Chooser of the Slain

Teaser scene

The arrowhead portruded from her shoulder. Harlan's blonde braids, crusted with blood and dirt, whipped around as his terror stricken gaze landed on her. His mouth opened and he appeared to release a frantic bellow. If he was, she couldn't hear him. She couldn't hear anything. Time had stopped. All she could hear was Harlan, whispering to her words left unsaid. His rough, bloodstained hand trailing down her cheek in a warm and gentle caress. His eyes shining all the light left in the world, right down into her very soul. She blinked then, and stared at the wild boar of a man, across the battlefield. His muscles taut, his body straining, thrashing, as he trekked his way through the heavy mud, over the fallen warriors, staining the ground with their blood, as he despereately tried to get to her. The corner of her mouth pulled up into a lazy smile. She had been lucky, she reckoned. To walk her final days on this earth in the company of such great men. Such magnificent creatures. Hardened warlords, demons in their own right, and yet they had showed her kindness and compassion. They had thought her to love as ferociously as she fought. These men, these bloody few. She scanned the crowd and her eyes landed on Kyrell. Son of Gunnar. Chieftain. A young boy in man's role. Softhearted, he was the best of all of them. Her smile faltered at the thought. Kyrell was too soft for this life. He would perish soon. His light snuffed out like it never existed. She turned back to Harlan, still plowing on, nearing her through the carnage. Hardened by war, loss. Gunnar's loss had affected him dearly. She doubted he would take Kyrell's departure well. A lone tear slid down her face, warming her skin in its wake. He wouldn't survive losing Kyrell too. Harlan would scorch the earth, himself included, to avenge the boy's death. His anger would combust uncontrolably. She worried for that day. She hoped he'd be smarter than that. Dying in vain wouldn't help his cause. Another arrow whizzed past Harlan, barely missing his cheekbone. She hissed audibly. At first in fear for Harlan's safety. This hiss turned into a wince as the arrow flew true and lanced into her chest. A soft grunt of pain escaped her lips. 'You keep trying to die on me.' She imagined him saying. A gurgled laugh rasped out of her. She fell down on her knees as her legs caved underneath. 'I'm not yours to keep earthbound,' She whispered at his approaching form. He was struggling to make it to her as her body collapsed to the dirt. The smile still lingered on her lips, her hand still gripping the hilt of her sword as she fell forward, face first into the bloody mud. 'Your not mine, yet..' She trailed before darkness overcame her. Harlan's plea for her to stay as she sat fell on deaf ears. His screams rose up from the field and filled hearts of many with dread. Kyrell lowered his sword and staggered away from his fight. His attention shifting to the female on the ground. 'By the gods,' he pleaded as he fell down to his knees beside her lifeless form. Harlan pushed him aside as he slid into the mud, falling on his backside. He pulled Hedda from the cold ground and lifted her into his lap. His axe laying several leaps back, forgotten. He didn't care. Nothing mattered any longer. 'Stop messing with me, foolish little girl,' Kyrell stared at his protector as Harlan's words balanced between sarcasm and insanity, his eyes, Kyrell found, were much the same. Tormented. Battling an inner war. 'Wake up, spitfire.' He coed softly. His patience ran thin and he slammed his fist into the wet ground next to her. A pained roar left his chest. In his peripheral vision he saw it then. The soldier coming at them, sword raised. He unsheathed his blade and swiftly rolled Hedda of his lap. He leaped at the man and launched himself at the swordsman. He latched on with all his might and stabbed. His blade struck true and he screamed a war cry, so deep, so vicious, Kyrell swore the ground beneath them shook. Harlan unleashed his blade and stabbed the man again. Again. They fell to the ground, where Harlan remained, straddled on top of the soldier, stabbing. Maiming. Murdering. 'Harlan,' Kyrell tried softly as he crawled up to the fighting warrior. 'Harlan stop. He's dead.'Kyrell looked over his shoulder as Starke and Ox dropped their axes in the mud and stared at the carnage before them. Harlan continued bringing down his blade into the man's torn flesh. Blood coloring his face, his arms, his chest. The battle had winded down as the few remaining soldier retreated over the mountain. Still, Harlan didn't stop. Couldn't stop. Kyrell looked at Hedda's lifeless form, a soulless mass of meat heaped on the cold ground. A chill crept up his spine at the thought of her fiery gaze, her stern words and that killer smile. 'Take care of him, Kyrell.' She had made him vow once. 'Take care of him, and he will take care of you. Together, always. A brotherhood.' He shuddered involuntarely at the sight of Harlan now. A mindless berserker, ripping flesh from limb like a lamb to the slaughter. He was losing his godsdamned mind. Kyrell snapped from his thoughts and barged up to Harlan, still slashing away. He tackled the brute and sat atop his chest as he slapped him in the face with open palm. 'Snap out of it!' he spat at Harlan. Ox sucked in a breath, anticipating the worst. His hands reaching for his hammer. But Harlan's eyes widened briefly, before his arms fell slack in the mud beside his body. A painful groan left his lungs as he released all the hurt. The groan turned into a sob. A single, lonely sob. 'She's gone,' Kyrell whispered. 'She's fucking gone, but I'm still here. I need you, brother. Don't abandon me yet.'A giggle escaped Harlan as he sat up. Kyrell believed he heard wrong. Surely Harlan wouldn't find any of this remotely funny. But the big man's laughter bouldered out of him like a thunderstorm. 'The world is going to shit,' he began in between his fits of laughter. 'Because Rafi fucked the wrong woman.' He looked at Kyrell, then to Ox, then to Starke. 'He's not even here anymore. He's out there bleeding his guts out and resting peacefully afterwards.' He gestured to the rolling fields of carnage behind him. 'We get to deal with the aftermath.' He pulled himself from the ground and trailed back to retrieve his axe. He strapped it back in place on his back and he sauntered over the woman on the floor. 'Can you bury her?' He asked at no one in particular. 'What will you do?' Kyrell asked him. He shrugged. 'I'm going home, boy.' Kyrell's eyes widened in disbelief. 'But..''I'm done.' Harlan's voice was stern as he gave Kyrell a hard stare. 'We can't win.' He shook his head fiercely. 'We needed Gunnar.' He gave Kyrell a once over. 'You might be his blood, respectfully. But you're not half the warrior he was in life.' Then his eyes fell back to the woman on the ground. 'We needed her.' His eyes darting between the remaining men. 'We're not nearly enough.' A heavy sigh left him. He stroked his beard. 'I'm going home to die. You should too.''You're just going to walk away and leave her here?' Kyrell piped. Harlan shook his head. 'I trust you'll see her to her final destination. I don't want any part in it.' He couldn't have any part in it. He was a warrior first. But the pain that took hold of his soul and squeezed the lust for life out of him now was something he just couldn't let show. For the first time, he was afraid. He couldn't say goodbye. If he'd just turn around and walk away, none of it would have been real. She wouldn't have been dead, for all he could care they would have never even met. So that's what he did. Without a word he turned and started walking down the broken path. He would find a horse somewhere out here. His soul weighing heavier on him with every step that removed him from her presence. The tether would snap, he kept telling himself. It had to.