Sing, Play, and Dance (1)

The instant the Night Slayer came onto the battlefield, the Rangers on the walls shifted the aim of their crossbows to him.

“Fire!” commanded the knights who were watching the Orc. Before the ranks of Rangers could loosen the bolts from their crossbows, the Night Slayer was already moving. He grabbed two orcs, holding each in the air before him as they struggled helplessly with their legs.

“Kook? No, no, no!” one of these Orcs wailed as it saw its boss’s plan. The bolts poured down, slamming into the improvised meat shields, ripping into their green flesh.

“Fire again!”

The heartlessness of the Night Slayer, using his own kind in such a fashion, was a pitiable thing. The Rangers once more loosened their bolts without batting an eye at the brutal manners of the beast. His gaze was still fixed squarely on me, or rather, directly upon the flame of the true spirit that flared within my grasp. It was a fire that could burn both the body and soul of an Orc, so to them; it was a weapon of true irreverence. Its mere presence stimulated anger within their minds. I summoned a sparking flame using my willpower.

A spear was hurled towards me by an Orc below the ramparts, but it missed me by a few meters. Strikes from axes and blades were parried by me as well. It was then that my entire body started tingling, the feeling more pronounced within the nape of my neck. This overwhelming force was a tide of ill will and malice directed at me, and it was the effect of the battle fervor of the orcs.

“Aaggh!” I shouted as the foul energy bore into me at increasing levels. I struggled to withstand it. A few of the infantrymen around me were trying to get my attention.

“Your Majesty! Watch out!” Arwen’s voice broke into my mind just in time as I saw a spear hurtling towards me. I felt the murderous intent of it, more than any I had ever sensed, for this spear held a great amount of lethal fervor within it. I dodged it just in time as it tore a great gouge into my hardened leather armor. I quickly identified the caster of this javelin: It was the Night Slayer himself. He was racked by laughter, all the while clapping his hands like a dancing hillbilly.

“Come here and face me!” I bellowed my challenge down at it. He started to ascend a siege ladder, which buckled dangerously under his weight. Realizing that the ladder was going to snap in half, he started to chuck the other Orcs off of it left, right and center. They screamed as they fell to their deaths. He was swiftly approaching my position by using this novel tactic, with his shining red eyes fixed creepily on me. By now, I could smell his rank breath as it rushed into my nostrils. I felt dizzy with anticipation for the bout that was to come. Suddenly, I sensed a mighty wave of battle fervor surging towards me once more. I countered it with a thrust of Twilight just in time as it dissipated into nothingness. My heart started to thud crazily in my breast as my excitement increased.

“Everyone, step back from the wall!” I commanded the men near me, who had been stunned by the surge of fervor thrown at us by the Night Slayer. They regained their senses and stepped back. A large furry hand, far larger than that of any Orc, slammed into the ramparts, gripping the stone like an iron vice. The stone almost cracked as a huge head popped into view. The eyes bore into me.

“It is you! You!” The Night Slayer bellowed as it finally came to stand upon the battlements. The way its voice sounded made me think that it was chewing iron. It launched itself from the edge of the bulwark, landing between me and the royal infantry.

“You were the one our king spoke about.”

Had I been younger, I would have laughed at this thing that spoke to me in such a manner. Now, I was filled with a sense of urgency. I shuddered, rubbing at my throat.

“Do you know who I am?” I asked the Night Slayer. The beast paused as it took in the battle raging all around us. “The Warlord had only mentioned you to me in passing,” it said as it turned its stern face to me once more. “He told me that a human who wielded a blasphemous flame could be found here.”

His red eyes flared up, and energy exploded from him as he unleashed his fervor. I felt mana flow across the walls as the knights attempted to block his power.

“Do not approach, and do not interfere!” I ordered them as I summoned my own mana around myself. The knights of Winter Castle had to ration their mana; I would not let them waste it all on one foe. I also knew that if they grouped together to charge the Orc with their weapons that he would kill them, squad, by squad, like fish in a barrel. My Uncle had said that we could hold this castle for weeks on end, yet that was not my intention. I knew very well how much we would suffer if we faced the Night Slayer’s army even for a few days.

