Sons of Winter chapter 2: The battle joined
#2 of Sons of Winter(Novel)
Hello there, and welcome back to this novel! "Sons of Winter" is a bit of an experiment on my part. It is what I call a "High creative-freedom novel commission" in which the commissioner allows me a great deal of liberty to detail the plot, as well as employ any number of OCs I deem necessary to help guide the protagonist down his fated path. So, the reason why I liked to call this a personal work is because it definitely feels like one. However, after talking with my beloved patron, he allowed me to credit him in order to give proper recognition to his OC, as well as provide an example into how these sort of novel commissions look like ^^
So, without further ado, let's get readin'!
Sons of Winter chapter 2: The Battle Joined (high creative-freedom novel commission written for Teufel: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/dragonteufel/ )
Description: Aleks' conviction is put to the test when a terrible threat is unleashed upon his village.
Aleks belongs to Teufel: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/dragonteufel/
The other characters featured in this novel are my creation
*
It didn't take long until rivers of villagers began pouring from all the corners of the valley. In the darkness of the night, they looked like a giant centipede, marching steadily towards the uneven groups that started to take form inside the spacious plaza of the market square. Most of the warriors that had gathered were males, though Aleks could see the outline of a female's slender body hiding between burly arms and unsheathed weapons. It was uncommon for the fairer sex to dedicate their lives to the dangerous craft of the hunt. Within the tribes, every female that sported breasts, no matter how small or what species they belonged to, was expected to become a mother sooner or later. Of course, some of the braver lasses refused to settle down for a dreary life and chased danger either as trappers or hunters. In the recent years, most females either foraged for food, built or repaired homes, cooked for their mates, raised their cubs, healed the wounded, or carried their young ones towards the mountains during the dreadful scenario where the battle turned awry.
"Why d'we need to wake up in the middle o'the night to check on some stupid rumors?" A brown coyote voiced out his disappointment to his squad, a three-man army made up of a grand total of two feline bowmen. "Bet nobody's comin'. Grenznem or Kuvir or some of those Nightwatch focks got their asseed rammed at a game o'bones and decided it's a good idea to redden our bottoms too. Pah. It's all sour, drunken revenge played by some inebriated fock that thinks himself worthy of Eternal Dragon's cock in their arms or mouths."
"Don't speak so loud! Someone's watching," one of the felines hissed, pointing in Aleks' direction. The coyote's eyes followed the cue.
"Wha'? Him?" the canine shrugged Aleks off with a rude gesture. "What's he gonna do to us? Tap us with his little hammer? I ain't afraid of his tiny tool. D'you even know why they call 'im the runt?"
As amusing as the conversation started to become, Aleks had no time for jests. He'd seen a reflection of the threat that loomed in Ruthnyr's eyes. The danger was real, whispered across the dark streets of the village like a ghastly breeze. Aleks walked between the formations of warriors that started to swell with the arrival of more hunters, some excited about the possibility of earning themselves a name or carve a trophy from whatever fool decided to provoke the wrath of the IceHowls.
Aleks was not quite so determined. He had no weapons of his own, barely any clothes left on his mangy body, and little courage in the weak, trembling legs that carried him up towards the mountains. Aleks crafted weapons. He made them, not wielded them.
There has to be something I can do.
But what? There was no sense in denying the obvious, for no matter how many times he repeated the mantra in his head, the same unrelenting fear washed his thoughts away. He was no warrior. Why die in a battle where his greatest contribution would be to slow down somebody's sword for a few heartbeats? It was nonsensical. Idiotic.
Made no difference in the grand scheme of things.
Aleks' steps quickened once he left the market row. He followed the trail of chattering cubs that walked beside the stream of females assigned to protect them. The thought of doing something for the cubs gave Aleks the resolve he needed to press on. There, near the mountains, he had a purpose. Aleks turned towards the edge of the valley...
