In Search of Auria (13 page)

Raol stepped in and swung his hammer. Erik
blocked, the impact pushing him back. Raol lunged again, this time
with the axe. Erik dodged and attempted to slash back, but the
balorian was too smart. He spun around from behind, gliding the
hammer in a crescent. Erik missed the iron by an inch. The balorian
swung his weapons like if they were loose chains.

“Come on!” Raol challenged. Erik leaped to
him with a downward slash. The warrior hooked the sword with his
axe and struck again with the hammer. Erik shielded, but the blow
was so heavy it pushed him down to his knees. Raol would have
continued to finish him off, but another miaflorian came to Erik’s
aid. The soldier aimed for the head, but Raol hunkered down. He
thrust the axe to the stomach, and while the soldier bent in pain,
he swirled the hammer up to his face. The soldier flew backwards to
land dead on the moist soil.

“This is your end!” Raol yelled while
pointing his hammer to the miaflorian’s crushed forehead. “This is
Miaflore’s end!”

The remaining soldiers kept at bay. They
outnumbered the bold warrior, but they were too afraid of him. Erik
looked at his fallen brother and an immeasurable sorrow embraced
him. Staring at him, he saw a summary of his own life; a synopsis
of what was to become of him. He would turn out to be the fuel that
prolonged the clash between titans, and the forgotten residue left
behind its friction. The war among Balora and Miaflore would
continue and he would simply be another extinguished torch, dropped
into the cradle of death. Inevitably, his future was to be ash and
dust.

This is what I’ll turn out to be? Is there
no alternative?

Erik rose and removed his shield. Raol
laughed as Erik approached him with only his sword.

“What is he doing?” the miaflorians wandered
to one another, “Sir Erik, don’t!”

“If I am to die now, then so be it.”

Erik grasped the sword with his two hands
and slashed down to Raol’s head. The balorian naturally hooked the
sword with the axe while raising his mighty hammer. The end seemed
nigh as the hammer began its deadly drop towards its defenseless
victim; but Erik knew better than to become an easy target. Having
no shield meant his left hand was free to move. He stretched up and
grabbed the hammer’s handle, stopping it before it took momentum.
Raol froze as he did not expect it. It never crossed his mind that
this was Erik’s plan.

Erik continued by letting go of his sword
and punching Raol’s helmet, dazing him. He then grabbed the
balorian’s left shoulder and heaved his knee to the stomach. He
repeated three times until Raol gave in to the pain and loosened
his grip on his hammer. Erik yanked it of his grasp and held it
with both hands. He gave a swing that Raol tried to block, but his
short axe was no match for the heavy hammer. The axe blasted off
into the air.

His enemy was now defenseless, but it did
not stop Erik. He thrust the hammer to his stomach, making him
bend. Next he hammered his back, forcing him to grasp for the
ground. And lastly, he swirled the hammer up, smashing the
shoulder. Raol ended on his knees, unable to fight anymore. He
panted and grunted as his body lost its strength.

“You may take my life now,” he told Erik,
“but soon Balora will claim yours. You’re dead. You’re all
dead!”

“There will be a day when death will creep
on me and take my life… but, not today!” Erik raised the mighty
hammer and bashed it down on the Raol’s helmet, encrusting it down
to his shoulders. The balorian fell to the side as blood seeped out
of the helmet’s orifice.

Erik let go of the hammer and observed all
the damage and suffering he had made Raol go through. He was his
enemy. He knew he had to kill him. And yet, was this all he was
destined for? Maybe it was the only thing he was able to do; to be
a monster of war. He closed his eyes, letting his truth sink in.
But, the battle wasn’t over. Two soldiers brought him his sword and
shield.

“You were running from this cavalry?” he
asked.

“Yes, sir. They were part of the
reinforcements that their battalion received. They completely
overwhelmed us. We could only flee.”

Erik gazed to where the cavalry had come
from. In about two hundred meters the plateau curved down into a
slope. He looked at his brethren and nodded. He marched and the
soldiers followed. After the skirmish with the cavalry, only ten of
them were left.

