Fun Stuff > ENJOY

The Butterfly Sorceress, a serial novel

<< < (8/9) > >>

Jimor:
Chapter 5, Part 4


The sight was too depressing.  Yet another small village wiped clean from the
land.  This time, however, it appeared that most of the inhabitants had escaped
earlier with the waves of refugees that had fled ahead of the invading armies.
The burning and pillaging had occurred over a week ago, probably the same force
that the legion had destroyed on the hillside.

It still made everybody angry and tense as they checked the burned-out buildings
for bodies to bury.

Five days now since the dispatch had come with news from other fronts.  The last
supply train that they were likely to see had just caught up with the legion
yesterday.  Fortunately, it was loaded with the kinds of supplies and in the
quantities they'd need for at least three more weeks on the road.  There was
nothing here for them to restock with except kindling.

Once again, she could sense the unease among the soldiers, and even the
officers.  They needed a battle, and soon, to vent all of the pent-up
frustrations of seeing their countrymen's homes ruined and burned to the ground,
of seeing folks killed simply because they lived at the wrong place at the wrong
time.

But this time, Belsira didn't have a solution for them.  She felt the same sort
of bloodlust, anger, and even hatred for those who caused this destruction and
mayhem.

She wandered aimlessly among the ruins, her bodyguards in tow.  She searched
through the rubble, found charred momentos of happier times for the people that
used to live here.  She even found a set of tiny clay animals scattered on the
floor of one burnt-out house.

Why was this time affecting her and the other people in the legion more than the
first massacre?  There were far fewer deaths here by all accounts, only a few
bodies found, probably people too stubborn to leave their homes even in the face
of danger.

Was it because they had now fought directly against the enemy?  Had seen faces
that they could now blame for the tragedy?  She shook here head.  She just
didn't know.  Of all the things that were new to her, this was an addition that
she didn't know if she could integrate within herself.

She became a warrior, she fought, she killed even if it wasn't directly by her
own hand, and now she hated.

She didn't like it.

But what could she do?  Her little trick in the graveyard now seemed trite and
silly.  There was no solution that she could see except for an end to the war.
How far away was that, though?  She didn't need to be a military strategist to
understand what she saw on Kirtok's maps.  The legions of the allied kingdoms
were outnumbered on every front and were losing ground.

Oh how she wished Hylian was here to talk to.  She missed the close
heart-to-heart chats they'd have while walking in the woods or sitting beside
the fireplace in the evening.

Hylian seemed to know exactly what Belsira was thinking, could anticipate the
problems that they would discuss.  She had been where Belsira was going, had
seen and experienced the problems and dilemmas that Belsira had to face being a
talent.  In a world that didn't appreciate and even feared her abilities, having
somebody who understood was a godsend that she never fully appreciated until
that chance for rapport was taken away.

She was still unsettled by Portik's actions during the last battle.  Even though
she knew that he did exactly the same as any other soldier that day, the feeling
refused to fade away.  Belsira considered some of the other men in her unit, but
while friendly, they just didn't seem to be what she needed at the moment -- a
sympathetic ear.  Kirtok wasn't right either, he was as moody as anybody, and he
had far too much on his mind to have to listen to Belsira prattle on about
something she couldn't identify.

But as she wandered, she ran into Loric inspecting the blacksmith's shop for
anything he could salvage for the legion. After their talk the other day, she
felt as comfortable around him as anybody else, so she approached him as he
searched through the rubble.

"Hello."

"Oh, good day, Bel, I'm just seeing if I can find anything useful."

"Any luck?"

"No, I think the Tarsem soldiers took anything even remotely usable here.
They'd need it being so far from home."  He kicked at some charred timbers to
move them out of the way, bent over to look around, came up empty yet again.
"Nothing here."

He climbed and scrambled through the wreckage and came out beside Belsira.  "Is
there something you needed to talk to me about?"

"Uhh, no, not really, just looking for company."

Loric looked around, saw how everybody was either busy with salvage, or with
setting up the camp.  "Yes, I see what you mean.  I'm done here, and don't have
to report to Kirtok for a couple hours at least.  Care for a walk?  I need to
burn off some energy."

"Sure, I feel the same way."

They started walking around the village, and Belsira's two guards dropped back
beyond hearing distance.  She was glad that they didn't need a more overt hint.

They strolled a bit in silence before Belsira said anything.  She wasn't sure
how sympathetic of an ear Loric would be, even considering their earlier chat on
the road.  "Sorry if I'm out of place, but is the mood around camp here now usual?"

He stopped, looked at her.  "Then it really is noticable, even for you?" he asked.

