The slope was muddy, the ground softer than it had been for the last half hour of the journey. The previous week's sporadic rain had washed out the forest trail to a degree that made it a veritable slog of a trip through the Yorhall woods.
Men in the column were struggling, albeit as gracefully as they could, to make it down the gradual slope without losing their footing, their heavy plate armor and underlying chainmail already limiting their movements, even in the best of ideal fighting conditions. Now it made every step a test of balance.
The clouds above were dark, angry gray and black in some places, the sky, muted and gloomy as the storm front continued to move across the region. Such was the typical climate of the Emorian winter, the lush country was alive with vegetation despite the chilly cold months, and though rain had yet to fall all day, Lasha knew it would not be much longer before it did.
She stood silent, watching the honor guard of Prince Eliphas as they hefted their weapons, a mix of every type of sword, lance, and shield shapes, the warriors of his personal guard tailored to no particular fighting style, save for wielding their best-practiced weapons in defense of their lord.
The soldiers continued to pass as Lasha watched them lurch unsteadily like old drunkards through the dark brown mud and muck,
“It's always so pretty this time of year,” she said with clear sarcasm, though without breaking her professional veneer of calm, “though it will add to our travel time.”
Her helmet was latched to her belt, and the golden blonde, back-length hair she was blessed with ran straight to either side of her face. She was dressed similarly to all the other men in the company of forty, etched blue armor with muddied, though glistening gold trim, proud and denoting their honor of escorting the blood of royalty throughout the realms.
“We've been away two years,” a voice came from her side, the voice of a man now, strong but not brutish, one accustomed to being in command, “I think a little more won't kill any more of us,” the crowned prince said with a small smile glancing slightly down and to his side, addressing his captain.
“Hopefully,” he said looking on as a man in the line, Braum, lost his footing and stumbled to the mud, ruining his plate further despite it already being rugged and tarnished after months of campaigning and long marches. A fresh splash of frigid dark grime welcomed the warrior as he landed, not losing grip, however, of his large, axe-bladed halberd as he grunted and swore, picking himself back up and earning a couple of low chuckles and jeers from the other men.
“The men are in good spirits,” Lasha continued, “are you not as well?”
Eliphas thought quietly to himself, he was glad to be within the borders of the civilized world again, that was true enough, but he was, admittedly, not excited to be returning to his place of birth; the fortress capital of Emoria. His family was there, and while those in his company would be glad to return to their own wives, husbands, and children, he instead was anxious about arriving back within the walls of the palace. To a certain degree, he was even dreading it.
The fact remained, however, he was about to be home, back to his, “normal,” life.
“I have a father, who has never respected me awaiting my return. A brother, who, though he'd never actually admit it, has always hated me. And the long-faded memories of a mother, who I've never known.”
A voice called from the rear of the column, indicating the last man was traversing the slope, the formation of chosen veterans trudging along passed the pair as they conversed quietly.
“I am not,” Eliphas paused, glancing to the wet and undulating ground as his thoughts searched for the correct words, looking up at Lasha into her green eyes as he, at last, did so, “Thrilled...To be home, just yet, I think.”
Lasha was a friend of the prince, and this kind of talk came easily to them, especially after nearly a decade of being at first a member of, and then the commander of his own personal escort. She wanted to lift his spirits, she knew the life of a noble was political and complex, but she knew he was strong enough to endure something as simple as that.
“In time Lord,” the blonde woman said curtly, as she commonly was, sharp and to the point.
The prince nodded with a small smile and cast his gaze to the final man, as the blue armored warrior, sporting with pride the crest of Emoria on his cuirass as he passed, the metal dented and the paint scratched in too many places to count, but the golden lion head still defiant and unmistakable. The man nodded as he continued after the pair, and Eliphas nodded back, noting the name etched into the steel on his right shoulder pad. Each of his guards was known to him, even before the company had made for the northern fringes of the empire. They were strong. Experienced. They had seen some of the harshest climates and devilish foes that stalked the known realms, and they had defended their master without hesitation through all hardships and battles.
Lasha narrowed her eyes slightly as the last man walked carefully on, and Eliphas took note of this as he came to the same, worrying conclusion.
“Did you count thirty-seven, guard commander?”
