In the bleak of fire, embers and ash amongst the screams of war cry. Zylef, a blade master apprentice is positioned side by side in the throat of battle with loyal tried and true countrymen. Opposing imperial Torsk military—insatiably bloodthirsty to conquer her village, Ghalaya.
Ghalaya was a small village stationed west of Torsk, almost neighbouring the Kingdom of Horix. The village consisted of deep green trees alongside a grand channeled river that connected inland to Torsk's Kingdom. Ghaylaya was birthed with the beauty of valleys, hillsides and an occasionally captivating rise and fall of Summoreth sun kissing the clouds across the horizon. Hard working labourers, tailors along with a mild few talented seamstresses were the heart of the beautiful atmosphere. All of which were at dire risk of extinction in the fall of 71AB
Caught in a violent commotion of steel and hacking flesh, clashes erupted on a stone paved courtyard inside the main entrance of the village. Zylef's garments and body amour appeared soddened heavily in enemy blood as her red smeared countenance dwelled locked in for further combat. This was Zylefs first horrific introduction into the weight of war as her hefty heart pumped adrenaline furiously in and out her lungs. Vapour mixed with an overshadowing unknown foreseeable fate left from her exhales as her chest fell out of rhythm dancing timidly with death.
Overhead a deep green forest bird soared above patches of smoke and ash vacating for the forest pursuing refuge from an approaching storm. Thunder began rolling in on untamed fiercely edged grey coloured clouds rumbling upon entrance adding additional unease with its deep growls. All felt the impact of vibration as lightning clapped in the corners of the realm signally a recommencement to the blood shed. Zylef felt the unspoken que as her senses returned, she immediately sort for an opening to initiate breakthrough in the out numbered and disadvantaged stacked battle laid out before her, collecting her wits to the backline.
"Zylef! Fall back with the remaining men and re route a flank!" Yelled her father at the forefront of death and flames from the top of his lungs, his veins almost protruding out the sides of his neck emphasising his sense of urgency. Gorik had repressed the invaders back to the entrance of the village, overall bottlenecking the enemy surge eager to pour back in with vengeance. Zylef, charged with emotional flushes of firsthand real time combat, could not afford any hesitations to alter the process of critical thinking. She did so by hindering out her father's voice amongst preexisting screams which resided mentally ever since chaos erupted. Gorik had no time for observing his daughter's status and was forced to resume post battle arrangements.
Holding the line in phalanx formation with what ever men were left. Gorik attempted to conjure up morale through improvised speech shielded by his brothers"My Brothers! I have helped hand in hand beside you all to build this land from the mud to the very stone our heels are blessed firmly upon. To the towers that grant us vision even in deep darkness to reveal the vile that lurks beyond our walls. We built this small village into a trained community to house the honest and honourable and the gods shall put us in the dirt before we let our enemies tare it down. piece by piece to the very forge birthing the weight of your steel you trust in it's make and hold ever so fiercely in your grips which will defend the flesh of your beloveds and strip that away of the ones who would oppose this privilege. Our blood shall spill for our banner but their blood shall stain it like no other! HOLD THE LINE"The riled defenders began marching forward chanting an ancient Hymn to Maya their God of lighting and wrath stomping and pounding their chests
"BONES, BONES, FLESH AND BONES, BRITTLE, BROAD, GOOD FOR EVERY CAUSE, COME NOW BROTHER, TAKE UPON A SWORD, MAYA MY MOTHER, FLESH AND BLOOD ARE YOURS, GIVE THY WRATH, GRANT ME WITH A STORM, GIVE THY DEATH DEFEND MY OWN"
His daughter rerouted on the left wing of the formation and remained in a lowered stance in the midst of flesh now making aerial display as heavy Torsk Calvary infiltrated through the defence blitzing the battlefield and toppling over the odds of Ghalaya winning this out stacked war. In her mind it was far from finished for her, her father and her people.
She had found an opening throughout the sea of red and piles of comrades bodies. As she had for a glance uncovered a particular horse rider with high ranked markings engraved in his body armour. Like a hawk locked into committing to a dive against its prey she measured for flawless execution as he began to reroute in her direction with his men behind him. The grip on her hilt had intensified. Estimating the speed and momentum of the particular enemy calvary soldier advancing towards her as she as well advanced. Within a split second the two were due to make direct contact as a heavy torsk commander stepped in between their premature encounter slashing his sword in Zylef direction forcing her and her initial challenger to reset their positioning.
