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The Reconquest 1 - Gathering Allies
Year 29AA, outside the small hamlet of Ha-Leothe, east of Ha-Dûna...
The four-five huts that had once made up the pastoral community of Ha-Leothe laid in smouldering ruins. Barns and smokehouses that had housed their keep and supplies stood instead ablaze, though not before having been stripped down to the skeleton for anything that could be salvaged. The supplies were heaped up in the hamlet centre, surrounded by raggedy, meagre-boned, yet dreadfully vicious warriors of Ha-Dûna. Behind the heap stood a quickly-assembled altar to Sigeran: it consisted of three poles, each topped with the bleeding head of a villager, surrounding their piled-up corpses. The rest of the folk of Ha-Leothe wept with rope about their hands, forming a line of enslaved prisoners of war. The largest of the warriors offered the last hut still on fire a sharp scowl before she spat.
“That’s the last of it?”
“That’s the last of it,” confirmed one of her fellow brigands.
“Good. Let’s move. These people look slower than the last catch. Come on!” She yanked at the rope, the ten or so people tied to it staggering forward a pace, more so due to each others’ imbalance and trance of disbelief. “Frasa, take Huin to lead the cattle back. Samuin, you’ll--”
She quieted herself. The other warriors saw her and immediately reached for their weapons. The ground trembled and the nearby woods screamed with snapping twigs and rustling leaves. The warriors quickened their breathing in knowing fright. The largest among them grit her teeth.
“Shit, they’re coming! Quickly, take as much as you can, and--!” An arrow nailed her in the arm and she fell over. The rest of the band ducked for cover and pulled their weapons out. From the woods came another band of soldiers, led by Boudicca hefting a great axe above her head.
“FOR HA-DÛNA!” the warrioress roared.
“FOR HA-DÛNA!” her companions echoed. The brigands managed to avoid another volley of arrows, as they saw the archers lower their bows for fear of killing the civilians. The brigands met the charge - their numbers were almost equal, but the followers of Sigeran were tired and underfed. Boudicca and her warriors hammered into first few brigands with spears, axe and club, breaking them quickly. Some of them ran at the civilians, but they were immediately stopped by a Mother descending from the sky to trap them in silk or slay them with terrible fury.
“H-HOLD THE LINE!” The greatest among the brigands rose to quivering feet, clutching her bloody arm. “We cannot lose these supplies! Our people are starving! FIGHT ON!” She grabbed her own spear, but it was knocked out of her hand. She looked up just in time to stare Boudicca in the face, the other woman towering over her. Before the brigand could speak, Boudicca swung her axe, taking her head and raising it to the sky. The sight shattered what remained of enemy morale, and the brigands ran for the hills in an instant, hounded by arrows all the way. Meanwhile, Boudicca approached the altar to Sigeran. She glared at it and raised the head of the brigand leader up to meet the eyes of the spiked heads of the villagers.
“Know this, you cruel god! This is what happens to those who follow you, and we will not stop until Ha-Dûna and her lands are free of your ilk!” With that, she cast the head to the ground, where it bruised and rolled up to her foot. She panted and looked back up, her eyes filling with sorrow as she studied the tortured faces of the villager heads. “They are growing more desperate by the day.
The accompanying Mother, busily untying the ropes holding the villagers and tending to their wounds, offered a quiet hum of acknowledgement. “What else can we expect? With locusts eating at their fields and starving their livestock, how else would they eat? Nothing is more dangerous than a cornered beast...” She wrapped a young girl’s bruised leg with silk and went to tend to an old man clutching his bleeding left eye.
“Here, let me help,” said Boudicca to the villagers attempting to carefully topple the poles holding up their molested friends and family, and other warriors came to help them. As the villagers gathered around the corpses to mourn and weep, the warriors helped them regather the supplies and salvage what prized belongings remained in the ruins. Boudicca oversaw the work while the Mother continued to perform first aid next to her on the villagers that needed it. Some of the warriors had, too, been wounded in the battle, and more than one needed their wounds bandaged and their bones set. When the pressure died down slightly, the Mother wiped her hands clean of blood on a silk rag and stepped over to Boudicca with her arms crossed. The giant offered her a nod and set her eyes back on the villagers huddling around three corpse pyres symbolically built inside the charcoal skeleton of the largest hamlet hut.
