Tales of Eleutheros

Oros wrung his hands around the leather reigns he held atop his Cro’kan. Battle was no stranger to him, but no matter how many times one faced it, the familiar pang of fear was always present. He gazed onward toward the Rexunii army that had assembled to challenge him. The force was much smaller than he had expected. One of his aides used her Dunamis to create a magnified image of where he looked, and he focused on their general.

“So that’s Turak, hmm?” He grunted. “Doesn’t look like much.” He smiled at the sight of his adversary’s strange mask. Its horns were exaggerated and looked quite ridiculous to him.

Nasha shifted beside him, her own mount fidgeting with the pre-battle tension that filled the air. The squires and generals that loitered around seemed confident and content with the arrival. They had been burning their way through Rexunii territory for nearly a week and were almost upon Thule, their capital city, before any real opposition could be mustered. That was a good sign to him; it meant the Lokkadonian blitz into their territory was well executed and effective. Let’s hope they are in a panic over there, he thought.

“No sign of their King?” Oros asked no one in particular.

“He’s hiding behind their walls,” one of the surrounding generals said. Oros turned to see Lord Rugio, one of the Torre’ nobles who had hired a force of mercenaries to come. He wore a large and extravagant purple cloak, embroidered with gold thread and finery. His hair was long and interweaved with fine stones and pearls. “They know their end has come. I wouldn’t be surprised if they sent a runner over here to surrender. That would be a shame, seeing as how we came all this way.” Rugio barked a laugh, and many others joined him.

“That isn’t their way,” Oros said, peering through the magnified vortex at their line. “They look disciplined enough. I think we can expect a hard fight today.” Oros waved his hand, and his aid released the vortex, causing it to puff into thin air. He turned toward the generals and nodded. “How are our warriors? Do we have our battle lines and flanks established? The Rexunii like to charge and flank. Make sure our scouts are out at least a mile in all directions to prevent any unwanted surprises. These people are desperate. Best remember that today.”

Oros gave his final orders before the start of the battle and rode across the line of his forward war-groups. He had brought thousands of warriors to the field today, enough to carry a victory beyond any shadow of a doubt. His spies on Thule had been silent for the last week, but the last word they gave was that the King of Rexun, Alektor, had decided to split his army in half, one to weaken the Lokkadonian force on the field of battle, and the second to defend the walled city. This was a troublesome tactic, but it would not save them for long. It would lead to a lengthy siege against them, and no doubt cost many more lives. Oros thought it would be better to end it right here and now. At least you would have the honor of dying on the battlefield, rather than starving to death hiding behind your walls, he thought.

“My Kryo,” Nasha said, keeping pace beside him. “Why would they bring so few? Our scouts have reported back, saying there is no flanking force. This is all they have.”

“Maybe they did run.” Oros pulled his reigns to stop his mount. He was now on a hill behind his main force, where his command-and-control unit would remain for the duration of the battle. He looked at the terrain surrounding them and remembered studying the stone map for hours the night prior. The enemy army was directly to the south of them. To the east was a large river that flowed north and south, flanked by a thick forest. To the west was an open field, littered with hills and large stones. Oros had arranged his warriors as such, knowing that the river would play a large tactical role. He had assembled his best Dae-Leu, who had the power of the water there to prevent any surprises from across or from within. Anything they threw at him, he was confident that they could fend it off, or perhaps use the river itself to weaken the flank of his enemy. The Western flank was made up of mostly mercenaries hired by the Torre’ Lords and reserve units from around Lokkadonia.

He raised his hand to the signalmen beside him, each equipped with large horns to pass on commands in code to the rest of the army. “Advance,” Oros said with confidence, prompting loud blasts from the horns that echoed across the battle lines, and they started to move forward as one.

The center was where he had his veterans and regulars. The sight of them was sure to bring fear to the hearts of their enemies. A wall of crimson and bone, marching forward with merciless determination. They began to pull ahead until the whole battle line looked almost like a wide arrow. Oros licked his lips and raised his hand again, watching them march closer and closer. He heard a defiant shout from the enemy army, one that boomed over the land as they screamed in unison “To your death!” over and over again. This brought a smile to Oros’ face. At least they weren’t going to just lay down and die. He brought his hand down, and the signal horns sang loudly, bringing the battle to a start.