"Yes, and it's not just the sight of my talent.  There's a tension in the air
even when there isn't an identifiable emotion to accompany it."

"That's what I was afraid of, Bel.  Frankly, I've never seen morale so..., so...
disturbed.  Of course, the situation now is far different than anything any of
us has experienced before.  Those of us with experience in combat got it in
border skirmishes, or against convoy raiders.  Not in generations has war been
so widespread and all-encompassing.  Maybe never."

Belsira thought about that.  It explained part of the problem, but not all.
"There's more to it, Loric, but I'm not sure what.  Have you seen the look on
the men's faces when they see the burnt out wreckage of people's homes?  I think
they see the possibility that it could be their families who are next."

"Yes, that's definitely part of it.  My family is too close to the border with
Tarsem for my own comfort.  I feel I should be there to protect them myself,
even if there was little I could do on my own.  I know that as part of this
legion, I can do more to save them and other families, but in my heart, it
doesn't feel that way, more like I'm abandoning them in a time of need."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Loric.  I didn't realize that.  My family is well back from
the front, and though I worry about them, it doesn't seem to be the source of my
own unease.  I still can't explain it, even to myself."

"That's all right, Bel.  There's always something about being a soldier in
combat that we can never explain, can never understand though we know it's there
within us.  It's something you'll carry for you the rest of your life.
Sometimes you'll welcome that feeling because it lets you know you were part of
something special -- you'll never again have a relationship as intense as those
you have with comrades in arms.  Other times, you'll wish the feeling gone
forever, because it reminds you of the horrors you've seen, the horrors you've
experienced, and even of the horrors you've committed."

Loric's eloquence surprised Belsira, and it took her a moment to process what he
said.  Yes, she felt the truth of it, had gotten a taste of it after the second
battle, but still felt that something was missing from what she was looking for
here.

"Loric, that's part of it, but there's something more, something that's
bothering everybody here on such a fundamental level I'm not even sure we can
identify it."

"Maybe if you describe what you're feeling, I'll be able to help you, Bel.  I
may not be a talent, but in my position, you have to have a knack at reading
people."

"I don't know.  I seem to have this seething... anger I think it is.  But it's
not particularly focused, even at the enemy.  I've been dumping the excess
emotion into my worry stone like crazy, but it doesn't seem to help.  There's
also a lot coming through me from the men, even though I try to block it out."

"It's that bad?  I've been sensing that unrest myself, but if it's getting to
you even with your control of your talent, it's worse than I thought."

They reached the outskirts of the small village.  Open fields surrounded it, and
just beyond them, forested hills rose to the south.  When they turned, they
could see much of the broad river valley below them and even the distant hills
on the northern edge.  The village was built high enough on the shoulder of the
valley to offer them a good view.  Only the sight of the burned and wrecked
village marred the spectacular sight.

"It's too beautiful to be a battleground," Belsira whispered.

"It always is, Bel.  It always is."

"Could that be it?  The waste of war?  The waste of lives?  Do we struggle
against it within ourselves, even as we convince ourselves that we're doing what
we should?"

Loric stood silent, looking out over the landscape as he considered his answer.
Belsira couldn't detect much of an aura from him at the moment, not enough to
discern the emotion at any rate.

Finally, he turned to Belsira, looked her straight in the eyes.

"That's a thought we don't have the luxury to entertain.  It takes away too much
from us.  It takes away the meaning of the sacrifice of those who gave their
lives in battle, those who have left their homes and families to join others
like them in arms against the enemy."

"But why does it have to be that way?  I don't see the reason why we have to
keep those thoughts separate."

Loric laughed, but she could tell he wasn't laughing directly at her, just her
words.  She almost felt like a child again in a world of adults who didn't think
she knew what was happening around her.

"Bel, we hide things from ourselves all the time, trick ourselves into believing
the opposite of what is true.  We do it to stay sane in a sometimes insane
world.  I don't wish to discount your feelings and thoughts about this, but it's
a fact of life, and in the present circumstances, it's a fact of survival."

"But what if it's not true?  There's something happening that's affecting the
men, affecting the officers, affecting me.  If we can't identify what it is, how
can we fight it within ourselves?"

"If it's something that can't be fought, though, we're stuck with knowledge that
we can't separate from our conscious thoughts, and that's when we become frozen,
hesitate when action is called for.  That usually means death for a soldier, and
like I said, it's not a luxury we can afford."

Belsira contemplated what Loric said, but she still found it hard to accept.
There was too much going on here, and it was so far beneath the surface she
couldn't understand it even with the help of Loric's insights and her own
talking through the subject.