And froze when a growl chilled the blood in his veins. NightWing just landed before the chieftain's hut where Rofak, Ruthnyr, and several other important figures had gathered for an urgent meeting.
"Aleks! My son! C'mere so we can share words about the upcoming battle!" Gorath's voice crackled like thunder, deep and imposing like the wolf himself. He was garbed in full plate, with two double bladed axes strapped onto his back. "Come, come! We were just about to send a scout to fetch you. Dinna think to run away from your first fight, eh?"
There was no way out now, and Aleks gulped down his anxiety, perked his head, shook off the weakness from his limbs, and cloaked himself with the fear of his inevitable journey to the front lines as the others stared him down with fire in their eyes. He couldn't explain cowardice to his father. Hrothvar might understand wisdom, but even the Elder shaman had little sway in matters of war, especially before a battle.
Of all of them, only Ruthnyr kept to himself, almost disinterested in the carefully laid plans. He caressed his serpent over his scaly head, calming the creature with gentle rubs that made the imposing serpent purr like a feline. He proposed a simple strategy that made many brows furrow, aside from his brother Rofak who jumped in support of Ruthnyr's strategy.
"My younger brother has a keener mind for strategy even than you, father. I, too, propose we send our sharpest spears in the sky to deal with whatever monster Javron undoubtedly plans to throw at us."
In Rofak's mind, the battle was already won. Aleks saw it in the cocky way the black wolf rested against his scaly partner's side with a toothy smirk, a sentiment shared by his dragon who lent his agreement with a silent nod of his black, spiky head.
Gorath grabbed onto his graying chin, stroking through the ashen tuft with two fingers. After a brief pause, he addressed his youngest son. "Are you sure of what you saw, Ruthnyr? There can be no room for doubt. If Javron does indeed plan to attack our village, he will do so from the ground. Use the cover of the forest against us."
"I cannot know for sure what manner of beast chased me back home, but I know the enemy is coming for us." Ruthnyr pulled the hood off to reveal his bright cerulean eyes. He had a slender muzzle, relatively short ears, and a wisdom beyond his years slithered along his tongue with every word he spoke. "The sky has already darkened, and the beast concealed itself well in the shadows of the forest. I only know that it was big...larger than any we've lost to the bastard's madness. We know Javron dabbles in dark experiments, but how far he went is only a guess at this point."
In a blur, Gorath grabbed onto the gray wolf's slender arm. "A guess? That all we have?"
If Ruthnyr was uncomfortable, he did not show it.
"You should've used your magic, boy. Isn't that why I lost you to those pale, silk-wearing humans in the first place? To learn their craft? They dress you like them, make you speak like them..." Gorath spat to the side, growling. "The image of my son is almost lost to me, even as I hold onto your stick of an arm." Gorath shoved Ruthnyr back, fixing on his brother.
"And you? It's your fecking son, Hrothvar. Shouldn't ye know his fecking mind as well as ye know yer cock?"
"Soothe your anger, Gorath." The elder Shaman planted his staff into the ground. "We have gathered here this night to show my errant son that we are still united. That our hearts still beat for the same purpose. You are not aiding anyone by disciplining your son in this most improper moment."
Everyone muttered their silent agreement. Then Nervogar, a burly bear, stepped forth. "I am not one who ever understood the ways of the spirits, but I agree with our Shaman. We have no time to quarrel when the enemy is at our gates."
Nervogar, leader of the SteelClaws-close quarter warriors who preferred to wield two weapons in battle--was even more imposing than the two chieftains, a hulking mass of muscles and fur all contained within protective layers of durable steel. The brown bear unsheathed the greatsword he had strapped on his back and slammed it into the ground, driving a dent through the thick stone pavement.
"I surrender my full authority to Ruthnyr, First Scout and wielder of the Six Magics."
"As do I." Rofak clasped his brother's hand. "Just try not to singe my fur with your fancy spells when the battle peaks."
