The magelight shone brightly over the valley, illuminating every inch of the battlefield as the two armies clashed. On one side, an extensively trained but woefully inexperienced rabble of human soldiers brandished glinting steel weapons. On the other, a horde of monstrous beast men used their claws and fangs to tear their way through the human forces.
Dain watched as three of his comrades pressed their shields together in an attempt to form a sturdy wall with which to press back the enemy, only for a single eight-foot tall, fur-covered beast to send them reeling to the ground with one mighty blow. The three men had only an instant to scream before the black and brown figure tore into them. In the frenzy, an arm was torn free from a torso and sent flying past Dain’s terrified face.
Before his instincts had a chance to tell him to run away from the massacre or attempt to help his allies, a shrill hissing came from his right. Dain spun around and saw a pack of smaller, reptilian humanoids weave their way between the bear-like beast men and armored soldiers. A few broke away from their formation, sinking their jagged teeth into the vulnerable necks and legs of distracted humans.
Two of them, though, seemed focused on Dain.
At the same time, the black and brown beast man finished its mid-battle meal and set its gaze on Dain as well. It forcefully pushed itself to its feet and began lumbering towards him, its face a blood-matted mess of fur, incisors, and a pair of boiling orange eyes. Dain’s armor rattled as his body shook. Every fiber of his being screamed for him to escape into the chaos around him, but the presence exerted by the rapidly approaching enemies was paralyzing.
High overhead, the magelight thrummed, sending a shockwave rippling downward toward the battlefield. The ground shook as the force collided with the beach, and even the towering beasts seemed dazed for a moment. A series piercing whistles echoed over the waters and sands as a hailstorm of light descended from the glowing orb suspended in the air. Streaks of white-hot radiance plummeted towards the shore, instantly incinerating dozens of beasts and lizards with divine fire and a cacophony of anguished wails.
The battle came to a halt as every combatant still capable looked up towards the artificial sun. In that moment, the only sounds were the lapping of the waves from the lake and the crackling of the last of the gleaming flames. A small black shape emerged from the pulsing surface of the magelight, gradually blocking out more of the blue-white glow as it drew closer to the beach.
As the object came into view, it transformed from a shapeless silhouette into a fair-haired man dressed in shimmering white robes. The shadow beneath him and the dark inner lining of the cloak draped across his shoulders glimmered with a thousand points of light, like windows into a perpetual night sky.
In one hand, the human mage gripped a long spear formed from pure starlight that stood even taller than himself. Its hue was identical to that of the magelight, and roils of pale mist trickled off of it, as though the weapon were trying to reach out to the onlooking soldiers.
The man’s image was pristine and brilliant, unmarred and unblemished, with the exception of one long trail of crimson that coursed down the lance from the body skewered on its bladed end. The corpse was burly, but the mage held it in place effortlessly.
His descent halted several feet above the heads of even the tallest of the beast men, and he surveyed the battlefield with a dignified presence. The last of the fires had dwindled to mere cinders, and now an absolute quiet fell across the beach as all eyes were transfixed on the hovering mage.
Without fanfare, the spellcaster flicked his wrist and flung the impaled body from his weapon onto a bare patch of blood-soaked sand, where it crumpled in a worthless heap. Notably, all of the fur and scale-covered fighters watched the corpse of their former champion plummet, while all of the humans continued to look upon their savior.
The moment stretched for what felt like an eternity. No one knew what to do now that the champions of the two armies had resolved their conflict. Then, the human mage turned in midair, setting his sights on the closest beast man.
His empty palm outstretched, the mage’s eyes flared with the same light that formed his weapon, and a small, shining blade erupted from his hand. It soared through the still air and embedded itself in the beast man’s throat, causing it to collapse with a single, pathetic gurgle.
The beach erupted. All at once, the human forces experienced a massive surge of morale, and the animalistic enemies scrambled to escape. The foe was no longer an unstoppable force of nature, but a herd of cattle to be routed. Prey to be hunted and slaughtered.
Dain held back as his brothers in arms chased the fleeing beast men, his attention still captivated by the alabaster-clad mage. The blonde man completed his descent and gracefully stepped onto the beach, the topmost grains of sand blown back by small gusts of wind. His lance crackled and hissed as its magic burned away the last traces of the beast champion’s blood.
The mage paid no mind to the bodies that littered the battlefield. He turned and strode confidently towards the water, passing easily over any corpses that lay in his way. Dain looked behind him, watching as the last of the human army crested over the hill at the edge of the beach and out of sight, then looked back towards the mage. He knew he had a duty as a soldier, but he was unable to ignore the curiosity that was this human spellcaster.
