Serial
92: The Lion - I
March 22nd, 33 S.D. 12:37 Tafren Plains, Henron
“Keep it together boys and girls!” a Field Lead bellowed behind himself. The allied army dove into the teeming smoke, rushing towards their foes on horseback. Although the officer didn’t very much like going in blind, the foggy cover was probably the best move in their hand. Still, he found it quite unnerving to essentially run straight into the unknown. When would they meet the enemy? That single thought played endlessly in his head, a constant query. Every time they burst into a gap in the clouds, he could only wonder when they’d find one of Govan’s soldiers there.
“Emer, Hatcha, Gali!” He called loudly. He couldn’t see his sub-squad, but he could easily hear them.
“On your six, Pamal,” Gali answered.
“Two and three ‘o’ clock over here for us,” Emer said, responding on Hatcha’s behalf as well.
“Good. Keep it tight until we can form up with the rest of our squad.”
Above them, the cry of artillery pierced the air. A moment after that, the ground ahead of them trembled.
“Great,” Pamal scowled. “More shrieking smoke, just what I need.” He coughed and gagged as floating particles stung his throat and eyes. What he would have done for a proper mask! At any rate, he hacked out the stuff and blocked most of his face with his forearm. It was a good thing the rain tempered the effects, else he was sure he’d suffocate in all of this haze.
Suddenly, he saw something in the distance. It was bright, a glow that cut through the deep shroud around them. Pure and intense, the white light grew more and more pronounced by the moment. A wave of panic crept over Pamal’s mind. Could this be the serasword? Were they being attacked?
“Shrieks, Field Lead, do you see that?” Gali asked; she’d now come up from the rear to his left.
“Sa, and I do not like this.”
“No... D****t, no! Are they going to use that sword to-”
“Get a hold of yourself!” Pamal barked at Hatcha. Although the Field Lead chastised his subordinate for losing focus, he knew Hatcha was only saying what they were all thinking in that instant. Whatever was making that light was nothing good. If it was an attack, he hoped it would miss them. It had to, what with all the smoke and their scattered positions. However, it had to hit someone...
Soon enough, their cover began to thin out and give way. The wide, open fields gradually returned to view, emerging from the veil slowly. By degrees, ghostly shadows appeared beside Pamal and his unit. These were other sub-squads who’d separated just like his. A voice called to him from the far left, one of his soldiers.
“Field Lead!” a young man shouted, looking rapidly about as he spoke hurriedly. “Field Lead, there you are, at last. I thought the stuff would never end.” Pamal was joined by four more of his squad as they stuck together now.
“We must be nearly there,” the officer said, tossing a quick glance beside him at the rest of his people. “This is getting less and less dense, and the cannons have not fired recently. Must have been the last round. This is it, everyone. Govan’s forces are just ahead.”
“Shrieks, Field Lead, what on the Continent is that awful light? Gah, it hurts something hard,” another soldier said, shielding her face. Pamal was about to say that she’d best not look at it, but before he could warn her, a flash all at once exploded before them.
“Aaah!” Pamal cried, shutting his eyes fast. His hands worked the reins, tugging left and right as he fought against his jerking, neighing horse. The poor bewildered beast veered dangerously to the side, grazing a comrade before he took control. “What the hell was that?!” he spat, blinking but unable to see.
“Oh... my... stars...” one of their lot said. “Would you look at that...”
“What? What?!” the Field Lead demanded.
“Pamal, take your eyes on them...”
“Slowdown, all of you,” Pamal ordered. They came to a trot while Pamal rubbed his face, clearing his sight. Wrinkling his nose and shaking his head, he peered forward. “Well, f**k us all,” he growled, squinting harshly.
Ahead of them, some 300 meters away, Govan’s troops had amassed themselves on the battlefield. Each one of them was surrounded by an ethereal aura. Their shining outlines stood shoulder-to-shoulder, waiting for the Prime Lead’s foes.