“Do you sympathise with them, Kelly?” Boudicca asked openly. The Mother offered her a sideways glance.
“Of course, I do. Their lives were ruined; their homes, burnt to the ground - all at the whims of a crazed priestess back in the city that used to rule these lands.”
“No, I mean - do you sympathise with the Sigerans? The way you spoke about them earlier seemed as though-...”
“I don’t. Well… That’s not really true…” She lowered her gaze as Boudicca raised her a brow. “I guess it’s innate in my psyche as a Mother to feel sympathy for all things - no matter how evil. The Sigerans, though…” The two of them watched the villagers set their dead aflame, supported by the Dûnan warriors who offered them sympathies and poems for the dead. Kelly furrowed her brow. “The Sigerans make it really hard.”
Boudicca sucked pensively on a tooth. “I can’t pretend like I understand much of your philosophy, but… If that’s who you are, then as long as it doesn’t hinder your ability as a soldier, I will respect it. We’re killing our brothers and sisters, after all - our families, people we saw every day.” She glanced over at one of the Sigeran corpses. “I remember her face, that one - used to sell carrot bread and baked potatoes from a small stall by the eastern resthouse. Now she’s dead - slain for little more than being at the wrong place at the wrong time.” She put a hand on Kelly’s shoulder and the Mother shrunk. “Maybe we could all use a little heart in these times.”
“Yeah… Maybe.”
After the pyres had begun to die down and the tears of the villagers had begun to dry up, they all gathered in the centre by the three holes in the bloodied soil where the altar once had stood. The villagers still looked shaken, and many burst into tears again when surveying the remains of their home a second time. Their emotions seemed to sober down, however, as Kelly spread her wings wide and wafted forth a small cloud of pollen-like dust, which swept over the villagers like a tranquil puff of wind. The youngest among them fell asleep in their parents’ arms, and the most exhausted struggled to stand upright. The weakest were supported by Dûnan soldiers, quick reflexes saving them from a visit to the ground. The Mother smiled appreciatively at the helpers and spoke,
“This is the worst of times, people of Ha-Leothe. Your homes and loved ones were taken by those you once called friends, brothers, sisters… Truly, no punishment is worse than this.” The crowd collectively lowered their heads.
“The Sigerans will pay for this!” snarled one of the men. He was instantly supported by tearful cries of rage. Kelly offered them another wave of calming pollen and nodded slowly.
“The Sigerans will pay, yes - however, as Gibbou says: ‘First, we must ensure those we hold dear are safe; only then can we turn to face those who threaten them.’ We cannot allow ourselves to be consumed by vengeance and throw caution and love to the wind. We must, as Artafax would say, ‘come together to form a foundation’. This foundation will support the tower which is our reconquest of Ha-Dûna.” She studied the expressions of the crowd and scrunched her nose. “In other words, we cannot go out on our own. We must come together as one and strike back as one.” She gestured to the building skeletons. “Your homes were taken from you - they cannot be given back; nor can the lives of those they slayed. The true sons and daughters of Ha-Dûna can offer you new housing and friendship, however, either at Kirin’s Rest or Scawick. They won’t replace the old, but it’s all we can do.”
The villagers exchanged weary glances. Kelly sighed. “It’s your own choice. We will not force you either way.” Boudicca, meanwhile, kept close watch of the hills to which the enemy had escaped. Suddenly, a shadow appeared over one of them - humanoid and, from the looks of their hands, armed with a spear. The shadow became multiple, and they were approaching fast. The giant grit her teeth and spun to look at her companion, a huntress named Gro.
“Run back and tell Kelly to evacuate the villagers! Everyone, to arms!” As Gro ran back, Boudicca formed a line with her seven other companions, leaving those who had been wounded earlier to stay with the villagers. The incoming force seemed undeterred by their resilience, despite their inferior numbers. In fact, their charge seemed completely fearless - so much so that it struck fear in herself. Boudicca’s eyes went wide with terror as she recognised the soldiers - especially the one in the lead.
“Ragnar…” breathed one of her companions through quivering teeth. Boudicca looked around in horror. Her companions were visibly wavering.
“... The Black Hog…” whispered another.
It was the Stone Boars.
A scream sounded from Boudicca’s left - one of her companions ran away screaming, throwing her weapon behind her. Instantly, as though of one mind, the other seven followed suit, their morale shattered to pieces by the terror of the impending enemy.
