Callum

Chaos reigned in the heart of Breccia. 

My force reached the inner bailey and in the shadow of the keep raged an unlikely foe.

A gruffallop kicked, brayed, bucked, and butted with its massive horns. It tossed a storm of dirt into the air making it difficult to see anything beyond the animal. For his part of the plan, Moretti was supposed to have called all four gruffallops back with their dinner bell. There was no sign of the three other beasts, so he must have done his part. So why had this one remained?

The sound it made eerily matched the cry of a newborn baby. If a baby was seven feet tall with the lungs to match. It pierced my ears with a vibrato that rattled my skull. They had never made this noise before.

It wasn’t until the bucking beast turned about that I could see the problem. A spear stuck out from its thigh making it unable to make the powerful leaps needed to get back over the wall.

Who had managed to wound the beast? 

Gruffallops were quick. Their thick layers of fur protected them from predators and made arrows useless. It would take an impressive soldier or an incredibly lucky shot to wound it. 

Moretti would raise shears to me if the animal came to any further harm. It’s kicking about posed a threat to itself and everyone around it. The gruffallop had already done a good amount of damage. Several people lay knocked to the ground, and what might have once been a wooden outbuilding lay toppled. Its walls folded on top of one another like a stack of cards. 

Breccia, as much as it was ours now, could still be hiding danger in the clouds of dust. I ran the scenarios through my head and came to three conclusions. The beast had to be returned to Moretti in good condition, time was still a factor in finding the Earl and Marquis, and the spear was not going to fall out on its own.

“Stay alert,” I ordered and gave command over to Sir Tiber. “Jaspar with me.” 

I dismounted, moving cautiously toward the animal and Jaspar fell into step beside me. Tiber relayed orders in my stead; setting a ring of defense to entrap the animal and protect our backs.

“How we doing this?” Jaspar asked. He stretched his arms out, cracking his knuckles with a pop-pop-pop so loud I could hear it over the animal's wounded cries. 

“I’ll distract it. You grab it by the horns.” 

Jaspar was built like his namesake: tall, thick, and sturdy like a tree trunk. If anyone could take a gruffallop head-on it would be the strength weaver.

“Let’s go.” 

We moved in opposite directions. I banged my shield and sword above my head, whistling, stomping my feet to kick up dust, anything to pull its attention. Jaspar moved on its left getting close as quietly as he could in his armor. I lunged towards the gruffallop in a feint towards its right. It reacted as planned, turning its head to run from me and directly to Jaspar who sprung the last few feet to grab hold of its curling black horns. 

Jaspar and the gruffallop wrestled for control. It swung its big woolly head side-to-side to shake Jaspar off, but he wove his strength to match the creature. His muscles grew larger. Thick blue veins became visible just under his skin. And soft dirt piled up behind his heels as the gruffallop tried to push him back. 

When the gruffallop tried to twist away again, Jaspar used its momentum against it. He pinned the huge beast down so its body flopped onto its side and off its feet. Its wailing got worse. Panicked. 

I darted forward to pull the spear but dodged away at the last second, narrowly avoiding the sharp hooves as it kicked wildly in the air. I stepped back to avoid a kick aimed at my chest and sensed another presence approach behind me. I turned, sword first, to face it.  

Remi blocked my blade with his own hastily pulled from its sheathe.

“Need some help?” he asked unfazed at nearly being skewered. 

“Aye.” 

“If you throw yourself on the beast. I’ll pull it out,” Remi offered. 

“Why do you smell–” 

“Any time now, lads,” Jaspar cut in, struggling to keep the gruffallop on its side. 

“Deal,” I said sheathing my sword and securing my shield on my back.

I moved around to its back giving the creature’s hooves a wide berth. With a nod to Remi who copied the gesture of readiness, I threw myself over the gruffallop’s back and onto its injured leg. Its thick fur smelled foul, a mixture of unwashed beast and heavy musk. Breathing through my mouth did not make it any better. Gripping onto its fur around the wound to better isolate it, I secured myself by wrapping my legs around its thigh. I tried to keep the leg still, but couldn’t help wondering if I looked half as ridiculous as I felt. Sitting like I was trying to ride the wrong end.