~

“Steady!” Turak called across the line. He silently cursed his over-eager warriors as they shouted to the enemy that marched toward them. Thousands of warriors shouted with all the hatred and malice they could muster, to defiantly reject their invaders. The war had truly come to Rexun, and it was worse than they had initially believed. In the past, there was always an attempt at parlay or an offer of surrender. This morning, when the armies came across one another on the field, there was only the formation of the battle lines. The Lokkadonians came for blood, not words.

Turak adjusted his posture and drew both of his blades from his back. He hefted them in his hands and whirled them around to get his arms used to the weight.

“My Lord! Won’t you come back to the command position?” asked one of his officers, who stood next to him at the front of their center line.

Turak shook his head and extended his weapons out to his sides. “Steady!” he shouted again.

In a single crashing moment, the battle had begun. Flashes of fire and electricity slashed from one line to the other, slamming into defensive barriers brought up and made of various elements. Elements of the Dunamis did not have specific roles dedicated to either of them, like earth for defense or water for healing. Each one had the potential to cover a wide spectrum of possibilities in terms of their use. Instead, it was the individual Dae who trained with their power to fit within a specific role. Turak had put his best Dae-Voh up in the front line, so they could use their abilities to create instant barricades and launch spikes from them offensively, a tactic that was actually used against the Rexunii hundreds of years ago by the Lokkadonians. The irony was not lost on Turak, and as he ordered it, he smiled behind the strange bone mask he wore.

Surrounded by his elite warriors, Turak lunged into the line of crimson clad Lokkadonian warriors, his two curved blades in hand. He called upon his Dunamis, and two long extensions of water erupted out like geysers to slash at the charging enemies. In moments they were engulfed in a flurry of chaotic explosions and noise. This was how all battles were done by the Dae. Their power was the key, and oftentimes a warrior would die in an instance of elemental fury instead of a prolonged duel with weapons. The wall of stone he had planned for, shot up before him, behind the first wave of Lokkadonian attackers. It parted the soil and knocked Lokkadonians high into the sky. Turak’s blades of water parted an unsuspecting warrior’s head from his body, spraying droplets of water and gouts of blood around the chaotic scene. The wall shot up fifteen feet and extended only a few hundred feet in either direction. It didn’t protect the whole of their army, which was now totally engaged in combat, but it was extremely effective in stunting the advance of their center line. Warriors caught on the Rexunii side of the wall were surrounded and killed. They fought like cornered animals, but there was little they could do in the face of such a tactic.

Turak turned to his left and right, counting his elites. All still here, he thought. With a Dunamis-enhanced leap, he scaled the wall in a single bound. As he landed, he saw that the Lokkadonian warriors had done the same, only faster. He cursed as he began slashing his weapons, which launched highly pressurized blades of water at them, and several warriors were sent screaming to the battle below. Quickly, the wall became a battle of its own as the two sides struggled for the high ground. A Lokkadonian officer leaped to the top and fired a massive blast of fire at Turak. With a flick of his sword, the fire was extinguished with a wave of water that materialized before him. He pressed the attack but took a split second to scan the surrounding enemies in order to determine if this was the only officer present. You could tell by the gold embroidery they had on their cloaks. Usually, the high born Lokkadonians who wished to distinguish themselves in battle joined the Proistem officer core and would wear their family crest on their cloaks in gold. This officer was a female Dae and had apparently thought she could roast him with a concentrated blast. Fire, he thought with a grin. Alektor was the strongest Dae-Ra he had ever seen living in Eleutheros. To him, her attack was nothing more than a slight breeze of hot air.

The woman reeled back from his deflection and drew her sword in an instant, preparing for a fight. Turak brought his blades down on her with lethal efficiency. To her credit, she blocked the attacks for some time but was pushed to the edge of the wall. Turak spun his blades and again extended a jet of water. His left blade was blocked, but his right came short across his chest, just short of her defenses. The jet of water sliced across her belly, and she grunted in shocked pain. She dropped her weapon, clutching her wound, attempting to hold her innards within. Taking a step back, she fell off the side of the wall.