Stepping over the edge of the plateau, they
took sight of the dark blue flowers that covered the incline; the
flowers that gave the region its name of Somber Petalia. Moreover,
there was also the five hundred balorian men marching closer to the
foot of the slope. Before the battalion reached the bottom, they
saw Erik and his men at the top. A chorus of laughter ensued.

A full battalion against a few soldiers? The
odds were totally against them. But, Erik didn’t flinch at the
sight of the enemy. He looked back over his shoulder and smiled. He
then pointed his sword at the balorians and ran down the hill with
a roaring battle cry. His men followed, and the balorians laughed
even more.

Suddenly, the battalion noticed that the
miaflorian battle cry increased like if there were hundreds of
them. It became louder and more resonant. A few men couldn’t make
that much noise. And then, from atop the slope, Raymond appeared
with the Eternal Squadron and every miaflorian soldier from the
camp.

“Destroy them!” he yelled as all of them ran
down like a deadly flood. The balorians were caught by surprise and
rashly prepared for the oncoming assault.

#

The battle lasted for three days, full of
blood, bravery, and glory. It resulted in Miaflore regaining Somber
Petalia, claiming the Dandy Overpass and pushing the balorians back
behind their boarder. The miaflorians made a new camp on the
acquired territory and made a giant fire. While they celebrated
their victory under a starry night sky, Raymond couldn’t find his
friend enjoying it. He went looking for him at his tent, and there
he was, sitting quietly on a stool. He stared at his worn out
shield in his hands.

“Erik, aren’t you going to join the
celebration?” asked Raymond.

“We won a battle, Ray, not the war,” Erik
responded somewhat disappointed, “There is nothing to
celebrate.”

Raymond perceived the unusual tone from his
friend, “Is something wrong?”

“Ray, what am I?” Erik blurted out.

“What do you mean ‘What am I’? You’re Erik,
the great warrior of Miaflore. I’ve even heard the men naming you
Erik ‘The Blood Marauder’.”

“The what?!”

“The Blood Marauder.”

Erik stood up annoyed by it, “That’s what I
mean. Is that really what I am? A killer, a fiend that goes and
ravages on its victims, leaving pain and death behind. Am I to be
this ‘
Blood Marauder
’? Is it my destiny? ...The alias sounds
good and all, but nevertheless!”

Raymond approached him and put his hand on
his shoulder, “Erik, you are neither a monster nor a senseless
killer. You are a brave man and a valuable comrade; more than that,
a true friend. But, you are good at what you do. We were born at
war, we were born for war. It is our fate.”

Pained by his sentiment, Erik sat in the
stool again in frustration.

“Come on, don’t be so glum,” Raymond
continued, “I also believe that a man can change his destiny at the
right time, under the right circumstances.” Hearing that, Erik
finally gave a small smile and nodded.

“See, that’s the Erik I know! Come on, let’s
join the others.

“No, I have to go back,” Erik stood and
picked up his sword and shield.

“Back? To where?”

“I have to ask someone for forgiveness.”

“But we need you here, Erik!”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine without me.
‘You were born for war’, remember?” Erik winked at him.

“You damn weasel, don’t use my own reasoning
against me!”

Erik ran out the tent and mounted a horse.
He departed the camp, heading straight for the Forest of Agony…

*

The breeze of an incoming storm brushed my
hair. I put my hand over the handle of my sword. Even though war
has shaped me, it has granted me the abilities I need to save
Auria. I will not be angry at myself anymore, for it is who I
am.

Yang’s present made me wonder. Not if the
story of the Feng Huang was true, but if the egg would make a
decent meal or not. I was getting pretty hungry. But then again,
eating an egg that had been handed down for generations wouldn’t be
too healthy.

The weather was getting humid and dark
clouds floated in the sky. Before rainfall, I checked my map again.
Right ahead was a river, just like Yang had told me. That’s where
the drawbridge had to be. After the river, the road would go south
around the Pegnion Mountains, where it reached the fortified city
of Ambros. And after Ambros, I would finally reach my destination:
the capital of Balora, Vidana. I put the map away and hurried. I
wasted a lot of time yesterday at the Mead Pit, so I needed to
travel as fast as I could.

