Two-Thirds Blue

Chapter Six: A Familiar Blade

It wasn't long before Dusk heard the screams. There were shouts of alarm at first, warnings and orders, but they were futile. There was no time to prepare or meet the army on the battlefield. The guards posted outside were the first to die. Their last act was to fail their duty as the rozkod struck them down with ease. By the time the soldiers within began to fight back, the rozkod were already pouring inside.

He wanted desperately to jump down from his hiding place and help. But how could he ever hope to change the outcome? He would just be one more target, an infinitesimal addition to a mountain of corpses. But would that be preferable to the guilt he felt? He thought of his friends, reminding himself again and again that he would want them to hide as he had. He would live for their sake as they would for his. But what if they'd been braver than he? What if they had already made it inside? What if they all died in battle while he cowered in the dark?

Beneath him, the flow of rozkod thinned. The bulk of the army was gathered outside of the Resistance, just behind the treeline, or already inside. He had no way to gauge their numbers– eight hundred? A thousand? A horde of this scale might as well have been a million for all the good he could do against them. But it was dark, and he was a small target. If he could get behind them, maybe he could do enough damage to draw some away before they noticed him. He would just have to wait until all of their backs were to him.

His hand moved to his sword. Stabbing them in the back was a cowardly tactic, but he supposed it suited him now. Even so, the thought of killing his foes from behind, never giving them a chance to fight back, turned his stomach. They were monsters, but he shouldn't have to become one himself.

A new clamor arose from within the Resistance. The screams changed. Not just fear and pain anymore; Dusk could hear battle cries and anger. He couldn't see what was happening, but he let himself believe that they were fighting back and standing their ground. Maybe there was a chance.

He risked descending several branches to get a better view of the ground. To his left lay the Resistance, but all he could see was the solid black mass of the rozkod army waiting in the trees. To his right, the forest was almost empty. The last of the rozkod moved under him, mingling with the pack, hoping for a chance to join the bloodbath. He couldn't see the state of the battle from this distance, but if there was even the slightest possibility that the tide could turn, it was his obligation to help.

He waited until the last rozkod had passed, then dropped to the ground and drew his sword, the sounds of the battle ahead masking his movements. His first target hung back from the crowd, watching with passive curiosity, its arms crossed languidly as it leaned against a tree. Its sword was still strapped to its back.

His hands shook. You've fought them before, he reminded himself. They're slower than you. You can handle it.

He crept as close as he dared, the wall of rozkod some fifty feet away. The straggler hadn't heard his approach, and just as well– he wanted to choose the moment it noticed him.

When he drew within striking distance, he held his sword ready and said, "Hey."

It grunted in surprise, turning to look for the source of the disturbance while fumbling for its sword. It tried to back up, but Dusk was already too close. He stepped in and thrust his sword into its gut, maneuvering beneath the tough leather breastplate. Its sword slipped from its hand. Dusk wrenched his blade free as the beast fell to the ground.

He took a moment to catch his breath, hoping to quell the nausea that always accompanied taking a life. Just monsters, he told himself. Not human. They die so we can live.

The next rozkod he picked was ahead of him, moving toward the pack. Its axe was already out, so he would have to be quick. He sprinted parallel to the line of troops. It detected the motion as he drew near, and nearly managed to swing its axe, but Dusk was faster, cutting first at its unguarded legs and then its neck as it fell.