Chapter Twenty Seven
She woke late, the morning sun already shone bright through her window. As she moved she felt dried blood cracking on her skin and her hair hung tangled in her face.
‘You are fucking insane,’ she’d yelled at him.
Well what did that make her? Bathed in soft morning light the experience of the night before--filled with blood, sex, and monsters--seemed like a dark dream. But vivid, as if she’d found someone else’s memory in her head. She pulled herself out of bed and stripped off the tunic and pants and ran water into her bath. She stepped in and breathed in the steam as she washed away the evidence of the night before. The water around her tinged reddish brown as she stared into it and let the emotions wash through her.
She’d felt sure of who she was before this. She’d felt balanced, grounded, aligned. But had she really been? The appearance of the woman at the dark pool and her resentment spoke otherwise. Had she let the fear she felt from others create fear in herself?
Yes, she had. She let out a breath. If she hadn’t been connected to that legend of the Puppet Master then the elation she felt in battle would not be remarkable. Kenny’s behavior was often viewed as brutal, but not strange. Though if, like her, his abilities were fully known that would change. People would suddenly worry that he’d lose control and prey indiscriminately, become the dark stuff of nightmares and legends.
She held her breath and sank beneath the water. She ran her fingers through her hair, removing the tangles, then broke the surface and let the warm water run down her back.
Then again the power and brutality she had found in herself wasn’t all that comforting, everyone else’s possible reactions aside. When she was with Kenny she felt like she was dancing on the knife’s edge of sanity, occasionally dipping her toe into the other side.
She stepped back out and dried her hair before flipping her head upside down and braiding it up the back of her head and knotting it on top. The braid helped to keep it in place and secure. She’d had her hair pulled in a fight before and didn’t feel like repeating the experience.
She stripped her bed and threw clean bedding on it. She didn’t want to come back to sheets smeared with dirt and worse after what she suspected would be a long day.
She put on a simple outfit of black tunic and leggings, clothes that wouldn’t catch or restrict movement, before throwing on her captain’s jacket and soft boots. On her hips hung her sheath with her axes. She took a deep breath and then stepped out to prepare for what was coming.
She found her barrack members waiting for her in the common area. They’d turned out early, even Arreal. They all turned to see her fully prepared for a fight and their faces turned serious. She addressed them.
“I expect we’ll see the enemy troops arrive at our doorstep today. I know we are protected by the walls of our perimeter but I would be surprised if they’d come all this way without a plan for overcoming them. Stay prepared and alert. Captain Mazaran will call for us when they show.”
Then she stepped away to brew some strong tea. With confrontation imminent her body felt wired and alert but she knew from experience that it took energy to maintain that. She’d be better off relaxing, even napping, though she didn’t hold out much hope for that. Instead she curled up with her tea in a chair and let her barrack see that she was unworried about the force approaching. She knew they would be even more high strung than she was.
There was very little to do to prepare. Some of the members cleaned and checked over their weapons, others opted to meditate or run through some practice swings outside. Arreal and Sabir came and sat with her, running through different scenarios for a while until they lapsed into silence, waiting.
The voice over the announcement system sounded out around midday. Reports were that the enemy was approaching in full force and that none had been seen splitting off. Captains were to leave two soldiers, one a ranked member, to guard their perimeter and report with the rest of their barracks to the main gate.
Dahlia arose and issued instructions. “Genji, you and Rezzi are on the perimeter. If anything approaches obscure with a cover and alert us with fireworks overhead. Do not attempt to engage. Projectiles only until reinforcements arrive. Even if you only see one or two soldiers there’s a good chance they will be attempting to draw you out. Everyone else fall in and follow me.”
They moved out into the yard and Sabir and Arreal fell in behind her with Fidelity leading the rest of her barrack behind them. They moved swiftly towards the gate, arms at ready, tension mounting in the air and a deadly silence settling over the area.
They mounted the steps to the top of the wall above the gate and took their place between Ravin and Borreal’s barracks, facing the center where Mazaran stood with his elite team. She caught sight of Ravin, also dressed in all black save for his captain’s jacket. His sword, sheathed, hung at his side. The black chain that matched hers was attached, clanking against it. Alone at the head of his barrack he made an imposing figure. Fierce and savage, she saw echos of the dragon around him.
Borreal’s slight form appeared relaxed ahead of his men. He spoke softly to Traedon whose cardinal-red hair was bound up into a mane that spilled down like fire in the sun. The tattoos adorning his neck, face, arms, and hands gave him an exotic look next to his conservative and graceful captain. His spine was straight and erect and the sword strapped smartly to his hip marked him as the skilled warrior he was. He turned slightly, caught her eye and winked. Her lips curled as she suppressed a smile and turned to watch as the dust from the enemy’s movement towards the gate became visible.
The trees made it hard to tell their numbers until they reached the clearing that stretched a few hundred yards before the gate. It had been carefully cultivated to give a home field advantage to her force who knew the area backwards and forwards. Anyone approaching the gate would be trapped in an open field that allowed a clear shot down onto them from the high wall above. Meanwhile part of her force could slip through the cover of the trees to surround and pick off enemy soldiers who were less familiar with the area.
As they marched into the field below she sized up their numbers. No question they outnumbered the soldiers on the wall significantly but her trained eyes caught how unfamiliarly many of them held their weapons. They were not all trained fighters, though numbers could overpower skill no matter how superior.
