| The Cleansers had risen well before the lazy, weak sun to begin preparing for the arduous fight that day. They had come to the Lariian Fields - a collection of villages - to rescue a Mage. There was no way to be certain in which village the careless Mage, Felanya, was being held, so all would have to be searched; they all would end up destroyed. Seer stood beside the cart she shared with Kelnai, needlessly smoothing her robes. Most would have taken this as a sign of nervousness, but they would have been wrong. It was not out of fear or apprehension that the Mage toyed with her clothing, only boredom. The Trackers - Dharin, Jenya, Tearahn, Lalreth and Sha'en - were cleaning and assorting their weapons. Tearahn twirled his lance, going through the ready positions without caring about the absurdity of the gesture. After years of fighting alongside these four, it still brought a smile to Jenya's face to watch his fellow Trackers preparing for a fight; he especially had to admire the way those two women handled their massive weapons. Sha'en was checking her hooked arrows, and polishing the blades that jutted from the sides of her greatbow. Lalreth had already polished her Faran'shar - a combination of a spear and staff - and was practicing killing strokes, though, with the multitude of blades and spikes protruding from the sides of the Faran'shar, it seemed every pass of the weapon was deadly. The Faran'shar Lalreth used took most Trackers decades to completely master. It had taken her only two years, with Dharin's help. She was the best with a Faran'shar, which was why she was under Dharin's command. Dharin was the most capable of all the Trackers, called the Then’kael; Jenya was a very close second. Lalreth and Sha'en were at the top of their fields, and soon would be at the top of others as well. Corridan, a tall Mage with Onyx hair, was a rarity in that, as a male, he almost matched Seer in strength. Kelnai was the weakest of the Magi in this group of Cleansers, which bothered her to no end. She was two years older than Seer, and not nearly as weak as other Magi made her out to be. As she saw it, she was underestimated and under appreciated. Yet her dreams - the images she never spoke of - always implied that patience was a necessity. A mass of golden light would speak to her, and promise that it was only a matter of time before this world changed. Jenya saw their enemies gathering on the other side of the small valley. "It's time to get this over with," he said softly. "Let's rescue this idiot and get out of here," he gave his simple sword a few practice swings. It was one of few weapons in the entire Tracker arsenal that wasn't covered with hooks to catch flesh as it was pulled from a writhing combatant. Hooks weren't necessary, as Jenya saw it, since the 5 foot blade was coated in a fierce contagion that would rot his victims from the inside. The battle plans were almost always the same: The Trackers marched with their weapons at the ready straight into the middle of the gathering of their enemies as Seer, with her Jihann clutched to her chest, would start the first wave of destruction. The Rite she used to clear the way for the Trackers might change, but the screams and the carnage were always the same. Corridan and Kelnai were charged with keeping the Trackers safe, however they chose to accomplish it was their business. Kelnai most often charged the air around each Tracker - not an easy task - and made it plasma hot. The result was an insurmountable barrier of heat that made blades, arrows, and flesh alike all flash and crackle as if they were moths drawn to a hearth. Corridan's low, ominous chants were far crueler. He solidified the energy around a Tracker in thin strips, and set them in motion. Anything that passed within three feet of a Tracker shielded by Corridan was shredded by Cair’leih razor wire. While Kelnai's shields mercifully cauterized any wounds inflicted on a living being, the shields Corridan preferred would let anything stupid enough to face a Tracker empty their veins onto the unforgiving earth. They stood, side by side, looking at the thirty or so yards that separated their convoy from the collection of dilapidated buildings that constituted the villages of the Lariian Fields. The five Trackers marched forward, and Corridan and Kelnai began their Rites. Their voices mingled, fighting each other in volume. The sound was beautiful, cacophonous, heart-rending and horrific all at once. Sha'en laughed softly, nocking a massive arrow, and aiming into the advancing mass of Taer'shal. Once loosed, the huge bolt plunged through the abdominal cavity of three men before they fell backwards and were pinned to the ground. Thick blood dripped through their armour; the Taer'shal, unlike Cleansers, loathed anything to do with the Acharya including the use of Cair’leih shields. Because of this hatred, they had returned to the primitive regarding body armour. "There are hundreds of them," Lalreth groaned. "I thought this was supposed to be easy!" Sha'en snickered, nocking another arrow. "This is easy, Lall. Like spearing fish in a barrel. You aren't scared, are you? Do the big bad Taer'shal frighten you?" "Shut up, both of you. This will be easy as long as-" Dharin's voice was cut off from the other three Trackers. A minor setback from using Cair’leih shields; any sounds were warped by the fluctuating energies, which themselves had been warped by sound, willpower, and a small stone embedded into a Mage's left palm. Lalreth was correct in her estimate of the enemy, there were exactly four hundred and thirty-seven militants in the Lariian Fields. The number began to quickly drop as Taer'shal fell to the ground, writhing. Within their shields, the world was eerily silent to a Tracker. Perhaps this was a great mercy, as, if those four had heard the wails of the dying, their conscious torsos falling separate from still-flailing limbs, they might never sleep - let alone fight - again. Once the battle began, the day fell silent to a Tracker. The swords clashing, slashing - bones snapping through ripped flesh, screams of the Taer'shal, the unearthly melodic wail of mingled Magi Song and the squelch of gore beneath Tracker boots all went unheard, for the most part. A few carrion eaters in the distance perked up their ears at the too familiar sounds of anguish and death. A servant heard Kelnai beginning to retch, and helped her to her cart, leaving Corridan to shield the entire party. The battle of the Lariian Fields, fought on the last day of the thirteenth month of the year fourteen hundred and thirty-two Moran'a'nai, was a battle like any other in the history of the Trackers. People died and watered the cold, thirsty ground with warm blood; children lost parents and the Cleansers were successful and largely unharmed. Sha'en gained a permanent scar on the left side of her too perfect face, Jenya disappeared for a short while as the fight neared its end, and returned carrying a frightened blonde child. Kelnai left the field in the first few minutes, claiming illness. It was a battle like any other, yet there was a premonitory familiarity to the way the sun shone, the way the blood fell, and it stirred memories long dead in most Cleansers present. The distant cries of carrion eaters as bodies were stacked for burning reminded Jenya of conflicts long forgotten, that should have remained forgotten. The sun set on a blood-covered valley, reaching its tired rays over the hills surrounding the Lariian Fields; for an instant Jenya remembered this world being very different. Yet it was a battle, like any other... |