He hadn’t noticed at first, but ever since the man’s descent from the sky, the magelight had been steadily dwindling in brightness and intensity. The mage waded into the lake until the water reached almost to his knees, and he raised his hands up towards the artificial sun. The gentle light that filled his shadow and cloak, the nebulous aura that was emblematic of his status as a mage began to spill outward from him. Long, wispy tendrils snaked across the water and sand, imbuing the space around him with the same tiny points of starlight.
Dain had heard stories of this ritual, but he’d never seen it himself, and had never even dreamed of seeing it up close. The other soldiers called it the Claiming Rite, though Dain imagined the mages had some more enigmatic name for it amongst themselves. It served to solidify territory as official property of the state, binding it to the true magelight, of which the enormous, pulsating sphere in the sky was but a mere portion.
The air around Dain was now filled with the mage’s starlight, as though a heavy snowfall had been frozen in time. The magelight quickly descended and diminished until it was the size of an apple that sank into the center of the lake. It now appeared more like the reflection of the moon than the mighty sun it had been just moments before, and the valley of the Waning Shore was plunged once again into the darkness of natural nighttime.
The energy in the air receded back into the mage, who turned and emerged from the lake, his clothing completely dry. Only now that his ritual was completed did the dignified man take notice of Dain. Dain, who still stood there dumbfounded, covered in dirt and ichor and his sword still drawn.
“Walk with me,” came the mage’s simple command. His voice was low and soothing and rang with an almost imperceptible echo, but still carried with it the noble stoicism that came with the man’s station. Dain would be an idiot to refuse.
Clumsily, Dain sheathed his sword, but kept his shield ready in case any trouble should arise and followed the mage up the hill, moving in the same direction that Dain’s comrades had gone.
“What is your name?” The mage spoke casually, but his blue eyes remained focused ahead of him at all times.
“D-Dain, milord,” Dain felt foolish as he spoke, like a goose attempting to compete with the song of a wren.
“Dain,” the mage repeated. As he uttered the name, one of the innumerable stars lighting his pitch black shadow twinkled.
“And… what should I call you?” Dain inquired. Then, remembering his place, “Sir.”
“I have been granted the title of Sentinel of the Celestial Lance, and that has become my identity, but you may refer to me as Lord Artorias.”
“Lord Artorias,” Now Dain was the one to repeat a name. The words felt just as imposing as he expected the name of a mage to be.
“Tell me, Dain,” Lord Artorias said as the two crested the hill, “Why did you linger after the tide of battle shifted in your favor? Did you mean to abandon your comrades?”
“No, Sir,” Dain felt sheepish, “I had simply… become distracted watching you work. I’ve never seen magic performed up close.”
It was true. Very few commoners ever got to experience magic firsthand, and most of the ones that did were usually killed in the crossfire. Naturally, stories and rumors still managed to circulate, but even those that were believable enough to possibly be true could never do justice to truly witnessing the sorcery.
“Hm,” Lord Artorias grunted in some sort of affirmation. Dain had never considered himself adept at discerning what others were thinking, but this mage was particularly enigmatic.
“What was their champion like?” Dain asked, deciding to change the subject, “Was he strong?”
“She was… a unique opponent,” Lord Artorias’s brow furrowed as he considered his encounter, “At the end of it all, she did not stand a chance against a mage, but she fared far better than I’ve seen any non-mage before.”
Was the man gloating? Dain couldn’t tell. He did not strike Dain as particularly proud. Perhaps he was simply speaking frankly, revealing something about the way mages viewed the world. He decided not to think about it.
Off in the distance, small flickers of torchlight broke through the darkness, surely wielded by the humans as they continued their ravenous quest to exterminate the last of the beast men. Dain wondered how long they would continue before boredom and exhaustion convinced them to give up, and part of him feared that they would only stop when it was too late, after the beast men inevitably regrouped and fought back.
“Do not worry,” Lord Artorias’s resonant voice spoke up again, as though sensing Dain’s apprehension, “As long as I am here, they can continue to fight unfettered.”
Again, Dain thought the mage might be boasting, and again, he chose to push any ruminations on the matter out of his mind. He was still a soldier, after all, and he still had work to do.
Over the course of the next hour, Lord Artorias and Dain regrouped with the human forces and assisted in slaying more of the beast men until their enemies’ numbers were so few that those who survived had already vanished into the thickets of the forest they called home.
Finally, the soldiers allowed themselves to lower their guard as they all made their way back to the now ensured safety of the beach. They were intoxicated by their victory, and many of them cheered and chanted for Lord Artorias.
As they neared the end of their return journey, however, the weight of the battle began to catch up with them. Fatigue fully set in as they passed back over the hills, and they worked together to set up camp in almost complete silence.
The Battle of Waning Shore was won, but with its end came the new struggle of recovery and, after that, survival.
No comments:
Post a Comment