Sunday 16 December 2018

19. Freezeday to Waterday/ Illusion Week/ Sea Season: The Battle of the Broken Tower.

At the next clan meet, find a warrior.  A scarred warrior who has seen battle many times. Take them away from their fireside boasting, their tall stories of havoc and heroism. Take them aside and ask them "what is battle really like?” They will say many things and there will be more boasts and brags but each one will eventually lower their voice to a whisper and tell of a moment; a moment in the heart of a battle where the Gods of War themselves draw breath and an eerie silence falls across the field, foes at each other's throats all simultaneously pause, the clash of bronze, the war cries and screaming all fade and stop. All warriors have seen this happen, have stood wondering and looked about them, a moment of strange clarity in the chaos.
Such a silence fell in the midst of the Battle of the Broken Tower. 
At the breach in the tower wall, the surviving Enthralled gathered. Exhausted, they wearily formed a ragged shield wall: wood interlocked with wood, desperate glances were exchanged. As they peered over this scant protection they could see the mass of the Broo. They too had fallen silent, only the odd hate-filled bray broke the quiet. Further away, beyond vision, there were faint screams and a low grinding rumble, more felt than heard, as if there was a long, slow landslide occurring: at the margins of the Battle Idrima was crashing through ranks of chaos creatures leaving destruction in her wake. But she was too far from the Tower to offer aid now.
Randel, Sandene and Yrsa - along with Magana and Eirissa - had left Terrastal in the care of Jenest after he had collapsed following his attempt to arouse Idrima. Now they stood side by side in the shield wall. Ahead, the ranks of Broo were shoved aside. Something they feared was coming. Yrsa muttered to herself "If we run, we will die. If we fight, we will die. Better to fight". Magana and Sandene had a grim, flinty light in their eyes and their hands adjusted the grip on their axes: they would fight too. Randel stood resolute, eyes flicking from the terror ahead to Eirissa, the comfort he took from her presence made him swear a silent vow to Issaries: whatever happened next he would protect her.
All of this passed in these few moments of silence, now shattered by the renewed screaming of the Broo as a hideous, misshapen thing shouldered through their ranks to face the last defenders of the Tower.
Eight feet tall, white furred and with the glaring red eyes of a corrupted albino, a giant Broo faced the shield wall. Knowing only the slaughter of its foes lay ahead, it roared its triumph. With horror and disgust, the defenders noticed the thing had two heads, the one spitting and roaring and the other lying limp on the end of a scrawny neck; blank-eyed and drooling it swung in ghastly unison to the Broo Lord's movements. Clad in scavenged armour, brandishing its filth-caked sword the thing coughed out harsh words, barely identifiable as Tradetalk. “Food things! Which of you will fight me? Which of you will die on my sword?” Arms outstretched, it beckoned to the defenders to send forward a champion. Fear ran along the wall like a sudden breeze, chilling blood and taking breath. Sandene and Magana stood unmoved.
As the Broo Lord roared its challenge, Sandene knew why Babeester Gor had welcomed her back into the fold. Here, defending the newly awaken Earth spirit Idrima; here would be a good place to meet her Third Death.
Sandene paused to make sure that Magana would not claim the right to solo combat, she placed her hands on Magana’s shoulders and looked into her eyes: “This one is for me, Sister” Sandene said, “I still seek our God’s good grace and I will gladly die here and now if that is what She wills”. Magana looked at Sandene, a strange mix of pride and jealousy in her face. “Go then” the Axe Sister said, “I will protect the others”.
Gleefully, Sandene stepped forward out of the wall, crying as she did so "I will defeat you first, but then I will slay all who follow you". Her lips already moving in prayers calling on the Goddess to sanctify the fight to come and strengthen both Sandene’s will and axe arm. The massed ranks of Broo howled at her approach. Undaunted, Sandene broke into her war dance but it had been so long she tripped and stumbled forward, startling her opponent.
Behind Sandene, Randel and Yrsa hurriedly tried to reform the shield wall, a futile act in the face of such odds but one that felt oddly right. All eyes were now on the towering figure of Broo Lord and the small, tensed woman marching directly toward it. There was a sense of power in the air: rancid, rotten green threads of power seemed to crawl across the Broo’s body. “Come fight me, food!” the Broo Lord snarled, the green tendrils of chaotic power clinging close to its body as it called upon the power of Thed. In turn, Sandene meditated upon the Earth and entered the Axe Trance, as she had done so long in the past. Her prayers to her Goddess answered the sharper-eyed of the Enthralled saw Sandene’s axe blade blur and shift, flickering between this world and the spirit plane.
Throwing back its head and casting its arms wide, the Broo Lord screamed as foul tendrils of green power leapt from its body toward Sandene. Such was the colour of this power that it induced nausea in all who saw it, it writhed and boiled, enveloping Sandene but nothing now existed for Sandene but her axe, and her target; and the Chaos Rune magic was shoved aside aside. Reduced to tatters the magic faded into the air.