One by one, the others agreed to let Ruthnyr--the one who had spotted the threat in the first place--deal with the situation as he saw fit. Only Aleks remained outside their circle. Miserable and alone, he looked with envy towards the black dragon. NightWing rested his sizable bulk down on the ground, rubbing snouts and exchanging short gestures of affection with the other dragons, wyverns, serpents and great cats who sought to borrow from his courage.
For one eerie moment, Aleks imagined himself in the dragon's scales. He imagined how it felt to be respected. To be seen.To matter to those around him, and even be wanted by a select few, like Ruthnyr's serpent displayed without any sort of shame. The playful creature rubbed around the dragon like an overly lengthy cat, nipping with his fangs, slathering Nightwing's snout with his licks from his slimy forked tongue, even tickling the dragon's feet with his bushy tail. NightWing failed to push the pest back on several occasions, and in a strange act of devotion--or perhaps just sheer playfulness--the serpent restrained the dragon's limbs with his own body to smother the poor black beast into utter, loving submission.
A weak smile crested Aleks' face at the honest display of affection between two beasts that did not often show such an open display of their feelings. In a way, he felt happy to rediscover this side of dragons, but on the other hand, envious that he had no partner of his own. If only he was strong enough to join the ranks of the SnowFangs...maybe his father would smile instead of scowl.
"HRRRRRAAAAWWWRRRRRR!" a disruptive roar split the skies apart like forking lightning.
Aleks' ears went flat against his skull. That horrible screech belonged to no beast he--or everyone else, by the look on their faces-- knew. The others looked up to the skies, but just like Aleks, they spotted nothing but blackness.
"It's here," Gorath said.
A fell voice shouted something unintelligible from above.
Then fire struck from the skies. Like the Eternal Dragon's Wrath made manifest, gusts of blazing flames poured upon the market square where hundreds of shamans hoisted their weapons to the skies to summon their protective runes.
Aleks heard no words. He saw no barrier form to meet the drizzling torrents of flames. All his senses picked up was the dreadful yowl made by hundreds of his own kin bathed in the river of flames that washed over the plaza like two fiery talons.
How could a mage summon such destruction? It was unheard of. Unless...
"GROOOOAARRRR!" the roar split the sky apart again, and this time the SnowFangs answered with their own cries for battle. Those who were able borrowed the wings of their partners to ascend into the darkened skies. Aleks watched his own brothers take to the skies, his heart freezing when two gryphons that ascended moments ago fell in a pile of blood and broken feathers.
"No. Wait!" he screamed in vain as his brothers got swallowed by the darkness of the skies. The conflict that raged up there was bloody, noisy, and frightening, because nobody knew what manner of monster they were dealing with until the creature got fed up with the pests that plucked at its deformed body.
It swooped down towards the village like a storm of pure destruction. Aleks saw horns. Heads. Two of them, with gaping maws and serrated teeth mounted upon the body of a dragon. Four tattered wings kept the creature airborne, and from the way the air crackled, magic too. Aleks knew he was going to meet his end as the creature undoubtedly planned to unleash another wave of devastating flames.
He closed his eyes...
Then opened them back as a flash of bright light slammed into the creature's side, forcing it back into the tumultuous skies with a screech.
Aleks coughed. His chest felt tight. Stars blinked before his eyes, but he was still alive for the moment.
"Strengthen the wards!" Gorath yelled. "Use everything you can."
"Rune wielders, at the ready!" Hrothgar joined in.
The shouts of the shaman conclave wrestled Aleks' attention back to the ground where the shamans worked hard to maintain their protection rituals. The monster swooped in for another flaming bath, yet this time the flames rebounded against an invisible shield, washing over the screeching creature's own scales. Aleks made his way closer to the shamans and watched as the battle approached its conclusion. Not even the mightiest of dragons could stand alone against a flock of enemies, and the IceHowl Clan chipped the creature scale by scale either with steel, claws, or magic, the monster's roars of anguish empowering its attackers.