The rain came quickly, as I expected. It
wasn’t a heavy downpour, but enough to make the road all muddy. The
cold drops of water ran down my cheeks and neck. I tried to cover
my head, but the wind forced the water to my face. Over the cover
of my forearm, I saw a couple of towers on the distance, standing
high by the river bank. They were part of the drawbridge mechanism.
The way the drawbridge worked was like this: ropes went from the
tip of the wooden platform through a system of pulleys on the top
of the towers. Then, the ropes would coil around a windlass
mechanism on the ground. On this case, however, I couldn’t see the
windlass. The ropes would go from the top of the tower straight to
a large hole in the ground. It was a strange design, but the
windlass should be inside it. Looking at the lengthiness of the
bridge, I wondered how much manpower was needed to operate it.
There must’ve be at least fifty men in the hole turning the
windlass. But, what I saw instead was the latest in balorian
technology: Troll Power!

Within the hole was a massive, ashen troll
handling a large windlass. Ashen trolls were giant creatures with
limbs out of proportion. This one, other than having a giant body,
had an even bigger head and hands. The hands were so big I could
stand on its palm and hug a finger. The term ashen came from its
skin color, except for its chest that was full of black boils. It
was ten times my height, wearing a leather kilt around its waist.
It must have taken the balorians a lot of time to train the giant
brute, and even more to capture it. Its neck and feet had been
chained to the ground. Only its arms were free to operate the
windlass.

The mechanism consisted of a large gear
connected to a horizontal iron pole impaled on the wall. When the
troll rotated the gear, so did the pole, wrapping the ropes around
it and controlling the bridge. To maintain control of the troll, a
team of five beast masters were behind it on a raised platform.
They carried lances and whips to punish the monster into
obedience.

A pair of them climbed out the hole using a
ladder. They walked close to where I was and one pointed down the
hole.

“You see the chains on the left foot? They
are too rusted. And the soil is getting too malleable with all this
rain. One hard pull could rip the chains out the earth. If this
type of weather continues for another week, there could be
trouble.”

The other beast master nodded, but he
noticed I was looking and overhearing their problem. “What you
looking at, bugger?” he yelled, “Get out of here!”

I turned away and went for the bridge. At
the moment, a six-horse carriage towing a tarp covered cargo was
crossing the bridge to the other side. A handful of balorian
soldiers marched behind it. When it reached the opposite riverbank,
the beast masters whipped the troll, ordering it to pull the bridge
up.

“Come on, you foul beast!” yelled the beast
masters. “Raise the bridge!”

I heard the troll moan both in agony and
effort as the bridge slowly rose.

I proceeded to the two sentries standing
guard between the towers, trying to figure out how I was going to
sly myself past them. On the other side, the carriage was going up
a brief slope, when a sudden gust of wind blew the cargo’s tarp up.
My heart stopped when I saw what was revealed beneath; an iron cage
with a kneeling woman inside, a woman with wings. It was her,
Auria! She was so pale; her head skewed with sadness. A soldier
quickly ran up the slope and tied the tarp down. She didn’t see
me!

“Halt,” one of the sentries commanded as he
saw me nearing the drawbridge. I couldn’t care less what he said. I
knocked him to the side and ran.

“Raise the bridge! Quickly!” the other
yelled towards the hole. From behind I heard the troll growl louder
than before as the bridge rose fast. I sprinted as the bridge
turned diagonally. I reached the rising edge and jumped with all my
might. I soared over the river and landed poorly at the opposite
bank. There was a third sentry waiting for me. He kicked me on the
ribs before I could get up. He then grabbed my arm to drag me, but
I took my dagger and stabbed him. He held his stomach as he knelt
in pain. I looked for the carriage, but it had already reached the
top of the slope.

The storm intensified with its downpour
slapping my body, making it more difficult to run up the squelching
mud. When I overcame the incline, I saw the caravan continue its
way between a series of tents. They were scattered all over the
foot of the nearest mountain. Each tent had the insignia of the
balorian army on its side: a crow holding a halberd with its
talons. It was an army encampment, and Auria was right in the
middle of it.