Perhaps there was no answer.

"Thank you, Loric.  I'm still not sure what to do, but I do feel better after
having talked with you."

She smiled at him, turned and strolled away with as light a step as she could
manage.  It wasn't his fault that he didn't have the answers for her, or for the
men of the legion.

Like always, she'd have to find it for herself.

Jimor:
Chapter 5, Part 5


For three days now, the Fourth Legion tramped through the southern foothills
looking for the enemy.  Belsira concentrates as her mare picks a path through
the tall grass and light brush of the countryside here.

The legion's scouts had found traces of an enemy force approaching on the south
road, but before the legion could be brought to bear, the enemy had taken to the
hills.  It was a much smaller force, so therefore able to travel the rough
terrain more easily and quickly.

And if they didn't catch the other force soon, they'd be able to slip around
behind the legion and there'd be no force of any size able to stop them except
perhaps the garrison all the way back in Gelfont.  Kirtok was cursing every snag
and delay, and the men weren't much better.

Belsira didn't blame a single one of them.  She was doubly glad she was able to
ride horseback through this country.  The footsoldiers were constantly
complaining of the brambles and stickly grass getting into their boots and leggings.

She could also see the exhaustion on their faces from climbing up and down the
steep hills, and the frustration rampant in their auras.  This was not a happy
army at the moment.

She knew that this was just compounding the problem she had started to feel a
few days ago.  The few chances she'd had to see Kirtok during this chase, she
could see that he was worried as well.  He also sensed something from her, he
kept giving her sideways glances then looking away when she noticed.

Perhaps Loric had told him of their conversation.  Didn't matter to her, she
wanted Kirtok to be aware of what was happening, since he had the best chance of
being able to do something about it.

But nobody, not Kirtok, not her, seemed to be able to finger the difficulty,
much less define a solution for it.  Not that they had time to work on it.  Just
about every available minute was spent trying to speed the travel, and every
moment not moving was needed to rest before the march resumed.

The hills were brutal for the men that had to march up and down them.  When the
legion came to a stream, the soldiers wallowed in it like happy pigs, thankful
for the cooling relief it offered them.  Supply wagons had to be careful to
refill the water casks from upstream because the rest of the stream would be a
muddy, dirty mess by the time five thousand men had bathed in it.  It was a
breakdown in discipline, but even Kirtok realized that there was nobody
downstream to worry about anymore.

The last stream had been miles ago, however, and the sun beat relentlessly upon
the legion.  Belsira cursed her armor, knew that the foot soldiers cursed their
own even more.  They had marched past the shade of the forest, had come too far
south and climbed too high to still gain their protection.  Fortunately, the
altitude was unlikely to get so high as to make breathing difficult, the higher
mountains dividing Melwick from Mardya were still far to the south, and
unpassable at this point anyway.

So they knew that the enemy force would have to continue to bear East as they
tried to run around the legion and into the heart of Mardya.  Their path was
probably even more severe, however, so as long as the legion could keep this
pace, they'd probably catch the enemy soon.  Belsira sure hoped so.

She stopped her mind from spinning for just a bit, and took a look at the
scenery around her.  The mountains in the distant south were spectacular, and
there was even a bit of snow still left on some of the higher summits.

Spectacular.  The hills behind Aberly and Hylian's cabin were never more than
that -- hills.  These were true mountains, and in perspective, they made the
legion look so small and insignificant as they scrabbled along the slopes of the
foothills to that mighty range.

It was quite a heady perspective switch in her own mind as well.  She could
barely remember the sensation of largeness as the legion had first left camp.
With only a distant horizon to compare it against as they traversed the plains
of Mardya, there was nothing to give lie to that impression.  Only now did she
realize the folly of trying to control this or that chunk of land by the force
of arms.

There was too much of it, and too few men.

As she looked north, she could even see how the sprawling forest couldn't quite
gain a foothold everywhere.  Each ecology had its niche, and to try to expand
that niche took far more energy than was wise to expend.

Did Relath realize this?  From the briefings, it was clear that nearly twenty
percent of the male population of his kingdoms had been conscripted into the
army.  Who was left to tend the fields, to transport goods, to work the mills
and factories?  The allied kingdoms had drafted far fewer into the armies, but
Belsira already knew what kind of hardships, both personal and community, that
this had caused.

So much for staring at the scenery and forgetting about the immediate problem.

She looked around, tried to see if one of her guards was in a talkative mood.
No such luck, they were all hunkered down, concentrating on maneuvering their
horses over the rough ground.  She was just glad that her mare was sure footed
and sturdy.  Belsira could simply let her choose the best path over the ground,
with Belsira only needing to provide rough instructions.

