Go For Stories

Okay, so, first we had an action/horror/sci-fi. Or was it a horror/sci-fi/action? Sci-fi/action with a twist of horror, shaken not stirred?

Whichever it was, we had it. I wrote it, some read it, now it’s done. Onto something new. I thought it might be fun to throw a bit of heroic fantasy your way. Just get ready to catch, because here comes the first chapter…

Also, if you are as bad at catching as I am, I apologise for the sore nose.

V’esen’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the battlements. Two guards passed beneath his crouched form, the moon glinting from the tip of their finely sharpened spears. Beads of sweat dripped down his face, threatening to betray his position by flooding the barracks. He wiped the sweat away and brushed aside his hair, revealing the bright markings on his cheek. His heart jumped, afraid that the glowing blue lines would be seen. He lowered his head, allowing the lopsided fringe to fall into place, and waited for the guards to move on.

As the sound of their march faded, V’esen dropped down from his perch and headed in the opposite direction. His focus was on keeping his feet silent, as he was in dangerous territory. It was prohibited for members of The Order to become soldiers and, if he were found, the punishment would be death; if he was lucky.

The inside of the fort was open and cover was sparse. He hurried to the first building. Every sound he made sounded ear-splitting to him, rattling his nerves. He made it to cover and forced himself against a wall just as another soldier strolled out of a door, unbuttoning his trousers. V’esen held his breath as the soldier relieved himself on the ground and headed back into the building, brushing his hands together.

For the first time, V’esen allowed himself a proper look at the barracks. Aside from the open training ground between battlements and buildings, it was a tight complex. There was not much room to manoeuvre in the event of his discovery. Luckily, the heat of the night had forced the soldiers into hiding. More likely than not, they were sprawled out in their bunks fanning themselves with whatever they had on hand. Just to be safe, V’esen thought it best to stay smart in order to make his way into the Pyre Leader’s cabin. He scanned the wall for a path onto the roof.

A window ledge sat not two paces from where he stood. This was an easy way up, but with the temperature as it was the shutters would surely be open. He crept towards the window and crouched, waiting for the moment to feel right. An unnatural chill swept through his body, warning him to keep his head down. When the chill passed, he craned his neck and glanced through the opening, suppressing a heart attack as he did. A soldier stood with his naked back to the window, cooling himself in the cross breeze. He blocked the view from most of the room, giving V’esen his best chance. In one swift movement he leapt up the wall, bouncing from the ledge and onto the roof.

‘Huh?’ A voice from inside exclaimed as he pulled his feet out of view.

V’esen spun around and braved a peek over the wooden eave of the dormitory. A head poked through the window and looked left and right before disappearing again. The hard part was now over. As long as he kept low to the rooftops, he should be able to move through the camp quickly and easily. He took off his leather boots and hung them from a loop in his belt. This would keep his footfalls from reverberating into the buildings as he swept over the barracks. He jumped form the edge of one roof to the next with ease, making his way into the centre of the barracks; reasoning that this would be the logical place for the Pyre Leader’s cabin.

Within moments he had reached a building guarded on all four sides by Pyresmen with dark, plumed helmets and black swords, the symbols of the Lead Guard. He flattened himself against the adjoining roof and plotted. There was no way to sneak past them and into the building and also no way of knowing whether the guards were stationed there to protect the present leader or the unwatched secrets within. He could only make his way in and hope his anonymity remained intact.

Holding his breath and hoping not to be heard, he bounded across to the Leader’s roof. From there, he lay on his belly and reached down for the Pyresman by the door. He grabbed the Pyresman by the head and twisted. With a crack, the full weight of the guard pulled on V’esen’s arms and threatened to drag him from the roof. His muscles groaned as he held tight, holding the Pyresman erect. Surely, the clatter of armour would bring the troops to attention. Still holding the dead guard, he rolled from the roof, landing in a crouch and lowering the body silently to the ground.

He peeled the helmet from the guard and unfastened the chest plate, tying it around himself before donning the helmet and replacing his boots. With his facial markings covered, he felt much more at ease; less visible. He removed the Pyresman’s sheath and secured it to himself before dragging the body through the door; praying for an empty room.

It was.

Laying the Pyresman down by the door, he crossed the room searching for his prize. He hadn’t seen the helm of Ren’nel before but knew it by legend. Any thoughts of disappointment vanished upon spotting the ancient red helmet displayed on the tabletop before him. Its lines were so precise that one piece of folded metal flowed into the other without so much as a seam. The nasal guard flared out at the bottom like wings designed to protect the cheeks of its wearer, mirroring the wings embossed into the back of the helmet. These were the sign of Ren’nel, the conqueror.

