The Messenger, part 4
By barrage five, I was back at ranks, trying desperately to catch my breath. Being long distance runner doesn’t mean I can sprint well, I liked using tactics, calculating every breath, every heartbeat. Sprinting was more primal, more chaotic that I am comfortable with. I turned around and saw the wall of flame that had escaped from - whole field of fire, and, it seemed, it was right where we wanted it, as I heard a human scream following an inhuman screech. For a moment we all felt elated, we could all feel excitement filling our bodies. We seemed to have made a victory, we seemed to have beaten the enemy at least once.
And beating it once, meant we could beat it again.
But then, from the flames emerged a six legged shadow, then another, then another, then another, then another... and the excitement quickly changed place with panic.
The six legged shadows were moving quickly through the grass, their hisses audible even over the roar of the fires. The initial shock had passed, and the archers resumed their rhythmic barrages towards the targets, this time their arrows unlit, for they could set the grass we were stepping on fire. This also meant that they had no idea whether they were actually hitting their target. Some screeching could be heard, and some shadows stopped moving, but soon the terrible monsters were in reach of our swords.
Tatiana, our leader, was shouting for the archers to light their chem torches, and I was silently cursing our inability to think of that earlier. Now the darkness was no longer our friend, now it was us who couldn’t see, and the spiders could just use their instincts.
I saw a shifting of the grass, and soon my vision darkened before me, as the spider was blocking the fires, somehow managing to rise on its hind legs, and I could see his front mandibles, getting ready to lunge at me. So I let out a shout and stabbed the bastard, getting great satisfaction from the sloshing sound, and the coldness of it’s green blood. The monstrosity let out a deafening screech, one that would be a cause for my nightmares since.
But not then. Then, nothing could intimidate me any longer. Carried by the excitement of my first ever battle, I just let my training run it’s course, automating my moves, bashing with shield, stabbing abdomens, slashing at legs, hissing back at the enemy… I completely separated myself from any other thing in the world, it was only me, my sword, and the connection it shared with the black horrors. I felt invincible.
Until while straddling on one spider and stabbing it in the neck, I noticed one of ours fall, the arachnid feasting on his body. It was Lucas. I barely knew the guy, he was usually sitting quietly in the bar and drinking his beer. Now he was screaming from the top of his lungs, lover part of the body almost ingested by the enemy. Soon he stopped, face frozen in expression of agony.
It was at that moment that I realised that the spiders were simply too much, and we were losing. Tatiana was calling for retreat, and I jumped from my prey and into position with the other swordsmen, the ones left, to make a shield wall so the archers could prepare our escape.
Our escape plan was simple - it consisted of an explosion large enough to set the whole field on fire. We would hold our shields, hope that it would be enough to save us from the blast, then we would turn around and hopefully escape, while the spiders would hopefully just be scared and confused.
In one word, a whole lot of hope was involved, but we had no options left. There were currently three spiders left, but more were coming from the direction of the river. That fire didn’t seem to hold them off much.
They were battering mercilessly on our shields, while we were grunting encouragements aimed at each other to hold on. I saw Tatiana rising from behind our ranks, swords in both hands, and she started slashing mercilessly, killing all three in a flurry of motion, yelling back at the archers to quicken their pace, for more enemies were coming.
And the second wave was greater than the first. Tatiana screamed at them, ready to take on them all. She was a sight to behold, her silhouette standing in defying stance towards the sea of limbs and fire. The archers yelled their readiness, and she simply yelled back:
“Retreat!”
And we turned unanimously, and run as fast as we could. I could hear Tatiana’s battle scream, and then a deafening explosion, and then nothing but ringing in my ears for as long as I ran towards the city gate.
When we reached safety, everything looked surreal, out of place. Confused, I just stared at the faces around, some inquiring, others cheering. I was simply in shock, and as soon as I reached the first available hammock, I fell unconscious.
When I woke up, the atmosphere in the camp was very somber. Out of forty people, nineteen had lost their life last night. Tatiana was among those that didn’t return.
And that wasn’t the only bad news. In the morning, the fires had stopped, the field was scorched, and at the river, more spiders continued their work, new insectomancers at their side.
It was simple mathematics. They were numerous, expendable. Kill one, next day ten will come to replace it. We were fewer, and if you kill one of us, it will take years for a proper replacement, and even then it will not be the same, the loss is permanent.
