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Through Hazel Eyes

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Through Hazel Eyes

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Tess on Mon Mar 08, 2010 9:21 am

The longest day


“Where are our healers?”.
Several hands were raised. “And our assists?”. More hands, this time mine one of them. “Right, good, that’s a lot of healing power. Now, we’re approaching Port Maris. We’re fighting our way back to Afacia. The faeries Utatane and Drysi, and their human minion, have the Afacian population under their control. We will face much opposition, but we will stay strong. Afacia is ours, let us take it back!”. There was a roar of approval, swords and axes raised high.
Andúriel, the master surgeon I had been told to assist, nodded to me, “Stay with me unless you have to fight, your first role is as a healer, not a fighter.”. I gripped the hammer I had been lent, being weaponless before, and looked down at it. I had never fought before, not really, and the only skills I had were first aid and assisting better qualified healers, “real” healers to me.
My thin leather armour felt insubstantial, the wind biting my fingers through my gloves, encircling my shoulders and under my arms, trickling down my back. I shivered. The boat lurched as we ground into harbour. The gangplank thudded onto shore. Our assembled mass solemnly and cautiously made its way onto dry land. It was quiet.
We edged forward, into the trees. I caught a glimpse of fabric, the glint of metal. A guard was coming to meet us. General Kano walked forward to meet them. I strained to hear. Something about papers, travel documents. And then Kano roared. As one our group leapt forward. The guards stepped back in surprise but quickly fought back. I stood, hammer ready, for a gap in our line to open. One of our men staggered back, caught in the chest. The healers didn’t need me. But the line did.
My boots felt held back by the mud as I ran forward, time beginning to slow. I looked into the eyes of the first person I would ever try to kill. But I was not his first opponent, and he didn’t hesitate. A sword flashed out at my shin, which burned with the pain. I stumbled and hit out with the hammer, catching his ribs. But it wasn’t hard enough. He saw my undefended left side and caught my arm. More searing pain. I held the heavy hammer in just my right hand. But this meant I had more reach. I took his legs, jumped back this time when he countered. I landed on my bad leg. He lashed out again.
People to the side of me were screaming, shouting, reeling back, slipping in the mud. My opponent nearly caught my leg again. This time I got his undefended side. Another blow to the ribcage, this time harder. He staggered. Another blow. He crumbled. I stood, dumbfounded. A spear flashed and caught my left arm again. I needed to get back, get healed, I had done what I could for now. I left a gap in the line, one of my fellows filled it.
“Andúriel, my left leg and arm, I need healing,” I gasped, shaking with adrenaline. He looked at my leg first, moving quickly. Needle punctured un-anaesthetised skin. My vision swam. Then it was over, only to relocate to my arm. But I could stand now. It took a few more minutes for my arm to be healed, the sounds of battle getting closer to the healers. Our line was being pushed back. I had to rejoin them. Andúriel gripped my arm, “There, better?”. I looked back at it, bent it at the elbow, nodded. “Yes, thank you,”. I picked up my hammer and ran back to the line.
Be quick. Jump back. Get in and hit hard. I could not get hurt again. Several surprised faces met my attacks. The line moved forward, into more open space. Our crew began to spread out and flank. This was where I came into my own. Hammers are little use in front on combat, where other weapons have more reach, shields get in the way and more experienced fighters cut you down. Here I ran in between, striking backs and sides, running away if they tried to hit back, at which point the first person from our army would take advantage of their distraction and deal a mortal blow. I noticed the Afacian guards beginning to watch me warily out of the corner of my eye.
My head clicked into a super logical mode. The human body became a series of targets and probabilities. And yet all the while I was attacking people from behind, I never assumed it would happen to me too. A huge blow to the back with a blunt club sent me sprawling. Another guard stabbed my arm as I tried to get to my feet. I was deep into the battle. A fellow fighter stood on my leg and stumbled. I had to get out of the way.