“Lady Kurt! Vissa!” called one of her warriors, who lunged at Turak, his eyes full of rage. The warrior carried a single blade, but it was large. He was young and had lost his mask in the fighting atop the wall.

“Kholek!” the surrounding warriors called. “That’s their general! Get out of there! You fool!”

Kholek pressed his attack, but for all his assumed power, he was outmatched. His rage was a smoldering flame that was bright with energy, but against Turak, he was a child.

Turak parried his blows with ease using his left blade. Then with a laugh, he slashed up at his face to decapitate him, his favorite thing to do against arrogant Lokkadonian warriors. To his surprise, the young warrior dodged the attack and rammed his shoulder into Turak’s chest. Turak began to laugh loudly and brought one of his blades through the Dae’s shoulder. “You are a brave one!” Turak shouted over the sounds of combat. “But you have found yourself outmatched! Rage will not save you or your people!” He twisted his blade in the flesh and heard Kholek scream in agony. “Join your Lady!” he said as a blast of water shot the wounded man from his weapon and over the wall.

~

“The bastards!” Nasha cursed, looking at the battle from the Command position atop a hill behind the Lokkadonian lines. “That was a cheap trick to use.”

“Indeed…” Oros said slowly, observing the battle through another magnified vortex created by one of his aides. “The wall was used against the Rexunii in our war of independence. How fitting they would use that tactic here.” He turned to Nasha. “Their general isn’t a tactical fool.” He gestured through the magnification. “He is quite reckless, however. Fighting against our centerline like that is very dangerous.”

Nasha huffed. “My Lord, admiration is only appropriate after the battle is won. We should send in our reserves to the flanks. That wall will be difficult to destroy.”

“Nonsense,” Oros said, using his heels to kick his Cro’kan in the sides. The animal shrieked and bolted forward, jogging down the hill.

“My Lord!” Nasha called after him, the rest of his entourage of guards dashing forward to follow.

“Ready your blades!” Oros called over his shoulder. “We must do something about that wall! Our brothers and sisters are dying!”

The group of warriors began to push toward the rear of the advancing force in the center. Before joining the fray, Oros grabbed one of the returning scouts who was in communication with the satellite patrols to the north of their position, still watching for any flanking maneuver.

“What news do you bring? Are there any signs of a second force?” Oros asked, trotting by.

“My Lord, there is no sign of any enemy movement. The remainder of their force seems to be held up behind the walls of Thule.” The scout responded.

Suddenly there was a massive crash of power on their western flank. Oros looked over to see a massive explosion like he had never seen before. Bodies of warriors flew through the sky in every direction. Limbs and other pieces of Dae rained down on the field.

“Damn!” Oros shouted, knowing that the western flank of mercenaries would have no course to fight against such an overwhelming force. They were focusing their long-range Dunamis against their weak side. Whoever the Dae-Rah were who executed that attack, they were extremely powerful.

“Nasha!” Oros called. “I want our reserves to focus on the Western flank. Send them in. We should end this as quickly as possible if we want any chance of sieging Thule.”

“Yes, my Lord!” Nasha called, spinning to the signalment and relaying the message.

With a shout, Oros again kicked his heels into the sides of his mount and surged forward.

~

Turak laughed again as he used his Dunamis to slice a pillar of ice that was launched at him into pieces. They had taken the wall and were using its advantage to bring death to the Lokkadonian warriors below who attempted to retake it. His original plan was to erect this wall and have his Dae-Voh launch pillars and spikes of stone from it, causing as much damage as possible to the enemy. But the Lokkadonians were quick in their response and had attempted to use their own Dae-Voh to hijack control of the structure. When a Dae, or group of Dae, used their Dunamis to create or influence an element around them like water in a river or rocks on the ground, it was susceptible to others as well. In the end, it was a tug of war for control of the wall, using the spiritual energy of the Dae. For now, it was a stalemate. The Dae-Voh on both sides were using their focus and power to try and win against the other. Turak looked at the silent warriors who stood with their hands outstretched.