Loss is a natural feeling, always irrational. It gives way to fear of death, it kills the blessed rationalism. But mathematics are surely rational. And our losses, both then and the ones yet to come, came from mathematics. And the fear too, for what is to come, the total defeat, came directly from the cold rationale of mathematics.
Doesn’t that make the fear itself rational?
And beating it once, meant we could beat it again.
But then, from the flames emerged a six legged shadow, then another, then another, then another, then another... and the excitement quickly changed place with panic.
The six legged shadows were moving quickly through the grass, their hisses audible even over the roar of the fires. The initial shock had passed, and the archers resumed their rhythmic barrages towards the targets, this time their arrows unlit, for they could set the grass we were stepping on fire. This also meant that they had no idea whether they were actually hitting their target. Some screeching could be heard, and some shadows stopped moving, but soon the terrible monsters were in reach of our swords.
Tatiana, our leader, was shouting for the archers to light their chem torches, and I was silently cursing our inability to think of that earlier. Now the darkness was no longer our friend, now it was us who couldn’t see, and the spiders could just use their instincts.
I saw a shifting of the grass, and soon my vision darkened before me, as the spider was blocking the fires, somehow managing to rise on its hind legs, and I could see his front mandibles, getting ready to lunge at me. So I let out a shout and stabbed the bastard, getting great satisfaction from the sloshing sound, and the coldness of it’s green blood. The monstrosity let out a deafening screech, one that would be a cause for my nightmares since.
But not then. Then, nothing could intimidate me any longer. Carried by the excitement of my first ever battle, I just let my training run it’s course, automating my moves, bashing with shield, stabbing abdomens, slashing at legs, hissing back at the enemy… I completely separated myself from any other thing in the world, it was only me, my sword, and the connection it shared with the black horrors. I felt invincible.
Until while straddling on one spider and stabbing it in the neck, I noticed one of ours fall, the arachnid feasting on his body. It was Lucas. I barely knew the guy, he was usually sitting quietly in the bar and drinking his beer. Now he was screaming from the top of his lungs, lover part of the body almost ingested by the enemy. Soon he stopped, face frozen in expression of agony.
It was at that moment that I realised that the spiders were simply too much, and we were losing. Tatiana was calling for retreat, and I jumped from my prey and into position with the other swordsmen, the ones left, to make a shield wall so the archers could prepare our escape.
Our escape plan was simple - it consisted of an explosion large enough to set the whole field on fire. We would hold our shields, hope that it would be enough to save us from the blast, then we would turn around and hopefully escape, while the spiders would hopefully just be scared and confused.
In one word, a whole lot of hope was involved, but we had no options left. There were currently three spiders left, but more were coming from the direction of the river. That fire didn’t seem to hold them off much.
They were battering mercilessly on our shields, while we were grunting encouragements aimed at each other to hold on. I saw Tatiana rising from behind our ranks, swords in both hands, and she started slashing mercilessly, killing all three in a flurry of motion, yelling back at the archers to quicken their pace, for more enemies were coming.
And the second wave was greater than the first. Tatiana screamed at them, ready to take on them all. She was a sight to behold, her silhouette standing in defying stance towards the sea of limbs and fire. The archers yelled their readiness, and she simply yelled back:
“Retreat!”
And we turned unanimously, and run as fast as we could. I could hear Tatiana’s battle scream, and then a deafening explosion, and then nothing but ringing in my ears for as long as I ran towards the city gate.
When we reached safety, everything looked surreal, out of place. Confused, I just stared at the faces around, some inquiring, others cheering. I was simply in shock, and as soon as I reached the first available hammock, I fell unconscious.
When I woke up, the atmosphere in the camp was very somber. Out of forty people, nineteen had lost their life last night. Tatiana was among those that didn’t return.
And that wasn’t the only bad news. In the morning, the fires had stopped, the field was scorched, and at the river, more spiders continued their work, new insectomancers at their side.
It was simple mathematics. They were numerous, expendable. Kill one, next day ten will come to replace it. We were fewer, and if you kill one of us, it will take years for a proper replacement, and even then it will not be the same, the loss is permanent.
Loss is a natural feeling, always irrational. It gives way to fear of death, it kills the blessed rationalism. But mathematics are surely rational. And our losses, both then and the ones yet to come, came from mathematics. And the fear too, for what is to come, the total defeat, came directly from the cold rationale of mathematics.
Doesn’t that make the fear itself rational?
| < Part 3 |
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