Bayan's Story
I was fighting a battle in the present, but it was the Stone Golem's words from the past that troubled me the most. Our squad was outnumbered tenfold and my remaining comrades were slowly succumbing, one by one, to their long awaited deaths. But how lucky they were to go down with such a roar. I, on the other hand, wore a heavy burden that held me far from my glorious end.
Thoughts of the Stone Golem flashed through my mind as the clashing of blades and the rumble of battle cries surrounded me like a dull bubble. I pictured her, her amber eyes, her furrowed brow and her secret smile as she listened to my endless insights. She wasn't one for enthusiasm, or one for talking much at all for that matter. But I relished every minuscule grunt of reaction I ever evoked from her. I relied on the Stone Golem's ear, her acceptance; she relied on my knowledge, my power to tether her. And she had one hell of a temper that needed tethering.
A blade fell towards me, slicing through both the air and my thoughts as I dodged to the side. The berserker was bloodied from the battle, his mouth frothing, his eyes empty as if lost in his own adrenaline. Shek warriors were never afraid of battle, it was what they lived for. But I. I was frightened to death on this particular day. I didn't enjoy fighting, I was an intellect at heart, teased and mocked for simply being able to read. But I'd been drilled enough since I could barely hold a sword that I was at least able to stave off death. And this berserker wasn't going to take me yet.
My dead-eyed opponent swiped at me once more with a gurgled yell. I dropped to the dirt and swept his legs from beneath him, his blade shaving against my horns. He fell with a thud to my feet. I dealt him a stab to the heart. How free he was, to finally escape to the other side without burden.
The battlefield beyond me was beginning to look like a sea of rust red berserker cloaks, my last allies engulfed within it, forever lost to its current. I found myself charging into the midst of it, it was habit after all, while the Stone Golem's last words echoed through my head. Her eyes showed a vulnerability I'd never seen before, a desperation that made my blood run cold. She needed me, my head and my sanity in her days ahead more than ever.
"Bayan... I'm not ready for you to die yet."
My memories were shaken from me once again as a sabre shot straight for my eyes. I swerved and darted for the woman's side. She was open. I lunged with my blade. It eased through the flesh, right on target. I wasn't ready to die yet.
"For Kral!" a distant yell sounded from Kana, my last standing comrade.
I skirted around the swoop of another sword as another enemy came from my right. A duck and a blow to his abdomen, right on target. There was a mighty roar in the distance as Kana hit the ground, as if in unison with my own victim. See you on the other side, kin, I whispered, twisting on my heel to face the rest of my enemies. Kana had been my only ally left. I was alone now.
Two women stepped forward bearing their teeth while the rest stood watching, beating their swords to the sand, their eyes lit up in expectation for my gory doom. I raised my sword and edged backwards, plotting my next move. One of my challengers, as tall as she was wide, swung a torturous sword, spiked and cruel. The other, small and wiry, donned a dark scar across her left eye and a growl from her lips. They exchanged glances before charging at me with ear piercing shrieks.
The big one clashed her spiked blade against mine and pushed at me with all her monstrous weight. My boots skidded backwards in the sand, our blades biting against each other. The scarred one skipped in, nimble and dance-like, and slashed at my side in a frenzy, squealing in sick delight. I dropped my sword and spun away, the big woman stumbling forward as my blade clanged on the floor. Blood spots dripped to the sand as I crouched, pulling out a second knife and panting like a cornered wolf. A Shek never surrenders, a Shek never feels fear. But my heart was pounding. I'm not ready for you to die yet...
I squeezed my eyes closed and shook the words from my head once again. I'd barely jumped back to my feet before the scarred one had lunged at me a second time, a bloodthirsty glint in her eye. The tip of her sword slid across my armour as I twisted backwards and kicked her to the floor. It was barely a hit, but the impact still knocked the breath out of me. The two women both sprang to their feet as I heaved on the ground. I wasn't going to stop them, and they weren't going to give up. I lifted a hand as I coughed another mouthful of blood.
I'm not ready for you to die yet. The words sang through my head as my own death faced me, blades glinting in the sunlight. Reality stung me and the battlefield fell silent as I lost myself in my own head. The war... time itself had stopped for me. I couldn't let them take my life, not yet. My knee dropped clumsily to the dirt. Next, a clunk as my knife hit the ground.
"Coward!" the scarred one snarled.
I dropped my other knee, the sand crunching underneath it.
"Stand up and fight!" the other spat. "A dishonor to your whore of a Queen."
I leaned back on my heels and touched my fingertips to the dirt. It felt comforting, seeking its gritty asylum. My enemies had stopped goading me by now. Instead, they exchanged glances, silent gasps of disappointment. I slowly closed my eyes. It was so quiet. I felt a sharp blow to my temple. And then black.