The Broo Lord screamed once more and charged forward. Sandene almost gagged on the stench the creature gave off, her vision momentarily blurred with tears, she shook her head and charged to meet her foe. Leaping forward like a true Axe Maiden, Sandene struck hard, and the desperate parry of the Broo was all that saved it from losing its leg.
It was a mighty clash. This was a Rune Lord, it would not be defeated so easily. Its plate armour and broadsword were caked in filth, it was surrounded by a fetid miasma that had been enough to fell many opponents in the past, it struck back, sparks ringing from Sandene's shield. In return Sandene’s axe seemed almost a living thing, striking as swift as any serpent, blurring and flickering and seemingly in five or six places at once.
Again, the creature called on Thed, and this time dark flames began to erupt around Sandene. It seemed she would be consumed, but then the Death rune on her face pulsed and a cold aura like a winter whirlwind surrounded her where even flames could not live.  At the heart of this whirlwind Sandene’s face was grim and expressionless, her focus total. Sandene's unnatural axe shot out once again, striking again at the wounded leg and severing it at the knee. The Broo collapsed and Sandene prepared for the onrush of its allies. But Chaos is not so easily defeated; the Broo wrenched its maimed limb back into place as tumour-like growths -suffused in the putrid glow of Chaos- knitted the severed limb back into place with unnerving speed.
Cries of dismay rose from the shield wall but no emotion disturbed Sandene's face and, as her enemy got back to its feet, she once again cut the creature, this time across the chest. The combatants charged and axe, shield and sword clashed again and again.
In the shield wall men and women, Uz and Durulz watched with trepidation: if Sandene fell surely the wall would fall just heartbeats later? Megana suddenly tensed, eyes rolled back into her head. “They are coming” she moaned. “They are coming”. Almost imperceptibly, a faint vibration, not yet a sound, could be briefly felt by the defenders but it was quickly lost in the howling of their foes. Sandene and the Broo came together yet again with a clash of arms, springing apart and then re-joining. Powerful magics twisted in the air as the Gods themselves leaned in to the fight.   
Suddenly the howls of the Broo changed: the cries of triumph were replaced by surprise and even fear. A fresh, joyous wind straight from Orlanth himself swept the field. The defenders watched amazed as a wedge of Orlanthi cavalry smashed into the rear of the Broo warband. Always a disorderly foe, the Broo now lost their shape entirely, screaming and clawing over each other to escape the trampling hooves and sharp spears of these new attackers. Much death was delivered and the ground became mud as Broo blood saturated it. But even in this wild melee the stronger among the Broo began to rally. The men and women (and Uz and Durulz) in the shield wall stirred, but what to do?
Yrsa had never been more scared: fighting bandits or predators of her herd she understood: in fights like that her size and strength counted for something but in such battle they counted for nought.  Surviving carnage like this needed something different, something she thought she did not have. But what she did know was that Sandene – Yrsa’s loyal companion and a brave warrior – was ahead, among the carnage and in trouble. Yrsa turned to the remnants of the shield wall “The horses! The horses! Redalda is with us! Redalda is with us this day! Steed of the defender of Orlanth’s stead comes to slay our foes!” With this fierce cry ringing in their ears the shield wall stiffened, and bristling with spears and new hope, began to slowly march toward the enemy.
Even as they marched forward Yrsa, still half in terror and half in anger, knew she had to face her fear and help Sandene. Mustering every ounce of courage, she left the wall and charged toward the Broo Lord.
Randel, with noble Eirissa to his left and the grim handed Magana – now recovered -  to his right, watched Yrsa leave the wall and hastily gestured the Enthralled to fill the gap and maintain their line. Randel’s quick eyes and even quicker wits assessed the field before him. The Broo had been thrown into confusion by the cavalry but even now the vile things were starting to regroup. The cavalry had delivered a blow but it was not a fatal one: they were becoming bogged down in the carnage, their horses whickering as the Broo closed in. Randel was amazed to see a small pony among the great horses of the Colymar tribe and, perched on the pony’s back, the welcome sight of a somewhat ill-at-ease Bofrost furiously adding to the assault with his whirling sling.
Randel was certain that movement was the only way to win this battle. Drawing on the swift thinking and the knowledge of terrain and travel that Issaries had given him, Randel saw a way to end this battle. Again, his searching eyes roamed the field, locking with those of Drenyan who was leading the cavalry. With gestures and glances a shared understanding was reached and Randel put his plan into action.