Her reaction caused her to weave into the leading hand of the heavy enemy commander which left him undefended away and open from his line of attack. At that moment he followed through with his last strike as a desperate attempt to inflict damage. One strand of Zylefs hair fell casualty from the edge of his blade and like the speed of light she had dropped her body weight dodging the overhead lance from her first target who had recirculated to collect her off the field.
Zylef Generated force from her knees all within a matter of seconds and drew her sword from her waist and followed through with her own single slice. With enough momentum she lunged upwards as a feint to throw off any readings of predictable movement after ducking the lances spear and then executed a downwards spiral repaying the favour as she vivaciously cut the commanders throat through his neck plate that hadn't been correctly fixed, down past the gap in his chainmail that was previously damaged and into his throat and out through a corner bone from his nape. Still in motion Zylef's arm flailed with a slight extension from her shoulder and her blade continued itself ultimately reaching the back leg of the lance's horse as she was almost at the end of the power in her strike unscathed cutting both men down simultaneously.
she rose from her lethal combination and began walking down the dismantled Calvary soldier as he laid mangled in mud tangled in fragmented armour. Her eyes screaming violently for the sensation of death mixed with bloodlust as if she could almost hear the fearful heartbeats of her foe riddled with the earth and filth of battle he once rode so high upon. That until her father spontaneously intercepted the kill with a spear tackle to the ground as arrows claimed the remaining standing Ghalayan warriors. "Play dead my dear" whispered her father as his broad back was covered in arrows, shielding her from death. The impact discarded of her helmet causing minor concussion leaving her to blackout within moments of tragedy.
The noise of clanging steel and horses screeching alongside the pleas for mercy fromboth parties had come to a halt. Zylef awoke from her minor concussion disturbed by a wretched odour of sweat mixed with piss and the thickening odour of blood. Death had harvested many lives on the field that of which including Zylef's father Gorik as the sun began to set, making way for the slow downpour of rain.
Entrapped by her father's lifeless body Zylef was unsure if now was the right time to move. Her father rolled off of her unintentionally plucking an arrow that had impaled the both of them from her left leg. Zylef held back from whaling in severe pain as a sea of red Calvary rode in on deafening horseback fresh from the wretchedness of battle, the new line of lancers began finishing the unfinished.
Zylef's body was left exposed. She sighted her sword and snatched it with a stretch almost out of arms reach clutching it to her chest. The weight of cold steel pressing onto herself enhanced her senses as she began rolling over onto her stomach without drawing too much attention. The rain had picked up in pattern and began to drum down a heavy song of sorrow singing its way into the atmosphere. It had not rained this heavy in the world of Summoreth in hundreds of years. Her tears began to flow heavy into the mud puddle that had formulated around her as she felt the rhythm of rain tap against her body. It reminded her of the stories her father once spoke of, where water would meet the earth so heavily that it blessed the land with life. She was forced to remember his life had been taken and that warmth was no more. Recollecting her emotions she began taking her deceased father's advice and proceeded to play the part of a corpse.
Gargling from the mouth, lay the torsk heavy commander she had slain prior started to gasp for air.
"Th-that bitch!" Stuttering with agony the once thought to be dead commander continued to cry
"That bitch, she's taken my legs. I can't feel my fucking arms either! By Mother Tundra kill this whore!"
"Hold your tongue old man. We're far from finished here. Speak again and I will with no hesitation compromise myself to gut you and splay you open for all your countrymen to inspect, you wicked creature"Zylef spoke with conviction and interjected almost perfectly but it wasn't enough to cease the man's tongue.
"Over here!" Cried the paralysed commander now drowning from the overflow of blood in his mouth.
Within a matter of seconds horses swarmed her. One man prodded the tip of his spear onto the back of her neck
"Tegorra!" He yelled (get up) Zylef turned around viciously weaving the thrust from the spearhead and grabbed the staff pulling the man off his horse. Another soldier jumped down from his steed and swung snapping Zylef's newly claimed spear into a dagger as she deflected the hit. Zylef drove the spearhead into the mans ankle with a combination of stabbing. Twisting the initial blow out the ankle and in behind the knee, pulling the soldier by his wound down to her level into a crouch. He was in shock by her speed and had misjudged her character based off of her visible injuries. She proceeded to rip off his helmet as he began whaling. Placing the dagger behind his ear in between the crevice of the back of his jaw. The other men watched in disbelief and tried to engage but she threatened to take his life.
