~ The Sea of Blades ~
[The Year 9840 in the Age of Heroes]
THE AIR WAS IN TURMOIL. The uncountable blades of grass were thrown from one side to the other. Flashes of light, each in a different colour, filled the sky. Thunderous claps of noise followed closely, trying to catch up to the lights. Yet, no storm had arrived. Another kind was responsible. The battle was in full mode, the silent staring contest at the beginning long forgotten.
After the commanding personnel had reached their respective units, the enemy had suddenly shown signs of restlessness and shortly after had begun to advance. Slowly at first, the forefront had begun to steadily increase their pace until their progression had turned into a full sprint. The characteristic black eyes of the hordes never blinked once and their eerie focus never strayed from the gathered army in front of them. The deep rumbling of the approaching mass of enemies could be felt by everyone.
The captains and commanding officers had wisely used that short amount of time before the hordes sudden awakening. They had spoken about their soldiers might and valour, encouraging them while calming those that showed palpable fear in their eyes at the same time. Everybody knew that a battle like no other was upon them, the battle of an Age.
The first ranks of the One Army, composed of veteran warriors, began to advance right away, positioning themselves three hundred paces in front of the army and the built fortifications. When the warriors stopped, huge spears and shields - covered in softly glowing runes - materialised in their hands. The warriors, as one, took hold of their spears and pushed them at a slight angle into the dry ground. The ground couldn’t withstand the power of these warriors and gave away. The foremost rank took up the shields and planted them right in front of them in the ground, overlapping them in turn. Those warriors were the strongest by far, having successfully endeavoured on their respective Warriors Path.
The warriors were scarcely covered. Only a few wore a tunic and bulky vambraces on their forearms. Their bulging muscles rippled with every movement and couldn’t be contained by regular armour. The “Barbarians of the North”, heralding from the northern reaches of the Andros continent, were renown for their battle prowess and physical might. The perfect first defence against the advancing hordes.
While the northern barbarians formed the shield wall, many groupings of men and women were formed behind them. They were mainly composed of strong mages that were protected by the mighty giants. The giants held shields the size of a small house, creating an imposing wall. The mages stood on earthen mounds just a few steps behind the giants and had an unobstructed view of the advancing enemy. The previously constructed fortifications of intermittently impaled stakes stood between the northern barbarians and these mobile mage forts. They had been placed in a specific pattern, with the intention of funnelling the mindless hordes into chosen corridors.
The soldier had felt the commotion suddenly erupting everywhere around him, just before he could detect the horde advancing towards them. He had seen their squad leader jogging towards the assembling group of other captains forming around the newly returned commanding lord of their squadron. He had addressed them and had gesticulated wildly around, often pointing towards their enemy while nodding encouragingly.
The squad leader had returned soon after, calling the small group to him.
“Listen closely lads! The lord has just told me that a high and mighty trio of Eldris Elders has arrived. They have assured the imminent arrival of the Five. The Army will rejoice in knowing this, I’m sure. In the meantime, we are to hold our position and fight tooth and nail agains those mindless husks. Luckily, this will fall to the experienced warriors of the army for now… But do not lose your wits and keep your eyes peeled. A battle is never a safe place, even here at the back. Never forget this, everything can happen! You hear me?!” the burly squad leader exclaimed.
The soldier, the rest of his team and the surrounding units had listened closely to him. They had all reacted with awe and joy to the news of the Five, but had regained grim faces while listening to the man relating the lords words. Many had experienced battles before and were currently quite happy to be situated at the back of the army, “only” guarding the supply wagons. However, they understood their captain and had already said as much to their unexperienced companions.
The soldier had heard the words. He had even understood the hidden message behind them. And yet, he couldn’t help but shake from excitement. `The Five are coming and I will be fighting alongside them. Oh, how my friends at home will gape at the stories I will be able to tell them. I will never have to pay for food and drink in my life again!’ he thought and rejoiced.
