The Kiss: An Anthology About Love and Other Close Encounters(107)

‘The army is half a mile west. They have twice our numbers, but no coordinated battle plan. We should be able to finish this one and be home before sunset.’

‘Lord, I hope that’s true. These attacks are getting more and more frequent. And none of the damn captives can tell us what they want. Their only motive seems to be just plain destruction. I hate it. An enemy with no desires makes negotiations impossible.’

The noise started off as a low murmur in the air, but over the next few moments, it grew to a loud cheering as of many men crying out for blood. C?ran held his sword in one hand, his shield in the other, and he turned to face the oncoming animals.

The ravine was narrow, defensible, but not without its flaws. The enemy didn’t seem to ever show intelligence, but he looked up to the hills on either side of him, and worried what would happen if the monsters took a moment to think. He would be surrounded and forced into a pit to be picked off one by one. Luckily for them, the things didn’t think; or couldn’t do much besides charge.

He saw them in the distance, a rabble of assorted vermin; vaguely human shaped, but with odd features, horns or tails or sharp fangs, that made them more animal than anything he could call a man. They ran with a selfish desire to rip flesh and stamp it to the ground. They didn’t even eat the dead. C?ran wasn’t even sure what they did eat.

Any second they would be upon him, and he would protect the small community. With his life if need be.

Just a few yards away, now. He saw the chipped teeth of the snarling beasts, the red veins pumping through their eyes, the mud beneath their claws. And he swung with his sword, drawing first blood.





*


C?ran performed the final coup de grace on the last remaining … thing. He slid his sword out from the body, and it scraped along the animal’s broken bones. C?ran looked around the small battlefield and sighed, ‘We can’t live like this,’ he said to Atharron, ‘Too many dead. Too many have lost families and friends. And too many have had their lives ruined. If I knew they wouldn’t follow us, I’d suggest going somewhere else. Starting afresh.’

Atharron nodded, ‘Emigrating may still be the best thing to do, regardless.’

C?ran tore a small rag from one of the creatures and wiped the blood from his sword; ‘Gather the dead!’ he ordered, ‘Everyone is on grave digging duty and we will build a monument for the battle here. Burn the enemy and salt the ground. Curse their souls.’ He sheathed his sword and walked farther into the gorge, ‘If they even have them.’

He and Atharron followed the valley until it became too narrow for them both to comfortably walk side by side. Half a mile later, the ravine widened into a large round bowl with a small lake in the centre surrounded by a few rudimentary huts and one large stone building; each one blackened and falling down as bodies lay around the bowl; young and old alike.

C?ran surveyed the scene, and dropped to his knees. He absently felt a tear fall down his cheek, stopping as it reached his beard.

Atharron walked into the carnage, ‘It was a diversion,’ he said as he hung his head, ‘They are getting clever.’

C?ran heard the falling of wood as it tumbled from the wall of a hut. A young girl staggered from the opening. She couldn’t have been more than seventeen or eighteen. It was strange how he didn’t recognise her. He knew everyone from the village.

The girl stumbled over to C?ran, limping with a leg that could not hold her weight. She fell into C?ran’s arms and looked up at him, ‘I did what I could,’ she said. Her voice was strong, but still showed a little grief that she held back; ‘Your sister, she was magnificent. She ordered all the women to gather the children into the huts and to form a circle around them. I used whatever power I could and we eventually defeated them, but only a few survived. They retreated into the caves.’

‘Atharron,’ C?ran said, looking in his lieutenant’s direction, ‘Get some of the men out here to carry the dead to the grave. I need to see to my people.’ He turned back to the girl, ‘Lead the way … sorry, what was your name?’

‘Galvahha.’

C?ran held Galvahha on her feet as she led him up the hill to a cave in the side of the bowl. They had hidden deep within so as not to be seen by any enemy. A clever tactic, but it made finding them difficult. He shouted out for them and eventually a few of the adults appeared, ‘Damariya!’ he shouted.

‘This way!’ said a voice in the darkness. He followed the sound until he found a small boy holding a torch. The light drowned everything in a pale orange hue; in the light, he saw the body of his sister lying against the wall of the cave, her middle covered in dark, red blood.

‘Damariya!’ he said, running towards her, leaving Galvahha to be tended by another girl. He dropped down to his knees and held his sister’s hand, but she didn’t move; ‘Mari, please. I’m here. We’re safe.’

‘I’m sorry,’ the boy said, ‘she died shortly after getting here. Not even Galvahha could save her.’

C?ran looked behind him at the girl, ‘Why? Who is she?’

‘She’s Afirian.’

‘She’s what?’ He dropped Damariya’s hand and walked over to Galvahha, ‘You have the power to heal,’ he said to her, pointing in his sister’s direction, ‘Use it.’