With a quick yank, Remi pulled the spear out. The gruffallop bellowed so loud its vibrations rattled through my armor and into my chest. I thought my ears would burst from the racket. With the spear gone a spurt of blood released from the wound soaking the front of my armor. 

At least, I’d left my helmet on.

I would have liked to check the wound, but the gruffallop had no more patience for us. I rolled off the beast, getting to my feet with a helping hand from Remi, and groaned. I had worked so hard to create a plan that would result in little bloodshed, but here I was, once again, covered in gore. 

Jaspar released the gruffallop. It stood, shook itself off, bellowed in annoyance, and loped off with a limp. Hopping up the crumbled tower stones and over the wall. It was Moretti’s problem now. 

“Holwick!” I called out for my shadow knight. 

“Sir,” he answered, stepping out of the dust like he had always been just a few feet away.  

“Give the speech.”  

“Attention, good people of Breccia,” Holwick spoke at a normal volume. Using his ability to weave sound his voice traveled further, crisp and clear as if he was standing next to every person in a half-mile radius and speaking directly to them. “Your fortress has been conquered. Your resistance stands no chance. Drop your weapons and turn over Marquis Breccia. We will meet your peace with our own.” 

The speech ended with three jubilant cheers of hurrah from my knights. The battle was won with great ease and few casualties. 

The dust in the bailey cleared and a few weary-looking people stepped out tentatively, their hands empty. Weavers were still feared in most parts of the country. This show of weaving performed so openly had likely scared the last of the resistance out of the common people. Any lord that ruled this place would take them for their skills and labor. If there was no risk to their life there was no benefit in fighting further.

“Where is your lord?” I shouted. 

Silence met my words. The gruffallop blood dripping down my tabard was not helping my appeal.

A grey-haired woman wearing an apron stepped out from the growing crowd. She pointed a shaking finger at the keep. 

I gave her a nod of thanks and signaled my most trusted knights: Jaspar, Remi, Arne, Octayvo, Janyck, and Holwick. Together we formed a pair of defensive lines behind Jaspar ready to breach the keep. Sir Tiber still commanded the main body of my troops. He would oversee splitting my force into teams to secure the peace of the citizens and search the outbuildings for signs of resistance. 

Jasper pushed against the large wooden door, but it didn’t give under normal pressure. Taking a few steps back Jaspar built up his strength and heaved it all into the door. It gave way with a loud crack and shards of splintering wood.

We moved as one, with weapons ready, entering behind Jaspar in a v-shape. The movements were well-practiced. It kept a pair of eyes on every corner of the room at once. 

Ready to face down – nothing.

The hall appeared empty. It stretched seventy feet long and thirty wide. The buttressed ceiling soared thirty feet over it all and two large fireplaces burned low. It wasn’t dark, but the shadows and light pouring in like puddles from the high windows played a game of contrasts that could trick the eyes. It was quiet, only the soft crackle of burning logs and our footsteps echoing off stone. 

That pit I had been growing in my gut gained weight sinking my hopes further. If Verbodine were to mount a resistance it should be here. Where was he?

Not letting my guard down. I began to cross the room our team separating in two to cover the hall on either side of the long tables.

On the dais behind the lord’s table, a ghostly figure in white sat like a queen on her throne. 

I had dismissed her at first glance as a painted portrait in her utter stillness at our presence. I wasn’t sure she was real or alive until I had nearly reached her and saw the slight rise in her chest that gave away her breathing. Her wide-open gaze never turned to look at me, never flinched. 

Dark hair in thick braids wrapped around her head like a crown spilling over with shining curls. She wore wedding whites and sat with perfect elegant posture, her neck extended and shoulders pulled back in defiance. She was beautiful. Silent. Contemptuous. And an enemy with a dagger held upright on the arm of the chair like a scepter. 

A perfect goddess of war.

For the first time in longer than I could remember, I felt a stirring of emotion like a sudden burst of color and an urge to reach forward and touch her.  

I shook it off as I took the steps up the dais and pointed my blade at her. 

“Drop your weapon and surrender yourself.”