Chronology: [1a]
POV: [Un]Probable Chapter: [1]Chapter or Part [#]: [?name?]
Brilliant sunlight streaked through near cloudless blue skies bathing the knee high field of emerald green in a wash of golden radiance. A perfect breeze made the endless expanse of young wheat shift like the ripples from a suddenly disterbed pond. It was truly a beautiful day. A fact that belied its horror.
Injun ran with the heart pounding speed that could only come with unadulterated fear. The thundering sound of hundreds of horses growing steadily closer promising to trample her into the fertile soil of the Bloody Plains to join the hoof tilled wheat they no doubt left in their wake.
She stumbled. With her lungs on fire and her heart hammering in her chest, the sight of row upon row of spear wielding people suddenly coming into view in the valley was too much to process. Merely altering her course to straddle the space between the two armies, she ran.
Taro frowned. The child that had come over the hill likely just gave away their position. A bad omen no doubt. His fears were confirmed when the cavalry stopped at the top of the hill, a wall of armed and armored horsemen looking down at them. Something wasn't right. Sure the damn kid could have triggered the reaction, but they didn't seem surprised. The creak of leather and rubbing of metal around him grew as the rebel army shifted nervously. One of the horsemen left the line as the child ran by. It was nothing for the animal to keep pace with the girl. It was nothing for the rider to lean down and swipe at her. As the child fell, so did a deep and profound silence. Like the world itself had paused to take a breath. A scream of rage erupted from a masked soldier to Taro's right, soon echoed by hundreds more as the ranks launched forwards. "HOLD POSITION!" Taro screamed. No one listened. Rebel soldiers flooded around him, surging up the hill like a great wave. Something was very wrong.
Darkness descended on Un as a volley of arrows flew overhead. The calvary scattered. Descending missiles taking an unlucky few and terrifying the horses. She lifted the point of her spear to catch a soldier too focused on getting his mount under control. With a sharp pull out, she pivoted to her left and thrust at another only to be parried. And so it went. The familiar dance of battle. Thrust with the spear. Deflect with the shield. Move to avoid being crushed under a flailing horse. She took two maybe three before they were routed, retreating through the field and turning eastward like a flock of scared birds, and stopping. Why did they stop? The cavalry formed into their ranks and just stood there, daring the rebels to chase them.
Un turned to look back down the hill. Perhaps sensing the trick. Perhaps just to her worse fears hadn't just come true. The view from the top of the hill was extensive. The fields stretched to the horizon. The blue skies separated from the green fields by a thin band of dark green trees far in the distance. Un's armored feet pounded against the fertile soil of the Bloody Plains. Such an appropriate name.
"ABOUT FACE! ABOUT FACE!" she screamed as she ran back down the hill. Ran full force toward the rest of the Mad King's cavalry. The ones that were slamming into the rear ranks.
***
Decimate. To reduce by ten. It was a slow process. Multiple lines of bound prisoners stretched out in single file to be counted. Every tenth was pulled out of line and to the chopping block. The winning side needed several headsmen. Apparently their arms grew sore. The pile of severed heads grew almost as fast as the pile of headless corpses. Many of those that survived the decimation, the second decimation, were given shovels to begin work on the mass graves.
Un stared impassively out the eyeholes of her deathmask. She had counted and she wasn't afraid. Her one regret was that she would die bound and defeated instead of in the heat of battle. She would fight them when they took her. Shoulder her way into one of the fuckers, maybe kick him to death before they finally took her. Yes, that is how she was going to die. They could defeat the army. They couldn't defeat her.
It was a bit jarring to be physically yanked out of line. She had been so focused on the one counting.
"Give me that." growled the soldier while ripping away her mask.
"My face?"
He pushed her back into line and grinned down at his prize. Bone white and shaped vaguely like a cat's skull with horns.
"He took my face."
The man in front of her looked back at her with a terrified expression.
"He took my face." she told him, as if that would somehow matter to the guy.
A firm hand landed on his shoulder. "Ten."
"NO!" cried the man as he was pulled out of line. "It was supposed to be her!"
Un was pushed forward, passed the counter and his retinue. Confusion bombarded her her mind like siege engines against an already crumbling fortress. She looked up into the bright blue sky toward the uncaring gods and whispered a single question.
"Why?"
YOU ARE READING
Mystoria: Trail of Thorns (Cancelled)
FantasyFantasy. Un is brought to a new land as a slave, but she no timid creature to be caged. Mia has lost everything, her home, her family, her station, the only path is revenge and the only way is to start a war. Jax has lost everything, his home, his f...