Knowing time was scant, he swiped the helm and fixed it to another loop in his belt. Leaving the guard to rest by the door, he exited the building.

And walked straight into the chest of the Pyre Leader himself.

“What?” the Leader spluttered as V’esen bounced off him. “What were you doing in there?”

“I heard a sound,” said V’esen, “I thought I should see that everything was in order.”

The Pyre Leader narrowed his eyes at V’esen, studying him for any sign of mistruth. V’esen held his gaze and kept his breath even; no mean feat given the frantic beat of his heart. The leader nodded his approval and moved to enter the building before spotting the helm at V’esen’s side. His eyes flared in rage and he opened his mouth to shout for his guards.

V’esen whipped out a dagger from his belt and thrust it into the leader’s heart, clamping his hand over his mouth to muffle the moans. The struggle was brief, but violent. As the Pyre Leader shuddered to the ground, two of the Lead Guard rushed around the corner, flanking him. It took a moment for them to recognise the situation and attack.

V’esen dodged the first sword thrust and spun straight into the second guard’s attack. It glanced off his new armour and sent him reeling into the nearby wall. Both guards swung their swords at once and he ducked under both. They lodged into the wood behind him, knocking his helmet off and revealing his face. He didn’t have long to worry about his unmasking as the third Lead Guard came to see what the fuss was. He saw the dead Pyre Leader on the ground and blew his horn without hesitation.

V’esen knew this was the only chance he had to escape. If he hung around to fight the Lead Guard for much longer, he would be surrounded by an entire barrack’s worth of soldiers. He swooped into the new arrival as the first two freed their swords and swung to attack once more. He evaded the third guard’s sword and, grabbing him by the armour, he spun him around and over the top of the Leader’s corpse; sending him sprawling into the others. He jumped through the air after them, plunging his dagger into one before drawing the black sword and slashing it through two unprotected throats in one lethal arc.

He fled the scene as a swarm of soldiers ran in the direction of the call, too intent on finding the source of the commotion to stop him. Still, it wasn’t long before they had begun to search the barracks. Loud shouts came from all directions, the air filled with sounds of knocking fists and running feet. He ducked into the nearest building and shut the door. It was too dark to see where he was, but the acrid smell of ox urine and faeces gave his location away. The stables held a number of battle oxen; fast and strong, but generally quite timid. There was no need to worry about the animals with hundreds of soldiers hunting him.

As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he found the stables to be bigger than he thought. There must have been near on one hundred of the beasts. As he stood and surveyed the room a thought came to him. He grinned.

“I guess the stable master should have stayed at his post instead of looking for me,” he said to himself as he began unbolting the bays. To his irritation, the oxen all stayed put. From experience he knew that they wouldn’t respond to brute force and he cursed to himself.

Another quick scan of the building and he found an unlit oil lamp.

“Perfect,” he said as he grabbed it and hurled it to the end of the stables, spilling its contents onto the straw-strewn floor. If there was one thing oxen hated, it was fire. He grabbed a flint from a shelf and sparked it, lighting the oil in a flash. The heat flared with intensity and he staggered back from it.

A sudden roaring sound heralded success in his task and he whirled around to see the oxen thundering away from the flames. They took no notice of the closed stable doors and burst through them, reducing it to splinters. V’esen charged towards a couple of stragglers at the rear and grabbed onto one of them by the horns, swinging himself onto its back as it finally broke into the hot, night air.

As expected, the barracks were in chaos. Unable to find the intruder, the soldiers ran around, kicking in doors and shouting orders. The sudden appearance of a hundred battle oxen only served to compound the confusion. At least a dozen soldiers were run down before anyone had noticed what was happening. Now they fled from the stampede, all thoughts of the intruder lost.

V’esen held tight as the herd circled the barracks, looking for an escape route and trampling anyone and anything that got in their way. A number of them had charged into the sides of buildings in their panic and lay wounded on the ground. He looked over the training grounds to see a Pyresman arguing with the guards at the gate. Clearly the guard had given the wrong response as the Pyresman punched the guard to the ground and rounded on another. The second guard gave a furious nod and lifted the bar, helping the Pyresman to push the gates open.

That was all the herd needed to see and they changed course. V’esen kept his head down as the final few oxen fled the camp and into the nearby forest. He had escaped the enemy, unseen, with the priceless helm of Ren’nel in his possession. It had been a good night.