She nodded in return, casting her gaze back up the slope and scanning the hillside for a possible straggler, though she and Eliphas knew instinctively that was not going to be the case. None of the men in the formation had sustained injury the last week's trek, and there was no reason for any member to be falling behind, especially now only a few days from home.
The two made worried eye contact as Eliphas hefted his large, singled bladed battleaxe in his right hand, pulling it free from his back. The prince was not decorated, nor armored in the same fashion as his guard. He wore black, double layered armor plates, with pauldrons on his shoulders spiked with three sharpened studs. A cape of blood red covered his back, and his legs were similarly well-protected from harm with a dark heavy skirt of thick plates. Here and there, battles and names were painstakingly carved into the metal, names of previous wearers of the suit, as well as deeds and wars previously fought. A physical history of his family's legacy through the generations of war and glory, a lineage he now bore with great honor.
The two began to trudge through the mud as Lasha ordered the column to a halt, passing along the order to her second in command to begin a roll-check of its members to find out who was missing.
The boots of the two soldiers made sucking, wet sounds as they rose a fell, scaling slowly up the trail back the way they came and searching to their left and right, the female honor guard reaching for the hilt of her broadsword still nestled inside its scabbard.
Eliphas made it up the hill first hefting his weapon across his shoulders with one hand, Lasha guarding his flank as he watched the trees and bushes for any movement, the two being high up enough now that they could see the troops below organizing themselves for a possible spring to action, finishing roll call.
“Anything?” The prince said quietly, his dark black hair rolling back to the length of his neck, though neatly grouped together and bound.
“No, lord.” Lasha said flatly, “I don't think tha-”
Suddenly there was an explosion from the treeline from both sides, trees and thick limbs of ancient timber detonating and spraying stakes of living bark flying through the air in an instant. Shards of wood cut into Eliphas' shoulder pad as he ducked down, shielding his unprotected face as did Lasha to his side. The pair stumbled as the ground shook beneath their feet, despite the muddied slush of the forest floor.
The bodyguard commander quickly recovered and threw up her helmet, quickly sliding it over her head and rising up, drawing her weapon in one swift and almost elegant motion as the treeline all along their route similarly spew a hailstorm of brush and branches as it had on the hill.
The men of the company rallied at once though they endured some initial casualties from the projectiles, a couple of Emorians writhing in the muck speared by tree parts or struck unconscious, a couple not rising at all, lying still with fatal wounds from the ambush.
Braum was faced down as Lasha began to bellow orders to her unit, a lance of evenly shaped and torn timber protruding from the back of his armor's gorget, the tip covered in bright red blood.
The men were seeking cover from the surprise blast, though as birds and other wildlife took flight into the air, fleeing from the sudden threat, the warriors of Eliphas' host steeled themselves for battle. No second volley of projectiles came, however, and the shaking ground suddenly grew immense as puddles of collected rain shuddered in tremors, as did the bones and blood of everyone in the small convoy.
The trees of the forest were tall, and as a huge bunch of them crashed aside, smashing down into the path of the party blocking the trail and crushing a few members of the guard, the origin of the attack came into view with shocking, unnatural speed. The being came at a sprint, and in an instant, was among the small, by comparison, human defenders.
Arghost was the next man to die, the form of a humanoid, a towering, giant of a thing, slammed it's bare, mud-covered foot onto his body as his ornate suit of cold steel offered him no protection whatsoever against its crushing weight. Gore exploded from beneath the beast's skin in an instant, but as quickly as it came down, it retracted skyward, revealing the mutilated form of the man and running his blood along together with rainwater as both flecked in all directions, flowing back to fill the new, deep footprint.
The unit was disoriented and spread out, the flurry of dangerous wood had broken them apart, but as they tried as best they could to reform their unit posture, they began to form a resistance at once.
Lasha and Eliphas stood stunned and wide-eyed for a few heartbeats, two more of their group dying in as many moments as one was crushed similar to the first victim underfoot, then the other was kicked aside mercilessly like a child's toy as the opposite foot came forward, both bodies being destroyed utterly, and the later flying across the trail and impacting an idle tree with a sickening crunch of bone and metal and a flash of crimson.
