She turned back to look at her teacher while pointing her finger at the paintings.
“Your brother has a good eye and is a good artist.” He smiled at her.
Sarannya left Jorian’s room, heading upstairs. She passed many rooms filled with grunts, groans, and laughter. She was becoming more curious about sex, but really, it was just about keeping her mind on things other than killing and war. She did not know if she would ever get past killing those men on the road. She could remember their thoughts of lust, rape, and murder. There was a part of her that was happy they had died. Happy that she had killed them. It was a power that she had never felt before.
“Be careful, my princess. I should only be drawn in support of the light, and those men needed to be killed, for they were a stain on this land. To use me to further the aims of the Darkness would be a tragedy for all involved.” The unfamiliar voice of War Bringer spoke to her. Sarannya faltered, as this was the first time they had really spoken.
She felt even more tired, thinking about how much had happened in such a short time.
“That is the way of things. A lot of change in a short amount of time. It is only then that you can perceive change. Very rarely do people notice change, until a large amount of time has passed,” Retribution interjected into her thoughts.
“I understand.” Sarannya spoke, turning towards her room.
“You do not have to speak aloud to us, we can hear your thoughts. We are a part of you, now.”
“I thought there was a bonding process?” Sarannya practiced just thinking her answer.
“That is only a myth. We were made already bonded to you, the moment you started down the paths that would lead you to us, and a greater understanding of creation,” War Bringer said.
Sarannya tapped her finger upon his sheath, feeling the smooth lacquered finish.
Retribution jumped in. “You must sleep, so we can train. We have much to show you, much to teach you.”
Sarannya entered her room, placing the swords near Zorian’s journal, and collapsed onto the bed. She was asleep before she was fully under the covers. She did not even change her clothes.
Jorian watched Sarannya leave. “And now, it begins,” he said to himself. He would spend the week with her, and then they would clean out the demon hive. With their last week, they would begin the evacuation. It appeared they would have all of the civilians out of the city before Markos’s army arrived. There would be no reason to stay. They could just leave the city empty.
“No. The enemy must know that we are going to fight. The light does not leave with the dark, but the dark leaves with the light,” Light Bringer said.
Jorian nodded his head, glancing at the sword.
“Also, it will be good training for the young princess, and the humans must be allowed to fight to see what the Tracian Knights can do. What the light can do.”
Jorian frowned, knowing this was going to be difficult for Sarannya. “She will experience loss.”
“Yes,” Shadow responded.
“You must teach her how to not be attached to it, and of anyone on Baral, you understand this best,” Light Bringer whispered into his mind.
Jorian scowled, but his Rimerians were right. Of anyone on Baral, he understood attachment, and how to let go best. Hopefully, she would not make the same mistakes that he had made.
The week passed quickly. Sarannya worked hard, training with her blades at every opportunity. Asenath was teaching her how to move her body, how to become in tune with her body, not just for war, but for pleasure as well. There had been some uncomfortable conversations, but she had made it through.
Sarannya had also asked Ivana many questions, and her friend had answered them frankly. Ivana had even gone far enough to ask some of the other girls if it was okay if Sarannya watched them while they entertained. Ivana explained that some men like it when someone else was watching. Sarannya had flatly refused, and Ivana had laughed.
The General and Sarannya were inseparable, and he had introduced her to the unit she would be leading during the coming battle. He was at every training with her, helping her to refine her movements, understanding, leadership, and helping her to learn control over herself. They trained long and hard, but she knew she was only just starting to learn everything she was supposed to know. She was improving, but she still felt so inadequate.
It was late at night, and she and the General were training outside the Silk Stocking behind the stables. “This is so fucking hard. How the hell does anyone ever learn this shit?” Her frustration came out in a wave.
Jorian stood for a moment. His face was a stone mask.
Sarannya took a step backward away from him. She flinched, feeling his disappointment. It was like the sting after being slapped in the face. “I’m sorry. I should not have talked like that.”
“It’s not the profanity that I’m disgusted in. It is your lack of control, which profanity has a way of exacerbating. The reason that type of language is used is to get out the emotion that is pent up. It becomes a release, but that means you are not really in control. If you are not in control, you will die.”
Sarannya was quiet, listening. She knew this was a problem. Her War Blades were trying to help her with this every night. They kept telling her to quit fighting. It seemed so easy, and yet it was not. “Nothing that is easy is generally worth it.” Her father had told her this on many occasions.
