Olimpia

I sat on a charred and broken stump in what was once the heart of an orchard. At least, I assumed it was an orchard, though I could be wrong. I guess there could be any number of reasons to grow trees around a village.

My experience with farming was marching through a field or two when no one was looking. Asking someone the truth about the trees was out of the question because the dead don't talk — as far as I knew — so I was left to my own thoughts as I scraped my foot through the ash.

To my back were the remnants of the last blood golems who roamed this valley. In total, there were six of the abominations. The four I killed were heading up the northeast hillside, with the other two hiding somewhere in the ruins of the village.

Actually, I didn't know there were only two other abominations. What I did know was that Franklin screeched in joy twice, and buildings exploded.

For all I knew, he could have killed a dozen of the creatures each time, but I decided to go for the lowball guess, as while this village was one of the biggest we had seen so far, having more than a hundred adults seemed unlikely.

Given the golem's size with a bit of extra mass for the children and a few animals… Yeah, that's about right. I thought grimly, giving the ground one last aggressive kick before raising my head to look at the rest of my party approaching.

Franklins' face was grim, but his eyes burned with passion and conviction as he said, "Witnessing the reality of their failure is one of the worst sights a protector can see."

"But I'm not a protector!" I snapped, a wave of anger rising within my chest, demanding action. Storming to my feet, I towered over the badger beastkin as I shouted into his face, "I was never a protector! All I ever did was my duty! What I was told! I was a tool that never cared what it was used for!"

My finger was pressed so hard into the top of his chest that it had turned white, and I was bearing my teeth less than an inch from his nose.

Slowly, calmly, without a flicker in his eyes of anything but sympathy and understanding, he reached up and wrapped his hand around the base of my neck to pull me down to his eye level.

"That might have been what you were, but what will you be, cousin?"

A moment of silence passed between us, and the anger raging inside of my chest seeped out of me at the question. As if they had a mind of their own, my eyes slipped to the side, settling on the village ruins.

I knew the 15th couldn't stop this from happening. The Kin had shown up too fast with too comprehensive of a plan. I now knew enough about the Kin's capabilities to say, with absolute certainty, that the legion held the Triad at their forbearance. The losses the beastkin would suffer would be horrendous if they took it, especially now with the senatorial reinforcements, but they could do it.

Their taking the Triad would more likely than not lead to a war of mutual destruction, but that was beside the point.

We could not afford the losses of trying to protect these villages, as we were just at the start of something no one truly understood the scope of.

Even if there was time and the insight that something was strange about the beastkin to send out messengers to the Cradle, what good would it have done?

The beastkin would have caught them soon after they left and eventually reassured them enough to return to their farms. There would be some tensions, but most feelings would have vanished in the month of peace, making everyone let down their guards.

That was assuming Kanieta's people were the ones patrolling the Cradle, which I was doubting. She wasn't even getting reports of the northern forts. They were hundreds of miles to the north, but her scouts should have seen and reported them within a month.

I immediately discarded the idea of her scouts being so incompetent as to not find the buildings at all. So everything Kanieta thought she knew about the Cradle was thrown into question as Derg's plan was proving to be of a far wider scope and complexity than we had first assumed.

I didn't blame Kanieta for not seeing the treachery coming. Who would have thought a faction within the Kin would align themselves with an ancient order of abomination-building blood mages still skulking around in the shadows? And that they would see humans and elves as the perfect sources of fresh blood and flesh in their centuries-old war.

Well… That last one made sense with purely pragmatic reasoning, even if I didn't like it.

Everything sounded so rational. Logically laid out and with reasonable arguments…

Then why do I still feel like I failed? I asked myself.

I felt a tear escape my traitorous left eye. Before it made it half way down my cheek, I savagely wiped it away. At the same time, I yanked myself away from Franklin and turned to look at the ash around me.

"So, where are we going now?" I finally asked once I had gotten control over my turbulent emotions.

"Northeast," Franklin rumbled. "The spell to make the golems were made and cast a few days ago." I looked at him in surprise, causing him to tilt his chin toward the rest of our group off to the side, "That's what Kanieta said anyway. And I can't smell any more mana coming off the spell, so it is at least a couple days old."

That got another look from me, but he ignored it as we slowly moved to join the rest of our group. "Without a massive amount of mana and guidance, the golems take a few days to form. Kanieta thinks blood mages are roaming the area, killing the inhabitants and casting a spell on the bodies before leaving. Given they were all moving in the same direction…"

"They were being called somewhere." I finished, looking to the northeast.

"Yep."

My hands clenched and unclenched at my sides, and my jaw ached from my teeth grinding. "I'm gonna kill them all," I muttered.

"That's a given," Franklin agreed.

I felt a pulse of gratitude at his instant agreement, but there was still a burning core of rage in my chest. I needed to find those who did this.

No one said a word when we joined the rest of our group. Kanieta and Nareta gave me a look filled with mild concern while Hurring stood behind them placidly, only giving a slight nod as we passed.

We quickly moved from the destroyed basin and onto the grasslands. As soon as I saw the green and yellow grass, I knew where we were going.

It wasn't hard. While the road was rather unused and, in some places, it almost looked like it had disappeared altogether, walking along the ruts was easy.

Moving out at the pace we were traveling at for the past few days, I took off down the road, my eyes locked forward. The others would keep up… or they wouldn't. I really didn't care at this point.

I led the group for hours, looking at the horizon as the ground passed beneath my loping strides.

We were traveling far faster than a horse-drawn wagon could go on these uneven roads, and before the sun was close to setting, I was standing at the edge of another scorched field.