“What the hell is that?!”
“Like any of us can guess.”
“Shrieks! This looks terrible for us,” Emer breathed, and he was right. Behind them, the rest of the allied army poured in, streaming out of the clouds in numbers.
“Advance, all of you!” A Range Lead roared, charging ahead as a chorus of cheers followed. In a sheer stampede, thousands of soldiers appeared, racing headlong towards their target. As these many equestrians dashed ever closer to the point of combat, Govan’s forces braced themselves for the collision. Bent at the knees with drawn weapons, the soldiers tensed up as each coldly glared upon the coming wave.
“Are they mad, just standing there like that?” Hatcha asked.
“Are we mad for simply standing over here?” Emer asked. “Field Lead, I know those guys are glowing and all, but we should join our brothers and sisters in the fight.”
“Wait a moment!” Pamal hissed, raising a hand. “Something is wrong here.”
The allied soldiers swiftly rode up to the first of Govan’s units, intending to trample upon them. Instead of crashing down on the Prime Lead’s infantry, they found themselves smashing into a wall. The first rebels were hit so hard and fast that many were snapped and mangled along with their horses. Only a lucky handful simply lost consciousness in the chaos. On the other side, however, the loyalists budged not even the slightest. The wave after that helplessly careened into their fallen friends, piling up together in a large heap. Those still in line for the assault realized something grave was amiss and gave pause.
“It is just as the Prime Lead himself has told us!” declared one of Govan’s Range Leads, pointing his sword high to the air. “We are invincible, untouchable, unstoppable! For the honor of Henron, we must avenge our leader, Ver Heigon, and restore the true order of our clan! All units, attack the rebel vansels! Slay the wretched Sventa along with them! Attack, attack!”
Taking after the Range Lead’s example, the soldiers raised their weapons to the sky and shouted. Without delay, the loyalists leaped into action, springing and pouncing upon their nearest foes. At once, confusion spread across the allied army as their enemies began slaughtering their ranks with abandon. Pamal saw that there was nothing they could do to save those who had bravely, if perhaps foolishly gone up first. If they were not dead from banging against those force-fields, the loyalists would soon finish them.
“Hold off, let them come to us. Do not go forth recklessly,” he commanded his squad. Unfortunately, even this measure was not enough to overcome Govan’s power. Aided by the serasword, the loyalists remained impervious to damage. Gunfire and arrows bounced off without even so much as a flinch. Swords, spears, and other blades repelled off the light with every blow. Even as some dismounted and fought Govan’s people hand-to-hand, their efforts proved useless. Anything that came near the barriers was pushed aside, like an impenetrable shield.
Since the loyalists could survive any strike, they flew at their opponents with sheer recklessness. Heeding the call of war, they answered by throwing themselves fully upon any and all within reach. With ease, they slashed their way across the field, slicing down every challenger in their path. Pamal saw those around him cleaved, run through, and crushed.
One unfortunate soul collapsed to the ground on his knees; a gash carved deep into his chest, exposing bone from his sternum and ribs. Another crumpled to the ground, screaming as blood rushed from his mouth and open bowels. He saw one of his colleagues, a female Field Lead, stand off against two enemies at once. With her horse fatally injured, she battled on foot, blocking one sword with her own while she shot the second with her pistol, whipping it our of her foe’s hand. A moment after that, however, and she was swarmed by Govan’s soldiers. Bashing her cheek, an armored gauntlet spun her around to the ground. She looked up at them, wiping away a trail of blood and drool before they impaled her through the back.
“Shrieks!” Pamal said; his voice was shrill as his eyes fluttered to and fro. “We will all be killed at this rate! This is a massacre!”
A group of loyalists heard his frantic words above the din of so many screams. They turned to his direction and ran.
