Sand Castle
#2 of War
Sequel to "Swallowing Pride". Hope you like
Sand Castle
The target dummy was made of fabric stuffed with straw and served as her "sparring" partner for her daily routine. Some of the soldiers practiced on slaves or prisoners, but somehow that always struck Payel as sickening. A slave body tied up or a straw body propped up, what was the real difference save what they spilled when you cut them open?
On the field of battle, Payel's long black hair would be worn high in a topknot, but for the simplicity of training, it was left draped down her back. She did wear full armor however, as it was necessary to grow accustomed to the added weight as much as possible. The armor was composed of black polished plate, bound together by leather. She wasn't as intricately armored as other soldiers, the real warriors who crossed swords with the enemy, but her corps was more concerned with mobility and range than anything else. She would use her long bow more often than the katana on her belt. She should probably have been practicing with her bow. But there were times where she needed the blade, so she was always sure to keep her skill up to snuff.
Standing at the proper distance, she assumed her stance and placed her paw on the handle of her blade. Payel envisioned the strawman reaching for his own blade, sizing her up the same as she sized him up, with his cute button eyes and that odd stitched on smile. She wasn't sure why she had bothered giving him such a joyful expression, but she couldn't help but take a moment to giggle. She had built him quite tall, and as much as she hated to admit it, she was quite short. With the reach of her swing, she probably could target the strawman's throat, but that would be a slower swing and leave her off balance. Instead, as she "saw" him lift his sword over his head and attack, she drew her blade and swiped across his belly. The blade was effortless in cutting through the cloth and surrogate skin. Straw guts spilled out of the gash. Before they had even hit the ground, Payel had slipped to the strawman's side and slashed across his nape. The head rolled forward slightly, but held on to the body by the fabric skin at the front of the throat.
Payel smiled as she sheathed her sword, but blushed red under her white fur when she heard a loud applause. She spun around in shock to see a tall, lanky lizard standing a bit away, clawed hands clapping. Payel huffed. "Fuck, Izak, how long have you been there?"
Izak was about 6'2", with a muscled, lean build. He was orange, with a white underbelly, and black stringy markings over the back, shoulders, and top of the face. Payel always imagined him living in a desert area, based on the skin tone, and yet that didn't explain the long fins running down his spine and over his tail. And Izak wasn't ever one to talk, so she never bothered asking what his homelands were like. Wolves were egalitarian by nature, quite accepting of those different than themselves. Though Izak was strange, even to Payel who had known him for nearly a year now, he had worked his way up to a recognizable position in the society.
"How long?" she asked again, this time lacking fluster, replaced by rage.
"A couple of minutes." Izak never wore armor. In battle, he fought bare-chested and unclothed. If he weren't such a competent warrior, most would have excused him as a fool.
"You think you could do that on a moving target?"
"I've done it on a moving target," Payel muttered.
Izak was never without his own weapon of choice, a trident; a weapon just as odd as the warrior himself. He used it as a walking stick sometimes, and for fishing others. At this moment though it was held behind his back, as if ready to swing. Payel stared at him. "First to three kills?" he asked.
Payel smiled. "Take it easy on me." She pulled her katana out, as Izak spun the trident over his head, as if for no other reason than to show off. Payel was more prudent than to make such assumptions. He stopped spinning suddenly, twisting the trident under his arm, then spinning in the opposing direction. The sharp blades of the trident cut parallel to the ground.
Payel parried the swing and tried to step forward, but though Izak was slower, his long legs let him back away a great distance. Pulling the trident back, he thrust forward. The three little spears didn't penetrate her chest armor, but she was pushed back. Izak pressed the attack, and stabbed his trident into the ground. He used the shaft to vault forward, rear claws pounding into Payel's chest and again forcing her back. He landed and pulled the trident out of the ground. Twisting it and putting the barbs forward, he thrust. Payel ducked under, which she was able to do given her smaller size, and swung. The curved blade of the katana stopped at the contact with the lizard's skin.
"That's one," she smiled, pulling the blade away.
Izak was just about to say he had let her win, and argue that her precious sword couldn't cut deep enough for an instant kill, thus giving him the chance to back away and run her through with the barbs, but the ground suddenly shook.
"Earthquake?" Izak asked.
"No," Pad said, sheathing her blade. "Attack."
The settlement was deep in Lion Territory, one of many attempts by the wolves to break into the lands. Thirty foot tall wood walls surrounded the sixty square foot area, larger than had ever been erected. The wolves had hoped this would deter the lions, but as Payel climbed up the inside wall to the archer's perch, she confirmed that that hope was naught. A large squad of lions were marching towards them, stomping and roaring, getting their blood up for the fight. They smacked hide shields with the flat of their spears, making an awful clatter that shook the very ground.