I squeezed myself up to sitting, broken ribs cracking as I inched myself up. I gently wriggled the fingers of my other hand. Still working. Holding my breath I slowly raised the arm up in the air, grasping for what should be there. But there was nothing. I grasped further, slightly more frantically, until I finally found what I'd been looking for: the stub of a broken horn. My final punishment: Forever branded a coward, never again a warrior. I was nothing but a ghost... But at least a ghost could watch over it's loved ones better than a corpse.
"Hoy, you don’t look good. You okay there, boy?" a husky old voice yelled from behind.
I stumbled behind myself to find a caravan in the distance, a sinewy grey whiskered merchant with a guard and pack gar. I simply stared on, numb.
The man winced at my battered body and bit his lip. "Jump on. I'll take you to the city."
It was a bumpy ride, each clumsy bounce jarring my fractured bones. The old man and his guard didn't bother me with small talk, likely my dead stare told them all they needed to know. Thoughts of uncertainty plagued my thoughts of how the Stone Golem would react to a dead man walking, despite her worried last words. No battle had ever been so frightening as the thought of facing her disdain.
We reached the northern plains of Admag when the old man dropped me off. From there I traipsed to to the capital with a knot in my stomach and a limp in my step. I was greeted at the gate with a spit and a snarl from the guards once my kin. The glares burned through me, heavy with hatred and pity as I dragged myself through the city streets.
Stumbling in through the heavy iron doors of the citadel I was finally reunited with the Stone Golem. There she stood, dignified and tall, clad in fine armour. Her eyes watched on, her composure unmoved by my presence. Esata the Stone Golem, she never was one easily moved. The numbness I felt before had by now melted away and it hurt just to stand before her. Unable to maintain my show of dignity, my head dropped, eyes fixed on the dirt.
Then, a touch on my chin. Two fingers nudged my head back up high. There she was, those amber eyes still fixed on mine, unbroken, though glassier than before. Mutters emanated throughout the hall as the other warriors looked on with scorn.
"More time for those books," she said, a glint in her eye as she peeled the tattered seal from my chest plate.
She pulled the blade from my sheath and turned to walk away. The smells of iron and must, the feel of warm air, and the sounds of clinking swords from the armory all returned to me. I lost my ticket to the other side, and I lost my life as I knew it. But for the Stone Golem I would live a thousand defeats.
Thoughts of the Stone Golem flashed through my mind as the clashing of blades and the rumble of battle cries surrounded me like a dull bubble. I pictured her, her amber eyes, her furrowed brow and her secret smile as she listened to my endless insights. She wasn't one for enthusiasm, or one for talking much at all for that matter. But I relished every minuscule grunt of reaction I ever evoked from her. I relied on the Stone Golem's ear, her acceptance; she relied on my knowledge, my power to tether her. And she had one hell of a temper that needed tethering.
A blade fell towards me, slicing through both the air and my thoughts as I dodged to the side. The berserker was bloodied from the battle, his mouth frothing, his eyes empty as if lost in his own adrenaline. Shek warriors were never afraid of battle, it was what they lived for. But I. I was frightened to death on this particular day. I didn't enjoy fighting, I was an intellect at heart, teased and mocked for simply being able to read. But I'd been drilled enough since I could barely hold a sword that I was at least able to stave off death. And this berserker wasn't going to take me yet.
My dead-eyed opponent swiped at me once more with a gurgled yell. I dropped to the dirt and swept his legs from beneath him, his blade shaving against my horns. He fell with a thud to my feet. I dealt him a stab to the heart. How free he was, to finally escape to the other side without burden.
The battlefield beyond me was beginning to look like a sea of rust red berserker cloaks, my last allies engulfed within it, forever lost to its current. I found myself charging into the midst of it, it was habit after all, while the Stone Golem's last words echoed through my head. Her eyes showed a vulnerability I'd never seen before, a desperation that made my blood run cold. She needed me, my head and my sanity in her days ahead more than ever.
"Bayan... I'm not ready for you to die yet."
My memories were shaken from me once again as a sabre shot straight for my eyes. I swerved and darted for the woman's side. She was open. I lunged with my blade. It eased through the flesh, right on target. I wasn't ready to die yet.
"For Kral!" a distant yell sounded from Kana, my last standing comrade.
I skirted around the swoop of another sword as another enemy came from my right. A duck and a blow to his abdomen, right on target. There was a mighty roar in the distance as Kana hit the ground, as if in unison with my own victim. See you on the other side, kin, I whispered, twisting on my heel to face the rest of my enemies. Kana had been my only ally left. I was alone now.
