The Frozen Moon

chapter TWENTY-FOUR: WAR





She couldn’t remember how it started, even now, moments after it had begun. Someone would have moved first. Someone would have struck first. Someone would have died first. But it didn’t matter now.

Bodies blurred around her, overwhelming her senses. Metal clashed with that unworldly sound, that resounding clang which rattles the bones and fills the mind with lust. She felt her muscles tensing, urging the sword through and through, on and on. The flesh she carved through seemed endless, coming from all sides. Unrelenting.

She stood encircled by the figures, who were still cloaked in darkness. Their pale faces shone in the setting sun, revealing the dark circles under their eyes, which were barely visible. She could not tell if they were man or woman, old or young. She simply fought, fought as though there were nothing left to live for.

From time to time, she would spin about and catch a glimpse of her comrades, or hear a cry from them. But they were separated, fighting multiple foes, and utterly lost. There must have been around a hundred of them, and they were clearly not as well trained as Nameh had originally thought, for they fell like flies about them. Still, the situation was not bright. She had lost sight of Daniel, and she knew that could not be a good sign. She was frankly unfamiliar with the deep workings of dark magic, and she knew not exactly what he was capable of. Countless enemies still remained, and her body grew weary. Her sword and arms were dripping with blood. Human blood this time.

She drove the blade through the chest of one of the figures and immediately felt a jolt shoot up her arm and through her chest. She thought she surrendered a cry, but could not be sure. A blocking spell, she supposed, but she was unused to fighting enemies like this. It had been too long since the Guild had been at large, and their ways had fallen into obscurity. She pierced a hole in the side of the nearest man, who was really a man judging by his broad shape. The blood poured from it willingly, as if it no longer had a desire to remain in such a corrupted body, and relished the chance at escape. The thin leather they wore was poor armor, but allowed for better mobility. The man’s face contorted with pain before going still altogether as he slumped to the ground at her feet. His life dripped and stained the ground with angst, it almost seemed, mingling with the dewy grass and earth. It streaked across the autumn scene she had not long ago admired, distorting its image. The crisp Fall air was now tinted with the metallic scent of freshly-drawn blood. It was then she remembered just how human these people were. Or had once been.

It was the impact she felt first. Strong, well aimed, and right between the shoulder blades. The pain from parting of skin did not come until a moment later, when it had registered through her body’s meager attempts. The blood ran down her back, but the pain numbed quickly as her body began to enter a state of shock. She knew she couldn’t let it happen, let it take her into its quiet chemical ecstasy of numbness. She muttered the words to a healing spell in an attempt to speed up the work her Shask was already doing as she whirled around to face her assailant. Her heel seared with pain once again, but it was easily ignored compared to the pain she had just felt. Her jaw was set tightly against the shrieks she wanted to release, and her fingers clenched tightly against metal. She saw nothing of the one who had attacked her but the dark robe enshrouding it, but this thought did not even cross her mind at the time. She was overtaken with anger, and struck immediately and mercilessly. She had never been one for second chances.

Her sword came across its chest with a gleam off the pale orange light, ripping open a tear in its body. The scream which ensued was unexpected at best, and pierced her ears with the high pitched wail of a woman. The blade ripped through her throat next, tearing the scream from the lungs themselves and strewing it across the air as what would have been. It was clear that more Guild members had been present, and were now entering the scene in waves. She didn’t know how much longer she could fight. But then, one never does know how long one can fight until it is out of necessity.

It simply couldn’t be possible, she thought, there were too many. They each must have been fighting whole groups at a time, the numbers were too strewn. Another blow fell across her left arm, drawing her blood, as well, into the grass. She grimaced in pain; her body was beginning to give in to fatigue and wounds. A dagger throw quickly ended the threat to her left. It parted his chest as though the two pieces had been made to fit each other and break apart quickly. It slid in with ease as he crumpled to the earth. Easy, she thought again, death could be easy.

She knew that she must find the others; perhaps if they could find each other they would have a better chance of winning. Or at least they wouldn’t die alone. The flash of tawny fur was the first sight she had, as she was reminded of the Guild attack at the party and how she had searched for her friends there as well. Talar was ragged: fur was ripped from his hide, which was matted down with blood and dirt. Beneath his massive paws, an unlucky victim lay crushed where he faced his next opponent. In a movement of power and grace, he leapt through the air toward the cloaked figure. His teeth embedded in its throat and slashed downward, bringing its whole body down beneath him. The malice upon his face, even in this less known form, was surprising to her. She imagined in that moment that this battle was as personal to him as it was to her. Quickly, through no means of her own determination, she was astride him, and they were moving wordlessly forward through the sea of bodies. She drew a second dagger, glimmering only faintly now in the receding light, and slashed her way through with short and abrupt motions. Blood now covered her entire forearm, warm and slick.

They found the others in a cluster, already assembled back to back within a ring of attackers who were slowly closing in. As Talar and Nameh parted the ring with metal and teeth, it was already closing in again, there would be no way out, she concluded. This would be it, the final stand. The friends silently acknowledged each other, and Nameh felt a weight lift from her chest. They were all accounted for, and none had yet been lost. None were in good condition, however.

She took a place between Mira and Seth, their arms lightly brushing as they grunted through battle. She savored the feeling of human touch when she felt that she was at such a distance from the world. It was hard to feel real anymore. Blood spattered across their skin and faces and clothes, creating a gruesome scene. Her mind blurred with exhaustion, but she fought on, plunged on. They were making headway, fewer and fewer were closing in until they stopped coming altogether. There were roughly thirty or forty still about them, but hope was sparking within her chest that she could not deny. With a second wind and new found energy, she flung a disc from the pouch at her waist and it gracefully slid through the neck of one nearby.

“That’s why I told you not to touch those.” Her voice held a lightness that she had not felt since the beginning of the battle. She spoke for the first time since it had begun; she needed to hear the sound of her friend’s voice beside her.

“Thanks for the warning.” She could hear the smile in Mira’s voice. Wyd stood in the center of the circle, protected by those battling, spinning defense spells and god only knew what else. Through his work, she imagined, the group felt something cool slide across their skin, like water hardening into ice around them. Nameh looked down to see that a thin armor now covered her body, where torn and stained leather had been failing. He was probably absorbing magic from those fallen around them, because now she could even sense a thin shield around the entire group, a difficult task. Cutting through her moment of reprieve was a piercing shriek that could not be mistaken. It sent chills down her spine and shivers down the nape of her neck at the realization of what was coming. Before she could find words of warning, Cal’s voice cut through the air with a ferocity and fear.

“Harpies!” was the single word he uttered, and all that needed to be said. They were upon the cluster as the word had scarcely been comprehended, their dark bodies melding with the falling night. Her body reacted before her mind did, lashing out at the creature headed directly for her. The familiar black blood oozed from its stomach where she had wounded it, pouring onto her face and body as the monster withered to the ground. She wiped it from her eyes barely in time to see the next Harpy crashing into her, claws extended. They ripped through her stomach and shoulder, piercing skin even through the metal plating, drawing blood and knocking her body to the ground. Her breath was stolen by the impact with the cold and hard ground as the claws sank even deeper into her flesh. She gasped for air and tried to roll the creature off with no success. Its blank eyes contained only rage as they stared down at her helpless figure. She turned her head to the side to see that at least a dozen Harpies had her friends in similar situations, save Talar who was ripping through one that could not pin him down. For a moment her mind went blank with pain, she had no thoughts, no connection to the razor claws that were sinking into her body, and no knowledge of her consciousness slipping away. It was at that moment that she was able to give up, give in, and end it all.

She had been right, she laughed in her mind at a last thought. Death was easy.