When a momentary stop came as the soldiers in front scrambled over a tough
patch, Belsira hopped down and grabbed up a couple of likely rocks to be new
worry stones.  She had nearly pulverized the last one she had picked up a mere
two days ago.

After getting back aboard her mare, she fiddled with the one stone, squeezing
and applying excess nervous energy into the rock to form a hole at one end.  She
tied her leather strip through the hole, the hung it around her neck, tossing
the old stone aside to shatter on the ground.  With the reins in her right hand
again, she worked the new stone with her left, smoothing its features until they
fit her hand perfectly.  Then she returned to worrying it, trying to bleed away
all of the anger and anxiety leaking into her from the men of the legion.

She was sick of red in all of its myriad emotional shades.  It literally colored
her view of the world and of the people she had to deal with on a daily basis.
Even knowing the negative emotions weren't aimed at her, it was still unsettling.

What was especially disturbing was how everybody's outside demeanor was so in
opposition to their inner emotional rage.  They maintained a polite distance
from each other, and got along just fine aside from the occasional scuffle, but
that wasn't unusual even in better times.

And so her mind traveled full circle.

She was driving herself crazy with all of the thoughts of what the problem was
for her and the legion.  The answer was simple: war.  The situation and
circumstance that they all found themselves in was strange and alien.  She
obviously wasn't going to be the one to solve that problem, so she should just
forget about it all and think of something different.

She looked ahead to where Portik rode at the head of her guards.  Still as cool
and collected as ever, never a hint of aura about him.  She doubted sometimes
that he was human.  Even when he had to discipline his men for lapses of
judgment during this march, he did it with absolutely no anger in his heart.

But even though Portik seemed divorced from the problem that the rest of the
legion was having, he also didn't appear to have an answer.  His solution seemed
to be more discipline and tighter control of one's feelings.  Belsira could see
that emotions were spiraling out of control, though, and it wasn't just a matter
of control or discipline.  She had more tools and exercises to accomplish that
than just about anybody in the entire legion, and it did her absolutely no good.
Her own emotions ran the same direction as everybody else, and it wasn't just
because of overflow from others.

A commotion at the head of the legion distracted her from her thoughts.  A rider
worked his way back from the front.  Galloping along and shouting.  Everybody
stopped to wait for his passing so they could hear the news.

Belsira strained to hear, but couldn't make out the words until he passed
directly opposite her, repeating his shout to the legion.

"Enemy ahead!  Trapped in the canyon!  Enemy ahead!  Trapped in the..." and like
that he was out of earshot.

They had finally tracked down the opposing force.

She could see the ripple of excitement move down the line of the legion, both in
the way they moved, and with the aura they gave out.  And the bloodlust was
back.  Belsira could barely control the flood that that almost overwhelmed her.

Whatever the cause of the unrest within the legion, it would soon have an
outlet.  For a moment, she almost felt sorry for the men in the other force, but
even she felt the overwhelming need to do something, to take out weeks' worth of
frustrations on somebody, to blame somebody.

As much as she could have wished otherwise, as much as she could see it in
herself, she was no different than the others in the legion, the emotions of war
controlled her, rather than her controlling them.  And being conscious of the
entire process made no difference.

So she did what every other person did at that moment, she moved forward to meet
the enemy, to exact a price for that undefinable loss that they had all
experienced the last few days.

Men were running despite their exhasustion, unit cohesiveness broke down.
Portik had his hands full keeping Belsira's guards together -- it was too easy
to go galloping off to the four winds.

They did move closer to the front of the legion, however, and that satisfied her
own needs to get there as much as any of her guards.  She'd have to be close to
the front in case there was a talent with the opposing force.

After a few minutes, she pulled up alongside Kirtok, who was busy trying to give
orders to his units.  Unfortunately, it didn't look much like unit cohesiveness
was very much evident anywhere in the legion.  Men were running toward the
canyon with abandon, as if they hadn't expended so much on the march to get
here.  Even Belsira worried that they may not have the strength to fight once
they arrived to face the enemy.

Finally, with a lot of shouting, as well a quite a bit of manhandling by the
officers, including Kirtok, the legion was brought under a semblance of control.
But as they rounded the shoulder of the hill that led into the canyon, and they
saw the enemy trapped within, they nearly broke free once again.  Kirtok,
standing at the head of the line, had to actually strike down one of the men
with the hilt of his sword to stop the man's charge.

It was all Belsira could do to kick her mare into a charge as well.  There they
were, desperately trying to build some kind of fortification at the far end of
the short canyon.