Randel knew that if the shield wall remained static it would be overwhelmed altogether and if it scattered they would be overwhelmed one by one. The way to win was to keep the wall together but help them move and reform swiftly. Randel shouted instructions along the wall. “Watch the cavalry, watch for when and where they strike. We will respond to them. They are the hammer, we are the anvil. Where their blow falls we will be there and our foes will be crushed between us!” Given purpose by Randel’s tactics and reassured by his and his companion’s inspired presence, the wall began to move quickly and surely, forming when required as the cavalry drove the Broo against them.
Randel watched Drenyan intently. When the cavalry captain indicated where the next charge would be Randel swiftly moved the shield wall, and the Broo were caught between the crushing hooves of the horses and the bristling spears of the shield wall. Time and again Randel with his wits, his swift words and quick actions formed the wall exactly where it was needed and the Broo, having no answer to this deft tactic, died in great numbers.
Randel was grimly satisfied until Eirissa, driven by her love of the Earth and a fury at Broo, those hideous mockeries of the beauty of Ernalda’s gifts of fertility, leapt from the wall spear in hand only to be wounded. Randel leapt to her aid, eyes filling with tears.
Meanwhile, cross the field, Yrsa - swallowing her terror and sprinting as fast as she could - crashed into the Broo Lord. Her powerful spear thrust split its shield asunder and, finding a weak point in the creature’s armour, drove deep into the sinews of its right arm. The thing screamed in pain. Deep in her Trance, Sandene the Babeester Gor warrior showed no gratitude, but coldly sized up the new situation. With its shield gone the Broo surely could not defend against her axe, and Sandene was a blur of motion as she struck again and again, to the arm, the body and finally in a devastating upward slash that started at the creature's thigh and kept going upwards. Hovering at the edge of this skirmish Bofrost added his magic to the fight. The Broo Lord reeled and fell but even as it did so its misshapen lips slobbered out a prayer to its vile god but this time no help came. At last the Broo lay still, but Sandene would not stop, hacking off both the monster's heads before inexorably moving towards the remaining desperate Chaos spawn.
Their leader defeated, outnumbered by Bofrost’s arrival and out-thought by Randel, the Broo scattered into the woods and hills. The dead and the dying screamed and crawled and slumped and died. Emerging from the carnage, the massive form of Idrima rumbled back toward the Tower, her lower half caked in blood and worse. And in her wake came an even more terrifying sight: Sandene, her notched axe held aloft, covered from head to foot in gore, uttered a hideous, victorious shriek before finally being freed of her trance and seeing her companions for seemingly the first time in days.
After the battle was complete, and Babeester Gor released her from her Trance, then Sandene would celebrate her reunion with her goddess - but also mourn her failure. She had not been able to defend the Shrine alone, and others had been dragged in. Many of the Enthralled lay dead, and brave Yrsa looked haunted and hollow eyed after her decisive intervention. Though Sandene had welcomed her as a Sister, it was not enough.
Yet again, Chaos had intruded into the human world, and only a warrior sworn to Death could keep the Earth safe. Alone but for her Sisters, misunderstood and reviled for their lack of social niceties and brutality in battle.
“By the Gods” Sandene said to herself “but it’s good to be back...”
Back in the Tower a fire had been lit and healing was done. Jenest led song of the Earth, a song of strength and renewal, and the surviving Enthralled lent their voices to this prayer: the booming bass of the Uz and the surprisingly deep baritone of the Durulz entwining with the high, clear, beautiful voices of Jenest and Eirissa beneath the starry dome.
The morning after great funeral pyres of Broo were burned with Jenest’s sacred fire. Gathering the surviving Enthralled – now numbering only twenty - as well as Jenest and Terrestal and returned to what was becoming widely known as Randel’s Stead. On the way, Bofrost told the tale of how he realised his companion were in trouble: he had fallen asleep over the book he had been studying and, when he awoke, it felt that “something had cast a shadow on his heart”. Randel, intrigued by this, tried to question him further but Bofrost would not be drawn.
The battle had left many dead and wounded and few unmarked. Yrsa in particular, after her first horrific experience of a pitched battle against Chaos, seemed distant, sometimes staring wildly about her, sometimes falling into sullen silence and sometimes heard to be asking other warriors “is this what battle is like?”. Sandene talked to her, expressed gratitude for her bravery, even called her sister but to no avail. It was beyond words and maybe beyond Chalana Arroy herself to heal such soul-wounds. Perhaps solace would be found at the stead…..

***********************************************
“I can't stay here, I have to return to the temple” said Erissa
“Why?” asked Randel “ Do you not like the house?”
“The house is a credit to it's owner, Randel”
 “Do you not like the bed?” persisted Randel “Intagarn's finest sleeping furs, chosen for comfort and warmth”
“The bed is most comfortable” sighed Eirissa
 “Then why leave it?”He slipped his arm around her pulling her closer, she raised herself on her elbows until her face was above his and placed a finger on his lips.