“Kill the Dae-Voh!” he yelled, prompting an immediate response from the Rexunii atop the wall. A concentrated flurry of elemental blasts showered the groups of Lokkadonian earth users, but an equal amount of defensive abilities were used by the enemy warriors. Turak cursed at the stubborn resistance and glanced to his left. The western flank was the enemy’s weakest point, and if he had any hope of winning this battle, it would be in drawing the rest of the Lokkadonian reserves there. The first massive explosion was enough to rattle the non-regulars who were fighting his line war-groups. The bastards from Torre’ seemed to be unaccustomed to this kind of brutal combat. Now, all Turak had to do was lure as many of them there as possible. Then he could spring the real trap.

He grinned under his mask. I can win this! Then there was a shudder under his feet as the stone wall jerked. Turak looked at the sea of enemy warriors below and saw a large part in their ranks. A pompous looking Dae sat on a Cro’kan with his hand outstretched, and he knew this was Oros Ignos, the leader of this army and the Kryo of Vul De Rah.

Turak opened his mouth to give his next order but was cut off by the crashing of the stone under his feet. Impossible! Turak thought, falling with the crumbling wall. A large chunk of warriors had been perched atop it, now they all fell, screaming in terror at the awesome display of power. No Dae is that strong! The world spun in slow motion until he landed harshly against jagged rocks of the now broken wall. Pain shot through his body, and he lay dazed for several moments. He heard screaming and shouts from all around as his blurry vision saw only blotches of the colors around him. A wave of crimson-clad warriors charged now, diving into the shattered rubble and trying to kill those who were trapped in it.

“My Lord!” He heard several warriors calling for him in the chaos. He felt multiple hands grab him from under the rocks, and he gasped at a sharp pain in his leg as they did. His vision returned to normal, and he saw the masked faces of his elites. One, two, three… He counted the six of them. All still here, he sighed in relief.

“Oros is here! We have to move, my Lord,” one said, lifting him to his feet.

“No…” Turak groaned, shielding his mind from the pain he felt throughout his body. “No! Stand your ground! This isn’t over!” Shrugging his arms away from his warriors, he knelt down to find one of his curved weapons he had dropped in the fall.

Dazed Rexunii warriors rallied around their general, shouting and launching Dunamis attacks at the charging Lokkadonians. Turak clenched his teeth, scanning the enemy ranks for his target, Oros. His gaze fell on the man, still perched smugly on his Cro’kan, but keeping his distance from any actual fighting. This… arrogant bastard, he thought, roaring in defiance. With a burst of energy, Turak leaped at the charging line, slashing massive waves of water out of his blades. Most of the attack was deflected by a lightning response from the well-trained warriors of Lokkon, but some fell back, bleeding from slashes across their bodies. As he landed, he was immediately in the fray of battle, swinging and slashing his swords against multiple opponents. The violence of the attack shocked even the veterans and stunted much of the center line’s charge.

“Oros!” Turak yelled, deflecting two attacks with his left sword and swiping in a broad arch with his right, cleaving two attackers with a jet of water. “Face me!” Blue blood dripped down his mask, giving his presence an even more feral and fearsome aura. He breathed hard through his mouth, keeping the rhythm of battle in his mind, the tempo of strikes and counters. The air was hot and filled with debris from the constant usage of the Dunamis. Corpses and a shattered massive wall were strewn about the once delicate green field, causing all who walked upon it to stumble. Suddenly, there was a loud screech, and Turak blocked a blast of electricity with his weapons. It was extremely powerful and caused him to completely focus on his defense. After a long moment, the stream of energy subsided, and Turak looked angrily at his attacker.

She had bright red hair and wore a very fine crimson cloak, embroidered with more golden thread than he had ever seen. Her features were smooth, and she was indeed quite beautiful. She must have known this since she refused to wear a mask into battle. Turak grinned at the recognition that this was Nasha of House Adomo, a highly respected and pompous little brat from Lokkadonia’s elite caste. She didn’t lack power, that he could be sure of, but was she capable of facing off against him? The thought pulled at Turak’s curiosity, and he wanted to have some fun with her. He shook it from his mind as he looked at Oros’ attention, brought to another portion of the battle. The western flank must be doing well.