“NO! Stand your ground!” commanded Boudicca, but it was no use. She saw the Dûnan warriors run past Kelly, who was still helping the civilians escape, and into the forest. If the Stone Boars broke past her, they would slay the rest of the villagers and finish what the brigands had started. The giant felt the gall of fear in her throat nearly choke her - she had no reason to stand her ground. She was one warrior - against six trained paladins, no less. Even if she could delay them, it would be no more than a second. Her sacrifice would have been for nothing and the people she had vowed to save would be stacked atop one another in an even greater altar to Sigeran.
And yet…
She brandished her axe and roared her challenge at Ragnar, who slowed down slightly upon seeing the fervour of the giant. His panting face twisted into a grin and he reassumed his charge, followed by his five companions. Boudicca reached down to the ground, coated her hand in some soot and ash from the building debris and dragged it across her face. She cast one last glance over her shoulder. Kelly was looking back at her, shouting for her to retreat with them. Boudicca shook her head.
“Keep them safe! I’ll stall them!” Then she raised her hand high in the air, bellowed another roar and sprinted forth to meet the enemy charge. In her sprint, she felt her life flash before her eyes, and it settled on a particular memory - the Helgensblot that had given rise to all this chaos. She remembered the joy she had felt when she had finally beaten Frode the Enduring in Caden’s test of strength.
Strength… Yes, would that she could be stronger in this moment - strong enough to hold off this impending foe for long enough that her friends could escape. Strength so, so she could survive to fight another day. She was afraid - deathly afraid - but with strength of body and spirit, she could endure.
“Caden,” she whispered, “give me strength.”
There was a moment’s pause, and then a voice spoke within her mind. You have strength enough. But a shoddy weapon like that? That won’t do. Then, to her horror, the axe in her hand crumbled into dust. She had only a moment to process this before a new weapon materialized; it was a shining silvery blade, nearly three feet in length, with a small gilded crossguard, and a hilt wrapped in a fabric that felt luxuriously soft in her hand. That should suffice, I think, the voice added rather smugly.
“W-what?” Boudicca whispered. The miracle was seen by everyone, and the Stone Boars came to a halt a mere ten feet away. Both friend and foe watched in awe as Boudicca turned the weapon around in her hand. Even the fearstruck Dûnans came back out to behold the sight. The edge caught the sun, its light winking flirtily at Boudicca’s eyes.
“... It’s a miracle,” came a whisper. Boudicca looked up and saw that all the Stone Boars had turned to look at one of their members, a veteran of Grimholt like her named Parix. “She’s been blessed by the gods…” Behind her, the others inched ever closer to behold the sword. Boudicca turned and raised a palm.
“Stay back! Don’t be-- woah!”
The sound of quick paces had brought her attention back to the front in the nick of time. A spearman named Gerad had made an attempt to impale her with a swift, silent strike, but she managed to dodge to the side and grab the spear shaft. Behind Gerad, the remaining Stone Boars looked to waver uncertainly, too.
“Gerad, you fool! She’s got the attention of the gods - we must retrea--!”
“There is only ONE GOD - I fight for the glory of SIGERAN! HAHAHAHAHA!” The spearman laughed maniacally as he wrested free his spear and jabbed at her again. Boudicca was prepared, though, and dodged out of the way. Gerad snarled and stabbed again - but the giant kept sidestepping his strikes. Oddly enough, she didn’t feel her body tire - even as their dance lasted several incessant minutes. This served only to break the Stone Boar morale down further and further as Gerad’s determination only had him sinking more and more power into his strikes, until he could barely move anymore. Boudicca, on the other hand, barely felt sweaty - and part of her considered the very real possibility that that was older sweat.
“Who-... Who are you to-... To disrespect me this way, Boudicca, huh?!” Gerad spat through his heavy breathing. Boudicca scowled as the spearman hefted his weapon again for another strike. “Use what your false god has given you, now… FIGHT ME LIKE YOU MEAN IT!”