I was going to end this battle right here and now, no matter the cost.

How could I make this thing flee, a being without fear? Could I use its rage against it, goading it into making mistakes? I was concerned, yet knew that right now that mattered little. I knew I had to be patient and enter this bout with a clear head. The realization hit me that this Orc would never flee, and never had I held the intention of allowing it to do so. The only course of action that remained was for us to battle until the death, until one stood as victor above the cooling corpse of the other.

In the next moment, a wolf came up to ladder beneath the wall. It held a huge sword within its maw, which it thrust upward with a swing of its neck. The Night Slayer neatly caught this weapon. Once more, fervor flowed from the Orc. An eerie blood-red aura started to swirl around him.

“I will present your head to my king,” he growled his promise. I readied Twilight and prepared myself for what was to come. With a swift motion, I struck at the Orc, with his blade meeting mine in an upward thrust. I twisted my wrists, forcing Twilight onto his crude blade. Twilight, an elegant sword forged by a master blacksmith, tore a notch into the inferior Orcish steel. Glowing red battle fervor smashed into the blue flame of my blessed blade. Our weapons started to tremble under the force of such magical powers. Twilight was pushed back a few inches, and I retreated with it, dodging backward as a crimson lance of fervor shot past my face. A burst of wind followed this attack and knocked me to the ground. The Orc’s sword bore down towards me, yet I rolled away just in time, suffering a mere cut on my little finger. He attempted to stomp on me, yet I vaulted to my feet, and his foot slammed into hard stone.historical

“Stop squirming around like a worm. Fight with honor and give it your all!” he growled at me, visibly angered by my successful evasions of his attacks.

I unleashed the extraordinary levels of power within my character as a response to his goading.

“You smell so good!” he cawed deeply, licking his lips with a cruel tongue, his hunger evident. He was clearly expecting a feast. I would not even offer him the courtesy of providing a soup spoon, much less a hunk of meat. We had moved around during our bout, and I had the Night Slayer just where I wanted him. I raised my empty hand into the air and clenched my fist. Seeing my order, the Rangers upon a nearby tower threw down great nets made from iron chains.

“You have not been paying attention to your surroundings, Orc,” I said as one of the nets slammed into him. “Pull it tightly!” I commanded as Rangers heaved on lengths of chain, tightening this trap around the beast. The Night Slayer did not move, seemingly locked in place. Sharpened iron was cutting into his skin, yet he evinced no semblance of pain.

“You’ve polluted what was supposed to be an honorable duel!” he bellowed in rage. “I haven’t even tested your strength yet!” At that moment, he was jerked from the wall, crashing to the ground. A team of horses had been shackled to lengths of chain, and by this ingenious method, the Night Slayer had been forced into seemingly deadly plummet to the ground. The royal cavalry had been the architects of this tactic.

“Arwen,” I said, summoning her with a wave of my hand. She approached me, her face almost haggard, and handed me a cloth. I used this to wipe Twilight clean of any blood. Some of this blood I smeared across my arms, as a type of war paint. My hand shot up into the air, and with this, knights and Rangers rushed to the spot where the Night Slayer had fallen. I jumped from the wall, landing in a midden of hay. I brushed straw out of my eyes as they focused on my foe. I had known that the Orc was large, but seeing him up close again only reinforced this fact within my mind. He had also fallen into some hay and now stood up, shaking the stuff from his body.

“Stay back! The chains had come loose!” A drover bellowed from the royal cavalry as he tried to calm the horses under his care. A low moan escaped from the Night Slayer, who had already escaped from the net. His body had survived the fall intact, despite having fallen from such a great height. His one leg seemed a bit bruised, yet it was not impaired as he stood firmly with it. The thing snorted, its ugly nose flaring as the air escaped its nostrils.