My back ached, the wind knocked out of me. I made it to my feet. A slash to the back. This was it, game over. I ran and ran, through the last line of archers and called for a healer. A man called Lucius from the House of Dilandau came towards me, began seeing to my back straight away. I noticed we now had many casualties. Andúriel saw me, and scowled. I came over once I was healed. “Help me,” he scolded, “You’re not a good enough fighter to take up our time. We need you here now.”.
I held a wound together as he stitched it, my face burning, mouth in a grimace. We moved onto another patient. He spoke as he began examining their wound, not looking at me, “If you stay with us I can protect you, and we can heal people quicker together. You’re safe back here.”. “But I want to help fight”. “That’s very noble of you Hazel, but it won’t help get the better fighters back into the field quicker. You can do more good here. Now is that clear?”. He looked at me. I knew he was right, but I wanted to be actively out there, not stood behind the archers. I guess I would just train to be a better fighter. If we survived this.
A roar went up. I stood, hand on hammer. But we had won. The guards were all dead. Just like that we were pressing forward, stepping over bodies and through blood-soaked mud. My heart was pumping. People were dead. But it was in the name of regaining Afacia. Back from the godless faeries who stained the name of Fey and rejected our holy Arkane, Elm, the Greenman and the other honourable gods of the races we were allied with.
The castle came into view. It was full of guards. But the draw bridge was down, and on closer inspection the castle bore many holes and crevices to climb. It was a poor stronghold. Yet we were heavily outnumbered.
“Sheath your weapon,” Andúriel said. “But-”. “If you sheath your weapon I can bless you and protect you from damage.”. So I did, feeling more vulnerable than before. He put his hand on my shoulder, and began chanting.
“By the power of Arkane, I bless this soul. By the power of Arkane, I bless this soul,”. Around me, similar chants came up, dedicated to Elm, and so many gods I had not heard of. Fighters stood grasping hands with the priests, taking their protection. We were waiting.
Suddenly a rush of guards came out of the castle. Kano shouted for us to charge. We did.
So many spears and pikes. It was impossible to get close. I moved to the sides. Whenever a shield was raised to the fighter on my left, I cast out at the guard’s legs. They dropped, and a blow to the back killed them. Another guard stepped over the body. I waited for them to respond to the fighter again, and struck out at the unprotected area. But an Afacian mage had spotted me. I did not hear what he said, but seconds later a fireball hit me right in the chest. The magic fire coursed through my torso and I reeled backwards. Andúriel didn’t say anything when he healed me. I returned to the fray, as our line moved into the castle courtyard. Arrows flew all around. I began flanking and swinging my hammer in the extra room. Lumbering guards fell to the ground as our side fought well. Yet one of the Afacian guards was killing anyone who came near, and when he ran out of those, he came for me. My hammer was no match for his swift parries and darting blade. A deep gash to the stomach and I went down.
Through the line of archers again. A woman in vivid purple robes came to heal me. I apologised profusely. She shook her head, “we need the fighters, you do what you need to do. We are doing fine healing at the moment. Go.”.
This time I dodged the whirling swordsman, staying well clear. I had thought I was fast, but not for a quick blade, not until I had learned to hold my weapon to block. I tried feebly to return to my earlier complimentary role to the better fighters, but my stomach ached, my whole body… hurt.
After suffering a gash to my previously untouched right arm, I resigned myself to the healers. Andúriel worked fast, and I concentrated on learning what to look for, how to clean a wound, how much ointment to apply. Suddenly a howl went up from the castle courtyard. I rushed forward to see.
In the courtyard two tall, imposing fey were prowling amongst petrified, transfixed warriors. Utatane and Drysi. They were resplendent in black robes and red shirts, their black wings edged with crimson ruby, swirling tattoos on their face curling like smoke. Their hands were raised as if tracing a large circle. “By our faerie glamour…” their voices called, terrible and beautiful. I watched, transfixed, “… let you explode in pain!!”.
