The Battlemage

Gift For the Gods

  Adalina felt groggy and her vision was blurry. She could smell smoke and feel heat emanating from somewhere close by. As she struggled to clear the fog from her mind and the haze from her eyes, she noticed that she couldn't move her arms or legs and that they felt awkwardly stretched. When her vision finally cleared she saw that she had been tied to some sort of wooden contraption built by the Northmen.

  It was dark now, which meant that some time had passed since she'd been knocked unconscious. The moon in the sky was big and bright, casting a blue light on the land.

  It looked the Northmen had gathered for a festival. There was a small feast that had been prepared, and there was plenty of drinking going on. Those who weren't on guard duty at the outer ring of the camp were already shambling around in a drunken state, sometimes comically so.

  All of this didn't take away from the fact that Adalina knew what was happening. She was going to be sacrificed to their gods, and likely in a violent manner. She struggled against her bindings, but found that it was useless. The ropes were thickly weaved and knotted well. She wasn't even sure that if she had a knife and a few hours that she would have been able to cut through them. Frustrated, she pulled at the ropes, though she knew it was useless. She had no other options and they were going to sacrifice her.

  A feeling of weakness and helplessness that she hadn't felt since she was a child, since the night in Blith, washed over her. She felt tears running down her cheeks and she let her head fall. There had never been a moment in her life when she had felt religious, and she didn't now, but she allowed herself to pray, just in case. if there were gods out there, she hoped they were listening.

  Around her the Northmen were becoming very animated. They spoke and shouted in their native tongue which was very harsh on the ears. Some of them danced, their half naked bodies gleaming with sweat and strange symbols painted on with red paint.

  The Northman woman who had been with the leader of the raiding party came forward. She said something in her native language and the men around her cheered excitedly. From the sheath on her hip she drew a wicked looking black blade with a red gemstone in the hilt. She held the knife up for the crowd of Northmen to see and they went wild.

  The leader of the Northmen was nowhere to be seen. Either he was watching from afar, or had decided not to attend the evenings festivities.

   A northman raider brought a golden bowl to the Northman woman, offering it to her on his knees. She took the bowl from him and came back towards Adalina, the blade in her hand ready to plunge into Adalina's soft flesh.

  Adalina squirmed and struggled, using her last bit of strength to put up one last fruitless fight. She would do that much.

 The crowd had reached a fever pitch. They shouted in their harsh language and cheered as the Northman woman slashed Adalina across her side. There was a searing pain. The wound wasn't especially deep, but it did bleed and the woman used to bowl to collect the blood. She then went to the other side and prepared to make the same incision.

  Adalina screamed with hatred. She tried to form words, to curse these wretched bastards and their dark magic, but it came out as little more than screaming. Her head hurt from the noise and she felt dizzy.

  The knife pressed against her skin and began to trace another line across her opposite side. The sensation burned and the angry screaming became a cry of pain. Tears flooded her eyes and down her cheeks..

  The blade stopped moving and fell away. The crowd stopped cheering. Adalina looked at the Northman woman and saw that she had a dazed look on her face, and in the center of her chest there was an arrow.

  More arrows came from the darkness, striking down a score of the Northmen raiders. From behind the barrage of missiles came a cluster of shadowy shapes. As they materialized in the faint glow of a nearby fire, Adalina saw that they were dressed in the armor of Miran soldiers, and wore the kingdom's crest emblazoned across their chest.

  The Mirans jabbed out with their long tipped spears and found soft, easy targets among the drunken Northmen. Those that didn't die on the first thrust were hacked down with sword and had their skulls crushed with shields.

  The drunken Northmen began to retreat, aware that they had been caught off guard and stood no chance. But they weren't giving up that easily. At the other end of the farm was a small detachment of archers that also hadn't joined the festivities that night. They returned fire on the Miran attackers, striking down several.

  A trio of shapes broke from the center of the mass of Mirans and they ran straight for Adalina. Even by the dim glow of firelight, Adalina recognized the figure of Miran General Palladius standing over her, flanked by his two personal guard. He used his sword to cut her bindings and caught her when she fell.

  "I've got you, battlemage," he said into her ear.

 As he dragged her backwards, the two guards did their best to cover them. One of them was struck down, an arrow having found the side of his neck. The other did his best to cover them as much as possible until they reached the formation. Through a haze, Adalina watched as the mass split and then she was behind friendly soldiers.

  "Fall back!" she heard Palladius shout.

 The rest of the night was a blur.