Dodge: Serial 25

The finale of the Battle of Lake Lada.

Serial 25: The Battle of Lake Lada

December, 18th 32 S.D. 15:07 Lake Lada, Central Plains

    Although Sventa had initially suffered several major strategic setbacks, they had now not only regained their momentum but the upper hand as well. With two of their fronts guarded by Losha’s impassable ice, they were free to reorganize themselves into an effective fighting force. Their right flank remained exposed to the enemy, but even so they managed to fend off anyone on the approach. No more burdened by the threat of close-combat, the sharpshoots proved lethal as they aimed from a distance at Henron soldiers who suddenly found themselves cut off from the enemy and squarely in the sights of so many guns. Worse yet, the Agnan Walls that had earlier protected them from such weapons were meters and meters away. Volley after volley, Sventa shots rang out, striking targets near and far. In this manner, hundreds of Henron were eliminated, either outright killed or merely wounded to the point of incapacitation. Defenseless, the enemy could do little save retreat.

    Yet, the sharpshoots were not the only ones causing casualties. Losha had jumped over the wall she herself had erected, electrified blade in hand, and she engaged the enemy on the ground. Quickly across the field, her form dashed, her speed-steps thrusting her past great hordes of foes. With a single swipe of her sword, lightning whipped out from its path, latching onto anyone before her. As these sparks shocked and defeated Henron by the score, the enemy remained all the more determined to pull back. Many simply spun around and fled, running wild-eyed with panicked abandon. Thanks to her enhanced movements, however, Losha could catch up to them before they escaped. In addition, she was able to effortlessly dodge the few attacks that did come her way. She merely had to toss herself in another direction, and in a single bound she was safely beyond her opponents. From there, she could unleash her serialized assaults.

    Darting to and fro, hitting then running, Losha soon became the primary threat to Henron, having reduced their fighting force by a tenth single-handedly. Though she had expended roughly half of her seras on the battlefield, she showed no signs of slowing down. Faced with such an onslaught, against which they had no recourse, the Henron soldiers began to waver rapidly in their resolve. The shields who had escorted the melee combatants with their Agnan Walls slowly walked back, putting some space between them and the spiraling stage of war. Crying aloud, swords and spears dropped their weapons in the snow as they sprinted away with heightened haste. They pushed one another, edging past their comrades in an attempt to leave. A great mass of Henron gradually ebbed from the front-line. Range Leads tried to enforce order, but they too could only shout as they backpedaled.

    Vitna stood there with his hand twitching by his side. His face glowered with a biting intensity, as if he were choking in anger.

    “I do not believe this... this utter madness! What is this that only one should so be able to reduce our many?” he hissed, gripping the hilt of his sheathed sword.

    “Ver Vitna...” A Field Lead said, limping from the direction of the fight. She appeared to have been shot through the leg. “It is like the stories we grew up with. The ones of champions...” She referred to the tales common across the Central Plains of legendary warriors, fantastical myths of men and women whose strength could exceed thousands. Yet those were but fables concocted long ago.

    “Ba!” Vitna dismissed. “Those are idle fabrications, relics of literature, the kind of prattle scarcely fit to entertain infants. Champions were never real.”

    “Perhaps not... ngh!” The Field Lead was helped along by several others on the retreat; she winced for a moment as her weight shifted to her bad leg as they rushed to support her. “Maybe there were not real. But that one,” she flicked her head to the battle. “She is all too real.”

    They left to join the rear with the rest of their injured. Vitna glared at their backs as they exited the scene, but he did and said nothing in response. Instead, he whirled around swiftly, looking towards the field ahead. At this point, so many of his forces had either fallen or fled that he didn’t need his periscope to examine the status of his units. Catching a brief glimpse of Losha as she continued to spray his soldiers with electric currents, Vitna growled and drew his sword high into the air.