My stomach seemed to fold in two, my intestines rupture, my skull crack behind my eyes. My scream was quiet in my roaring ears. I was dimly aware of hitting the ground. Every bone in my body, my fingers to my shin bones, seemed to be gripped by vices, ground into dust. The air in my lungs turned to acid, burning me from within-
And then it was over. I gasped, rolling over onto my side, dry retching. Groans and calls rose up around me. Our sorry crew rose, alive, but scared. One of the archers handed out water. The castle was empty, nothing more than a front, a place for engagement. I sat, bruised and battered. My nose was running. I wiped it on my sleeve. I felt like crying. I almost did. I felt so tired, so hurt, so done over.
Andúriel stood in front of me. “Hazel.”. I looked up, “I think I fell in nettles just now, ha,”. He vaguely smiled. I spoke again. “I feel too reckless, I’m sorry. I need to stop relying on you healing me. Because if you can’t then I’ll get myself killed.”. He shook his head, “But that’s what I’m here for. I told you, I can heal you, I can keep you safe.”.
“None of us are safe.”
“I can keep you alive.”
I leaned back against cold brick, closing my eyes, “even when I keep running off to fight when I should be healing?”.
“Not always. Sometimes you are needed to fight. And when that happens I will heal you when you get hurt.”.
My eyes opened to see clear blue sky. Cold spring sunshine filtered down. It seemed so far away from our skirmishes and spilt blood. The exhaustion slowly wound it’s way up my legs, around my chest, into my heart.
“Alright you maggots,” Kano’s as ever cheerful voice bellowed, “Get your arses up, the scouts have spotted a massing group of guards in the clearing yonder. Let’s get them. Bring the line forward!”.
People stood, roused. Weapons were hefted. Andúriel stepped back, “Come on, let’s go.”. I struggled to my feet, picked up my hammer, breathed in deeply.
Ok. I can do this. One more fight, just one, surely. Our line was ten wide as we came from the path into the clearing. Utatane and Drysi stood in front of the Afacians, sneering. Their human minion walked into the centre of the clearing, flanked by them. The Afacians stayed where they were. The human knelt and held up a strange metal object. The fae circled him, chanting quietly. Several people walked over to see. I lingered. “By our faerie glamour…”. Oh no, oh no… Andúriel…
“Andúr-”
“We cast darkness into your eyes!!!”
I turned away, just in time, a strange, invisible flash, felt by all, burst from the metal object. People blinked, their eyes closed, or unseeing. “Where- who, hello? Is anyone?”. The cries of confusion rang through the clearing. Still the Afacians did not advance. Who else could see? I cast around.
General Kano was sat on a tree stump, watching them warily. He had been outside the range, like me. “General, what’s happening?” “Nothing yet…” he said casually. I widened my eyes, turning round to watch the army. Gradually sight returned. Andúriel came to see me. “Sheath your weapon,”. “They’re going to attack” “Hazel!”. I slung my hammer over my back again, wondering when I’d ever learn to act as a team member in battle.
“By the power of Arkane, I bless this soul.”. I felt the familiar veil of protection descend. His hand on my shoulder walked me forward. The Afacians, being unable to hurt us, would simply run past deeper into our line. He was bringing me forward so that when the battle actually begun, I could turn round and do my usual tactic of flanking and aiding other fighters. Clever, I suppose, though I was right at the front, with only a few other seasoned veterans. The cold glares of the Afacians burnt into me. But still Andúriel chanted. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. My hands were sweating. Blood crusted on the head of the hammer.