It was a sharp "v" shape through most of it's length, and fairly level from the
opening up to where the enemy was.  But behind them, it rose steeply, and the
stream that had carved the canyon cascaded down a series of small falls.  There
was no where to go, at least not in the time it would take the legion to reach them.

She could see that that was exactly what they had been preparing to do.  Logical
enough, if they had climbed that wall, the legion would have found it utterly
impossible to follow, and would have wasted days backtracking and trying to cut
them off elsewhere.

But they had run out of time, the Fourth Legion was here, and the men were ready
for a fight.

And so was Belsira.  She watched the other force carefully, examined the aura
they gave off, hatred and fear.  They had somewhat perhaps around fifteen
hundred men.  She continued scanning, looking for the telltale grey shroud of a
talent's shielding.  Nothing yet, but if there was a talent there, he'd have to
act soon before she got in range to drain their emotional energy.

There!  It spread from the back, up until it covered the front line and the
surrounding terrain.  There was a talent with them.

Belsira smiled, and prepared for battle.

Jimor:
Chapter 6, Part 1


When Belsira returned from her morning walk, she found Hylian tending the
garden.  The plot was huge, surrounding the cabin on three sides, and along with
the chicken pen, supplied most of their needs for the year.  What food they
couldn't grow, plus other supplies, were purchased with income from
talent-enhanced woodcarvings that Hylian made and sold to a merchant in Crossley.

Lately, Belsira had been able to help by contributing some small clay
sculptures.  Hylian had encouraged her after hearing about the little figures
Bel made in her father's workshop.  She would dig clay from the creekside to
create her figures, firing them in a small kiln Hylian had helped her build out
back.  She would then use her talent to enhance the colors, making them so
lifelike that the small animals seemed to come alive.  She was getting better
and better prices for them from the merchant.

The garden was Hylian's true joy, though.  She spent hours working with the
tender plants, helping them here and there with her talent.  With Bel's help,
the yields they achieved were stunning.

When Belsira approached, Hylian was busy speeding along the growth of some
lettuce for harvesting.

"Is that for tonight?"

"Hmm?  Oh, hi, Bel.  Yes, for salad.  I wish I had planted some radishes now,
though."

"Why's that?"

"Probably just because now that I know I can't have any, I'm craving to eat
them."  Hylian smiled as she rose with her basket of the day's pickings.

"Couldn't you just grow them from scratch?"

"No, you can't start from nothing and expect to get anything, takes too much
energy focused for too long on such a specific goal."

Belsira danced along the path between the vegetables.  "Well, today I feel like
I could do anything."

Hylian laughed.  "You do have quite an aura about you today.  Very well, prepare
a plot and I'll go get the seeds and we'll see what you can do."

"Really?"  Belsira smiled back.  "Sounds like an object lesson to me."

Hylian laughed again.  "I think you're catching on to my tricks.  No matter,
would you like to try anyway?"

"Sure, the way I feel, I think I could do anything.  Besides, they're just
little things, how hard could it be?"

"We'll see.  There's a spot over by the peas.  When you're ready, just call."

Belsira grabbed her tools from the shed and found the spot Hylian mentioned.
She first used the trowel to turn the earth, loosen it for the plants to grow
in.  She could have used the spade, but she knew that if she was to succeed,
she'd need to be at a peek of joy and happiness to supply the necessary energy,
and she always enjoyed the feel of the soil in her hands, breaking the clumps,
the smell of the loam.

After turning the soil a couple of times, she brought over a couple of buckets
of fresh compost and another of chicken manure to spread over the plot.  With a
force grow like this, she knew that the plants would not only need her input of
energy, but also every bit of nutrients that the soil could provide.

Satisfied that the ground was ready for her experiment, she went to fetch
Hylian, waiting in the cabin after washing up.

"I'm ready."

"Good.  Here are the seeds.  Two dozen should do, don't want to make it too hard."

"No, that sounds about right.  I have a good feeling about this."

"Excellent, Bel.  Let's go out and try," she said as she passed the handful of
tiny seeds to her pupil.

Outside, Belsira carefully formed a short furrow by hand and poked the seeds
into the soil with her finger.  Next she emptied half a watering can over the
patch.  "Here," she said, handing the can to Hylian.  "They may need another
drink before I'm done.

Hylian took the can without comment and Belsira began her mental preparations.
She felt good, she felt happy and excited about this project.  Rarely did she
try to push her abilities to their limits like this.