"Back!" Ordered Zylef
One man with a red feathered full helm rode in on a black steed. He ordered the riled up soldiers to stand down and addressed Zylef in a calmly manner.
"In all my years of battle I have never seen a girl such as yourself cause such a ruckus on a battlefield filled with trained men let alone wield a sword with such veteran features, Are you Vanguard?"
Zylef placed her free hand on the now hostage man's forehead with the blade still digging into him. Now drawing a small droplet of blood tracing itself down the surface of his neck.
"I said back!" Roared Zylef but the mysterious figure continued to engage as he lifted his visor.
"Easy girl, you have something of value of mine."
Confused but now realising the gravity of this altercation Zylef replied:"what is your banner?"
The man leaned in from his horseback and emphasised his words
"Torsken. I am Sithvon, son of Torsk Imperial leader Duvon and that my dear is my son you have disabled and now hold hostage"
With bitter wit Zylef replied "I am Ghalayan. Not Vanguard and that (pointing directly at her dead father as tears began to swell in her eyes) Is Gorik, Blade Master of Ghalaya also my father you barbarians cut down with your cowardly arrows"
"I see girl, it seems we both have casualties upon this battlefield. You've managed to paralyse one of my commanders who is now deceased as well as immobilising my son in front of his comrades. "Yes and don't leave out the crushed pile of metal which was once a noble Calvary rider"Replied Zylef
The high ranking offical Sithvron began scanning the field of the mess this lady had committed in concealed awe.
Catching his thoughts he began to deter from the massacre that lay before his eyes and began to bargain with the young lady.
"We fight under a ghost banner, Torsk is now no more than a memory of corruption and bone of a decaying corpse of past embodiment. My men and I are the revolt that Sumoreth needs and you and your people are collateral to our plan. Please understand this. Shortly the matter will be investigated by the neighbouring kingdom Horix and its petty Vanguard. By then we will reinforce our walls and continue the onslaught until every living waste that pollutes this land is begone. I am willing to accept what may be sacrificed to achieve this. You must endeavour to do the same"
Realising her village had fallen victim to a political coup. Zylef began to understand the magnitude of unnecessary power driven Kingdoms and that they were all the same. Her father had died in vain and her people erased from history. Life as she knew of was always governed by restriction of movement. Torsk used Ghalaya as a farming tool and Ghalaya depended on Torsk to keep order and deliver supplies as reward for their labour. Now in hindsight it was obvious a small branch of her kind laid to waste was merely a smear in the bigger picture. her way of life was taken to make way for exterior motives that plotted on a larger scale and its representative spoke it to be just. She was determined to die as an attempt to alter this process even if it were just for a fraction of what her and her people had suffered. She vowed to inflict it upon her oppressors.
Zylef's frantic emotional state subsided to one of which to be calm and collected. Containing her rage at such a high calling."Well then Sithvron. Son of Duvon, it seems that I've met a different kind ofCoward that would fight under no banner which means your son will die under nonebut the same. A coward"
Zylef pulled Sithvron's sons forehead back to her chest and drove the spearhead into the tissue of his skull yet before the boy became completely limp, Zylef readjusted her grip around the boys head with her entire lower arm concealing the face of her victim wrapped and nestled in the grove of her elbow. She snapped his neck and ran the blade of the spearhead across his throat, spitting towards the direction of his father
"Nev Karda" (no honour) she uttered with disgust and anguish.
Standing as if time itself had frozen over the cold planes of Summoreth Sithvron watched the last of his bloodline fizzled out before his pale gleaming eyes as the life from his sons left its body behind without a trace of emotion except pure agony and pain. Zylef kicked the boy from her presence and took to both knees with arms wide open embracing death, inviting it in to send her from this hell on earth. Time moved slow as Sithvrons best men took to arms to finish what his son could not. Starring down the bottom end of raised swords was the most honourable death a warrior such as zylef had to her merit and rightfully so.