Then, as Gerad’s strike once more missed, Boudicca used the momentum of her sidestep to lift her arm across her head and bring her sword straight down on his head. Gerad saw the strike and closed his eyes in evident prayer that his copper helmet would take the brunt of the blow. However, to everyone’s horror and astonishment, the sword went clean through the metal as though it was paper, and continued through skin, bone and organs as though it was butter. The strike was so clean that the sword carved deeply into the soil once through, the amount of power used in the strike having overshot the necessary amount by several magnitudes. Boudicca even struggled to pull the sword back up as the two halves of Gerad collapsed against one another and buckled down over her. Boudicca should, by all the laws of nature, have been caked in blood from top to toe; however, as the giant dragged the corpse parts off of her back with wet squelches, the blood on her body seemed only to pool in spots that brought out her muscled and womanly features, adding artificial shadow to her hips, breasts and face. Upon reviewing herself, Boudicca looked flustered, confused and uncomfortable.
The onlookers blinked to confirm what they saw. The Stone Boars shifted between her and their butchered comrade. Ragnar the Black Hog shook his head slowly. “... That, that was copper - he was wearing a copper helmet.”
“... Ragnar… This isn’t worth it,” Parix pleaded. Boudicca looked up from her only slightly bloodied hands and pointed her sword at the remaining five.
“You will be given one chance to retreat, Ragnar.” Around her, her companions reformed the line, joined by Kelly and even some villagers armed with sticks and stones. The Black Hog grit his teeth.
“This isn’t over, Boudicca. We will have our fight yet.” With that, the Stone Boars started jogging back up the hill. Boudicca lowered her sword and let out a groan of relief.
“You’re letting them go?” asked the huntress Gro, an arrow nocked ready on her bow. Boudicca placed her hand on hers.
“The Stone Boars are our brothers and sisters, just like everyone else in Ha-Dûna. We will take no pleasure in killing them, for killing family is nothing short of a sin.” She sighed again as the shadows topped the hill and disappeared. “They are broken, weakened. The gods have cursed them terribly for the acts of a few individuals. The last thing they need is to lay awake in the night in fear that we will butcher every last one of them.” She gave Kelly a nod, who nodded smilingly back. “Now come on - I know Kelly said you have a choice to stay, but given how exposed you are here, I encourage you to come with us.”
“No need to tell us twice. If you’ll help us retake our home in the future, then you have strength we can give,” said the man from earlier. Boudicca nodded.
“Good. Ha-Dûna will be freed yet.”
That evening, when the Dûnans and refugees had made camp, Boudicca stepped away from the campfires and into the woods. A thought had tickled at the edge of her mind: What had made her deserving of Caden’s aid? Had it all been the result of a simply coincidence? What were the implications of this - a lesser god offering aid in a moment of crisis? The parallels to Sigeran cast a shadow over her thoughts: Could Caden’s aid simply be another attempt by a single god to take control of Ha-Dûna?
She wouldn’t stand for it. Had he spoken with her once, she would speak to him again. She found herself a clearing, descended to her knees and folded her hands. “Caden, our saviour, are you there?”
There were several long seconds of silence, and then a voice answered. I am indeed. What is it?
Boudicca blinked in brief surprise before biting her teeth together. “You, you rescued us - rescued me - from death’s jaws earlier by offering your aid when you did… Why?”
There was another pause before the god answered again. Because a warrior who stands her ground against hopeless odds for a noble cause, even when everyone else has fled, is worthy of aid.
Boudicca frowned. “Is… Is that the only reason?” She paused. “Forgive me if I seem blunt, but the last year or so haven’t given me the best impression of gods coming out of virtually nowhere to help us. Is, is there anything else to this?”
You think I’m expecting something in return?
“I couldn’t say, your holiness. None of us know much of anything these days. We have been tricked before, though - forgive us for our skepticism.”
Tell me, Boudicca, what do you intend to do after Ha-Dûna is free?
Boudicca frowned. “That’s… We will make the Sigerans pay for what they did and, and try to get the city back on its feet. Ha-Dûna is the pearl of the west - I won’t let it collapse in on itself at the hands of some crazed fanatics.” She hammered her chest. “I will see to its restoration myself, if I have to.”
And after that?
“W-well… We will return to our lives, I suppose. My husband and I, we, we had a pasture, up in Blikkentind, a day or so away from the city. Our daughter, Hega, would run between the cows and hide in the tall grass…” She sighed. “That’s what I want to return to, anyway.”
Not the times when your people were running around, merrily slaughtering their neighbours? the god asked, a hint of distaste in his voice.