She imagined the seeds, pictured them as clearly as if she were holding them
still in her hand.  Then she drew a line between her thoughts and the little
things.  She would be their sun, would provide for them the energy they needed
to grow and prosper.

Belsira released the energy carefully.  She both needed to go slowly for the
benefit of the plants, but also to pace herself, allow time for herself to
complete the task.

She felt the seeds burst forth from their shells, then sprout and expand, first
consuming the natural energy from the seed then drawing resources form the
surrounding soil.  She kept up her steady input of energy, fed the seedling with
her happiness and was rewarded with the feedback that came with satisfying progress.

Soon, she could see the sprouts push their way into the sun, stretching upward
at a pace that looked both static and dynamic at the same time.  She shifted a
bit of her concentration toward evening the growth between the plants, those
away from her gaze weren't getting their full share.

There was still a long way to go until full maturity, but Belsira felt strong,
detected no important decrease in her joy.  She watched the leaves bud and
spread to catch the sun, not knowing that they were redundant in this task.
They were a conduit, however, so Bel directed her energy into them, through them
to the root below, feeding the growth of the radishes with the sunshine of her
thoughts.

Quietly and efficiently, Hylian leaned in to give the little plants another
drink of water from the can, the soil had been getting dry as the moisture was
absorbed to facilitate growth.

Belsira pressed forward.  She could now feel her energy waning despite the
positive feedback from her continuing success.  How long had she been going?
Time was losing meaning in her effort, but she banished any thought of failure,
refused to let negativity contaminate her energy.  She could feel how much more
was needed, knew she had enough if she could hold her concentration for the
duration.

She quickly received a boost from the sight of the radish bulbs peeking from
beneath the soil.  Only a little further, only a little more effort.  She had to
give of herself to the plants, transfer her flagging energy to the bulbs.  Her
joy was fading, her motivation was disappearing, but she had to concentrate,
visualize the end, picture the fully formed radishes in her hand, feel them,
taste them.

She now had to push herself not with the joy of the task, but with the will of
her mind.  Why was this important?  Why couldn't she just stop and rest?  She
knew the answers, but she no longer felt them.  The last of her emotional energy
was reserved for the radishes.  But why would they care?  No, that was wrong,
she cared, knew she cared, but knew not why.

She stopped.  Not even realizing she had done so, not remembering for a moment
what she had stopped doing.  Her mind blank as it contemplated the image before
her of fully grown radish plants bursting from the soil.  She saw a trembling
hand, not her own, reach down into the dry soil and pull out a plump red and
white radish.

Not knowing what else to do, her eyes followed the hand back to its owner.
Hylian took a cautious sniff at the little bulb, rinsed it off in the watering
can, then raised it to her mouth.

First a nibble, then a bite.  Hylian crunched and stirred the chunk of radish
around her mouth, then smiled.

Belsira caught the fresh spark of joy from Hylian.  Yes, she had accomplished
something good, hadn't she?  Even if the specifics escaped her, the feeling was
coming back now and she smiled back at her teacher.  She had done the
impossible, had stretched her talent beyond previous expectations.  Yes, this
was a time to be happy.

Hylian pulled another radish from the ground, washed the loose soil off and
handed it to Belsira.

"Try it, it's delicious."

Jimor:
Chapter 6, Part 2


Belsira had her shield over the legion, and Kirtok had managed to get them in
formation about two hundred yards from the enemy position.  There wasn't much
choice about a frontal assault, the terrain dictated tactics in this narrow
canyon.  It also eliminated some of the legion's advantages of size and having a
cavalry.

But seeing the way the men strained under the pressure of having to hold back
their charge, Belsira didn't think that would be much of a problem.  She was
anxious to begin herself.  With the steep slopes, and the burbling stream
cutting right through the center of the enemy line, she had several tricks she
wanted to try.

Finally, convinced that everybody understood his plan, Kirtok gave the order to
advance.

And was met with a thunderous roar unlike any that Belsira had ever heard in her
life.  The emotional outpouring shocked her, even in comparison to the previous
battle.

She took a large portion of that energy, and dumped it into the stream just in
front of the enemy line, bursting it into a cloud of steam that obscured the
oncoming rush.  Then she feinted with a volley of energy at the slopes above the
enemy, forcing the opposing talent to expend time and effort countering the
attack.  She didn't really expect it to work, but she understood now that the
threat was almost as important as the deed.

It seemed to work, just as the legion hit the front of the enemy line, she sent
a jolt of energy through her shield around her men, and used it to push the
opposing shield back of the first two rows of enemy soldiers, which gave her
even more energy to use in her personal struggle against the other talent.

