A Losing Victory

Part 1 - Field of Broken Bones

A battlefield is an organised, precise thing. A field of individual battles. A place for men of honour to defend their country and home.

What complete bullshit.

Even about fifty feet back from the front line, Sarai felt the first impact. Felt when everything fell into chaos as the screams of men echoed across the grasslands soon to be soaked with the blood of barbarian and man alike. They yelled out of fear, to calm themselves or simply because the notion of being silent as the world collapsed about their ears seemed idiotic. Insane.

Sarai fidgeted with the chin-strap of her metal helmet, nervous. This was the third battle she had been in and by far the largest of them. The cold, calculating part of her mind mused and fretted to distract itself from the reality of the men dying close enough that she could have run to them. How long would the front spears hold their line? How long until her squad would advance?

"Sarkil, Jennah, Ki'tosh... Sarkil, Kennah, Ki'tosh..." The frantic murmured prayers of the  man to her right, his head bowed and eyes clamped shut. At a glance, his knuckles were white around the grip of his blade; similar to her own though with more of a shine. He was a fresh swordsman.

"Where ye' from, Brother?" Even out here she adjusted her accent and deepened her voice by instinct. You never know who might survive a battle, after all. As the man turned his head to peer at her with wide, frantic brown eyes, she couldn't keep the surprise from her face.

The 'man' was no more than eighteen, with thin features and a rough stubble lining his jaw. On him, the helmet and armour looked almost comically big. He didn't respond, though ceased his murmurings offering little more than a glance over her form before he met her eyes. The sight of her golden iris was all he needed, apparently. He turned his gaze back forward, the muscles along his jaw standing out prominently as his teeth ground together in anxiety.

She sighed softly, returning her gaze forward as she adjusted her grip on her blade. The fight was surging towards them, the sounds of battle drawing closer.

They began to push forward.

Where it started, she had no idea, but her squad began to move.  A light walk breaking into a trot and then a run as screams of bravery and fear echoed around her. It took her a moment to realize her own voice was among them as adrenaline surged through her system, though whether it was one of fear or bravery was unknown.

The men began to space as, in an instant, the battle became her own. Hulking men easily a head taller than the average Brotherhood swordsman surged against them, finding gaps before engaging ruthlessly. In moments she realized that they did not fight with style or honour; barbarians in every sense of the word. With each swing of those massive clubs, they battered two or three men aside, bones broken and useless. Their disorganized fighting style had caught the lines by surprise. Stances and routines that were designed to hold against other formations suddenly fell apart at the seams as individual brutes seeped through the gaps and tore at the unprepared men waiting there.

Hold out until the horses arrive. It's your only chance.

The whispering voice of reason steeled Sarai's resolve as she held her blade aloft, teeth baring. She would hold the line or die trying. Everything that followed was a senseless blur. In that moment, she closed off all her unnecessary senses. Listening to the battle. Feeling the battle. Upraised blade deflected a club, jarring the bones along her forearm. That pain dull and ignored as she pivoted in space to dodge a follow up swing that slammed into the mud where she had just stood.

Red filled her vision as her blade slashed down, scoring a long line down the bicep of the same barbarian who had swung. The deep, guttural cry that followed was dismissed as she moved on. From fight to fight, she danced; a blur of leather and steel. Slowly, however, she was being beaten back. Forced to concede step after step to avoid letting them get behind her. She couldn't hold much longer... already she felt numbness flourishing along her arms, movements becoming more and more sluggish.