Without warming the Afacians leapt forward as one. A woman wielding two swords slashed at me, the blades meeting an invisible barrier that sparked white. I flinched. Andúriel chanted louder. The Afacians ignored us as they streamed past. But then a mage passed us. He grinned as he chanted a muting spell on Andúriel. We exchanged a horrified glance. I struggled to get my hammer from around my back, flinging it with a resounding crack into the knee of an Afacian who had noticed our weakness and taken a swing. I gave a large blow to their shoulder and they staggered. We ran, Andúriel running back to the other healers. But no, I was where I needed to be, behind the Afacians. I ran towards a massive spear wielding Afacian, dealing one blow to the torso and another to the leg as he turned. I ran to the side, striking a mage in the chest. As I carried on running, a sword fighter turned to meet me. A slash to my legs, badly judged, hit me with the flat. But I tripped and sprawled on the floor. The sword stabbed through my side. I gasped and reached for the hammer, heaving it up and cracking a hip. His whole leg went limp. Someone with two daggers danced forward, eager, playing. I stood on my feet, fell backwards into our line. But a dagger slashed my already large wound. I aimed for the healers. Someone helped carry me. My leg felt damp with my own blood.
The healers were under severe stress. All around patients called for master surgeons. Andúriel was red faced and panicked, aware as he was saving one life he might be losing another. He saw me when I came in, but couldn’t afford to leave his patient. I was in a long queue now…
A camouflaged fighter I hadn’t seen before patched up my wounds. I thanked him. I had no idea of how much time had passed. But we had taken heavy losses. Our line was now almost back at where the path from the castle joined the clearing. The line was a pitiful six wide. Fighters seethed behind those in combat, frustrated that they couldn’t help. There wasn’t the room.
My stomach was healed, the woman in purple again. Her blonde hair glinted in the March sun. I tried to thank her but she was gone. Finally the healers seemed to run out of people to heal, and our army was strong again. We began to push forward for a second time. We had to claim the clearing properly. I waited behind a fighter in the line, ready to fill a gap at the edge. But an Afacian burst through their ranks and into ours, with no visible sense of self preservation. The fighter in front of me staggered back to give himself fighting room. The pike of the Afacian skimmed the shoulder of that fighter and caught me fully between my neck and shoulder, retracting with the horrible sound of ripping flesh as the barb came out. I was pushed back by the motion, tripped over a fallen branch.
Andúriel caught me, one hand on each shoulder. I cried out from the extra pain, but it turned into nothing more than a breath. I stumbled further, my legs giving out. “Hazel. Hazel!”. He put on hand round my stomach, holding me up, cleaning the wound with his other hand as I passed into half consciousness. I came to as the stitches were nearly finished. The line had pushed forward again. Only six or so guards remained. Andúriel turned me round to face him. My face felt hot, my head light. I wasn’t up to this. I was just a beginner.
Andúriel pressed the back of his hand to my cheek. He looked surprised. There was a pause. It suddenly struck me that he might have feelings for me, and I stepped back a little. His hand fell to his side.
Kano called out that the fighting had stopped. Cheers from bedraggled warriors were still strong. When I turned back to Andúriel he had moved off to heal minor injuries, and a few assists were helping. I stood alone in the clearing, my shoulder and stomach stinging viciously, though my arms and legs just felt a little stiff.
We were told to press on to the village just up ahead. Afacia was close, we were told. But we knew that. We had known and wanted Afacia for a long time. It had once been ours.
And yet suddenly it didn’t seem so important. I was weary, in sore need of a rest, heavy with the burden of murder, a concept waiting maliciously at the edges of adrenaline to sink in when the adrenaline receeded. And Kano wanted us to kill more. And more after that. Hours and hours of bloodshed and battle stretched before me. I could not. I couldn’t.
Utatane and Drysi. They were stood at the village gates as we approached. My mouth felt tight, my chin wobbling with the threat of tears. The hammer nearly slipped from my limp grasp. A priest put his hand on my shoulder, “By the power of Thedonn, I bless this soul”. I thanked him, clutching the hammer tighter. This was it. In the waning light of day, our last battle before we made for Afacia tomorrow.