Losha knew something had gone awry as soon as she saw the lights. As she felt more and more seras frequencies outright disappear, ones she knew were from their side, she could only think the worst. What had Govan done? She detected the work of his serasword, but the exact effects were yet a mystery to her. As WOLFWIND broke free from the fog, the state of the battlefield revealed itself. Ahead of them, bodies littered the grass, marked with wounds both fresh and bloody. These crimson corpses sat at the feet of countless soldiers enshrined in brilliance. A handful of rebels managed to defend themselves, but the rest were eventually overwhelmed and overran. Losha pulled hard on Izel’s reins, tossing herself off his back before he even stopped. She was poised to sprint directly into the heat of combat when a hand snatched her shoulder.
“Hey!” Faima said, leaning over from her own horse. “Where are you going, commander?”
“To battle,” Losha quickly answered.
“Remember what Liveta said,” Faima reminded the Wolf. “Focus on Govan. We have to find a way to get to him.”
“And leave our comrades to die? Look at that light. It is a force-field, visible to the eye, similar to the one I made at Binfort. It is far too strong for normal attacks to even crack. At this rate we will not have an army, just a growing mound of casualties.” Losha threw off Faima’s hand. “I am going to put a dent in Govan’s forces. How else are we to reach the Prime Lead if none of his troops have been defeated? Help defend the others while I go in.”
“Losha...” Yega started.
“That is an order,” she cut him off.
Turning, she resumed her approach. Pumping arms and legs furiously, panting through the chilled air, she zipped across the field, a warrior on the hunt. Losha drew back one arm, summoning her servai. Gripping the blade of raw seras, she flung herself at an attacking group. As a brief flash ignited underfoot, she launched high above their heads, propelled by a powerful speed-step. Quickly, Losha descended right on top of one loyalist; her feet smashed into his backside. Even with his protection, he found himself pinned to the ground by the force of Losha’s fall. Sparing no moment, she swiped down into his mid-section, tearing away both the seras provided by Govan’s sword and the seras of her unlucky enemy.
“Waagh!” he cried as his body was soon covered with sparks. Without so much as thinking about it, her arm danced about in several rapid arcs; each movement stripped nearby foes of their seras as well. Her servai passed through them, releasing various cascading colors from their souls. She noted a small amount of resistance, something she attributed to their force-fields. Those in the immediate area fell lamely to the grass. In a sort of circle, loyalists were spread all around Losha. The light of Govan’s serasword had disappeared from those she’d vanquished. Only the blue aura of her tool lit up the vicinity. Once fearless, once confident, the loyalists who’d witnessed the Wolf’s fighting stopped at once.
“Shrieks, did she just...” one gasped, her eyes widening.
“Even with Ver Govan’s power at our side!”
“She just cut them all down like they were nothing!” a man growled.
By now the rain was picking up, pelting the earth with a steady stream of heavy beads. The lands soon splashed with water as puddles gathered by the dozens. Sweeping out over the plains, a gust whirled from the west. Dimly, the sky flashed sporadically, and seconds later the rumble of thunder sounded, distantly but distinctly. Darkness descended upon the battlefield as the clouds mixed to form their blackest color yet. Losha raised her servai towards the enemy; droplets bled from her arm freely as she reared her head back.
She didn’t know what came over her. Perhaps it was the spirit of war. In any case, she howled aloud, crying just like the animal everyone so identified with her. It was long and surprisingly authentic. Her voice seemed to carry over all things, traveling to every corner of this final struggle. When she returned her gaze back down, she heard a tide of acclamations rise up behind her. Though Govan’s forces seemed to be impossibly strong, Losha’s short work of even a handful energized the allied ranks. There was still a fight to finish after all. Losha jumped forward and charged at a seemingly infinite mass of soldiers in front of her. The loyalists looked swiftly among their members, but ultimately they nodded to each other.
“Hold fast, everyone!” A Range Lead said. “We may not be truly invincible, but then neither is the W-” Before he ever finished his statement, Losha rammed her servai right through his abdomen. Quickened by a speed-step, she’d zeroed in on her target in a mere heartbeat.
