The Elder's Dagger

Turning for the Worst

This cold, dry morning was slowly brightening. The sun's spirits gave the colourful leaves a duty. They were plucked out of their branch by a soft voice, talking sweetly to the rustling leaf's ear, encouraging it to glide to the solid ground,"a heaven that only you can understand once you go there". Slowly one by one the leaves yielded and glided through the No Man's Land. Until they all settled. Resting in eternal peace under the watchful eye of the wind, softly singing a lullaby that every man in both lines heard snippets of.

The moisture of the early morning slowly subsided and the temperature rose slightly. A couple of tired souls sat down, many followed until everyone sat down and many moans of relief were heard. Standing in armour for a few hours carrying a weapon and shield tires the mind as well as the body. Trust me I've done it.

It was clear the Gods did not want us to fight, we must answer to nature and nature said no. Maybe an agreement could have been reached instead. One friend suggested to me maybe even a fusion of the tribes (though it was obvious these men were the bluntest stones in the cave). The intelligence and technology of one and the idiotic manpower of the other. No side wants to lose men over any war, especially before winter when many bodies are needed to maintain the village in such terrible times, when we had to actually work for winter too!

We also would have needed to make or buy more armour which could require bags and bags of salt to do. At times it was cheaper to buy a slave captured by bandits than good equipment and weapons for a warrior.

The Gods seemed to have agreed with the cooling down of the situation, foxes and rabbits came to investigate the men, many even playing with them. The birds sang a happy tune and the wind disappeared completely. A warm glow from the sun started to glow even brighter.... And brighter... and brighter....-

"That... does not seem right!" shouted a youth. Nods of agreement followed.

The annoyed elder rebutted "the Gods wanted us to stop".

No one could truly believe the Gods would stop a battle like that, but they pretended to realise the error of their judgment much to the satisfaction of the elder.

Within minutes a slight increase in temperature reflected our situation perfectly. Our hunting party was coming...

Grizzled veterans with hunting spears and bows. We had asked them to come and only once it seemed peaceful did they drag their behinds out of the village walls.

The hunting party was in the forest hidden behind the tree spirits, sneaking around under the blanket of nature. Most of our warband stood up in frustration. The tension at this point was like a rope that went from lax to almost being torn apart within moments. Everyone got up moments later and the tension became unbearable.. The animals ran off and the birds stopped mid song.

What had been vapour covering our faces was now sweat and anxiety. Shivering and sweating in the heat.

We were treading through the half frost. The sun melted the crunch of the ice underfoot; all that remained was the pooling slush.

For the first time since the 2 parties faced off, a spear or two was put down in a bracing position.

Everyone followed -like deer in a chase-.

Shields were lowered and swords were raised like mine. We knew we were going to take casualties.

The shieldwall reordered itself. The battleline spirit had been summoned, it lay on our backs and pushed us gently towards them, slowly but it was hard not to notice. It was getting nasty again and this time turning back to the village with any amount of food would mean we had to leave a few of our brave men behind.

Our hunting party had managed to sneak behind the enemy outside of the clearing. They then stepped in unnoticed double the distance that we were from the enemy, which was around 200 hands.

One child is close to raising her hand, but she realises her mistake just in time; he had said 300 only yesterday.

Both sides were ready for what was coming, but the idotic Stone Men did not know where the first blow would come from. A dozen arrows struck them from behind, felling the lightly armoured warriors. Confusion and panic struck the opposition and the people on the edge of the shield wall faced the back with their shields to protect them from more arrows, the hunters' job was done; for now.

We took out javelins and hurled them at the enemy, who raised their shields in response catching some but not all of them. The spiked monstrosities whistling like insects by the heads of the brave and above the heads of the cowardly who sheltered behind wicker and wood.

We threw all the javelins we had, but the Stone Men crouched and hid behind their big wicker shields, only a couple times did the javelins go through and hurt the man behind it, oh but when it did we cheered in relief. It had been ages since the first arrow was loosened and the enemy had lost only under a dozen men at the most.

Now it was their turn, their size made it clear. They spread out and went to our flanks, heming us in like shoals of fish. Taking out their slings they hurled stones at us. Those stones, crude but oh they hurt a lot, the bruises I had after they hit me...

When the hunters came to avenge us they were driven back before a single arrow was fired.

Many of us fell; too many.

But the hunters climbed trees and asked the spirits of the forest to guide the arrows through the primitive human flanks.

Our line became a box, with the edges varying in the degree of pointedness from one moment to the next as we were continuously pummeled and pounded by nature's rounds. Recieving a blow to the shield, pushing my arm back instantly taking one to the leg I fell. Desperately I crawled as a deadly hail of stone banged on my shield with arm wrenching force.

A sigh was heard around the youngsters. "Here he goes".

The horror of 60 stones coming down on us was tangible. But the sky can only rain for so long...

The enemy,out of stones, regrouped into a shield wall. They swiftly encircled our crowded battle line. Without much armour weighing them down the primitive fighters had the advantage of speed. The hunters were out of the battle for at least a few minutes, their heads mashed from stones I bet; not like it made much of a difference.

We managed to form up just in time and brace as a charge of desperate men hurt our backs and arms in the impact. Not only that it hurt the ears of the Gods. A clash of metal upon wicker and stone. For five minutes no one fell; everyone's guard was up. We held the line, but we were tired. Pummeling and beating the oppressing wicker shields, our fine bronze did little damage.

A comrade next to me fell to an axe to the stomach, which pierced the small square chest plate. Every few seconds I could hear the thunk of another brother. Even through all the noise and the roar of the spirits that rose from our weapons.

The elder stops the story, looks behind him towards the fire, and bends down to the ashes at the bottom. All eyes are on him, this is new. Drawing a glowing dagger he lays the heated blade on the floor, his gloves stopping his flesh from burning. "This is one of the blessed weapons we possess, I have just renewed the spirit's power". We waited, then waited some more. The glowing red hot blade blackening the grass it touched.

After the glow of life died in the blade his frail hand picked the dagger back up.

"It's life was brief and now the spirit is dead". Eyes widened at the now normal looking dagger, still steaming slightly and reflecting the light of the fire into the black abyss dotted with milky spots."When the spirit dies it serves what it was tied to in life, in this case the dagger. In life the spirit is fierce and has the fury of fire. After it dies it becomes wiser and guides the warrior's hand to justice and all things pure, while a part of the fury is kept deep inside. When in dire need the soldier can rely on the spirit as it will erupt in anger at all who oppose it".

A captivated audience hangs on every word and the dagger is passed around carefully.

"Only the summer before this battle were the spirits trapped in our weapons, oh how glad I am that we had them at our side".