It began slowly. With only a few entrances to the village, both sides only had about five fighters each in combat. The rest of us glared and lingered, waiting. I couldn’t stand the wait. I couldn’t stand the time to think. A wall that turned out to be a gate opened. Three fighters, a polearm, a mage and a tank of a man stepped out, grinning at our exhausted selves. Me, a noble called Emily from the House of Dilandau and General Kano circled an approach. The polearm leapt to attack Emily and I caught his leg while he was vulnerable. The mage nicked me with a short sword. I quickly took his legs, and delivered a crushing blow to his back, moving back to the polearm in a matter of seconds. Kano finished off the big bloke and ran to help at the main gate. The polearm countered both me and Emily successfully for a few moments, being much more experienced than either of us. But he kept lunging for Emily and getting hit by me. Eventually the blows added up, and he staggered. Another blow to the legs, then the chest. Crush the ribs, crush the heart.
The villager Afacians had taken up arms and were now spreading throughout the surrounding area, flanking us. A man with a hammer and a shield cornered me against a thick stretch of trees and nettles. I had no room to get around him, but I managed to get to the side with more space to run back. But it was increasingly away from the main group. We were scattered, unorganised. And we were getting seriously beaten. Daggers flashed and skimmed my arms, my leg got hit by the hammer. I got his shoulder, then his leg. I ran. A lighting fast swordsman slashed my leg as he ran past, I hit him once with the hammer in retaliation. A mage threw a lighting bolt at me. My eyes clouded over and I crumpled to the ground. Within seconds a running healer from our side had grabbed me and stabilised me as he carried me to our poor excuse of a defence line.
It took a long time to heal me, but I was ok. The villagers were so energetic, so fierce, the time between going back to fight and coming back to be healed got shorter and shorter. Headaches pressed the top of my nose and pounded the back of my eyes. My movements were slow, sluggish, a series of limited, repeated movements that worked poorly against swords and spears. But I had no energy to learn and innovate. There was no one to flank. They were flanking us. More and more of our side were injured. It started being me against two, then three, then four. We were running away, regrouping and being destroyed almost immediately. The healers were constantly relocating. I saw Andúriel casting around at one point, then we made eye contact. Someone flung a lighting bolt at my back, and when I had found temporary safety I couldn’t see Andúriel anymore.
A wave of indignation and anger swept through me suddenly. I had had enough! I picked up my hammer from the mud and gave a hefty crack to the side of an Afacian wielding a club, which took him completely by surprise. I left him and returned to fight with a polearm wielder single handed. I cut in and made sure to jump way back. The retreat and the dodge is the most important thing. That’s where your energy goes. Otherwise injuries drain even more. I swung in for the ribs. My stitches in my stomach burst. I roared in pain and pressed forward again. The man looked scared and paralysed for a second. I moved past him, crushing his chest with the hammer as I passed, hearing him hit the ground behind me.
But then my momentum stalled. General Kano was on his back in the mud, Andúriel crouched over him. A mage repeatedly fired firebolts at them both. I went to combat him but another one of our fighters did instead. I helped Andúriel. “Hi, I’m glad you’re ok. My stitches burst though. I need healing after Kano.”. He didn’t say anything. Kano was in bad shape. The firebolt mage crawled over on his hands, his legs bloody stumps, trying feebly to cast another spell. I grabbed the hammer, “Right, that’s it!” I roared. He looked up as I dealt two fatal blows to his back. Then he went face down in the mud.
“Hazel! I need you here!” Andúriel cried frantically. I ran back to Kano, who congratulated me on my kill. Andúriel scowled. Kano was up but we needed to move him. The battle was evening out. We weren’t losing so horrifically anymore. Yet we couldn’t keep up the pace. We’d been fighting all day. They had not.