Eliphas blinked and stepped forwards as his chest began to surge with adrenaline, his friend also coming free of the shock that had shamefully overcome them both, after they beheld, their vision unimpeded now, what was assaulting them.
“Reform!”
Barked the prince of Emoria, saliva flecking from his mouth and shouting as loudly as his lungs would fire, his voice carrying little though due to the chaos unfolding on the forest trail below.
A laugh came next, from high above, almost like a response to Eliphas' command, the booming chorus coming out and chilling his blood as he made to run down to join the fray and rally his small force.
Warriors with throwing weapons or bow armament, began to loose ammunition, trying with regimented practice to score a wounding shot to maybe an eye or soft point of flesh, but each time an arrow flew or a spear was thrown, its owner was dispatched with frightening ease in a horrifyingly quick response.
A pair of Lasha's men were shooting arrows from enormous longbows, the two separating on instinct to make themselves less of a target, but the thing of pale flesh knelt down next crashing to one huge knee, and slammed one of its fists into the earth, muck and vitae spraying as everyone nearby struggled to keep their balance with the impact. One of the archers survived this strike, that was certain, but he was not spared much longer than his dead comrade, despite his valiant attempt to hurriedly nock a fresh arrow for another shot.
The monster plucked the armored longbowman from the ground as if he weighed nothing at all, the human about the size of a date fruit in its unforgiving grasp. The warrior let out a cry of fear as the attacker's mouth came open, revealing curiously pronounced canine teeth and a dark black pit of an open gullet. Other members of the company now came close enough to stab and swing for the thing's ankles and knelt thigh and knee, but the blows it suffered, that seemed not even to cause any discomfort at all, appeared wholly ineffective.
The blue human fell into the monster's mouth, and a horrifying crunch followed not even a moment later, the teeth of the horned entity smacking, again and again, numerous times in quick succession, before a sloppy and deep swallowing noise followed thereafter, its treat smashed to mush and ready for digestion, heading for its stomach.
The brave souls at the monster's ankles and thigh finally attracted some measure of attention as they were carelessly swatted aside as a group like nothing but annoying insects, a dismissive backhand by the monster's gigantic hand sending them tumbling away, all hard enough that as Lasha and the prince neared, they could hear grim sounds of bones cracking and breaking with a messy, muted snap with the blow.
Eliphas saw a smirk on its face...a smirk... of all damned things. It was female in form, obvious amounts of femininity were clearly discernible, but it was anything but truly human. There were a pair of sharply curved and pointed horns atop either side of its head and it was garbed in some form of black, leather material he could not immediately identify. The woman wore a pair of arm bracers of the same material on her wrists and on her toned and firm biceps, the material stretching with its wearer's movements as cohesion within the group of her prey broke down suffering too many losses.
As Eliphas caught its gaze, he saw more clearly, as if the woman's sheer size and horns were not enough to prove she wasn't human, that she carried an unnatural shade of eye color; glistening, glowing yellow, like poor Braum's shining chest emblem, now face down flat in the dark grime of the disgusting forest floor.
The attacker's right eye narrowed as her opposite grew wider with curiosity, as if excited to find a special member among her new batch of toys, the smirk on her face growing with her newly piqued interest.
Eliphas shuddered as he and Lasha came to a halt, the blonde bodyguard's weapon up and she herself in a fighting stance. A combination of fear and anger grew in the prince's heart, he was truly scared, as he was in every battle he'd ever fought, but now, the seemingly casual destruction of his most trusted men, many of which were his friends, poured hatred over his fear and overshadowed his quickly fading shock.
The female chuckled lowly, and suddenly, as if by some completely undiscovered means of sorcery, the woman shrank in an instant, air pressure booming and a rush of wind blowing outward as she reduced in size falling to a brief crouch.
“Good.” thought Eliphas, without questioning the development further, “small enough to kill now.”
The son of the king roared as his lips exploded with anger, pupils dilating sharply and his legs propelling him forward without another thought. He was vaguely aware Lasha was surging forward next to him, a similar war cry coming from her helmet grill as the last surviving members of the party counter attacked with renewed purpose.
Another member of the group was first to reach the threat, and he swung his large claymore down in a deadly, killing arc as the steel cut through the air at the female beast, now about half a head shorter than Eliphas himself, and slightly shorter than Lasha by comparison.
