The March

Days passed. Perhaps it had already been weeks. Even Samuel’s arm had healed, it had only got infected once after the time he woke up. The appendage now ended in an ugly but firm scar. Whenever he did something he hadn’t since losing the hand, he still tried using the missing limb, forgetting about its absence. Despite that, it was somewhat unnerving how fast he had been able to adapt to having a single hand. He still felt like weeping some nights, but during the working day, he became as efficient as was possible for him.

The new day was unlike any so far. They were ordered to leave the pit four abreast and walked into an encampment surrounded by a low stone wall. Samuel had briefly seen it before during one of his and Madoc’s escape attempts but had never been inside. There were dozens of leather and fur tents and even some small stone buildings. At the centre there was a large rock with a fractured crystalline obelisk. Some of the fragments were floating around the awe-inspiring structure.

“Oh no,” Madoc said.

Samuel looked in the same direction and was confused by what awaited them.

Arm yourself.

The command had to be obeyed. “What’s going on?” Samuel asked. The slaves began distributing the spears, axes, shields and other gear. Most of it was in poor condition. The slaves numbered in the hundreds. It wasn’t just their pit, but many if not all of those around the encampment.

“Nothing good. It looks like we’ll have to fight.”

“I thought you’d be happier about something like that. Wouldn’t it be likely to provide us an opportunity for escape?”

“That’s fair enough but what’s more likely is that we will all just die. All that remains to be seen is whether it will be giant monsters, rival Cyrhil tribes or something else. Whatever it will be, you can probably imagine how good your chances are facing one of them,” Madoc said.

That sent a feeling of dread through Samuel’s guts. “It could also be people.”

“It’s possible, though I haven’t seen or heard of many attempts by any kingdom against the Cyrhil. There were some in the past but now they mostly just manage their own borders. If any one kingdom attacked and suffered sufficient losses, it could entice the others to take advantage of the situation and attack them instead.”

It was a depressing thought for Samuel, as the possibility of being rescued by decent humans had been a though in the back of his mind even if he dared not voice it out loud. He decided to change the subject.

“I’m guessing these weapons aren’t magic.” Madoc grimaced at that. Madoc ended up with some kind of a glaive with a strange shaped blade, and Samuel with an axe and shield. He looked at the two items and frowned before looking at Madoc, who just shrugged his shoulders.

“Let’s try this way, he said and took the shield. He loosened one of the straps. “Hold that arm up.” He put the shield across Samuel’s shoulder over the half arm and let it rest on his back. “I don’t know. Maybe it could help a little?”

“Should I just give it to someone else? Do you want it?”

“I can’t use it either. You should take whatever you can get. Especially out here.”

Samuel sighed. “At least I didn’t end up with a two-handed weapon.” He eyed the glaive. Even if the weight itself wasn’t that great, the torque would be too great to handle with a single arm. “Are people here trained in combat in general?”

“Some probably are. That is before being captured of course. None of the slaves get any training while we are here.”

Many Cyrhil were also walking around on various errands. Samuel had never seen the monstrous people that busy until that point. He was also glad that they were always armed and thus kept their distance from the slaves as they collected their weapons.

After everything was ready, they left the tents behind and began marching. Some of the terrain was difficult to cross as there were no roads in the badlands. Rocks beneath their feet could all of a sudden give way to a fissure or sinkhole and there were many steep hills in their way though none were high enough to warrant a detour. At the very least there was no dense vegetation to bar their progress.

They stopped for the day after hours of walking to set up camp. That didn’t involve building anything or setting up tents. They just positioned themselves between three of the hills. Some of the warriors were sent out to scout the area and the slaves were left to their own devices.

“Here you go,” Madoc said.

“Ugh,” Samuel shrank back at the disgusting sight of the dead vermin. “What are you doing?”

“It’s dinner.”

“Oh no.”

“You haven’t complained at the food we were served back at the pits,” Madoc pointed out.

“But that’s different,” Samuel protested.

“Do you honestly believe that the Cyrhil took care to give us high quality food? Did you ever stop to consider where all that meat was even coming from?”

Samuel frowned at that. “I think it’s better not to think about it.”

“Hey, I won’t bring it up if you’re not going to. Anyway, let’s eat this rat.”

At the very least this thing could have the decency of tasting disgusting. It’s hard to be revolted about eating it, when it tastes so good. At least I can say that it’s only because of the hard walk today.

“If we weren’t carrying weapons, you could almost forget we’re marching to war,” Samuel said.

“I know what you mean. It’s a nice change of pace after digging in that smelly pit for such a long time.” Madoc had begun using his glaive as a walking stick. “I still fear it might be our last little walk though.” It was strange to see the usually upbeat mean so dispirited. Madoc then gave a chuckle.

“What is it?”

“I just realised that this is the farthest we have ever travelled together from the pits.”

“Hm, I guess you’re right. Not that the scenery has changed all that much so far.”

“The wasteland stretches for many miles. But there are some parts that are flatter and other that are more mountainous.”

Samuel felt as if he’d barely closed his eyes by the time he was already forced to get up for another day of marching. A Cyrhil scout ran up one of the hills. It began to lift an arm, then an arrow protruded from his face.

Before he had time to think, he was already running. Together with Madoc and a group of slaves they stood before one of the Cyrhil warlocks. This one caused him to do a double take. Despite it being as ugly and deformed as any other Cyrhil, it was obviously female. He glanced at Madoc, who just nodded. All around them he could see that many other similar groups had formed around the warlocks.