“I never condoned the slaughter, your holiness, but we did what we needed to to survive. Our people would be starving if we hadn’t taken that land. The way my people treated the enemy notwithstanding, we have only ever done what we had to for the good of Ha-Dûna.” She frowned. “We cannot be faulted for that.”
Yet your people can be faulted for how far they went, Cadien pointed out. I am more than just a God of Strength and Teeth, you know. I am a God of Beauty, a God of Endurance, and most relevantly I am also a God of War. But war must have rules. Not everyone your people killed needed to die. Even if you did not condone it, you did not stop it, and the division of your people right now is a consequence of that unchecked slaughter and fanaticism.
“What should I, one woman, have done, then? The Dûnans are a proud people, but we’re also four different tribes with only half a century or so of history together - not even that, I think. We acknowledge our mistakes now, but the past is in the past - hindsight will only break what little morale we have left!” She paused to breathe sharply. “It’s horrible enough that we have to kill our brothers and sisters.”
’I am just one woman’, or ‘I am just one man’, are things I hear quite often. Sometimes, the people who say it to themselves stand right next to each other, without ever once realizing they are of the same mind. Sometimes, the dissenters are greater than the ones they oppose, but they all think they stand alone, and so they go along with it. Yet if one had the courage to step up… the God’s voice trailed off.
But you are right, he picked the conversation back up after a few moments. We cannot change the past. Not even Gods. What I am trying to change is the future. I do not wish to see the slaughters of the past years repeated. I’ll not begrudge your people for waging war, for sometimes war is necessary, but I’ll expect them to do so honourably and sensibly.
Boudicca scrunched her nose. “I cannot speak on behalf of my people, I’m afraid. Our tribes are many, and our people, diverse. But I hope, pray, that after this is all over, my people will have learned from their mistakes and the viciousness of the Sigerans. That is all I can vow for now.”
That is all anyone in your position can vow, I suppose. But you underestimate your influence. Your people now see you as a leader, and I suspect they will continue to do so even after this dispute is over. For why wouldn’t they listen to the champion of their creator?
“Creator? I’m no champion of Reiya.”
Hm? Why is that- oh. For a moment the god fell silent once again. Then, he sighed. It truly amazes me how much mortals forget with the passage of time. But I suppose your people have more pressing issues than the truth about who created them, and introducing another religious conflict now is the last thing you need. Anyhow, know that I give you permission to call yourself my champion, and I offer you one more gift.
Boudicca stood up in a hurry. “W-wait, I’m confused - what’s happening?”
An object materialized on the ground in front of her. It was a warhorn, but unlike any other horn it was purple in colour. The men you call Stone Boars. The fear you feel when they face you on the battlefield. It is not natural, it is not your own; it is the work of some other god. You cannot fight them without some means to counter it, so this horn will banish that fear from the minds of those who follow you.
Boudicca looked at the horn suspiciously, then slowly knelt down to pick it up. “... The work of a god - of course! Must’ve been the work of Sigeran, too, I’d wager. Nothing is too low for him.” She thought for a moment. “... But the Stone Boars appeared over a decade ago, though… Has Sigeran been with us for that long?” She looked to the heavens. “Do you know?”
There is no god named Sigeran, as far as I know, Caden told her. It’s possible that a new god has come into existence, but that is a rare occurrence. More likely, he is an older god who has given your people a false name, or one of your people invented one for him, but I will have to look into the matter further to be sure.
Boudicca frowned. “... Now… Now that you mention it, the druid Gene - she’s the one who proclaimed the existence of Sigeran - back in Grimholt three years ago.” She clutched her head. “... But then… Who gave us eternal life for the battle? If not Sigeran, then who?”
I do not know, Cadien said. Gods go by different names in different regions. My own true name isn’t even Caden - though that is rather close to it.
“This… This is a lot.”
Hm. I suppose it is. Just focus on retaking your home, for now. The machinations of the gods may be beyond you, but you still have power over your immediate surroundings, and your people look to you for leadership.
“If, if you say so, your holiness.” She paused to study the horn in her hands - she would be a champion of Caden now, chosen to lead the Dûnans back into their city. She had been a leader before - this, she knew - but divine mandate added a whole nother layer. She nodded to herself. “I will do my best.”