She frowned. She had not really thought of her family lately, as she was so focused. She knew that Bran and Dusan would be in the fighting by now. She did not even know if they were still alive. I can’t think about that right now. I have to focus on this. My life and others; will depend on it.
“You are correct, little bug. You must learn this, as others are counting on you. Their lives will be depending on it. Remember, a good leader leads by example, and leads from the front. Tracian Knights do not send their army in, while they stay in the back and watch. You will have a better idea after the next couple of days.” Jorian noticed that Sarannya did not flinch or get embarrassed when he read her thoughts.
“What do you mean?” Sarannya asked, feeling uneasy. Her stomach did a little flip. “The Fallen army can’t already be here?” She projected the words back into his mind.
“No. We must clear out the demon hive before we begin the evacuation, and before the enemy arrives. We don’t want to be fighting on two fronts. It is very difficult, and you will seldom, if ever, have victory by fighting on two fronts.” Jorian switched to speaking out loud, sheathing his swords. He watched with a small amount of pride as Sarannya sheathed hers in a flourish as well.
Speaking conventionally, she said, “You are testing me.”
“No. Training. Tests are for those who want to prove something. I’m not trying to prove what you know, or don’t know. I’m giving you a moment to experiment, to learn. That is what is important here. Also, it will be good to give you some command opportunities before the enemy arrives at the end of the week.”
Sarannya did not say anything, and she shielded her thoughts. She was scared, not of combat, but of failing the General, Kiril, Asenath, and her unit. Failing the people that would be depending on her and her blades to keep them alive. What a thought for a sixteen year old girl to be having! She should be thinking about suitors and how best to please a man on the marriage night, or how to run a household. Instead, she was focusing on war and how to best keep her people alive. Well, she was learning on how to please a sexual partner…at least in theory. No practical experience there yet.
Jorian smiled, not really pushing very hard, but hard enough to see how her mental shields were doing. “Much better. Now, let’s get some hot cider. Maarika makes the best hot cider that I’ve ever had, and I’m sure that Kiril will be happy to see us and regale us with his wall building skills.”
They laughed, while walking together into the Silk Stocking.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Bran Tatara knelt down with the men in the first row of the shield wall. Arrows cascaded down upon them, hitting the shields with a hollow, metallic clicking, but they were waiting for the horn to sound. They were waiting for the order to charge. His sword was drawn, and he breathed deeply, stilling his nerves. It had been a week of relentless fighting, even during the night, but the pass had held. Mainly, this was because of the Lady Tal.
It had come as a great shock when she had come down into the pass wearing formfitting golden armor, with a War Blade on her hip. She had, so far, been a singular force upon the field. She had destroyed entire units by herself. She had used her abilities with the Essences to heal and keep many men fighting. When she walked among the troops in camp, they stood out of respect and bowed their heads and curbed their language. She had won them over, and they revered her. She was a legend come back to them from the time of myth.
He could feel her coming up behind him; his own abilities had improved, but they were nowhere near good enough to even be of notice next to her. It was amazing that she had taken any notice of him at all, but with his budding light well, she had begun to give him pointers.
Analia made her way up from the rear through the lines of men, until she was inside the shield wall. Analia made sure to nod and speak to many of the men she passed. She always made sure to seep out a bit of her light to embolden them and to reassure them. Her presence was a calming influence. She stopped, kneeling down beside Bran.
“Are you ready today, Lord Tatara?” She smiled at him, asking in her soft voice and glancing over at him.
“I do not know, Lady Tal. As usual, I am afraid and nervous; not just for myself, but for my men, as well.” His tone was serious, as was his expression.
Analia laid her hand upon his shoulder. “You will be fine, the men will be fine, and I am here with you. And like you, I, too, have a loved one in Bosc City. We have to hold here, so they have a place to come to when they evacuate. We shall do this together.” She turned away from him and loosened her shoulders. “Get ready,” she said.
Bran was always amazed at how she could know things before they happened.
The horn sounded, early morning light came through as a thousand shields came down, and a thousand men charged forward. There was rolling thunder in the pass as boots impacted the earth and rock beneath them. Arrows cascaded over their heads into the enemy charge. The screams of the wounded and the grunts of the dying filled the air.
