Stars of Blood

Eleven 𖤓 Anubis

Blood splashed in my vision, spraying my face as I slashed my sword forward. The pyuwa's head slid clean off its neck, falling to the ground in a thump.

My breathing was heavy as I ran over the body, making my way through more bodies. There was a line of dead ones behind me, their stench horrible as death started to take over the whole field. But the marshes were already ransacked with it, dead bodies from years ago still floating in the debris.

Although Iui was closest to the border, just sitting against these marshes, there was so much death and gore that it was invisible amongst the horizon. The sun rose just beyond, spilling into a new day as the fighting ravaged on. We had fought in darkness, day and night for two days. The body count was growing, only the true warriors left standing.

Conan stood close, ripping his helmet from his head. He wasn't much of a warrior but when it came to the average soldier, he bested them every time. Today, and the days before, were evidence of that fact, his silver hair twinkling in the new sunlight like a beacon. There was a huge gash on his lip, one that would heal without a scar but bled fiercely, blood splattering on his armor.

The fighting around us had ceased, all converging on a figure in the distance with weapons raised.

Conan pointed with his sword. "Do you think that's Ravis?"

I growled at him. "If it is, we should help. Come," I commanded and sprinted into one of my faster runs, Conan right behind me.

Pyuwa soldiers flung themselves at us, teeth bared and their weapons aimed to kill. Their swords were made of silver, the only weapons in Hahsoel that could hurt us daeg. Just like how water was poison to the pyuwas, silver was poison to us. I didn't know how they lived in these marshes constantly surrounded by the very thing that could kill them. But it was why they all wore leathers now, covering every inch of their body. They even wore gloves with built-in grippers so their weapons wouldn't slip from their hands. But their faces were bare and that was the best way to defeat the average soldier, especially in these marshes. One splash to the face and they were blinding, an easy target for killing.

But even as I did so, I could feel the tears running down my face. I had killed for years but it had never gotten easy. Each of the lives I took was a soul that belonged to this world. I hated this war and I hated the pyuwa, but killing wasn't how problems were solved.

Slicing upward, the young pyuwa deflected and pushed back. I snickered at the advance. He was young, naive but strong.

He charged first this time, unafraid even when he looked me directly in the eye. It was obvious he knew who I was. I was surprised he wasn't afraid. Courage like that didn't deserve to be diminished.

I blocked his strike and spun around with my foot in a kick, hitting him right in the chest. With a thud, he stood still for a moment before falling back into the water, screaming as it seeped into his helmet, clawing at his leathers as he felt the water drip down into his armor. He would live and if he stopped writhing about and acted dead, the daeg would leave him alone.

Charging past him, I cut through a few more pyuwa, spotting Conan somewhere close behind. I froze when I heard a roar from across the field, where the pyuwa had gathered and were clawing. Daeg were there too, clawing at the pyuwa to get past. They looked frightened, desperate.

Conan froze too, a muffled whine escaping from his body as an arrow flew past my head and embedded itself in his shoulders. He roared from the pain and tore the arrow from his skin and between his leathers, baring his fangs as the pain made his daeg-form sputter. When he looked up, I could see the change in his eyes, his claws gripping his sword. Conan became angry so easily.