Victory surely seemed within reach, but euphoria quickly gave way to dread when the ground started to tremble. It was a strange phenomenon, outside the control of the distraught shamans.
"The earth sunders open. Something...something's coming!"
"SHAMANS! We've got enemy summoners!" a voice cried out.
From the mounds of rubble leaped scores of assassins who started to cut their way through the wobbling defenders.
Everything became pure, uncontrollable chaos. Aleks crawled from one group to the next to avoid his impending demise. Arrows flew past his ears. Blades cut through the air so close you could hear them. The enemy shamans turned the tide of the battle by turning the very ground of the village against the united IceHowl Tribes.
Yet their advantage started to dwindle noticeably once the defenders regained their footing. When the earth settled, the hunters mounted a merciless retaliation against their enemies. Shamans empowered their runic stones, showering the assassins with the same rocks they disturbed, felling them like moths lost in a snowstorm.
"Grah, a nasty distraction," a wolf wiped his bloodied blade clean.
Aleks crouched low to listen to the conversation as the hunters picked off the last of the assassins. "Aye, they thought they can take us all, fockin' runts."
"Distraction? From what?" Aleks said out loud by accident.
The stares of the two warriors chilled Aleks almost as much as the enemy's sudden attack. Why did he speak. Why? The hunters walked over to him, more angry than relieved.
"Plan to bash the enemy's skull in with your fist, pup? Where's your weapon?" the black lion who led this ragged band snarled in Aleks' scared face.
"He's a runt himself mate. Don't bother," his wolf partner said.
They turned to leave, but Aleks couldn't allow them to. He grabbed the wolf by the shoulder, earning himself a mighty hit in the gut.
"I'll kiss you with me blade next time, pup." The wolf rubbed his knuckles, then turned to leave.
Aleks coughed, and rasped, but still found the strength to hold onto the hunter's footpaw, who looked incredulously at the wretch below his feet.
"You hit in the head, pup? Want me to--"
"The..." Aleks pointed a shaky finger behind the wolf.
"You want me foot on your face, is it? You some kind of pervert?"
"The forest. Look at the..."
They did. And suddenly, the mood for jokes evaporated from their faces when the trees started bleeding out scores of enemy troops. It wasn't just on the ground. The stars, too, seemed to shift, and, upon closer inspection, Aleks realized it wasn't the stars that fizzled, but the wings of hundreds of fliers that blackened their light.
"The enemy's coming again! Back in formations!" Nervogar thundered out command after command to unite his dispersed hunters in a wall against the tide that advanced towards the village.
The defenders formed a line, with the bears at the front, wolves in the middle, and felines at the back.
"SHIELDWALL!" screamed the bear as the enemy crashed down against the steel wall of the bears, who smashed or cut their way to create openings for the wolves with their heavy weapons. The wolves stuck their spears through narrow holes or cut whatever fool tried to squeeze by with their shortswords.
At the back, the felines unleashed volley after volley of arrows. The shamans muttered blessings, enchanting the weapons of their allies to burn, freeze or melt the target's flesh with acid poison.
But even this organized effort wasn't enough against the sheer number of Javron's forces.
The IceHowl Clan was forced into a crescent formation as Javron's sea of thugs started to gain the upper hand over the battlefield. Up in the sky, Javron's reinforcements helped the two-headed beast regain its dominion over its assailants, and down below, the foot troops pushed forth on account of their nigh endless numbers. The IceHowl shamans grouped up to unleash their final incantations. Blocks of solid stone burst out from the ground. The formations dispersed, hiding behind the stone blocks. Aleks had no idea why, the faint humming building up for a few moments until lines of light webbed along the blocks of stone, glowing brighter as the incantations reached full power. Within moments, those harmless looking stones unleashed potent devastation upon the enemy forces who howled in agony as their legs became wrapped in solid ice or yowled as the armor fused with their combustive flesh.