Payel took up her yumi and quiver, setting the latter at her belt and selecting an arrow. Other archers did the same, and the warriors with the crossbows set up and readied for the lions to draw closer into range. She pulled the wire back, sharp eyes watching the lions. The closer they drew, the faster their steps. Payel looked to the head archer, standing on the edge of the wall. When he dropped his sword, the archers would fire in one massive wave. Again, something psychological. Everything seemed to be to scare the other: the size of the base, the smacking of spears on lion shields, this. Payel silently wondered if it really did anything. She looked to the leader, who stood like a statue, watching and waiting. The stomping and war cries grew louder. The muscles in Payel's arms grew tense.
The sword dropped to a forward position. Payel took a moment to take proper aim, though for the first shot aim was minimal, and release the wire. The arrow joined with the others in their slight arc before raining down on the lions. Several were cut down easy enough, but many, too many, kept running.
Bouncing from pounce to pounce now in an erratic pattern, the lions kept charging. They came in at least fifty strong, more than the wolves could handle if they managed to breach the wall. With the first volley of arrows, the archers were now free to unload without waiting for the captain's order. Even this was a problem though. Instead of a solid wave, the arrows merely peppered the lions, who were mostly agile enough to dodge the individual bolts, or cut them out of the air.
Then came the spears. When in range, the lions ran a straight path, and threw their spears in high arcs. The sharp blades of the spears drove into the wood walls, so deep they erected forward into the air. The lions continued running, dodging arrows, until reaching the walls, they grabbed the shafts sticking outward and started to climb.
Payel set her bow down and pulled her quiver off. She drew her katana, just as a lioness reached the top of the wall and pulled the hand axe off of her back. Payel lifted her blade as the axe swung, parrying, though a vibration went up her arm. The lions were strong creatures, and their weapons were solid. She took a step back, parrying again. At the third swing, which went a bit high, she ducked and slashed the lioness' across the belly. The lioness backed away, growling and snarling. On the wall, another lioness climbed up and perched, pulling her axe from behind her.
Payel cringed and leapt off the archer's perch, diving into the settlement area. The wolves weren't manned for this attack. They assumed the lions would at most raid every few nights. The wolves had built the base so unnecessarily large and grand hoping to intimidate the lions to stay away. The reverse seemed to have happened. Now they were just pissed.
Turning back, she watched the lions continue to pour over the walls and slaughter those wolves foolish enough to have stayed and try to fight them off.
Payel turned back in time to see one of the lionesses giving chase. The lioness pulled a small club off of her back and threw it. Payel barely had time to draw her blade and slice the club to two pieces. In that time, the lioness had gained four more steps, holding her shield in front and the axe in the air. Just like the strawman, Payel swung low and horizontal. The sharpness of the blade cut through the hide shield and the soft flesh of the lioness' stomach. Side stepping and spinning, she swung, and the blade cut through the lioness' neck. The blade didn't stop this time and leave a flap of skin on the front of the throat. Instead, the body fell, and the head rolled away.
Something heavy hit her across the back. Payel howled in sharp pain, stumbling to the ground. Twisting, she landed on her back and lifted her katana to parry another swing from a lioness' axe. She wasn't strong enough though and the axe made contact with her shoulder. Fiery pain ran through her. The plate kept the sharpness at bay, but the transition of force cracked her shoulder painfully. Again, she howled, that fire ripping through her. When the lioness lifted her axe, Payel didn't have the strength to move.
Three barbed prongs burst out the front of the lioness' belly. Hot blood pushed out of the open wound and splashed across the white wolf's facial fur. Behind the lioness, Izak, holding his trident impaled through the female, twisted and dragged the lioness to the ground. As Payel rolled to her feet, the lizard placed a foot on the lioness' back. He yanked the trident out, earning a loud scream before she lay still and flat. No words from Izak. No shouts of victory, no silent prayer for the fallen. That was Izak for you.
The wolves had hoped the lions wouldn't be this brazen and call their bluff. They had been so wrong. Payel rolled to her feet and moved behind Izak, pressing her back to his. He was so much taller than her, she hoped no swings would go clear over her ears and cut into his shoulders and neck. "We could flee," he said. "Or surrender."
She watched several lionesses move to surround them, brandishing their spears or war clubs or axes. "Don't want to be a slave," she said. "Izak, it's been fun."
And the lions were upon them...