His moment of joy, however, got interrupted. He and his squad mates turned at the same time. Above the commotion that such a gathering of people always produced, they could hear the first clashes of weapons and the discharge of mighty magic. The first cries, full of anguish, weren’t far behind.
The ground trembled beneath the weight of thousands of feet pounding against the dry dirt. The lush and verdant stretch of the Sea of Blades in front of the horde got trampled down, never to be seen again. Unblinking black eyes were nearly upon the forefront of the “One Army”, when a sudden ear-piercing cry erupted from their midst and a shock wave of sound was hurled against the fortified shield wall. The attack was visible to everyone, a murky wave that instantly crossed the remaining empty space between them and fell upon the resolute warriors. The majority withstood the attack - barely. Some were thrown back and others crumpled down, blood flowing from their eyes and ears.
A moment later, the first wave of enemies swept over them and chaos erupted.
The Souleaten threw themselves upon the shield wall. Mana-constructs and magic were battering against the opposing shields. However, the shield wall was holding on. The enemy hadn’t been able to create any breaches - yet. But some places were in much worse shape than others. These places were the ones where the previous sound attack had hit the worst.
The horde noticed this and augmented the assault even further. Yet, they did not scream. They did not falter. They were not human in a sense, not anymore. They were flesh and bone, yes, but empty. They were known as the black-eyed husks or as the Souleaten in academic circles. Soulless and mindless, driven only by the cruel will of their commanders - hidden among them - and the evil entity that controlled them all.
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The smell of sweat and blood was steadily growing stronger. Fallen warriors laid on the ground. Some were still alive, desperately trying to get up again and were continuously being pushed back down into the mud. The risk of drowning in the mud was very real. Mud that was made of the previously dry soil, the steady stream of freely flowing blood and the excrements of dying warriors. Every time someone trampled on a dead body, the same released a flow of blood that seeped into the soil.
The survivors gave way step by step in the hope of reorganising themselves and closing ranks. But the bulwark was starting to have too many holes. Shields weren’t locked anymore and the shield wall broke soon after, accompanied by the sound of resolute warriors shouting their unrelenting defiance in the face of death.
The hordes crashed one final time against the line, like a flood bursting through a failing dam. The remaining defenders, in small groups or even by themselves, heaved against the press of bodies one final time. They shoved their shields into the twisted unblinking faces of the foe and impaled one last enemy before being consumed by the silent tide.
The horde did not slow and continued onwards. Few moments later the mass of bodies reached the first stakes. The mindless individuals tried to circumvent the fortifications but didn’t succeed. As if the mind commands weren’t fast or precise enough. However, the horde was vast and it continued advancing without slowing down. Two hundred paces had been heavily fortified and many stakes displayed enemies gruesomely impaled on them.
Horns sounded and the call for receiving the foe echoed through the body of soldiers that had gathered as the second forefront after the first had fallen. The first ranks, in turn, took their positions and prepared for the imminent impact which soon followed.
The soldier had been a silent observer through all of this, no words could accurately describe what he was feeling. The reality of what a battle entailed had left him speechless. He observed the first brutal moments of the battle and the subsequent defeat of the imposing barbaric warriors. Even he had heard tales of their might and savagery. But the onslaught of the horde had eclipsed anything that any tale could have depicted in his mind. At this moment, he felt quite lucky that he had been delegated to guard the army’s back. He observed the foe’s progress and the clash of arms that emerged soon after.
***
A soldier drove his blade deep into the gaping mouth of one of the Souleaten, his sword point erupting from the back of its skull in a spray of crimson and shattered bone. He kicked the body free, turned around, and was decapitated in turn by a passing foe. The head fell into the mud, the surprised expression forever frozen on his face. A vengeful shout escaped the lips of the decapitated soldier’s brother in arms, who sliced the foes belly open in turn. A cut so fast that only a blur had been visible, proving the fortitude of said soldier. However, the thing did not even react as its entrails spilled out in steaming ropes, simply taking another step forward before a random spear drove through its throat from behind, ending its life.