    “Brothers and sisters of Henron, heed my words!” he called out, his booming voice echoing even over the chaos of this struggle. “All of us shall focus our attacks on the wolf! Slay her where she stands! She may be able to take out dozens of us, but hundreds? Thousands?” He cut his blade forward, dropping it pointedly in Losha’s general vicinity. “Can she defeat us all? No! We are, together, too much. Join your blades with mine and kill her. Then, victory shall be ours! All units, engage the beast!”

    At first, those who had heard the bold declaration of the Core Lead failed to move; in fact, most were still actively deserting. Yet upon the sight of their commander rushing in himself, their pride revitalized and redoubled. They knew they were on the losing end of this conflict, but per the violent traditions of the Central Plains, they would ensure it would be no easy work for Sventa. They’d make sure their enemy paid a bloody price. Inspired by a sudden zeal for war, Henron began acting once more like a cohesive military division. Not everyone had heard their leader’s words in the midst of all the fighting, but as more and more soldiers started acting with a shared objective in mind, the message became all too clear: stop the girl.

    This spontaneous surge of soldiers all converging upon a single target did not go unnoticed by Losha. Observing the vast shift in so many seras frequencies, she spun around after discharging another blast from her sword. It seemed as if the entirety of Vitna’s people hoped to overwhelm her; great mobs to every side materialized with her as their aim. Their goal was immediately apparent in her mind, and for an instant a flick of terror grazed her heart. Even with the powers of serialization on her side, what was her limit? How many opponents could she take on simultaneously? She could not honestly say.

    Her eyes glanced backwards at the wall she had summoned. She could easily jump over its side to safety and construct yet more barriers. They could pick off Henron with ranged attacks in relative security. However, looking at the frozen structure gave her crafty thoughts yet more inspiration. There was a way to end this battle and soon at that. If her calculations were correct, she’d even end up using less seras than her lightning needed. Though it was dangerous, she’d already thrown herself into this volatile mess quite extensively. Peace was not without risk, and if she were not willing to go to the furthest lengths, how could her dreams ever realize themselves? Nevertheless, her soul was confident she could execute the strategy. She was a master of the art.

    Although Sventa sharpshoots continually sniped large numbers of Henron, their enemy’s charge upon Losha could not be halted. Hundreds and hundreds more came bearing down on her, steadfastly. Her comrades could only look on, reload, and fire as she remained the only Sventa on that side of the ice to face Henron. All at once, however, the electricity shrouding Losha’s blade shorted out, dimly dying with bursts of small static. She sheathed the steel tool, and with a quick push, she launched herself at the swelling masses.

    In but three speed-steps, she had lunged directly at a large formation of Henron. Swiping her arm forward, her fingers spread and curled like claws, Losha cast a blue glow about her hand. Almost instantly, the snow before the soldiers leaped up at them in a great wave. Hardly a moment thereafter, the white debris transformed into pure ice. It thickly covered vast swaths of the enemy, leaving them all at once frozen. Their limbs were encased in veils of crystal; none could move even the barest centimeter. Like statues, the Henron now stood there, poised to strike but halted in time. Some had avoided being trapped in such a frigid manner, but at the rear they could hardly reach Losha; too many of their cold comrades blocked the way. Losha swept herself away, twirling around before slashing her other hand across the air. With that gesture, illuminated by the active light of her seras, she washed another incoming group of Henron with an icy blast. Just like the other ones to rush to her, they were stopped as if hung up in a single moment.

    Yet she could little cease now. Going into multiple speed-steps, Losha raced away, heading towards the heart of the enemy’s charge. All who stood before her were immobilized by her series; no one could even move to hit her, for she always acted first. Running, diving, soaring, spinning: she swayed across the battlefield in a sort of dance. With a wave of her hand, she sealed leagues of Henron before she moved forward to the next band. Like a trance, Losha all at once found herself being drawn into the intensity of the moment. Her senses blurred as the soul assumed control. Every motion, every pivot, every dash, every fall of her hand, it all felt like an extension of herself, as if her choices were all part of some unconscious plan. Whether this was a type of combat-high or the effects of extensively serializing for so long, she could not say. Regardless, her bolting form advanced, rapidly zipping left and right, disabling hundreds at a time. Those in front of her path could do nothing against her powers. Yet by the time Vitna and the majority of his soldiers had come to know it, they were simply too late.

