FIGHT
1496 Words
The sun shone bright in the sky when Ajora took her position among the endless lines of swordsmen and spear-bearers waiting for the King's order to charge.
She could spot the distant silhouette of the young ruler mounted on the white foreign beast that he'd so fondly kept since the last failed invasion attempt.
Contrary to firearms, horses had been deemed to be safe after the war, and their guardianship had been granted to all; Mavaerians, Nevarehans, and Caheneans equally to use as they saw fit.
They owned a large herd of those magnificent creatures that the Commander had given them as a gratitude gift for their valuable assistance in defeating the Argantean party.
He'd left a few studs and mares back at home to ensure their future breeding, then he'd brought the rest to the camp, where they were now about to be handled by a selected group of his most trustworthy riders.
This was one of the few advantages that they possessed over their enemy, and the monarch had been pretty adamant that they should use it as their opening stunt.
His intention was simple: To create chaos and inflict fear in their rivals´ hearts while they mercilessly stomped over the first cannon fodder that they would surely send their way very soon.
But as she prepared to fight, Ajora couldn't help but to involuntarily shiver, seeing the valorous regent calmly seated on the saddle with his back turned towards her, firmly holding the reins of his stallion as he remained still before the wide front rows that awaited their adversaries´ arrival.
She took a deep breath as she stole a discreet glance at him and found herself whispering a dumb prayer to the Gods that she had long forgotten, pleading for this intriguing man's safety.
Her head shaking in amazement as she cursed her own stupidity, but continued with her litany regardless. Blatantly treating her eyes with the outstanding view that he was offering:
His strong figure gently bathed by the abrasive sunlight, the green tone of his protective attire sparkling under the shiny rays cascading on him as he stoically stood by his Captain and a few of his Lieutenants, who remained gravely silent and expecting his commands.
Ajora didn't know how to ride one of those intimidating beasts, so she had been assigned to the infantry group instead.
Most of her fellow crew members wielded the typical stylized Mavaerian swords as their reliable weapon of choice. Some others preferred the large range and the commodity of a spear. But Ajora had been trained in the Cahenean way... And she had been armed accordingly.
Right before returning to Upland, Finjël had summoned her to the quiet main hall at Lowland's gate.
One of his wry-faced men had brought her in and shoved her forcefully inside the cold, deserted chamber, then shut the door loudly behind her and walked away.
The large Cahenean warrior had been standing in the middle of the empty room as Ajora´s uncertain steps echoed all around the stone vault while she cautiously approached him.
-I assume you've heard we are going back home – The stern man had spoken thunderously, nodding at her – We all are.
-I know -She'd replied, twisting her fingers nervously – War is over, it's safe to return now.
-Safety is quite a fragile thing, my dear – The hardened soldier had told her – It needs a lot of care to subsist in a world like ours. So, now that you own the craft, you are bound to protect it as much as any of us are…
He had paced towards her and placed one of his enormous palms over her shoulder, patting it lightly while staring intently into her eyes.
-You are a warrior now, Ajora… And therefore, you are expected to fight when it's needed. Do you understand what that means?
-I do – She'd responded with crescent conviction, her voice acquiring a firmer tone with each word she uttered – It will be my honor to serve this land the Cahenean way.
-Good – Finjël had sighed with satisfaction, gesturing for her to kneel – Let's make this official then.
She had clumsily crouched down on the cold tiles while she watched him turn around for a second and unveil a large box that Ajora had failed to see until then. Removing the dark cloth that had been covering it and taking it into his large arms, solemnly placing it before her astonished eyes.
-Ajora of Mavaer – He'd begun saying while he opened the heavy lid of the container and extracted a large saber and a sharp sickle, holding one in each hand – Let Sand Valley's fire burn eternally inside your soul and Upland's spirit fuel your heart in battle for the many years to come… You might have been born a Lowlander, but Upland's grit runs through your veins now too. So, may you be true to our name from this day on, and make this legacy proud.
-I will – Ajora managed to state back with glassy eyes – Long live Cahen and its courageous stirp! May my fate grant me the glory to strive and die as one of your own one day.
That had been the night that she'd stopped being a helpless civilian and become a true warrior.
“Remember, you have a responsibility to the craft” – Finjël´s voice rang in her ears as loud as it had that day – “It's not only about you anymore… You're part of something greater now, so behave as such!”
After that, she had returned to the city and to her merchant life, knowing that the warrior was absolutely right. She'd been given a precious gift, and she should find a way to put it to use somehow. But there were not many opportunities to do that as a humble trader.
So, she had been patiently waiting for her chance to arrive all this time … And when she'd found out about Hathengatt´s plans to attack her town… Well, she'd known that it had come at last.
As the sound of the incoming army neared, she stood impassive and ready to fight. Her mentor's lessons replaying in the back of her mind as her hand tightened around the handle of her rightfully thirsty saber.
The enemy was here and apart from the wise Cahenean´s words only the obnoxious image of the monarch's dark eyes flashed in her mind intermittently, distracting her and making her increasingly mad.
-Focus… - She mumbled to herself, closing her eyes and forcing her thoughts to go back to the impending fight. The loud noise of the blaring horn announcing that her time was over as she rushed to pounce forward and charge along with the thousands of equally ignited souls.
Every sound seemed to have muffled and blended into a background faint rumble while she kept moving mechanically. Her mind sporadically taking note of some crucial details that came to her attention as she tirelessly advanced... Like the fact that Hathengatter´s preferred using whips over knives or swords, and that they were exceptionally good at it.
This mental impression becoming quite painful when her arm got caught among the strips of one of those infernal leashes, and she felt her flesh being savagely torn open as the owner of the weapon mercilessly tugged at her, a drowned yelp escaping from her throat as she tried to free herself from it and keep her saber held in her lacerated limb.
Feeling a dull rage building inside, she had just managed to drive her other hand to her waist and graze her sickle with her fingers, readying herself to counterattack, when another cord tangled around her wrist before she could fully grip it, rendering her momentarily motionless.
Her brain had almost begun panicking before a strained yelp emerged from her first attacker's throat, and she turned around startled to find him falling lifelessly to the floor. Her sight widening when she followed the gurgling sound that had just erupted to her left and discovered the other assailant choking on his own blood, impaled by the pointy edge of a large, familiar sword.
-Are you all right? – Ishtun´s voice asked, signaling to her arms, which were still wrapped in the leather straps.
-Yes – Ajora hurried to reply as she rapidly recovered her wits and snatched the restraints off her skin, leaving only a few red lines trailing across her flesh -I'm fine.
-Keep those eyes open! – He'd shouted over the loud turmoil, scanning her with concern – Don't let them get you!
-Well, don't let them get you either! – She'd yelled back, leaping forward and swiftly cutting the neck of a rival soldier that had been stealthily creeping behind the ruler, then grinning at him and smugly walking away – Deal?
- Writer