“Waaaaghh!” it roared upon seeing me, as mad as a wounded buffalo hiding in a bed of reeds. It continued roaring as it charged straight at me. I prepared myself for the impact, my legs ready to rush in for a clean strike at this enraged beast. At that very moment, a sword that shined with a blue light slashed at the charging Night Slayer, who parried it just in time, forced to retreat a few steps as it was faced with a new threat.

“The thing looks even uglier up close,” my Uncle flatly stated, risking a glance toward me, his blade held out before him.

“Uncle,” I said, showing my admiration at his masterful attack with a respectful nod.

“Good work, Ian. I’ll take it from here,” he said, his blade once more glowing with ethereal blue light. I knew then that the aura of his blade was that of a sword-master, much brighter than the flimsy aura of a sword-expert. My Uncle had finally reached the master level. The Night Slayer had by now regained his bearings. He stared at my Uncle, then at me, then once more at my Uncle. It was clear that the Orc decided my Uncle posed the greater immediate threat. This hurt my pride, for we had been in the middle of a fight.

“I’m not passing this battle entirely, Uncle. I’ll come back,” I said, knowing that there was something else I had to do.

“Don’t be too late, this Orc might be crow meat by then,” was his only response as he fired twin rays of blue light from his eyes. The Night Slayer rushed forward with a roar, releasing its own reserves of battle fervor. Red and blue waves of magical energy clashed into one another in rapid bursts, each time with a great banging sound. Mana and fervor exploded all around the warriors, swamping everything that surrounded them.

I studied my Uncle’s movements, which were so swift that only one with enhanced eyesight could observe them. His performance proved to me that the Knights of Gori were in no way lesser warriors than the Sword Masters. My Uncle’s blade also had a very intense aura, which impressed me. All this was not enough, however, for the Night Slayer was blocking each attack with ease.

My Uncle was a prosecutor who had reached the level of unity (合一), his will at one with the motions of his blade and his mana flowing through both at the same instant.

In contrast, the Night Slayer was born into a tribe that absorbed energies in a ghostly fashion, converting it into battle fervor. The Orc did not break a sweat as he intercepted my Uncle’s attacks.

I left the battle in that state, hurrying to the barracks. The entire place seemed empty, yet a sound drew my attention. In the corner of the large room sat a woman. Her eyes were shut tight, her hands covered her ears, and she was trembling in terror. Chaotic energies swirled around her, and I sensed the traits of [Heart Medicine], [Butcher], and [War Mania] emanating from her.

“Adelia,” I said as I slowly approached her. She looked up at me, still trembling. Her face was white with shock, almost pathetic, and I drew no comfort from seeing it.

“Adelia, it is time to fight.”

Upon hearing this command, her expression immediately became blank, emotionless. I took the cloth Arwen had given me and handed it to her. She stared at the bloodstain upon it for a brief second, then sniffed deeply at it. Her nostrils flared as her body stopped trembling. Her pupils dilated, and she stood up, her back straight.

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“That’s your prey. Go hunt!” A sound escaped from her lips, a simple sound that somehow contained the promise of violence within it.

Adelia had awoken. I handed her the sword, and a calm smile came to her upon receiving the weapon. Her eyes had turned a milky white. To behold them was to behold terror itself.

* * *

She leapt into a sprint, following the scent of her prey. I had never before seen her run in such a fashion, the movement not originating from training nor from any command I had given. Her body jerked as she ran, her movements being so very much like those of a lunatic.

The Adelia, who was always gentle and regal, was nowhere to be found. She paused, then cocked her head to one side at an unnatural angle. She tasted the air with her tongue and took a deep breath, then once more entered a maddened sprint. I heard the clash of weapons from the direction of the duel I had just left. Hearing this, I ran after Adelia, who had summoned golden energy to the tip of her sword.

Night Slayer, a rational being when compared to what Adelia currently was, turned his head in her direction as he sensed the build-up of power. She came at him and made a running leap, her sword coming down towards him.

At that moment, I gained my answer.

I found out to what extent her traits of [Butcher] and [War Mania] had blossomed.