Fifth/Twilight1

by Fifth

I remember…

They came out of the Wyld, out of the East. Fifty barbarians, and their leaders; devil-spawn, half-men with the heads and upper bodies of wolves. We heard about them when they were only a few days away from Tyrric. Captain Krinso took us out; a score of trained soldiers, and the town constably. All told, maybe 60 men, most of them barely half-trained. The Captain said we had to. Tyrric has well over a thousand souls, and we were the only thing preventing those barbarians from killing and pillaging to their heart’s content. The Captain said we would ride out to meet them; Tyrric has no walls, and it would be folly to meet them there, where any that escaped could kill civilians at their leisure.

We met them a day’s ride from Tyrric. I was in charge of a small group, because I had actually used a sword before. We were all nervous; none of us, except the soldiers, had ever even been near a battle. And here we were, about to engage half-wild barbarians who had all killed before…

The Captain met their leader in parley. I didn’t hear anything, but I saw the wolf-man spit on the Captain with contempt, laughing derisively. We got the order to prepare to charge then; I made sure my men were in order, and I watched the Captain for the signal.

They came like a horde out of hell. They moved to within 300 yards of us, paused… and then charged us at a full run. Some were singing war songs; some were just yelling for our blood. I think we would have broken then, but for the Captain. He moved forward a bit, wheeled his horse, and ordered the charge. At first none of us could believe it, but once he spurred his horse at the horde, the rest of us decided we weren’t abandoning him.

It didn’t matter, though. Our charge was effective, but that was about the only thing. Maybe half of us made it through their line. Closer to a third, I think. I had spitted one, but had barely managed to yank my sword out before my horse carried me past. The Captain was one of those who made it through, with blood streaking his sword-arm. He reformed us, but we didn’t have time to do anything but meet their charge.

I had ended up near the Captain. Three of the barbarians came after him. He killed one, but the others pulled him down. I didn’t have time to look after that; one of the wolf-beast was on me. He ducked down, bit through my horse’s leg, and then threw it over. I just barely got out of the saddle in time to avoid being crushed. I staggered to my feet, and then he was on me. I managed to deflect his first few blows, but then he hit my hand and sent my sword flying backward, and then a blow to my chest sent me flying. I landed next to a body; I looked over, and the Captain was staring at me sightlessly, his sword still in his severed hand. A shadow came over me, and I looked up; the wolf-thing grinned at me, and then went for my throat. I had no weapons, nothing to defend myself; I was dead. I closed my eyes and waited.

But I felt something within me. Confidence, power, and… fury. Confidence in myself, in my abilities. Power… I had never felt this strong, this… able. And fury. Fury that these men and things were going to kill people I knew, people I loved. I felt it well up within me, and then I opened my eyes, and met the wolf’s puzzled expression. He was staring at my unmarked throat, where his teeth had just rebounded off my skin. I reached over, and the Captain’s sword was in my hand. I brought it up in a vicious attack; the wolf tried to dodge it, but only partially succeeded; my blow only took off half of his head.

I killed two more that were about to kill one of my men; then we went and killed another, our ranks growing. I don’t know how many I killed that day, but before I realized it, we were standing alone. I saw perhaps a dozen of the barbarians escaping eastward; only one wolf was with them, and from what I could see, it was badly injured. It was then, when I looked among our own ranks to see who had survived, that I noticed their expressions. They ranged from fear, to awe, to a couple who were actually bowing down and praying to me. It was… disconcerting. Then I noticed it; I was glowing. Bright flux, with blues and some reds intertwined, all around me. I recalled knowledge from some of the books my grandfather had had me read… and then I realized it.

I was Anathema.

                                                 * * *

I’ve learned a lot since then. I found some of my grandfather’s books that he hadn’t let me read. It took me a month, but I managed to piece together enough of the truth to be confident that I wasn’t what those books said I was. The author biases were too numerous, too apparent; too many “facts” were based solely on assumptions that were universal through the books, but had no logical standing that I could see. I was no closer to knowing what I was, but I knew what I wasn’t, and I wasn’t the monster those books said I was. I wouldn’t be.

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