To the soldiers left, a glowing adventurer swung a great war-axe in wild, brutal arcs. He cut through limbs, cleaved torsos in two and occasionally split helms with every savage heave. His bare torso glistened from all the sweat that was pouring down from him. He was able to clear a small circle around him, the dead piling on ever growing mounds. Still, the first squadrons were being pushed back, inch by agonising inch. Suddenly, the pressure somehow lessened although there were still many enemies around and many fights continued. Unoccupied soldiers looked up in wonder, not fathoming the cause. Some relaxed their posture slightly, others started looking around or tried helping up fallen comrades.
Then a second wave hit with even greater force.
It was not like the previous onslaught - a rabid mass of thoughtless flesh. No, the commanders among the horde had waited for just such a moment of weakness, and now they led the next charge themselves. Towering figures, clad in glowing armour, wielding massive weapons. They cut through their own ranks to reach the struggling defenders. A massive brute of a man impaled a warrior, who had just gotten his footing back. The impact crushing steel and ribs alike. Another commander, wielding a massive broadsword, attacked the glowing adventurer. Their clashes generating mana shockwaves that incinerated bystanders in a certain radius.
The vanguard wavered. Men and women who had stood firm moments before now bled and screamed or had already perished in droves. The One Army’s banners on the forefront, held high at the onset, plunged as their bearers were torn apart. Many parts of the line gave away, buckling beneath the sheer momentum of the charge.
The adventurer had prevailed over his foe and tried to rally the remaining soldiers of the now fallen squadrons. He bellowed orders, voice hoarse, spitting blood from where the gauntleted fist of the defeated commander had split his lip. He cut down another husk, shoved a dying man aside to step forward, trying - desperately - to hold the line. But the second forefront of the One Army succumbed to its fate and was crumbling.
The adventurer twisted to parry another blow but slipped. His foot found no purchase on the gore-slicked ground. He went down hard and barely had time to raise his blade before a dagger sought his throat. He caught the attacker’s wrist, muscles straining, teeth grinding as he forced the blade away by inches. But the husk bore down, empty eyes unblinking, unfeeling. Then, suddenly, it jerked, a sword bursting through its chest from behind. The adventurer shoved the body away from him, just as another figure pulled him up. Another adventurer, eyes wild, with a face smeared with blood - her right ear was missing - shouted at him.
“We can’t hold this!” she exclaimed, parrying a wild strike. “We need to fall back to the main force! Now!”
The adventurer nodded and materialised with his will a special horn that his commander had given him in preparation for just such a moment. He took a deep breath and blew a desperate call for retreat.
Those who could break away from their fights did. They turned in ragged, chaotic steps, trying to disengage without exposing themselves entirely. Some turned and ran, others still fought, and others fell where they stood, swallowed whole by the relentless advance of the horde. Bodies were trampled to pulp, shields discarded, weapons broken. Those who could not move fast enough found themselves cut down from behind, their screams joining the rising cacophony of death, horns blowing and retreating soldiers shouting.
Answering the call for a retreat, a new defensive line was formed just behind the mobile mana-forts. Two forefronts had been implemented by the generals. They had known that it was only a short delay of the inevitable. The horde eclipsed the One Army after all. However, the plan had been to give the assembled mages the much needed time to create a massive spell-construct that had been gathering mana since the first moments of the battle.
The adventurer passed the mana forts and continued on until reaching the main body of the army. Gasping, sword trembling, he turned just in time to see the last of the retreating soldiers being enveloped by the approaching foe. The female adventurer limped to his side, blood dripping from a gash in her thigh, while the One Army’s main body bristled with spears, bows drawn or hands glowing with forming spells. Everybody looked on with grim expressions, preparing for the next clash.
The battle was far from over.
Naming the horde: Which name would you rather like reading from now on?