The woman slid cleanly under the blow and reached behind her back to her waist in response, sliding with a metallic sheen a pair of pitch black, shuriken-like knives. Coming up and forward with surprising speed, the girl slashed upwards into the thin neck area beneath her foe's armor, blood spraying in a jet upon his chest plate with pumping squirts of red as the blades bit like crossed scissor edges.
A second man bounded towards her, undeterred by the death of his fellow and readying his own large sword to swing at the now reduced humanoid girl.
The entity in minimal black coverings twirled one of her knives by its ring handle, the short dagger spinning around neatly several rotations before she hurled it underhand, the throwing weapon zinging with a blur into, and then out the back of the veteran's helmet with terrifying ease, brain matter and gore shooting out the back side of his skull from the exit wound as the dagger zipped through and kept going.
The last man in the guard, other than Lasha and Eliphas, that he could see anyways, died a couple of seconds later, the thrust of his long spear deflecting off one of the woman's dagger blades, as was the second, and third thrust he attempted, each clink and spark of metal resulting in another laugh from the girl who appeared as concerned at this size as she had been at her previous.
As the inhuman female parried away his last attack, she dipped her free hand beneath the same part of her back and slid free another, identical, black shard of metal, replacing it with great skill and inconceivable precision into the eye slit of the lancer's helmet, through his bone, into the meat of his cranium. He toppled over with the crunch of wet bone breaking in a vicious crumple of armor.
And now, Eliphas was upon her.
The prince swung his axe across her chest, intent on bisecting her with the width of his weapon, keeping her at a distance with his superior reach. The black armored lord had fought in battle with many different types of foes, human, and beast alike, but he had never seen such a creature in all his service to his father's empire, not in any of the short twenty-seven years of his life.
The girl sidestepped away, spinning both daggers in her hands, having replaced again the one she'd last thrown, and as the blade of the axe cleared her body, she pressed forward with a savage smile. In close for the anticipated kill.
Eliphas was ready for her though, he had already taken notice of this killer's preferred method of murder, and had adapted as he had been trained to in the flurry of armed combat.
As the creature quickly lunged at him, both knives in hand, he swung and slammed his armored fist into the side of its head, but when Eliphas' gauntlet met his foe's skull, he felt at least one of his knuckles crack upon contact. It was if the thing was made of metal.
The prince let out a growl of pain and swore loudly as the female staggered and a trickle of blood came from its breached temple, the two separating momentarily.
“If I die,” laughed the black lord with his own smile on his face, his dead men and the slaughter around him monetarily forgotten as the rush of battle coursed through his veins, “I die with your blood on my hands, whelp!”
With renewed vigor, and without letting the thing reply, Eliphas attacked once more, swinging well his axe without pause, though his opponent sidestepped neatly in response, the blade of the prince digging into and scything a spray of mud as it missed its intended target. Lasha was in range now too, however, and came in low where her lord had come in high, thrusting and catching a pair of deflections, clangs of sparks following as her sword parried off of one of the other girl's knives in succession.
The remaining pair's enemy was fast, and from the look of her well carved abdominal muscles, and the taut, firm build of her thighs and arms, it was becoming clear as to why. She was not encumbered by bulky protection, and in addition, she was built like an experienced, cutthroat, mercenary.
Lasha came in low from the same side once again, and this it would seem, became her undoing. She struck out with her sword and as she did so, the girl of black, shoulder length hair, sent the cut rebounding off one of her arm braces, as if it was made of some kind of flexible steel, the material not penetrated. Lasha was exposed as a result, and the yellow-eyed woman took advantage of that, getting in close, and headbutting the guard commander with her own forehead that was much harder than it looked.
Despite her crested helm, the blonde woman staggered as her weapon hand wavered, and her foe was too quick in covering the new gap for the nearby Eliphas to aid her. She whirled both knives in her hands, and stabbed upwards, under the coverage of Lasha's breastplate and into her bottom ribs. The girl cried out and lost the grip of her weapon, blood coming forth immediately from the dual wounds in her lower sternum. The female entity withdrew her blades with that same, savage grin still on her face, and backhanded Lasha away, though, somehow, with immeasurable strength, as if she hadn't lost any of her power by shrinking down to the group's size.
