The Beginnings Omnibus: Beginnings 1, 2, 3 & Legend of Ashenclaw novella (Realm of Ashenclaw Beginnings Saga) (13 page)

Saeunn chanced a surreptitious glance and noted the gaze of Rothnarr upon her. If anyone was closer, they would have seen her blush—an uncommon event for the stoic barbarian woman. Her bright blonde hair cascaded down her back and over her shoulders, a few braids intermingled with the loose strands. A mesh of tightly ringed mail draped loosely over her breasts, shoulders and back, and a series of leather straps covered her loins and hung freely to mid-thigh. Much of her well-built arms, mid-section and legs were exposed, despite the weather, and were tanned from the summer months.

Barbarians wore light armors in order to maneuver quickly on the battlefield. Also, when they fought, they were oft times overtaken by a bloodlust that flowed hot through them, heating their blood as it fueled their fight.

Scarr and the others moved further into the village toward the huts of the shamans. As they arrived at the designated area, Shaman Syth stepped from his hut. Tokens, trinkets, fetishes and feathers hung from both his skin and clothing. He remained silent and observed the barbarians as they went about their tasks, untying the elk from the huge branches upon which they carried them, two per bough.

Suddenly, a scout on horseback appeared in the distance. As he neared, he clumsily dismounted, stumbling to the ground. Scarr recognized the boy as one of Helzak’s children—Halton. Helzak was a fine bowman in Chansuk, and had the eyes of an eagle. Normally Helzak would be either hunting with Scarr or helping as a scout, but this day had him bedridden with sickness. That was why the boy was in his place. The young man approached with a frightened and disturbed look upon his pale, young face. His eyes were wide and he was pointing to the north as he attempted to gather himself.

“Halton, what is it?” asked Scarr as he tried to steady the boy.

“The… Greymoors,” managed the boy, gasping for air, the heat from his breath seen clearly against the cold of the morning air. “A horde…,” he continued, finally slowing his breathing. “A horde of… something… is coming this way!”

Scarr grabbed the boy by his comparably smaller arms and pulled him closer. “A horde heading where?!” demanded the barbarian chieftain.

“They are heading northwest. Most of them, anyway,” cried the young man. Scarr could feel the boy shaking and fidgeting in his grip, truly frightened by whatever it was that he had witnessed.

“How far are they now, boy?” asked Scarr, plans formulating in his mind.

“Many miles still,” Halton answered, motionless in the iron grip of Scarr’s powerful hands. “I was able to spot them a great distance away, but—“

“But, what?” insisted Scarr, pulling the boy even closer. They were almost nose to nose.

“They seem to be… random in their movements. Like they are not organized. They have no leader, I think.”

Scarr pushed Halton back and released his vise-like grip, admiring the boy’s obvious talent for perception and observance of details. Just like Helzak, thought Scarr. The boy fell backward, but caught his balance and stood again, staring at the commanding barbarian before him who tugged at his braided beard thoughtfully.

“Alert the village,” Scarr ordered, specifically directing this command to Magreth. He nodded and ran off in a dead sprint. Then he turned to Rothnarr and added, “You’d better alert your people, too, if your father doesn’t know already.”

“Aye,” Rothnarr agreed and strode away with purpose.

Within moments, a crowd began to form around their leader, a wall of muscled barbarians who stood intently awaiting the words of their great chieftain.

“Barbarians of Chansuk,” Scarr began, but then hesitated, seeing his daughter amongst the group, her hair now braided and tied back in a pony tail. “We are facing an enemy unknown to us. But, whoever they are, we will send them running back in the direction from whence they came!”

A chorus of cheers went up with that declaration, a deafening roar from the hundreds of barbarians gathered. That roar slowly turned into a chant of “Chan-suk, Chan-suk!”

On it went for several moments until Scarr withdrew his twin axes, his signature weapons, and crossed them one over the other in front of his chest. He then climbed atop one of the huts in two powerful strides. As he reached the roof, he peered over the palisade and maneuvered the axes up and over his head, crossing them once more. The clamor became deafening as Scarr watched Rothnarr ride to the northwest on horseback.

“For The Champion!” Scarr roared, looking skyward and standing like a god on the roof, his blonde hair falling over his finely muscled shoulders. The barbarians responded to those last words and rushed toward the northern gate. Scarr gave them a head start and then leaped down to join them.

Saeunn became one with the horde as it rushed out of the village. With weapons in hand and an intense battle lust etched upon their faces, the barbarians of Chansuk raced to intercept the unknown threat. Saeunn was with her brother, Magreth, who wielded a huge battle axe. He led and she followed, her own greatsword drawn and at the ready. Saeunn’s weapon had been crafted by a village blacksmith only a few years ago and was gifted to her by her father when she reached adulthood after her sixteenth name-day. Needless to say, it was special to her. She had drawn blood with the weapon before, but only on a few occasions.

Saeunn knew deep down that her father accepted her as a true barbarian—naturally gifted and uninhibited when it came to the kill. She did what she must on the field of battle and did not let guilt or trepidation rule her actions. She knew that Scarr witnessed and understood this from the first time she ever brandished her weapon. But, he never voiced it. He would never speak of it, especially to her mother.