"Take that ye basterds!" someone yelled. A couple more voices joined in, turning into a storm of cheers as Javron's forces started to retreat.
They've done it. They won...
Aleks came out of hiding, brushing off soot from his fur when he noticed a lone figure walking not backwards, but forward.
He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. The silhouette moved its hands in strange patterns. Signs for an incantation well underway.
"SHAMAN! UP AHEAD!"
Aleks' scream trembled under the groan of the earth that came with the shaman's last words. A huge slab of stone came out of the ground to push the shaman up to the height of a dragon bigger than even NightWing. The bowmen unleashed their arrows in vain, and spells seemed to fuel the curved lines that started to take shape on the body of the stone monolith.
Aleks shouted to his allies to stop, but his voice never carried any weight. He was a barking pup next to a dragon.
Aleks ran. He ran as fast as he could, still shouting, still telling the shamans to stop feeding the stone which already began to sizzle from all the power it had gathered. Aleks hid himself behind the first building he found, then peeked back one last time.
The colored lines slunk towards the center of the monolith. The humming ascended into a sickly groan...
Then a blinding, flaming beam shot forth. The defenders caught in the blast melted instantly, without any sort of scream. They just...vanished like specks of dust in the wind. Villagers scattered all around the molten dent that split the village in two rough halves. And that made them an easy pick for Javron's hunters. They sprang from everywhere, killing, snarling, some even laughing.
Whoever survived had the good sense to run. Aleks fled alongside the survivors. The market was lost. Perhaps the entire village. Nervogar's voice gave his heart no courage. Yes. The bear was alive. But for how much longer?
How much longer would any of them live, at this rate?
Aleks turned away from the warriors. He ran like the coward he was, empowered by his uselessness, justified by his lack of a plan, weapons, or allies to rally.
It made no sense, for a helpless runt to die a warrior's death.
So, he mixed himself with the females that sought refuge at the base of the mountains, and when the battle grew louder, he slunk even deeper, hiding amongst the cubs, a trembling, battered wretch who couldn't stop the tears from rolling down his soot covered muzzle.
"Why don't you fight?" a small fox pulled onto his trembling hand.
"I...I can't...I want to but..."Aleks stammered. "I'm wounded," he said, quickly clutching the ribs cracked by NightWing's tail back in the arena. Back before the attack on the village began.
"They're wounded too." The fox's sweet, innocent voice tore at his weary mind. The little cub pointed towards the heart of the village, where the other males gave their lives so that their young could live. "Please...We don't yet know how to fight. If they win, they come, and if they come here..."
"Shut up." Aleks scowled at the fox, who hugged her tail close to her chest at the sudden, sharp tone of his voice. "Do you know who I am, little one? Hmm? Have any spark of an idea to whom you're speaking to?" Aleks shook his head, a creepy snarl exposing his fangs as he stood up. "I am the Chieftain's blood. Son of Gorath the Unyielding. You cannot..." Aleks looked around, pointing at the sagged looks he got. "None of you can tell me what to do. If I want to stay here, I'll stay here, and if the enemy comes, so be it."
His point made, Aleks huddled back with the cubs and the females, prepared to meet death. They all did.
Only...death did not come in the way the IceHowl Clan had expected. After what seemed hours of agonizing fear, a terrible crash announced the unlikely outcome of the battle. The monster's broken body had collapsed on top of a hundred enemy troops, Aleks idly heard as he made his way through heaps of dirt and piles of corpses scattered around the village.
Javron's army turned tail at the death of their mighty monster, farting and crapping their way back into the forest. He heard that too, but his stern face made it impossible to put on a smile, as what he didn't hear shocked Aleks to the very core of his being. There, in the shattered market, nestled a few dozen wing beats away from the fallen chimaera, stood NightWing, drenched in a puddle of his own blood.