Over the hill where the first casualty of the war collapsed, an army began emerging. Soon, the entire top of the hill was crowded by soldiers in bright plate armour. A line of archers stood behind them, arrows knocked but bows not drawn. An individual in particularly ornate armour looked upon them from the front.

“They are human,” Samuel hissed to Madoc.

“I see,” Madoc said with a worried expression.

“Isn’t that good for us? They might show us mercy.”

“They might,” Madoc agreed. “They might also decide that the merciful thing for them to do is to make sure none of us lives with the corruption and suffering caused by the Cyrhil. Also, it’s not as if all the slaves here were captured by coincidence. Sure, they raid the settlements near the borders of this land, but this place is also where bandits and other criminals tend to gather or escape to.” He took a moment to think. “Or are banished to. Depending on the kingdom from which they came.”

Looking at the haggard faces of the slaves, it was hard to imagine what Madoc had said. “Isn’t there anything we could do to make it more likely for us to survive?”

“Try not to get isolated or in the line of fire. Then again if they have some heavy spells, staying in a tight group will spell your doom.”

To their surprise, the humans did seem to be reluctant to press their advantage. The archers lowered their bows but kept the arrows ready. Before Samuel was able to breathe a sigh of relief, he was already charging towards the soldiers. The Cyrhil weren’t held back by any similar compunction. At least we’re not first in line. The Cyrhil warriors also charged but always stayed behind the first lines of slaves and were spread among the rest. The human archers pulled back and lines of soldiers formed a shield wall. As the waves of slaves crashed into them, their lines held. To their credit they also appeared to hold back in their attacks and for the most part pushed back with their shields.

However, that was not always the case. Screams of pain echoed over the battlefield and spurts of blood painted shields and the slaves. Between the ranks of slaves, the Cyrhil began their assault. A swing from a giant hammer sent three of the soldiers flying. The monster was then impaled by spears from five different directions and collapsed to the ground.

Samuel’s group clashed with a different wall of soldiers. He tried being as defensive as his commands allowed. He swung his axe at one of the shields. Despite the weeks of manual labour, his strike was quite weak and he took the shield strike into the chest and face. He rolled partway down the slope. He didn’t particularly want to hurt the soldier but he couldn’t help but lament the state of his body. Before coming to this strange world he was a proficient fighter and though he had never fought with an axe, he was sure that he would still be a capable fighter. With his good hand gone, he was a useless cripple. Would the gang even take me back like this? I’d be dead weight. Then he remembered that their leader was a traitor and dead. Funny, I almost forgot about that. But what of the others? Are they still alive? Were they also captured. I hope at least some managed. Ewa, Leon, Kamil, Anna and the others, please be safe. He finally came to a halt and got back to his feet.

Not long after, the entire group was pushed back down the hill. Behind them he could see one of the teams of the warlocks that commanded them. They were sending balls of fire and bolts of lightning into the ranks of solders, but all of the attacks faded before colliding with their targets. A faint blue light in the shape of a dome was visible above them every time an attack failed.

A larger force of Cyrhil warriors rushed into the fray and broke the shield walls. The battle became chaotic and now even the slaves and warriors were engaging in outright combat, though the slaves were little more than distractions to keep the soldiers distracted from the actions of the deformed fighters.

Horns sounded from behind the human lines. The next moment dozens of fireballs and flaming rocks flew over the heads of the combatants at great speed and crashed with explosive impacts where the warlocks were concentrated. The first few explosions occurred above them and deflected in a circle around them, but whatever protected them soon gave out and the entire area was obliterated, leaving a smouldering crater and sending dirt, rocks and even pieces of warlock flying in all directions.

Samuel was thrown to the ground by the impact. He groaned and looked up. Above him was a heavily armoured soldier with a huge sword ready to swing. Samuel was still holding his axe but even a direct hit with all his might would probably do minimal damage against the armour. To his surprise, he no longer felt the compulsion to fight. He dropped the axe and shook his head while showing his empty hands. Not seeing the face or even eyes of his opponent filled him with dread as the man stared at him for a moment. He’s like a statue come to life. Is there even a person inside? He swung the sword and Samuel shrank back in terror. He opened his eyes just in time to see the decapitated head of a Cyrhil land next to him. The knight paid no more attention to him and went on to find his next quarry. It looked like most of the slaves lost their will to fight but any that got in the way of a battle still ended up dead.

“Come on!” Madoc shouted over the sounds of battle and pulled him to his feet. “This is our chance.”

He ran in the direction that saw the least fighting and Samuel followed after picking up the axe once more. After the first few steps Samuel stopped. It was as if something was calling out to him.

“What are you doing? We need to go,” Madoc shouted after seeing that Samuel had not followed.

Samuel started running forward again but then circled around and sprinted. He didn’t know where he was being called. After the short dash he stood above the top half of the warlock that had commanded him. What remained of the pitiable creature was charred and torn up. Samuel was guided by instinct and took off the chain necklace from the cadaver. It was as if a weight was lifted from his chest. However, he wasn’t done yet. He began tearing off the two rings it had on its fingers but they were stuck, almost as if they were grown into the tissue itself. It was even more difficult since he didn’t have a second hand to get leverage. He placed the hand on the ground and took hold of his axe. Two fingers broke after the first strike but they remained attached to the hand. It took three more strikes to remove one finger, then several more with the other hand. It brought him a perverse sense of justice to deprive his tormentor of his fingers after suffering his own amputation, even if the Cyrhil had nothing to do with it and was already dead.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Madoc with a concerned expression. He smiled at him.

“Let’s go,” Samuel said. Madoc seemed to want to say something, then shook his head and once again led the way. This time nothing was stopping Samuel from following his friend.