There was no massive crater in the ground this time, as these people seemed to have focused on raising livestock. I could tell from the dozens of fenced-off areas with the churned-up ground and the ruins of barns.

It was those hints, along with what looked like hundreds of golems I could see in the distance, that made me come to that conclusion.

After a brief pause to take in the destruction, I charged across the ash. Every step was a soft thump, throwing up a mixture of ash layered over loose dirt as my feet landed. One pasture after the next streaked through the corners of my eyes, but my eyes never moved from my target. I hardly noticed as I leapt over the charred sticks of one fence railing after another.

At the edge of the farm, I caught up with the first blood golem. The fight, if you could call it that, was a blooming red as blood sprayed everywhere as I charged straight into the thing.

My mental energy formed a cone, and as the golem reacted to my presence by extending flesh tendrils at me, they were knocked out of the way by my cone. As the tip impacted the central blob of the golem, its flesh was forced apart like warm butter as I drove the cone forward to where I could feel its core.

Dancing through the chunks of flesh of the dead golem, I looked for my next target.

There was no subtlety or finesse to the fight, as I needed none. I reveled in the act of ripping apart the abominations and lost myself in the act of spending my mental energy freely and unashamedly for the first time since I was a child.

When the world came into focus again, I was sitting on a bolder, tens of golems deflated around me, but there were still dozens more in a line leading to the northeast. My chest was heaving, and my mental energy pool felt like a cramping muscle. While it was already filling with more, I could not find the will to bring it forth.

The rage was still inside me, but it had been tamped down until only the embers remained, and my mind was no longer consumed by it. I was mentally exhausted, and my body was tapped out.

If I charged into the abominations again, I would soon be overwhelmed, my mental energy super recharging or not. But I couldn't bring myself to look away while the golems still moved.

"Don't worry, cousin," Franklin said, clapping me on the shoulder as he passed, making me jump in surprise. I hadn't realized that the others had arrived during my one-man crusade. "I got the rest of them. Though I must say, it was rather rude to try and take them all for yourself."

He wasn't joking. I heard the irritation in his voice, and his shoulder pat had a bit more claw than palm. Though I found it more amusing than anything.

I watched him tear into the creatures, and when there were only five more for the badger to rip apart, Kanieta popped up next to me.

"Glad you seemed to have finally calmed down," she commented.

"More like I don't have the energy to keep being angry."

"Hmm, that makes it even less impressive… Regardless, I will leave you to die if you can't keep control next time. The stakes are too high to indulge your petulant anger."

I clenched my fists and jaw in annoyance, then sucked in a deep breath and let it out, releasing my feeling with the breath. She was right. Turning to face her, I said, "You are right. I'm sorry I lost my temper. It won't happen again."

Her head dipped slightly in acknowledgment of my apology. We watched Franklin's massacre a bit longer before Kanieta said, "We are catching up to the blood mages. A couple of the summoning spells had trace amounts of mana clinging to them."

"Good," I grunted, my eyes turning to the northeast.

**********

"Matus!" Shouted Hold Leader Gorth, "Get your ass to the slits!"

"Understood!" Shouted back Matus over the din of battle from where he rested, though he knew the Hold Leader would already be turned away, focusing on his next problem. Slamming back his mug of tea, Martus wiped his mouth before setting the mug down and standing up with a grunt.

He knew from long experience there would be a slight scraping and creaking of steel and leather rubbing against each other as he stood. And from more recent experience, his armor might feel slightly stiffer and be noisier than he remembered.

Over the years he had been living in the Hold Long-ears, he admitted that his armor might have been neglected for a bit too long. He noticed more than a few patches of rust while putting it on.

But in his defense, he maintained it well for the first couple of decades out of the legion. And over the following decades, he sporadically cleaned it when he came across the suit of armor. Given its placement in the bottom of a trunk shoved in the back of his closet, it wasn't that often. After that, well, he pretty much completely forgot about it.

Matus was getting too old for it. He remembered when he would wear the armor for days straight without feeling the slightest bit of discomfort.

An hour after he put on the armor two weeks ago, he felt the strain on his back. Now, his entire body was a constant throb. But discomfort was a part of life, and without him, he wasn't sure how long the defenses would last. So he would keep going until he dropped dead from his heart giving out if that was what it would take for the hold to remain standing.

Other ex-knights were in the hold, but none had his experience or power.

Every clomping step he took was marked by the sound of steel on stone, but the sound was overwhelmed by shouts, cries of pain, clanging of steel, and constant orders.

Matus was amazed as he moved down the corridor to a flight of stairs. He had never seen so many people within Long-ear Hold. Every section of ground not holding a person was filled with supplies.

And it wasn't a situation in which everyone in the tower was part of the militia, and they were resting next to any supplies that might be needed in the battle because the catacombs were also packed with people.

Hundreds of Cradlers fled to the Keeps, the first time in a hundred and thirty-two years that such an event happened. All of them told stories of impossible events like beastkins talking and having the abilities of knights.

Well, no one doubted them now.

Matus stepped into the outer southern section of the fifth floor of the Keep. The entire wall was one narrow window after another across its entire face. A team of bowmen and shieldsmen worked at every window, keeping up a constant stream of arrows.

Matus's job was to send out stone spikes or close the windows if— when the beastkins finally made it up to the openings.

In the past, that was when the bodies of the dead were stacked so high enough to reach the windows. Now, no one was sure what the hoard of intelligent beastkin besieging them was capable of.