Without warning, Turak dashed toward Nasha, bringing his blades up to defend against any more Dunamis attacks. To his surprise, she pulled two blades from her back as well and smiled gleefully. Who does she think she is? he fumed.

Their incisor blades met in a clash of muted thuds as the bone weapons connected over and over again. Turak refrained from using his Dunamis in those first moments, trying to test the skill of the woman he now faced. She did the same, continuing in an unspoken agreement like the trial of Doxo.

“You’re not half bad, slave!” Nasha taunted. “Who taught you to fight like this?”

Turak didn’t respond, ignoring her childish banter. Instead, he focused on learning her movements and patterns; he smiled under his mask, realizing that she did, in fact, have many patterns. All nobles did, as they were taught by the same sword masters, and after so many years of facing them, Turak had become quite accustomed to killing them.

“So, you know of me!” Turak called out. “I never thought the Lokkadonian royals would pay me any mind; I’m flattered.” He parried several of her strikes and danced over the dead bodies at his feet. Still, the battle raged around them, but there was an unspoken agreement between all warriors of Eleutheros. Any time your leaders found others of their caste on the field, the common warriors would stop and let them battle it out. The warriors from both Lokkadonia and Rexun stood around them in a circle, dangerously close because of the Dunamis, but due to the scope of the battle, this couldn’t be helped.

“You can take it how you please,” she replied. “Just know that this will be the last day you see the sky. I will reap vengeance on you for what you did to Veol. It’s no secret you were the one who killed him.”

Turak laughed at the words and brought both his blades down in a furious attack. Then he saw the moment of realization in her eyes once his real offensive started; her eyes widened, and she knew she was clearly outmatched.

“You nobles are all the same! Absolutely certain you have the upper hand. Veol did too! He knew he was strong, and in the end, that’s what killed him. You will learn the truth as he did, that royalty is no match for power!” Turak yelled.

Nasha tried to leap backward using her Dunamis to blast him, but Turak had read her movements and stabbed forward with his weapon, extending a concentrated blast of water out and through her abdomen, just below the protection of her bone breastplate. She gasped and flew to the bloody grass below. With an unexpected endurance, she leaped up again, ignoring her wound, and began to run.

“Oros!” she screamed. “Help me!”

Turak slashed his blades again, and a high-pressured blast of water went toward her. She fell to the ground roughly, but immediately tried to stand. She couldn’t, and looked down to see that her left leg was gone. Terror and shock painted her face, The sight brought another smile to Turak’s lips, and he dashed toward her.

A massive wall of stone shot from the ground between the two, and Turak skidded to a halt. Oros was now off of his Cro’kan and looking at Turak through the darkened eyeholes of his mask.

“You!” Oros said, his voice seething with hatred. “You’ll pay for that.”

Turak remembered the wall under his feet crumbling beneath the power of this man’s Dunamis. He knew he would be strong; this was the son of Agron Ignos after all. But this was his chance to win the battle. Even if his own forces retreated, killing Oros would be enough to halt to advance of his army.

Turak dashed again, his sore and fatigued body starting to slow a bit. The battle had been a brutal one so far, and he had been in the thick of it since it started.

Oros hadn’t drawn his weapon, he only stretched his hands out, and massive pillars of stone shot at him from every direction. The attack was well-known to Turak, but the sheer volume of spikes that came at him was something he had never faced before. He spun to deflect and slice them as they came, but while he did so, he was struck with a pillar from the ground below him. Turak grunted as he flew nearly thirty feet in the air. As he fell to the ground, he saw dozens of spikes racing up at him, and he knew he was as good as dead. I... hate... Dae-Voh… he thought, closing his eyes to accept his fate.

Suddenly he was jerked in another direction, and he realized that his elites had come to his aid. He opened his eyes again to see them with him in their arms. One… two… three… He counted all six of them again. All still here… thank the Great Spirits.