    Almost having cut through the middle of the entire army-wide assault, Losha stood eye-to-eye with Vitna from a distance of some 20 meters. She jumped forward with incredible speed. She swung both arms in front of her, forming an “X” as she flew over the earth. By either side of her, a large amount of snow erupted, splashing then freezing all of the surrounding soldiers. Losha landed a scant half-meter before the Core Lead and several tailing officers, crouching as she hit the ground.

    For a moment, Vitna let out a restrained gasp, inhaling through clenched teeth. Though it was only for the briefest of intervals, he hesitated. He had thought the girl to be within his reach, but a quick twinge of fear actually delayed him. However, he raised his sword shortly thereafter, meaning to bring it down on her head. Even if he had been faster, it wouldn’t have mattered. Losha stood up, wrenching her hand up swiftly. The snow sprang up at Vitna and his nearest subordinates; a second later, their legs, arms, and upper bodies were captured by her ice. She then drew her sword, aiming it straight between Vitna’s eyes. Its point hovered some mere 10 centimeters from his face.

    “Drop your weapons,” she ordered evenly. “Tell your soldiers to surrender at once.”

    Vitna stared venomously at Losha, his face deepening with tight creases, his teeth bared. All the while he huffed deliberately, loudly, perhaps out of rage, or perhaps out of the chill that encapsulated his entire body. He said nothing as his eyes shifted about; his nostrils flared.

    “It is over,” Losha insisted. “This is no fight you can win. Let it go, Henron.”

    Vitna made a gurgling sound as if his pride had stifled his throat, but at last with a fierce scowl, he closed his eyes. Though his arms had been locked, his hand remained free, albeit unable to go anywhere. He loosened his grip until his blade plopped silently into the snow.

    “Ghh...” was all that he muttered, yet nonetheless, the Battle of Lake Lada had come to a close.


    Having conceded defeat, the remaining Henron disengaged. As a condition of their loss and as a sign that they were no longer hostile, they tossed their weapons to the sides, creating great heaps of metal. Though it was a shameful and embarrassing display, it was the only way that allowed them to leave the site without further casualties. Vitna despised the fact that he had lost, but as much as he had dared to win, his duty to the safety of his fellow clan members was sacred. It was one thing to lose; it was something else to do so at the precious expense of his own people

    It seemed, however, that he would come away in better shape than Lisk. Whereas his counterpart had lost thousands, he had sacrificed but hundreds. According to accounts, the Wolf of Sventa as they referred to Losha, had been anything but lethal. Her attacks had left most unconscious and a number badly injured or burned by lightning. The death toll on their side looked chiefly to be from sharpshoots. Vitna could only darkly grasp what it would have been like if she’d shown a fiercer side of herself during the battle.

    Losha had unfrozen Vitna to let him command his soldiers to stand down. A half-hour after the fight had come to an end, his forces were in the process of withdrawing. Though they had to discard most of their equipment, it actually freed up their arms to carry many of their wounded away. With great difficulty as well, many worked to pry their comrades from the icy grips Losha had thrown upon them.

    The Wolf of Sventa herself had disappeared shortly after beating Henron, but she later returned in the company of the Prime Lead, Levias Holvate Sventa, along with a small cadre of high officers. Vitna was in little mood to speak with the victors; if anything he would have preferred to leave straight to Henron. However, it was going to be a while before he could mobilize and head out. Diplomacy, while not the most tasteful of matters to him, was still a necessity. Begrudgingly, unarmed, he turned and faced the group coming his way. He tried to stand nobly enough as they approached, his back set upright, his hands clasped together behind his back.