A burst of mages sent a wall of fire across the space in front of the village as we carried Kano to safety. Andúriel crumpled, having no armour to protect him. A fey fell next to him. I had never seen Andúriel fall or be injured at all. He had fallen against the bottom of a tree, his eyes closed. I could only give first aid to one person. I summoned my energy and administered to Andúriel, shouting for a healer. The enemy was getting closer. A minor surgeon appeared to take over and patch his wounds. Andúriel opened his eyes. Our fighters were calling for help. I looked to Andúriel. “Go,” he said. I wondered if this was how he felt every time he had to patch me up. Actually appreciating that someone was in dire need of help. It finally occurred to me that yes, we could die.
I ran towards the line. A massive club winded me almost as soon as I got there. I staggered back, almost into a sword, which slashed my stomach. Oh, my stitches still needed redoing. The bleeding continued. “Counter woman!” a fellow fighter yelled at me. I swung for the club wielder’s legs. He lowered his shield, and one of our fighters got him in the chest, dealing blow after blow until he was down. I decided to copy them. Don’t, stop, dealing, blows. The next sword fighter I encountered I ignored the blow they dealt me. I swung and I swung and I didn’t waste time dodging. This was a need to kill, not to stay alive. They went down. But they took me with them. One final slash on my shoulder sliced through the stitches there as well, and more blood seeped out. I fell next to my enemy, and we both lapsed into silence.
Bass tones thudded in my ears. The clash of metal and the shouts of enemies blurred into tinkling murmurs. Death masqueraded as the sleep I so sorely needed, and its soft, teasing fingers urged me to follow it. My head sank further into dry leaves and mud. I became aware of neither cold nor warmth. A dull ache was the pulse that lulled me to sleep. I had gone too far, I had risked too much. It had happened. I had been reckless in the assumption, confident in the promise, that Andúriel would save me. But this time he wasn’t here.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I opened my eyes. One of the fey from our side was leaning over me, administering first aid, merely plugging wounds until a master surgeon could come help. He saw the fear in my eyes, but that was all I could communicate. I stared blankly at the ground, making no attempt to move from my side. Blood trickled from my wounded shoulder across my neck to the ground.
The villagers were all dead, but Utatane and Drysi had returned, and were working another terrible spell, which our fighters could only watch in fear and fascination. Lucius healed me for the second time that day, amazed at the sheer amount of wounds I had got in one go. I felt like a patchwork quilt, I felt sick. I felt like crying and, fainting. The presence of the two evil fey ate at my senses like an illness. Another master surgeon brought Andúriel, finally, behind the line. I shuffled over, aching and bandaged up to my ears. “Where were you?” I smiled, too brightly, “I was dying over there.”
“I was dying over there.” He pointed haphazardly. The echoes of the fey chant grey louder. But we could not turn back or run away. We would fight them if we had to.
“This is why I can’t rely on you as my personal healer Andúriel. Other people need you and it encourages me to be reckless if I know I can practically jump the queue.”. He pulled a face that suggested I hadn’t got things quite right.
“The reason this happened is because you didn’t rely on me enough. There are enough healers. If you’d stuck by me more you’d have been safer and not risked dying like this, and I wouldn’t have nearly died either.”.
“There’s a difference though. Other fighters don’t rely on you so much and they stay alive.”
“Because they’re better fighters. Until you’re that good you stay with me.”
The ritual circle began to glow green. He stepped back, putting a hand on my shoulder and chanting a blessing. But the protection made me uneasy. In this world of battles, death and healing, I could not become a favourite of a master surgeon. Better fighters needed him, better mages needed his blessing, and sometimes, the line needed me more than the healers. I moved away. The protection disappeared. He turned to ask what I was doing.
The ritual circle exploded in green light, and in the distance three similar pillars erupted from the earth too. Lighting flashed, getting closer and closer. People began running and screaming. The sky grew dark. The fey continued their chants. Their human minion laughed and raised his staff. The sky split and cracked with deafening might. Blinding light made me fall to the ground. My ears rang.
I had no idea what hell had been unleashed on us.
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