Battle of the Immortals

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Insanity

Dane struck down another soldier, watching the dead body fall. He heard someone behind him and turned, sword out in front of him. A blade clashed with his, slid down the sword, and struck Dane’s shoulder, taking off a large chunk of skin. Dane cried out in pain, and switched to only defensive tactics. It worked for a while, but he knew he couldn’t hold out for much longer. Just as the soldier was about to drive a finishing blow to Dane, he froze and collapsed in the river of blood, an arrow nestled in the crack between his helmet and breast plate. Dane looked up just in time to see Quinne disappear back into the safety of the forest.

 He turned around, ready to face another foe, only to see both rebels and soldiers clawing over each other to get away from some unseen enemy. Dane strained his neck to see what was coming only to get the surprise of his life.

A form was rushing straight for him, silver hair stained crimson from the blood of the countless fallen. His black poleaxe was out in front of him, killing anyone in his path. His red eyes flashed with what seemed to be joyful malevolence as he laughed madly.

Avron.

Why he was killing his own men was unclear to Dane, all he knew was that he had to get out of the way. He let out a shrill whistle and Leo was immediately at his side. Dane leapt for the Dragen, getting out of the way just as Avron passed over the area he had just been standing. “That was to close!” Leo exclaimed, shaking his large head.

Dane gulped down mouthfuls of air, clutching his wounded shoulder and allowed himself a break on Leo’s back. “Why was Avron killing everyone like that?” Dane asked, still breathing hard.

Leo was silent, almost as if he was refusing to answer. At last, he let out a long, remorseful sigh. “Ask Vlad sometime,” He mumbled, staring off into empty space, “he’s the only one who can give you a clear answer.”

|::|

Quinne jumped up onto a higher branch, firing her last arrow at a guard below. She stood atop the branch for a moment, debating if she should try going back for a reload or fight on foot. There might be a smaller camp nearby, but she’s be more productive just staying here. She crouched down, ready to jump as Freyda landed behind her. “No, Quinne! Don’t!” The Dragen screamed, but was too late.

Quinne’s feet had left the branch unaware of the danger below. She landed soundly, looking up to see Freyda’s worried face. “Get out!” The Dragen commanded.

Quinne turned to see a blurred form charging straight for her. She attempted to jump out of the way of his weapon but the black blade sliced open her arm and came down upon her thigh. She screamed in pain, crawling back into the shadows of the forest as the form zoomed pasted. The pain was like nothing she had ever felt before. The wounds felt like they were burning and the flesh around them was turning black. Freyda jumped down and scooped up the still traumatized Quinne in her hand like paw, rushing as far away from the battle as possible.

Once they were a safe distance from the rage of war, Freyda set Quinne down gently. “F-Freyda,” Quinne whimpered, shaking with fear.

“Shush,” Freyda spoke sternly, ripping a medicine bag from the saddle with her teeth and set it down on the ground. There was a pause before Freyda let out a desperate cry. “Curse this body!” She gritted her fangs and leapt back up into the tree tops. “Stay put, Quinne,” she ordered, “I’m going to get you help.”

With that, Freyda was gone, leaving Quinne all alone with only a small satchel. Curious, Quinne studied the contents. There was a small flask of water which she took a quick sip of, a loaf a bread which she set down beside her, and then a great number of bandages. Picking up the bread again, she sniffed it. It smelled okay, but felt really stiff. Cautiously, she bit down on the loaf and tore off a small chunk with her teeth. The bread was extremely dry and stale, but was better than nothing. “Men never made good cooks,” she mumbled in between mouthfuls.