This time, she did cause a small rockslide behind their lines.  It only hit a
few men, but the confusion it caused allowed the legion's men to penetrate their
line a bit more than before.

Now Belsira only had to hold her own and let the legion mop up the fight.  There
was still heavy opposition, but the position now favored the legion.  She
concentrated on maintaining a smooth flow of emotional energy from the men, kept
an eye on the two warring shields amidst the battle.

The other talent was rather resourceful, which wasn't surprising considering he
probably had much more practice in battle tactics.  He tested the interface
between the shields at varying points rather than on a broad basis.  It was
quite a challenge for Belsira to keep up with the probes and to counter them
with a push of her own at that point.

It seemed the enemy commander had some resourcefulness himself.  Amid a great
commotion on the right side of the line, opposing soldiers had mad a
breakthrough, and were threatening to outflank the soldiers on that side of the
stream.

Their push also extended the opposite shielding around that corner, and Belsira
had to pull back her own farther in to maintain a credible line at that point.
Fortunately, this only brought the shield back to the line of her own men at
that point, not any farther.

Beside her, Kirtok was barking orders at the top of his lungs, commanding an
adjustment at one point in the line, redirecting backup troops to weak areas,
and trying to bring reinforcements to shore up the weak right flank.

Pikemen set up a perimeter to stop the advance, then swordsman penetrated
through evenly spaced gaps to disrupt the counterattack.  A thrust at the base
of the excursion cut off the rest of the enemy troops in the counterattack,
pinning them back against the steep slope of the canyon.  They fought fiercely,
but were soon overcome.

Belsira's pulse raced at the small victory that was the first step to a larger
one.  The rest of the battle was running according to plan, it was just the
crowding at the line that slowed the legion's progress.  But with a known
superiority in numbers, the soldiers were able to manage their tactics, even
with the raging blood fury running through them.  Belsira drained a bit more,
hoping that it would help them maintain level heads, then pumped the energy into
the field to strengthen it a bit more.

But as she was doing that, a huge fireball erupted on the righthand slope above
the legion.  Belsira, along with just about every member of the legion not in
hand-to-hand combat, looked up to see what was happening.

As far as she could see, it was nothing more than a fireworks display, no
landslide, which she had protected against anyway, no soldiers rushing through
the smoke in a surprise attack, nothing.

Just as she started to return her attention to the main battle, an impact jarred
her left shoulder and tossed her from her mare.

She did a nearly full flip, smacked the ground hard on her head and back, and
heard a crackling snap as she hit.

She had no thought, just stared up at the sky and her spooked mare looking down
at her as if she was the silliest human ever to ride a horse.  She also heard
shouts, probably from Kirtok, "archers on the left flank!"

She didn't understand a bit of it, though, she just wondered how she got down
here, wondered why she didn't feel the pain of the fall.  Then she saw Portik's
face, then a couple of her guards.  She wanted to say something to them, but she
didn't know what.

Then Portik started yelling something at her.  Was he angry at her clumsiness?
She couldn't understand why, everybody fell at some point or another, it
couldn't be helped.

Somehow, through the roar in her ears, she started to understand his words, "The
shield, hold onto the shield!"

Yes, the shield, it was important wasn't it?  She closed her eyes, looked around
her with her sight beyond sight, saw the two warring grey masses surrounding the
two masses of red and black anger and hate.  Her own grey form was shrinking,
and she knew that wasn't supposed to happen, even if she couldn't quite remember
the reason why.  She drew some of the red anger, expanded her grey until it once
again held its own against the other greyness.

Then she opened her eyes, saw that Portik was still yelling at her about the
shields while at the same moment, he gracefully adjusted her body into a more
comfortable position.

She nodded, hoped he understood what that meant, because she certainly didn't.

Then she was aware of it, a sharp pain in her back and shoulder, as well as a
dull ache in her head.

What had happened to her?  That's right, she fell.  She still wasn't certain how.

She nodded again, yes the shield was still up.

Portik gently rolled her onto her right side, and a gasp escaped her lips.  Now
the pain was growing, burning her shoulder with an intensity she never realized
possible.

Then Portik touched something on her back and the agony increased a hundred
times -- she barely realized that it was her own scream she heard.  She squeezed
back tears and could do little more than whimper when Portik asked some question
of her.  She didn't understand a word, but continued nodding, hoping that it
would make the pain go away.

Then he sat her upright, which caused yet another sharp stab, but the shock of
it was smaller if not the pain itself.  He twisted her a bit and faced her
toward the battle.

Oh, that's right, there was a battle going on.