The men came to a halt as one of the commanders on horseback signaled, though not as cleanly as a well trained army would have. Dahlia saw a few trip over each other. Another man on horseback approached the gate and the ranged weapons on the wall targeted him.
He opened his mouth and a loud voice rang out, “I am Master Zarek, the voice of the Emperor appointed to open negotiations with whoever here has the authority to speak for your so-called God-King Sayerun. Let him present himself.”
Captain Mazaran moved forward, five other members of the council behind him. “I am Captain Mazaran, commander of the God-King’s forces and I have the authority to speak with his voice. Why have you brought armed men to our gates?”
Zarek bellowed out, “We seek retribution on one you are housing. A dark legend reborn into a woman’s body. As in days of old, our people have been vanishing without a trace and those that return do so with broken minds. Just last night our troops were attacked in your woods by shadows and darkness. We have found signs that the Puppet Master has returned and that you have given the fiend sanctuary.”
Dahlia’s heart froze, her breath caught in her chest. She knew she’d been a target for an attack but this man was saying she was the sole reason for the treason and the intrusions into the force.
Mazaran spoke, “I hear you speak of legends and tales. We know nothing of those here. We have soldiers of flesh and blood. None of which you have any claim over.”
“This darkness incarnate you know by the name of Dahlia DeMorra. Turn her over to us and we shall leave these gates and your walls intact. Otherwise we shall tear them down and burn your bodies in our gods-blessed mission to destroy that creature.”
Dahlia heard Traedon swear as her name was spoken and saw Borreal grab his arm and motion firmly for him to remain where he was. Then Borreal moved to her.
“Come with me, Mazaran will need you.”
Dahlia regained her composure and nodded before turning to Sabir. “Lieutenant Sabir, you are in command until I return.”
Hearing his name, Sabir nodded his head in a quick jerk. His expression remained frozen.
Dahlia followed Borreal further up the wall as Mazaran’s voice rang out. “You have made grave accusations against a captain sanctioned by the God-King and his council. I will take council to carefully consider our response.”
Zarek nodded and folded his arms across his chest and waited. As Dahlia and Borreal approached, Mazaran was deep in conversation with the council. They stood firm until he moved to join them.
“Captain DeMorra, I will not ask if there is any truth in his accusations for I know there is none. I need you to understand the position he has placed us in before I make a request of you.” Mazaran held her gaze with steady, unreadable eyes.
“He has announced a title that, until now, has been kept quiet and asked for you to be sacrificed in order to prevent conflict. That is not an option for us. We will never hand over one of our own to a howling mob. To do so would show weakness and be grave treason. So I have been authorized to diplomatically tell him to go to hell. But there may be repercussions. They have made it clear that they will fight and it seems inevitable men on both sides will die. I would broke no one to openly place the blame at your feet and yet this man, Zarek, has sowed the seeds of fear within their hearts that may blossom into resentment and anger. The council has given another option, one that I will gladly accept your refusal on and will defend you to my last breath for I believe this is a ploy to mask their true motives.”
Dahlia held her breath, waiting for his words.
“Would you face their champion in trial by combat to destroy these accusations and let the gods judge your accusers? I know what I ask is unfair.”
She felt Borreal stiffen beside her but she responded before he could.
“It is my honor to serve as a captain of this force. I swore to protect the soldiers under me and those I fight alongside. I would face a trial by combat in hopes that the gods will judge my innocence and no other blood will be spilled. As one of the twenty-one captains of the God-King’s force I fear no man.”
Mazaran nodded slowly, “You show honor and bravery beyond what is expected of you.”
“I offer only what any other soldier of this force would in my place.”
“Very well, I will issue the challenge.” Mazaran strode away.
Borreal gripped her arm and whispered in her ear, “It is a risky and unexpected move on his part. Given that your attackers were specifically informed you were to be left alive I doubt they ever meant to kill you. That will hamper them if they accept the trial by combat. If they do not then they will reveal their lies.”
Dahlia nodded but truly it didn’t matter. She was ready to face someone in open combat. The memory of the exhilaration from the night before welled up in her mind. That would just be a prelude to this. She was ready to face someone who would offer her a real fight. Her body was taunt as a bow string and her hands ached to grip her axes. They could bring everything they had to throw at her, she was ready to take them down or die. She felt the anticipation rising in her as Mazaran’s voice rang out.
“Zarek! You have offered accusations and made a demand for one of our respected captains, one who has been offered the God-King’s own blessing. All I hear from you are half-truths. I offer my own accusations, I believe you want this woman for your own gain.”
“You question my honor and the truth of my words?” The man on the field uncrossed his arms and leaned on his horse towards the gate. His voice rose as he punctured every question. “When you harbor a monster? You would rather die than see her face justice?” The men behind him yelled and called out.
Mazaran raised his palm, “If it is justice you seek than I offer you trial by combat. Captain DeMorra will face one of her accusers and let the gods themselves pass judgement.”
Silence followed as his voice faded and the shouts fell to a hush.
Zarek frowned, “Trial by combat is not fit to be fought between a man and a monster.”
Mazaran looked down his nose at the man below, “You ask for justice yet would refuse the justice of the gods?”
Zarek smiled, “I am confident the gods will intervene in our favor. Very well! The Puppet Master will face our champion here and now.”
With that he wheeled his horse around and cantered back to the other commanders.
Dahlia unsheathed her axes and the chains wrapped up her arms. She descended down the stairs towards the gate, Borreal behind her. Mazaran issued commands that were relayed to the barracks and the force began to take position as the gates slowly opened.