“Bleeeng!” the officer sputtered; his teeth chattered while he lost control of his limbs. He slumped limply to the soaking floor as she extracted her weapon. Raising her head, she stared up at all ahead of her. They could see nothing of her face, only the wolf’s fierce head on her pelt. Wavering, some soldiers took a step back, but such a small gesture could little save them. Losha ran up to a group, attacking them all at once with a single, horizontal cut. Six of these combatants were promptly dispatched as seras gushed vibrantly from their chests.
She continued her solo campaign, diving into the next lot. Her servai extended through another handful in two strokes, leaving their losses at over two dozen altogether now. Govan’s soldiers far outnumbered her, however, and with their superior body count, they decided to gang up on her. In truth, she could only take on so many at any given time. The loyalists captured her, surrounding her tiny presence with their horde. In unison, they engaged her, thrusting and slashing everything they had at the Wolf. Despite their efforts, it proved ineffective against the serialist.
A blue film covered her, an azure layer that denied all damage to her. Taking Govan’s own strategy for herself, Losha serialized a force-field. She realized why each barrier protecting the loyalists were relatively weak to her servai. Although Govan had used the serasword to shield his units, that power had to be divided among thousands. Losha, conversely, had only herself to worry about, so hers proved much stronger. Their attacks bounced off harmlessly as a result. While she’d crafted the force-field from a kinetic series, theirs were somehow built from raw seras. She didn’t know how he’d done that or if it made any difference, but at any rate the soldiers could do little to her now.
Since her various opponents had gathered close to her, all Losha needed to do was swing in any direction and she hit someone. Though now cut off from the rest of the allied army, she saw this as an opportunity. If she could rip her way towards Govan, that would eliminate a significant portion of his forces. Her companions might then be able to take on the loyalists, even with those enhanced defenses. With that aim, Losha whipped her blade to and fro, biting into the souls of all who were caught under its edge. In a mere moment, a swath of soldiers fell before her; each toppled over, unconscious, cast face-first to the fields.
“W-what is she?” cried someone.
“She... she really is unbeatable!”
“This is impossible! How could someone like her be so strong?!”
“Even with the serasword, we cannot win...”
The very sight of Losha sent them into dismal panic; their morale shrank swiftly. She used this time to her advantage, however, hurling herself upon the next ones even as they stood there idly stunned. With broad movements, her servai tore through them. Losha drew back once before spinning her weapon wildly around her, slicing a huge area in one go. Afterwards, she turned and pushed her weapon straight through two soldiers who were packed side-by-side. Yanking her servai upright, it ran raggedly out of their chests, spilling more seras into the rain. She pivoted on her heel and immediately crashed her sword atop someone’s head. Their seras flushed out to either side in two separate streams as he gurgled and reeled backwards.
“Sa, I am unbeatable!” Losha cried as she stepped up and stabbed one loyalist. While that one sank to their knees, she snapped her arm to the right, slashing the soul of another without so much as a glance. “You have no chance of overcoming me. Lay down your weapons. If not, I shall come for you. This pointless war ends today, here and now.”
Some of the loyalists dropped their arms as if they were suddenly dangerous to the touch, but not all of them did so.
“What is this?!” yelled an officer. “What cowards you are!”
“And what a fool you are,” Losha said. Traveling on a single speed-step, she zoomed up to him. A short, diagonal attack was all it took to subdue the enemy.
“Gah!” the loyalist rattled before sliding away. Losha held her servai pointedly at the throngs of soldiers in her path as she spoke.
“I will say this once more, toss your weapons. We have all fought and lost much to this conflict, a war that should have never been born. I leave this choice in your hands, but beware. I will not tolerate this madness any further. If you truly lust for battle, know that I shall reserve nothing against you.”
With that, she clasped her servai in both hands and stepped forward.
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