Two women stepped forward bearing their teeth while the rest stood watching, beating their swords to the sand, their eyes lit up in expectation for my gory doom. I raised my sword and edged backwards, plotting my next move. One of my challengers, as tall as she was wide, swung a torturous sword, spiked and cruel. The other, small and wiry, donned a dark scar across her left eye and a growl from her lips. They exchanged glances before charging at me with ear piercing shrieks.
The big one clashed her spiked blade against mine and pushed at me with all her monstrous weight. My boots skidded backwards in the sand, our blades biting against each other. The scarred one skipped in, nimble and dance-like, and slashed at my side in a frenzy, squealing in sick delight. I dropped my sword and spun away, the big woman stumbling forward as my blade clanged on the floor. Blood spots dripped to the sand as I crouched, pulling out a second knife and panting like a cornered wolf. A Shek never surrenders, a Shek never feels fear. But my heart was pounding. I'm not ready for you to die yet...
I squeezed my eyes closed and shook the words from my head once again. I'd barely jumped back to my feet before the scarred one had lunged at me a second time, a bloodthirsty glint in her eye. The tip of her sword slid across my armour as I twisted backwards and kicked her to the floor. It was barely a hit, but the impact still knocked the breath out of me. The two women both sprang to their feet as I heaved on the ground. I wasn't going to stop them, and they weren't going to give up. I lifted a hand as I coughed another mouthful of blood.
I'm not ready for you to die yet. The words sang through my head as my own death faced me, blades glinting in the sunlight. Reality stung me and the battlefield fell silent as I lost myself in my own head. The war... time itself had stopped for me. I couldn't let them take my life, not yet. My knee dropped clumsily to the dirt. Next, a clunk as my knife hit the ground.
"Coward!" the scarred one snarled.
I dropped my other knee, the sand crunching underneath it.
"Stand up and fight!" the other spat. "A dishonor to your whore of a Queen."
I leaned back on my heels and touched my fingertips to the dirt. It felt comforting, seeking its gritty asylum. My enemies had stopped goading me by now. Instead, they exchanged glances, silent gasps of disappointment. I slowly closed my eyes. It was so quiet. I felt a sharp blow to my temple. And then black.
***
I awoke to the familiar sound of desert wind and the warmth of the afternoon sun singeing my naked skin. My body felt broken. I reached my right arm behind me to push myself up, but instead of movement, there was only the crunching of bones. With a cry of pain I turned my eyes towards my mangled arm. This was my punishment.
I squeezed myself up to sitting, broken ribs cracking as I inched myself up. I gently wriggled the fingers of my other hand. Still working. Holding my breath I slowly raised the arm up in the air, grasping for what should be there. But there was nothing. I grasped further, slightly more frantically, until I finally found what I'd been looking for: the stub of a broken horn. My final punishment: Forever branded a coward, never again a warrior. I was nothing but a ghost... But at least a ghost could watch over it's loved ones better than a corpse.
"Hoy, you don’t look good. You okay there, boy?" a husky old voice yelled from behind.
I stumbled behind myself to find a caravan in the distance, a sinewy grey whiskered merchant with a guard and pack gar. I simply stared on, numb.
The man winced at my battered body and bit his lip. "Jump on. I'll take you to the city."
It was a bumpy ride, each clumsy bounce jarring my fractured bones. The old man and his guard didn't bother me with small talk, likely my dead stare told them all they needed to know. Thoughts of uncertainty plagued my thoughts of how the Stone Golem would react to a dead man walking, despite her worried last words. No battle had ever been so frightening as the thought of facing her disdain.
We reached the northern plains of Admag when the old man dropped me off. From there I traipsed to to the capital with a knot in my stomach and a limp in my step. I was greeted at the gate with a spit and a snarl from the guards once my kin. The glares burned through me, heavy with hatred and pity as I dragged myself through the city streets.
Stumbling in through the heavy iron doors of the citadel I was finally reunited with the Stone Golem. There she stood, dignified and tall, clad in fine armour. Her eyes watched on, her composure unmoved by my presence. Esata the Stone Golem, she never was one easily moved. The numbness I felt before had by now melted away and it hurt just to stand before her. Unable to maintain my show of dignity, my head dropped, eyes fixed on the dirt.
Then, a touch on my chin. Two fingers nudged my head back up high. There she was, those amber eyes still fixed on mine, unbroken, though glassier than before. Mutters emanated throughout the hall as the other warriors looked on with scorn.
"More time for those books," she said, a glint in her eye as she peeled the tattered seal from my chest plate.
She pulled the blade from my sheath and turned to walk away. The smells of iron and must, the feel of warm air, and the sounds of clinking swords from the armory all returned to me. I lost my ticket to the other side, and I lost my life as I knew it. But for the Stone Golem I would live a thousand defeats.
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