Yet their swords did not scathe the slightest of skin, they only fell from the hands that intended to deliver her final moments request. Confused she focused her vision as both men were pinned where they stood by two seperate arrows furthermore collapsing - instantly disposed of.
She could hear a rider in the distance, a haunting and heavy rumble of a steed broke the noise in the air initially formulated by such heavy impacts of rainfall. Appearing from the mist and woodlands galloped what seemed to be death itself on a dark horse heading to their proximity, a hooded man shrouded in black with an unsheathed long sword down by his side cutting through the air whistling its tune of harvest accompanied by two more dark silhouettes on horseback. Zylef cheated death whilst watching it pour out of the woodlands at a rapid rate, her mind could not fathom what was to become.
Sithvon ordered his soldiers to take the line as zylef began to visibly witness the fear that struck his slender physique. retreating from conflict Sithvrons riders tossed his lifeless boy on horseback and retracted his precious calvary. Zylef sat in the downpour consumed by fatigue - utterly drenched.
Flashes of black streams shot by before her eyes before she could gauge the positioning of the soldiers of death, force from the steeds passing by caused her to shutter in a brief instance. Two helmed heads rolled before her as she attempted composing her near depleted body from the enormous gush of wind. In front of her arose a tall cloaked figure of a man with his back to her purposely unmounted and isolated away from his prior accompanied companions as they took the reins of his steed.
"Are you hurt?"
"No"
"It sure didn't seem that way from afar, What is your name?"
"I am Zylef, what is yours?"
"Kystin. Leader of vanguard section 71."
"What pleasure do I owe to your king Isaac, sitting ever so high and comfortable from his chambers to send such tamed killers"
"This isn't the kings will. It is of my own. I'll take it from here"
"How thoughtful, I'm not sure if you noticed but you robbed me of an honourable death. How do you plan to win this Vanguard? With which god will you choose to eradicate such evil. You're outnumbered three to one"
"We are never out numbered. Sit tight, keep the pressure on that leg of yours if you still intend to keep it"
Kystin began storming his way toward nine armoured men. Three of which began to step forward before their comrades assuring the situation would be diffused shortly. "Easy boys, let us handle the little crow"
The first tallest red soldier ran into battle with a straight lunge with both hands invested into the motion but his blade was weaved and followed by a swift under cutting slash from the vanguard. The blade of the vanguard appeared from complete nothingness at such I fathomable speed, summoned from the abyss of his dark cloak and cut off both arms clean from its opposition effortlessly leaving the red soldier stunned with shock wielding nothing but two dead ended tips of severed flesh as both his limbs lay before him sinking into sludge.
Kystin increased his pace locking into more combat and pointed in a signal as he began walking down the next contender of the now two remaining soldiers. He commanded a whistle whilst flicking his index and middle finger together toward the direction of the knees of his closest foe. Precision was displayed like no other as two arrows snapped out from a distance launching from clouds of mist out by the woodlands initially where the Vanguards appeared from and plunged into both the kneecaps of its victim ripping through bone and flesh locked in tightly by muscle. The soldier immediately dropped on both knees but before he could belch out in agony his head was rapidly discarded from his shoulders, Kystin push kicked the headless man to make way for the next onslaught. The last man standing tried to take form for a clash of swords at a fair distance but the vanguards momentum had no end as he fastened his grip of the hilt on his sword transitioning it into that of a spear. Running directly at his target the vanguard launched hislongsword undeviatingly from twenty meters out like bolt of lightning into the centre of the mans chest. Popping and cracking his ribcage as the sword lodged itself with such force whipping the mans shoulders inwards whilst pulling him backwards as he leant propped up by the other end of a longsword now housed in soil, meat and blood.
Zylef had a glimmer once again in her eyes as she spoke to herself.
"By the gods, the speed and power of this man is phenomenal. Is this the true force of the vanguard? He has achieved more than I had attempted in slaying such swine"
The remaining six soldiers began to push forward hesitantly as they had never witnessed such a series of killings carried out by just one individual. "Vanguard! You're finished, out numbered and without sword. Surrender to the new empire and your comrades shall be blessed with a rapid death"
Kystin produced a slight grin and humoured the man's approach of reason
"Are you all trying to persuade me to not resist? And what is this rapid death you fools speak of, the lady behind me had ample amount of time to receive such a deceptive promise and yet she's massacred a fraction of your forces in await for such an empty ambiguous action" The vanguards confidence in tone did not falter as it grew over in a bold statement
"How about I cut you half witted meat shields a deal, hey, for your astound efforts in massacring a bunch of crop farmers" Infuriated the red soldier began to exchange further words.
