Ageless

Chapter 36

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Battle for Hutan Fortress, National Forest

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One final whoosh as the claymore flashed through the air, and Cecilia the Disowned finished decapitating her aggressor.

Cecilia believed that every person had one primary purpose in life. Her brother was born to drink spirits and swindle wealthy older women out of their money. Her sister was born to marry young and never work a day in her life. And Cecilia was born to put her enemies in the ground.

Where is my prince?

She looked down with disgust at the severed head of the fallen soldier lying at her feet. Suddenly Cecilia was gripped with a violent reflex and punted it into the woods. The man now lying at her feet was a stranger, so why did she feel such hatred toward him? Why feel hatred for any of these particular men, for that matter?

Shaking the thought from her head, she turned back to face the clearing, now a smudge of trampled ground lying before the old fortress. Everywhere around her soldiers clashed together, a blurred mix of shining red armor against the black-dyed patchwork of the Broken Prince's forces.

The initial plan had been to attack in lines, but the formations had quickly fallen apart due to a lack in capable leadership. Fortunately, discipline had not mattered, and the first wave had quickly overrun the castle with a barrage of ladders and battering rams. She could see her men peeking out from the windows, hoisting black banners to rustle against the deep blue summer sky.

"For Janis!" they shouted. "For Raelyn! The True Queen will rise!"

They had taken the fort by surprise, emerging from the forest like ants from a colony. The modest guard had been ill-prepared for an invasion and the few stationed guards fought like men of the faith, not soldiers. Maybe there is hope for us yet, she thought. But as it crossed her mind she scolded herself, for it was nothing more than a sweet, nebulous fantasy; even with the new fracture in the church, the Broken Prince was still hopelessly outnumbered.

I think he wants to die, she thought. Over and over he provokes fate, hoping to go down in flames as a martyr.

As if to confirm her theory, she spotted the Broken Prince at the front of the line, fighting two red soldiers at once. His shield lay face down in the mud several yards away, replaced by a short sword in each hand. The pair of soldiers slowly circled around him in opposite directions, attempting flank him from the front and back as if they were cornering a feral animal. The prince's arms tracked each soldier separately, training the point of a blade on both men simultaneously, their span growing wider and wider.

Even from a distance, Cecilia could make out a nasty gash in his left arm, a red stain seeping through the cloth sleeve underneath his chain-mail. He was hurt!

You fool she thought, feeling her breath catch and her heart give a flutter. Before the surprise attack, he had promised to command the army from a line in the back, safely behind a vanguard of sworn swords and bodyguards.

Cecilia hoisted the giant claymore up level with her shoulder, pointing it forward like a jouster, and began to sprint towards the prince, moving so fast that fresh drops of blood smeared sideways against the blade's mirror-white surface. Her leather boots pounded across the ground, spattering her armor with flecks of mud, each stride double the length of the average soldier. Within seconds the distance had closed and she found herself skidding to a halt across the brown sludge, struggling to keep her balance.

"Oi!" she called to the guard circling back behind the prince, while the first engaged him from the front.

He turned around and a look of unadulterated horror crossed his face. The soldier was one of the few with a full-set of armor, but his weapon looked like a butter knife in comparison to Cecilia's own monstrous great-sword.