    “Vitna Jas Henron, Core Lead, Henron Fourth Order,” Vitna said, introducing himself with a customary slight bow. In return though, Levias only nodded faintly, which perturbed Vitna.

    “Levias Holvate Sventa, Prime Lead, Sventa Second Division.” Levias looked at his group for a moment before speaking on. “It was a well thought-out and executed show, Core Lead, you hit us right where we were the weakest.”

    “Indeed, but we could not match the strength of one even with one thousand,” Vitna said, glancing pointedly at Losha. “You have many fearsome weapons on your side. But I do not suppose you came here to exchange pleasantries or mutual observations about our rather brief sortie. When two of our kind meet like this, it is business all the way through.”

    Levias smirked. “You are not as naive as I would have imagined for a Core Lead as young as you are.”

    This struck a nerve in Vitna, but being at the mercy of the Sventa gave him no voice for grievance.

    “We have come to clarify the terms of your surrender.”

    “Clarify?” Vitna asked in puzzlement. Losha too stared at the Prime Lead.

    “Just as I said,” Levias continued. “There are several conditions that you must abide by. The first is that in addition to your weapons, your armor is to be given up for our collection. The second: your forces must completely withdraw from the area 60 minutes from now, immediately following this discussion, or we will continue our campaign against you.”

    Vitna’s eyes widened. “Surely, a man of your commanding position must realize the situation we are in. So many of us are wounded, injured, outright paralyzed, or incapable of moving without time and assistance. It will be more than an hour before we can vacate the premises. Furthermore, we would all likely freeze without our armor, especially with the sun set to close soon.”

    Levias sneered and shrugged as he looked down at Vitna. “Save whomever you can then. After the limit expires, we will simply cease to tolerate your presence, say, within 10 kilometers.”

    “10 kilometers? In an hour in our state? That is absurd, Ver Holvate.”

    “Think of it this way: with even your armor stripped, you ought to be able to move a lot faster.”

    Vitna shook his head. “So you would just as well slaughter us?”

    “Not at all, so long as you follow these ‘conditions’, some of your forces may yet survive,” Levias smiled.

    “Madness!” Vitna cried out. “Brutal madness! Is this the way Sventa acts? Like warmongers? You have had your victory; what more do your kind want?”

    “Hah!” Levias laughed. “Of course this is how Sventa acts, to its enemies. What more could I possibly want from this,” he folded his arms before saying, “than to make an example. None can withstand Sventa’s might. Sa, but before I forget, despair not. Not every straggling Henron shall be eliminated. Some we shall retain as prisoners. That is a nice little leverage to have, at least I believe so. Though we may find ourselves having to ‘drop’ a few captives later.”

    Vitna growled, but he could not do much else besides that.

    “Sa, but worry not. You will be there with them; no need to fret over how they will be treated or what they will go through. You shall know firsthand.”

    “You lowly, base b*****d... You damned Vansel. You are nothing more than a monster. How can you plot the suffering of so many disarmed men and women?”

    “Easily,” Levias spat. “Because you and yours challenged Sventa. And you lost.”

    “Damn you... I-I would rather die now at least while there is still fight in my breath!”

    “These ‘conditions’ were supposed to be a kindness. But I suppose we can cut to the chase, as Gandians say. Wholesale annihilation,” Levias said, drawing his sword. “Starting with you.”

    For an instant, Levias’ blade flashed through the air, but just as soon as it appeared, its motion suddenly stopped. In mid-stroke, Levias’ arm was held in place by an unseen force. As he strained against it, his hand trembled, rattling the sword.

    “Ghh... What?!” His head turned sharply towards Losha. She had her hand open and aimed at the Prime Lead, the brilliance of seras wrapped around her fingers. “What do you think you are doing, Sofos?” Levias barked.

    “Enough,” she said. He tried to move the rest of his body, but he found that too was constricted. In shock, the other officers could but look on. They had personally seen what she was capable of; she stood virtually untouchable, at least by anything they could throw her way.

    “Sofos! Release me at once!”