The guard commander flew backwards, limbs crumpling forwards in a heap and sword pattering to the mud discarded, her body disappearing into the nearby treeline as a limb from a timber snapped along the way with her impact.
Elpihas shouted wordlessly. His most loyal and trusted friend was tossed aside as if some kind of undesirable fruit picked by accident. He swung a flurry of vengeful strikes, trying to find a weakness in the damned thing's defenses with each attack. The girl sidestepped or parried each swing, and none of them found purchase, though, with each assault, she seemed to give ground. The prince had seen it bleed when struck, and knew it was possible to injure it, though he was also sure he would tire much sooner than she did, and as he reflected grimly on that fact, he knew he was running out of time. The longer the fight dragged on, the more chance he had of losing, and most assuredly, dying.
Eliphas threw forwards a kick of his great armored boot and leg, trying to either push the woman off balance or knock her to the ground; neither of which occurred.
The horned girl punched his kick aside and lunged at him, swinging both daggers downwards as she went slightly airborne by some unknown means. The attack was meant for his face, but Eliphas turned his shoulder guard into the blows and one rebounded harmlessly off with a skidding shriek of scratching metal, the other, unfortunately, cut into a joint that met his left pectoral, going through the inner layer of his chainmail and drawing blood in a hot wash of pain.
The prince howled in rage in reply, but with his free left hand, he seized the girl by the throat and squeezed with every ounce of his strength, hoping to disable her long enough to strike with his axe, or failing that, crush her larynx with the new opening.
The girl showed minor discomfort, and at last, genuine struggle as she scrambled to loosen his grip, falling slightly short of his overall, superior reach. Thinking quickly in response though, she hammered a wrist into his own gauntlet and broke the choke hold, then, surprisingly, pressed her advantage and latched onto his own neck with terrifying power, squeezing his windpipe shut without any apparent trouble.
Eliphas gasped and his eyes forced shut, precious oxygen strangled from his lungs and a complete blockage of new air set in its place. He flailed and swung out haphazardly in mild panic and surprise, unable to breathe and now feeling his head begin to pound and his lungs starting to burn.
He gasped out again, his voice and coughs ragged and strained, and next, to his complete disbelief, he began to rise slowly. The girl, without displaying any effort, picked him up off the ground and held him up above her face, despite being shorter than him still.
Eliphas dropped his axe, not being strangled now taking all his effort, putting both hands to the task of freeing the single iron grip the dark-haired woman held onto his throat.
As he struggled, his legs dangling and his teeth clenched, the woman spoke to him, in his own native language.
“Heh, not so proud now are you little-lord?”
She said with a scoff.
Eliphas' face was turning red, but the pressure of the grip now wasn't growing, it was simply keeping him in place as he was inspected by the girl covered in unique leather.
“You were the best among them,” she brought him slightly closer to her face and lowered her voice,
“Tell me, what is your bloodline, human?”
Eliphas struggled and without voicing a response, spat half a mouthful of blood and saliva towards the girls face, who casually tilted her face out of its path.
The woman chuckled, turning his head from side to side and looking at his plate covered in names and deeds, none of which she recognized, though she discerned it was obviously to mark him out in some way as a leader or noble. His appearance, along with his skill at fighting, made him valuable.
She shrugged closing both of her eyes and her voice came again, her tone deep, but dismissive and oddly casual, completely at odds with the scene of utter devastation and violence around the pair.
“Fine, don't say anything. Have it your way. Maybe you'll tell me who you are after I tear one of your pretty eyes out.”
With that, the female entity tapped the very center of Eliphas' armor with her hand's dagger as his stomach suddenly and violently sank, the same rush of air and force of pressure reducing him now in size the moment her blade tapped the black steel.
The woman unzipped a pouch at her waist, carelessly plopping him inside and zipping it closed without a second thought. As she stepped in the cool mud with her bare soles, both stained with the remains of the freshly dead, she approached a nearby tree, and cut a hole in its bark, splitting the sides of the cut wide enough for her to step into and through, the cut in the wood sealing behind her like sliced flesh healing together over the span of just a few seconds.
And just as quickly as the chaos had ensued, the forest was still once more, and silent. No one had been spared, and even the birds that had taken flight would not return to the area until the next day at the earliest.