"You dare mock the force of which disposed of not only this petty village but conquered an entire kingdom of Torsk? Listen carefully vanguard for we shall not make deals with a measly dispossessed little raven. We will come for Horix next and everything you keep so precious and dear shall cry in the pits of fire for your presence made ever so absent on this day, on this very field"
The soldiers began to close in at a faster pace almost passing their impaled comrades upright stiffened corpse. The sound of marching was matched by that of a fastening stampede in the distance as the black riders also began to close in on the tightly formed unit of six covering more ground onward at the singular awaiting Vanguard.
"The sound you're hearing quake the earth is minor to the tragedy that awaits you poor fools. I sort to cut a deal with you all but little was to be expected from you clunky barbarians. Now we shall put your steel to the test by trial of fire and see whom calls for whom when engulfed amongst the flames"
From the distance stationed in a white bricked watchtower of fine Torsken masonry, Sithvron read the next play the Vanguards had produced amidst their combat. Issuing Calvary immediately to the forefront.
Twenty to thirty red riders in white to gold trimmed armour, feathered full-helms and unstained steel took to the field shortly behind the six man assault.
The Vanguard riders laid chase with the progression of push from their opposition. one vanguard rider successfully intercepted the marching men. flailing clear liquid over the enemies raised shields using a doused raven flag attached to a wooden staff whilst the next rider tossed a rope tied sack overhead into the now drenched crowd. like clock work, the two vanguard dispersed brushing by their leader as his horse regrouped to a halt by his side.
A burning arrowed was fired again from an enormous distance. Taking to flight tenaciously, such speed revealed the arrow like a beam of hellfire rupturing the still airborne sack into an explosively large radius of flames setting alight all six men and engulfing the newly congregated calvary.
Kystin watched briefly as both man and beast were as one. A choir of screeching beings that not even the rains could settle.
Running back for the Ghaylayian woman whose eyes were fixated on the suffering as they reflected a glossing dance of bright red swirls of orange. Kystin ordered his horse by his side. "Zylef, the least I can manage is to take you from here until we establish a foothold to eradicate the perpetrators"
"I can't leave the dead Vanguard…I…I can't leave the dead unattended and exposed. What can you see that is left of my people vanguard. survivors guilt shrouds my heart forever on, death is all that surrounds it. Leave for your palace with your glorified king"
"That's not what I'm asking of you, let me tend to your wounds so that we can come back stronger and reclaim what is left of your home. Bury your dead with renewed strength, the same kind I witnessed protect them"
Tears began flowing from her hazel bloodshot eyes as she casted a strong gaze into Kystin's.
"Please, I need to bury my kin"
"I promise, I will escort you myself. Now come, let's get out of this storm, get you fed and properly accommodated. You've been through enough as it is"
Zylef lifted her hand as high as her energy would allow, and the Vanguard carefully lifted her onto his horse, pulling out a thick wolf-skinned quilt from the rear satchel of the steed.
He wrapped it around her battered body, saturated by rainwater and weighed down by her garments, which were muddied with blood, swaddling her in its warmth. Kystin half-mounted beside her as he carefully dismantled her rugged leather garments beneath the quilt's internal warmth.
The Vanguard removed his gloves, revealing old scars across the back of his hands. With gentle empathy, he began cutting through leather straps, freeing Zylef of a minorly crumpled steel breastplate—discarding it from on high. The ground slowly began swallowing the steel upon making contact, consuming it whole in the slurry.
She unintentionally succumbed to this type of foreign care, as uncertainty transformed into the first fragment of a restoring sense of trust, even if only momentarily.
"By no means of intrusion, but if we ride in this wind under such conditions, catching a cold is almost certain."
Zylef, still under fatigue's influence, gave a nod and shuffled forward on the saddle.
Kystin mounted his steed and pulled her close to the warmth of his body. Climbing aboard, the pair rode Godspeed for the woodlands as a small army began appearing on the Torsken horizon.