Villagers formed a circle around the fallen dragon, none able to go past Ruthnyr's vicious serpent who circled around the fallen dragon, like a mother protecting her young. The creature snarled at hunters, spat at shamans, and if anyone dared set foot closer than allowed, a blast of magic would send them flying back like peas launched from a slingshot. Though the battle shrunk his heart to the size of a pebble, Aleks still felt a sliver of remorse when he witnessed the serpent's dedication. Lokash cleaned the sickly blood off Nightwing's shivering form all by himself. He would drape his bifurcated tongue over NightWing's snout every time the black dragon winced in pain, as if to encourage him to fight through it.
But the dragon couldn't, for no matter how many times the serpent's tongue slathered his grisly injuries, saliva was incapable to heal severed flesh and limbs. NightWing suffered more than just a few simple scrapes. Deep lacerations painted his side with crimson stripes that still oozed rivers of blood. His lower belly--or at least the part that was visible to the naked eye--was completely devoid of scales. A vertical gash split it open, wider than NightWing's forepaw, making it impossible for his trembling foot to keep his guts where they belonged.
And the few intestines peeking out of their shelter weren't even the worst of NightWing's wounds. Aleks blinked his eyes several times, as if to make sure this was real, and not a macabre conjuration of his terrified mind. He had troubles comprehending where the wing was...for there was no wing. Just a sharp stump of fragmented bones so ugly not even Lokash had the courage to touch them. He went over to the dragon's other side, stepping on the hollow space where the membrane was supposed to be. NightWing's other wing was torn like sails on an old wreck. Somehow, the serpent still thought he could knit everything back together.
But to no avail. After a while, Lokash seemed to realize his powerlessness as he coiled around and rested on top of the dragon's midsection, where most of the scales still remained attached to the skin.
"Shamans..." Rofak said on a low, defeated voice that mirrored the state of his dragon partner. "Move up. Do...try to do what you can for him."
NightWing crimson's eyes looked up at the black wolf, warm, yet drained of their strength, like a helpless pup seeking reassurance from his mother. Wishing--hoping--for a way out of this cycle of pain.
Craving to hear that everything was going to be alright.
Aleks slowly closed his eyes. He whimpered, for he was not capable of shedding any tears in this numb state. The battle took away his courage. Stole his dignity. Froze his emotions in a dark, cold cave.
"Line up!"
The survivors formed two lines on each side of the wide, makeshift gutter created by the destructive blast that stole so many lives. The monolith's howling blast still rang in Aleks' ears, and whenever he closed his eyes, he saw the terror of the wolves that had perished in the blast. He wanted to feel that there was still hope. He was desperate for the sweet comfort of victory.
But how could he feel anything of the sort when everywhere he looked, he saw the corpses of his fallen kin? Not even a quarter of the fighting force had survived. SnowFangs had died by the dozens, their dead partners laying in craters, rubble, sometimes on top of the sturdy homes that managed to endure the fall of maimed dragons, shattered wyverns and broken serpents. The whole village looked like a sliver of nightmare, burned and broken beyond recognition, split in two uneven parts. Perhaps that was what Javron had meant to achieve. Drive a spear through the heart of the Clan. Splinter it from the inside.
Aleks lined up with the other males in wait, to be inspected and sent to the healers according to the gravity of the wounds. Three steps forward for light injuries. Two for heavy. Stand still if you bore crippling wounds
He waited, and waited, then froze when his turn finally came. Gorath looked up to the panther on Aleks' right.
"To the healing tent," he said, then his eyes focused on Aleks.
"You." Gorath measured his son up. "You go back to work."
Aleks broke out of the line. With his head bowed, the wolf crept back to his shop. He still had a home. A little den of misery, where the screams of the dying and the roars of the wounded kept him awake through the whole night. In the center of his mind's eye sat the face of the little red fox who urged him to fight with tears in her eyes. His cowardly reply would repeat in his mind over and over again, until the blackness of exhaustion finally wrapped him with its dark, soothing tendrils.
END OF CHAPTER 2
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