Gilded Serpents

Chapter Forty-Nine: To Be Free

Candles, lit and reflected flames off of beaded sweat. Weary eyes, creased over sea-dried skin and morning stubble of faces I may have passed but never took the time to remember. Cold breath left misted trails in the dry night air, like magic once inhaled, and left clouded remains on long-tarnished helmets before disappearing once more.

Eyes met mine then looked down.

Another pair of eyes met mine and looked down.

Blacked eyes met mine and remained, and a handle of a twin bladed falchion was placed in once blackened, now grayed hands before me. He said something, but I didn't understand his words.

Everything felt slow, sounds distorted and distant, as a helmet was placed upon my head. There were soldiers running in patchwork armor around me, griffins screaming, and orders being commanded by a man I had never seen before as he stood atop a crooked wooden podium.

Approaching the hill.

No fliers.

Scouts captured.

Herculea.

A surprise night raid.

I turned to see Cylie beside me, borrowed armor looking bulky and large against her small frame. Her eyes were without the familiar joy that I had come to know and I could not find the words to bring her spark back, so I remained silent, only nodding, and she did the same in return.

I was not in the first row of soldiers, nor the last, and followed close behind the rust speckled backplate in front of me, finding patterns in the tiny dots so as to not completely drift away from myself. The only sound under the vast night sky was the rumbling of hundreds of armored feet, making their way over dusty dry ground, weaving through long-dead trees. There was no torch to light the dusted path, and those around me marched forward, feet practiced like that of a well-worn trail horse.

There was no valiant speech. There was no heroic rallying cry.

There was nothing more to say.

To live in the Barrens, you had to defend it, and those around me seemed to have accepted that fact long ago. And so I followed them, for every body mattered, and we were to hold a sword for those who could not.

We were far outside the gates when the soldiers stopped, though the darkness hid our destination. In the distance, I saw a line of turquoise flame, illuminating what could only be helmets of Herculea or Selphene soldiers, but I could not tell. Nor did it matter.

There was a nudge at my side, and I turned to see Aixel, head bent as he lowered to my level.

"There's only about a hundred or so - mostly serpent riders and archers so keep your head low," he whispered.

I nodded as if I understood his words. He stared at me for a moment, perhaps seeing through my facade.

The war horns sounded once more, and there was a clamor of metal sounds, scraping and adjusting, as those around me began to straighten and ready themselves.

There was another tug on my arm, this time on my left, and I turned to see Cylie looking at me. She was pointing to her neck, and even in the starlight, I saw the small silver binding chain where it hung above her armor. She was smiling, but her eyes still seemed sad.

"We choose our deaths - chin up," she said.

Before I could respond, there was another horn, and a flurry of metal pushed me forward. I was running, keeping pace with those in front of me, automatic and numb. My vision was obscured, periphery framed by my helmet, as I followed those before me. I turned to where Cylie had been standing, but she was already gone, lost to the sea of armor - Aixel too.