Her shield was weakening again, so she bolstered it a bit as she closed her eyes
and gasped for one good breath.  Another unpleasant surprise, breathing had
become difficult, which in turn aggravated the pain in her left shoulder.

But while Portik held her head and talked to her, somebody else was behind her,
binding her shoulder and arm in a wrap, which actually made the hurt bearable.

She was able to concentrate a bit more now.  She returned Portik's gaze, looked
into his eyes, could understand what he said.

"Bel, Bel, are you all right?  Tell me where it hurts.  Can you hear me?  Can
you understand me?"

It was an effort, but she managed to reply in between gasps for air.

"Yes..., Portik... what... happened?"

"You were wounded, Bel, an arrow in your shoulder.  It's going to be all right,
though, the medic is taking care of it now."

"Wounded?  How?  I fell...."  She stared at Portik, there was something missing,
something she knew was important, but she couldn't get the fog out of her head,
couldn't put a name to it, couldn't..., couldn't...

Sleep.

Sleep sounded like a good idea right now.  She was tired, so very, very tired.
He eyelids slipped downward involuntarily, the thought of slumber overwhelming...

"Bel!  Wake up, Bel!  No sleep just yet, Bel, the shield, you must maintain the
shield!"

"Wha...?"  She saw the grey in her mind's eye, adjusted the flow of energy once
again.  There seemed to be less and less opposition to her manipulations of the
emotional power present here.  Were they winning or losing?  Didn't the legion
have the advantage?  Did they still have it?

And where was Hylian?  Hylian always took care of her whenever she was hurt or sick.

Belsira looked around, but didn't see her friend anywhere -- no use to even call
her name.

But the legion was still fighting and needed her help.  A moment to readjust the
shield.

"Portik... it... hurts...."

"I know, Bel, I know, just hold on for a bit longer.  You're doing fine, Bel,
better than most of the soldiers I've ever seen."  He smiled at her, but that
wasn't enough.  She wanted something from Portik, something important, something
necessary.

"I... I need...."

Portik moved closer.  "What, Bel?  What do you need?"

She closed her eyes, tried to think.  What did she need?  Even her desire for
the pain to end seemed unimportant against this need, but she couldn't express
what it was, even to herself.

"The battle is going well, Bel, just hold on a bit longer, hold your shield,
you've almost done it."

Yes.  The shield.  The battle.  That's why she was here.  Hylian was away as
well, probably fighting her own battles like this.

Poor Hylian, taken from her cabin when she should have been enjoying her later
years of life.  It wasn't fair.  Why did she have to leave home like that?  Why
did Tam have to be so cruel to her, he should have known that she couldn't help
herself, didn't know how to control her talent, didn't even know what it was.

The shield, the control, the flow of energy from aura to grey mass.

Portik, staring at her, worry on his face, but not in his soul.  Where was his soul?

She didn't have anybody else, was all alone.  Where was the reason to fight?
Where was the purpose if she could never go home again?

"Portik?"  He moved closer, blinked, looked at her, but kept an eye on the
battle.  But she didn't care about that anymore.  There was something she
needed, and only Portik could give it to her now.  Why didn't he give it to her?

He stood up for a moment.  She tried to look up at him, but the movement only
made her dizzy and nauseous.  She twisted out of the hold of the person behind
her, heaved her stomache contents onto the dusty, rocky ground, and doubled up
with the pain it caused her.

Strong, steady hands sat her upright again, gentle hands wiped the sick from her
mouth and chin.  She opened her eyes, saw Portik there once again.

"It's over, Bel, the battle is over, you can let it go now.  You did it!"

She wasn't listening to his words, they didn't mean anything anymore, they
weren't what she needed.  She stared at him, tried to concentrate.  She couldn't
speak, but she asked with her eyes, her eyes and her soul.  She asked Portik for
the one thing he could give her that would make her life worth fighting for.

But she was fading, her sight going dark by the moment, the world closing in on
the point in front of her that was Portik's face.  He'd have to answer her now
or never, time was up...

"Bel, no!"

That was it!  Not the words, they were still meaningless.  The aura.  The aura.

In that one moment, Portik let his feeling flow free, his fear, his anxiety, his
anger, his emotions.

If in that one moment, Portik could show that he cared, then she could care
enough to live.

And knowing that -- finally -- she let herself fall into oblivion, into
darkness, knowing that she would come into the light again.

Pilchard123:
Have you got any plans to continue this? I've just hit the end over on giantitp and really want to know what happens!

EDIT: Ah...sorry for the bump? Maybe it'll get others reading it, though.

Navigation

[0] Message Index

[#] Next page

[*] Previous page