“We've already had this conversation, two weeks I have been here and Jacinta  already acts like she has replaced me”
“Don't be silly! Everyone knows Morganeth favours you, Jacinta is just covering until...'.
“Until I return, yes exactly, that is why I have to go, and anyway you have to go and put your charms to use on behalf of the Ring”  Eirissa rolled away and left the bed, quickly pulling on her dress,
“So I am charming?” Asked Randel, his tone making it clear what answer he’s like to hear.
“You can be” smiled Eirissa, “when you want something. Although no one is as charming as you think you are!”
“Not even Terrastal?” asked Randel, an exaggerated pout on his face.  
Eirissa laughed.  “Definitely not Terrastal!”
“Will you be here when I return from our mission?”
Eirissa looked briefly troubled, but answered as firmly as she could “No...well,  I'll be at the temple, come and see me there and we'll talk more”.
Randal heard the door shut. Getting up himself he pulled on his cloak and went over to the hearth. Turning to his statue of Issaries he thought, “Oh Lord why has your gift of communication deserted us?” It wasn't just Eirissa, he knew from the start she was ambitious, what could he offer her that could compete with becoming a Priestess? Not that he would stop her of course, even if they were married but Bofrost worried him too, while he was grateful for the help something wasn't right: he didn't think the scholar was lying he certainly wasn't giving the whole truth.
Randel broke his fast in a sullen mood, he had become used to sharing it with Eirissa, on warmer days they had eaten outside and chatted with the steadholders. Randel was pleased the Uz and the Durulz  had been accepted but he'd also be happy once they had moved on. No eating outside today as the sky reflected Randel's black mood. Hunching his shoulders into his cloak, he decided to go into town, he didn't want to spend too much time in the house alone.
Having stabled his horse Randel was walking to an inn when Sandene fell into step beside him, he shied away slightly, although he knew her to be a boon companion the axe maiden and her aura of death still bothered him. When he saw Eirissa step into the shield wall beside him at the tower the look in her eyes had made him wonder if she might leave the nurturing mother for the avenging daughter but fortunately, for him at least, the wounds she had received seemed to have cooled that passion somewhat.
Sandene greeted him warmly, well as warm as she ever got and said she had seen Eirissa hurrying into the Earth Temple. Randel much to his surprise found himself stuttering for the first time since he had joined the cult of the Goldentongue, 'M, M, Morganeth needs her'.
As Eirissa walked around the precincts of the earth Temple she was surprised to see Yrsa, her face drawn and downcast.
“Eirissa may I talk to you?” she asked, her voice lifeless.
“Of course Yrsa, what about?”
“I don’t know…comfort…companionship…. men perhaps” said Yrsa. Eirissa looked puzzled, as Yrsa continued, “what's my name?”.
 “Yrsa”, said Erissa, even more puzzled now.
 “No, I mean what do people call me behind my back?”
Erissa looked down and whispered “Horsebride”.
 “Yes, I lack your beauty, even the most drunken warrior barely looks at me twice and now I am scarred and torn by battle”.
Eirissa looked up “Do you want to find you a man? You are one of the heroes of the tower, there are songs about you, about us, that will count for something with the men”
“ I do not feel like a hero” muttered Yrsa “Heroes can seek comfort with anyone they choose particularly if we are beautiful like you or if they are a rich, charming merchant”
Eirissa’s  face hardened, “So that's what this is about? Has Randel sent you? Randel is free to lie with whoever he wants!”
“We have all been through terrible things, Eirissa” Yrsa said “The only person Randel wants is the person he has known since they were children, the person who locked shields with him in that awful wall at the Tower, the person he carried from the field of battle and took into his home to recover. I have no such solace. You should not throw it away so lightly”.
Eirissa looked angry and raised her voice, “I have my duties here!”
 At this point Morganeth emerged from the shadows where she had clearly been listening, “you assume you have neglected them?”
“Jacinta!” yelled Erissa rather embarrassingly loudly,
“Yes, Jacinta has been helping me while you recovered from your injuries” said Morganeth calmly “ and now it appears you have”.
At that moment Jenest appeared from another corridor where clearly she too had been listening. Gossip must be the main currency in the temple thought Yrsa.
Jenest spoke “While the temple provides lodging to those that need it, most of us choose to live with our husbands and families, don't forget the duty of a Priestess to be fruitful” she said placing her hand on her unborn child, “a difficult duty to achieve sharing a room with two other girls”. Eirissa looked close to tears.
Finally, the season is ending and, with the grace of the Gods, the companions might know a little peace before they begin to try and rally the clans. Randel will seek to cast off his gloom and woo Eirissa, Sandene has found her Goddess and who knows what duties she might ask of him? Yrsa seeks shelter from memories of battle and the melancholy in her soul in the comfort of her mother and her herd. But the respite will be brief as dark forces arrayed against their tribe never seem to rest…..

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