Once Huuna discovered that Saeunn was accompanying the counter attack, she would not be pleased… not one bit. She had visions of her daughter marrying a warrior and bearing him children, just as she had done, and had voiced that opinion often. That life choice did not sit well with Saeunn, the barbarian. And Scarr knew this, too. His daughter had always shown the fire of a warrior behind her eyes, though he attempted to discourage her many times for Huuna’s sake.

Women were not often sent into the vanguard, but there were more than a few of the so-called ‘fairer sex’ who could make quite an impression in that very arena.

Women of Chansuk were no ordinary women.

Just then, Saeunn noticed Scarr as he scanned the crowd and ran at a slow pace, allowing those behind to catch up. His gaze fell on his daughter. He stared at her initially with a discouraging look meant to dissuade her from the coming battle. It was a futile effort. He therefore ran on, passing her and looking back, nodding this time. It was a silent approval that he would never voice as he did not want to explicitly encourage her. She interpreted that as a sign meant to signify his unspoken blessing to her.

She was once told that, when he had a bit too much to drink, Scarr whispered admissions of knowing that The Champion had gifted him with not one, but two warriors from the seed of his heritage.

With that thought in the forefront of her mind, Saeunn took to a full sprint, catching up to her father and leaving her brother behind. Her green eyes lit up with a renewed sparkle and her braided blonde hair bounced from side to side as she ran, almost as if it too were inspired with a new vitality.

Then she saw them coming.

The barbarian horde collectively slowed for a split second as they beheld the living atrocities in greater detail. The things were bloated, rotting creatures. Skin adorned with sores and boils dripped from their bones. They were a truly horrid sight and an obvious blight upon the whole of Wothlondia.

The first of the wretched creatures hit their lines. After the initial revulsion of having seen the things up close, the barbarians responded in kind.

Saeunn and Scarr were amongst those in the second wave of attackers. Saeunn strayed from her group, purposefully giving ground as she wanted to swing her weapon wide. She rushed to meet a group of the creatures head on, barbarian fury pumping in her veins. Her first wide swing cleaved one in two across the stomach, barely slowing on the flesh or what was inside it. She recognized this abomination to be what the village shamans told her was a zombie, an undead corpse fueled with evil life gifted by the demon lords of Pandemonium. But this thing looked different from the creatures in the shaman’s tales. It was full of deadly disease and oozed a vile corruption from its tattered skin.

A second and third pestilent wretch appeared and moved toward her. Part of her could not help but be impressed by the speed at which the bulbous creatures scrambled. She slashed her sword across in a downward, right to left motion, all but severing the head of the nearest zombie. It hung loosely by a strand of flesh, and then landed with a squishy sound upon the damp ground, followed by its body.

The third zombie slammed into Saeunn, knocking her back a few steps and probing for flesh to bite with its keen-edged teeth. It continued, following its impetus, which the woman had anticipated for she fought on instinct. Saeunn rolled backwards with the creature’s momentum, extending her sword straight out while holding it tightly and near the top of the hilt, halfway up the weapon’s blade, giving her better control of its weight.

The undead wretch skewered itself upon her sword. But instead of recoiling, the zombie continued to push toward her, further impaling itself and refusing to yield, wanting only to reach her flesh. Saeunn pulled her blade free, exchanging the placement of the weapon with her own left foot, which she used to keep the thing at bay. She shoved out with tremendous force, thrusting the creature rearward to gain space and using that inertia to once more propel herself into a backward roll. She sprung to her feet before the thing could move toward her and spun in a complete circle. Her greatsword followed the arc and slashed through the zombie’s neck with significant force, causing its head to fly away, rolling toward another fray not far from her. She paused to witness the battle for a split second as she was given a brief reprieve.

Saeunn heard the slashing of swords and axes biting into zombie flesh. She listened to the screams of dying barbarians and heard the invigorating roar of battle cries that instilled a morale boost to the servants of The Champion.

Saeunn followed the bounding skull of the zombie and watched as another of them charged, tripping over it and stumbling forward. It had the misfortune of sprawling into the devastating dance of the pair of axes belonging to her father, Scarr. He had managed to stay close to his daughter in the skirmish and kept an eye on her. He grunted a few times as he swung those axes in a rhythmic pattern, continuing to chop the zombie to pieces in a way that made it look as though he were dancing and not fighting. Not once did any of the creatures advance past his defenses and never did the man’s weapons cease their hypnotic pattern of destruction.

Out of nowhere, Saeunn felt her flesh ignite from within and her green eyes widened in shock as she sensed the sudden onrush of heat. It seemed like her blood was beginning to simmer, as if had been sitting on a fire for hours, and she became unnerved. This sensation was unlike the frenzy that she normally experienced in the field of battle and was instead something of a supernatural nature.

Once the burning sensation ceased, it was followed quickly by a genuine fatigue that washed over her. She noticed now that several of her tribe was suffering these same effects. Scarr continued to cut through the zombies one by one as if they were merely dissolving under the onslaught of his attack sequence. If he was affected by the same thing as she was, Saeunn could not tell.