Prelude to 'Ward'

[Zadown]

After the events told in 'Web' ...

 

The house shook as if it had been hit by a great wind or by treequake. When I looked out of the window, neither theory seemed right – it was a clear, calm day outside, and our coretree was not swaying at all. Alarm went off near the front gates, wailing a song that meant intruders, and I drew my sword, stepped forward from the corner I had been concealed in to stand between the doorway and the one I was sworn to protect. New tremors raced through the great manor and I swayed, managing however to stay upright. The clamour of the alarm was now rapidly being drowned by sounds of chaos and of battle, and I felt cold sweat pour out of my every pore. This was no drill, no fake alarm.

 

“I fell down.”

 

I turned to look and true enough, the little princess was sprawled over the floor but apparently unharmed otherwise.

 

“Yes, yes you did, little princess. Are you alright?”

 

She giggled and pointed at my polished bone blade.

 

“Shinyy!”

 

Reassured, I turned back towards the doorway, wishing there’d be some way for me to look through the walls and see what truly was going on out there. The sounds were making me nervous: clash of weapons on weapons, cries of wounded and yelled orders with frantic tone. I took a deep breath and muttered a short prayer to the god of war. I was so intent on listening that I nearly did not notice my master appearing from the other direction, clad in official robes of a warmagus. I snapped to attention. He merely nodded to me and the little princess, then walked steadily towards the commotion, flanked by his two bodyguards and followed by his wife, also attired for war. I risked a look towards the princess.

 

“See, little princess, your father is going to sort out this mess.”

 

She was still watching the colourful wallpaintings reflected by my blade, giggling as the sword sparkled in the lamplight. Sure enough, a resounding boom and a lesser tremor going through the house told me master was putting a stop to this assault. I had had the honor of witnessing his unearthly power in war before and I still could see the things it did to mortal flesh in my nightmares, not that I ever told anybody of them. Another boom and a sharp crack of wood breaking followed, then a shrill scream that could only be the lady of the house. Coldness swept through me; that could only mean that the master had been wounded badly, even killed. What sort of power could do that here, in the heart of his domain? Cold lights danced in my vision, and I knew by that she was calling on the spirits of the ancestors, the only truly unsurmountable force, never used in normal skirmishes. A chilling wind arose, long dead faces materializing in its misty tendrils, and I shook in fear to my own dismay. The little princess was not giggling any more, either, but crying softly, and I moved to better cover her.

 

Suddenly, the wind died. For a moment I did not know what to think, then I heard the terrible cry I had never thought to hear from the throat of our own: “Dainkhatzuu! To the last soul! Follow our masters to afterlife!” The answering battle yell “To the last soul!” was weak, lacking numbers. So this was it, without warning, without a war declaration we were defeated in mere minutes? I cried silently, without shame, and stood in my post ready to die as the last soul before one, if need be. As I expected, the sounds of battle slowed down as the last brave soldiers of the House Vangaijuua showed they were not afraid of death and entered afterlife to take care of our masters.

 

Finally, it was eerily silent. Only thing I could hear was the almost noiseless sobbing of my little princess as she hugged my leg, clearly aware something was very wrong. Then I could hear the sound of boots going through the house, slowly, without hurry, and I boiled with rage. That was the final insult, soiling the pure floors with covered feet as if this had been some ground-peasant’s lowly mud hut! I could hear the steps coming closer and closer and the rage inside me was tempered by fear, even if I did not yield my place and did not run. Then, at last, he appeared in front of me on the other side of the doorway: a tall warrior, pale as a corpse, clad in an impossible armor made out of more metal I had ever seen, wielding a curved short blade made of some transparent material. He wore a metal crown on his head as if he had been a true king of old, and his face and hands were covered in disfiguring scars.

 

“Halt, intruder! You shall not harm the little princess!”

 

“Ya, I shan’t. Why would I?”

 

He smiled wanly and locked eyes with me, staring through me with his eyes the color of storm sky.

 

“I’m here to take her home, neh?”

 

His smile turned into a wide grin.

Edited June 14, 2004 by Zadown