    “Why?” she asked. “So you can spill yet more blood? I will not allow such things.”

    “Hmmph! Your earlier insubordination I could ignore, not knowing of your ‘unique’ abilities. But this, Sofos...”

    “I have delivered us from tragedy. I will decide how they are to surrender.”

    “Wench!” Levias hissed, his face contorting in lines of rage. Hers, however, remained perfectly calm. “You think you can order your superior around, even with those powers? Think again then. I do not just outrank you as soldier, my influence in Sventa supersedes any of Sofos. I will see to it myself that the Tabran convicts you of treason. Sooner or later, I will see your head roll.”

    Losha frowned slightly, not interpreting the Gandian phrase in its fullest sense. “You are a very tiresome man. I cannot believe we are related,” she sighed.

    “What are you-”

    “I would hardly say your influence is greater than mine, and you would have great difficulty in ‘rolling my head’ any time soon.” She pulled off the Wolf of War’s headpiece, shaking her hair loose and free. “Losha Holvate Sventa, daughter of Mavont and Lesia Holvate Sventa, and member of the Torom of Holvate. I am not Dansha Sofos.”

    For a moment Levias blinked, but then he started a fit. “Impossible! You must be an imposter! When the Torom finds out who you really are they wi-” His lips were pinched shut by the same invisible force as before. Losha lowered her hand and walked over to Vitna. The Core Lead stood there, stunned, blankly looking at the scene that had played out.

    “Vitna Jas Henron,” Losha said, seemingly drawing his attention. “War is a terrible and senseless thing. It is the greatest of human failings. You felt it, correct? Sa, the horror of murder, the pangs of loss. The Central Plains we live in, this world of rivalries, it spawns the kind of malice my ‘commander’ would perpetuate... There are only two true conditions of your surrender. First, take the time to honestly understand what sort of land we have created. Look around you, not just at Sventa and Henron, but at all Astens. All of this death and destruction our people would bring upon themselves, for what? In our case, a bunch of trees.”

    Vitna remained silent, humiliated. Not only had a mere girl defeated his forces, she was now preaching to him. Was that how Lisk felt days ago, the sting of youth and remonstration?

    “... and the second?”

    “I never want to face you on the battlefield again. Do not let me see you amongst my enemies a second time.”

    With a swish of her hand, Losha compelled Levias to sheath his sword. Then she turned around and left. The officers looked at the Prime Lead for a second, but they shortly followed after Losha as she drew further away. The series binding Levias wore off eventually. He snarled at Vitna, but he too withdrew. Though the Central Plains was rife in violence, perhaps a seed of peace had been sown that day.

Author's Note

In the reaches of Aste, deep within the grasslands of the Central Plains, 14 warring clans mount constant warfare against one another. Through endless bloodshed, the people are forever rooted in a cycle of conflict. Returning to the place she once called home, Losha leaves Palostrol to go back to her family. Yet in their embrace she finds a world teetering on the brink of devestation. As King's words echo through her mind, she must decide if serialization holds the answers to peace. But are the consequences of failure are worth it? The path of the Continent's greatest struggle has only just begun. The Age of Serialization starts now.

The next installment comes July 2nd, 2014. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

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* This battle is exceedingly short in terms of actual conflicts in real-life (even battles involving far less participants). Ending in less than two hours was meant to show the potency of serialization.

* Levias makes use of common Gandian phrases, which to the reader appear as common phrases in English. Losha, while knowing a great deal of Gandian, has trouble with slang and idiomatic expressions.

* Unlike Gandians, Astens bow rather than shake hands as a sign of respect, or for meetings. Levias is being rude (in addition to be scornful) by not giving Vitna that recognition

* Levias' actions towards the end are actually typical of the "spoils" of war in the Central Plains. There is no assurance that victors will act nobly, and due to the long standing tensions across clans, the winners can be very cruel.

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Any feedback is welcome. Just writing because I like it. Always wanted to make a weekly series, so I'm doing it.