This was originally published by me under the name Anduril at Anime Addventures, with the only changes being a few corrections in spelling and punctuation and occasional word choice. If you like the beginning of my story but think I've gone off the rails, or have your own ideas for a great branch-off, or think I'm taking too long to update and want to continue the story yourself, come to Anime Addventures and join in the fun!
I claim no ownership rights to any of the works of Rumiko Takahashi, or anything I've borrowed and modified from the Banestorm setting published by Steve Jackson Games.
Several minutes earlier:
Miyo fought to suppress a smirk even as her grip on her crossbow tightened painfully. The prophetess that had appeared to her in her vision had been right about how she'd end up with more bodyguards than she wanted, but when Akane and Ukyo had placed her back toward the rear of her line inside the notch they hadn't quite thought things through. Now the newly-minted prophetess was only a three spots back from the barricade, and soon it would be her turn to fight ... to kill. The thought curdled her stomach, but she couldn't hang back and leave it to the rest, she just couldn't. They were out here because of her, and she had to share in whatever came.
Two spots back.
One, and the girl in front of her was lifting her crossbow ... firing ... stepping to the side to head to the rear — and even as Miyo began to step forward, Akane shouted "Fall back!" as she leaped to the center of the tree trunk, Ukyo and Konatsu doing the same at either end.
Miyo glanced over the barricade as she stepped back and started to turn, and froze as Akane's red-glowing mallet smashed aside the first orc's sword — they'd held off the retreat too long, and ... suddenly rock-steady, she lifted her crossbow, and the bolt took the orc that had leaped on top of the tree trunk in the chest. The three martial artists couldn't cover the full length of the notch!
She dropped the crossbow as the orc fell backward, hand snatching at her knife's hilt as she turned toward Akane's other side, only to see another orc falling forward, shrieking and clutching at the shaft of a bolt buried in his groin.
A few yards up the notch stood two Keldara girls and a Japanese boy. Thora, tanned face pale, was recocking her crossbow as Keiso and Fritha fired their own.
Whirling back around, Miyo shouted in Anglic, "No time to reload! Keiso-kun, with me! Thora, Fritha, there!" pointing at the gap on the other side of Akane.
Without waiting to see if she was obeyed, the brown-haired girl darted forward even as a new orc leaped to the top of the trunk. Twirling her knife in her hand to reverse the blade, Miyo reached behind the orc's heel and sliced across the tendon, the orc bellowing as his leg gave way and he fell forward. Even as Miyo turned to follow him, the bellow cut off and she paused at the sight of Keiso's shortsword buried in the orc's throat. With a sigh of relief she turned back for the next ... and the next ... and two crossbow bolts slammed into the chest of the next.
Turning around, she looked down the notch at the line of four of her comrades crouched in front of the second barricade, the rest on the other side, firing their crossbows down the notch. Slumping in relief, she called out as she turned back, "Keiso-kun, time to go, Thora, Fritha — Fritha!" she hurtled herself at the hideous squat figure standing over Fritha. The Keldara girl had one hand clutching her leg with blood spilling between her fingers, her shortsword upraised in a shaking fist, but she'd never be able to stop the orc's upraised axe...
"Don't you touch her!" Miyo yelled in a new guttural tongue harsh enough to hurt her throat, and the orc turned toward her just in time for her to see his face as her knife slammed into his side, piercing his crude hide armor to spear into a kidney. The orc stiffened, back arced, mouth wide in a silent shriek of pain as she twisted the blade. His grip on the axe loosened, and Fritha dropped her sword and grabbed her leg with both hands as she rolled to the side and the axe head buried itself in the ground where she'd been. Gritting her teeth, Miyo yanked her knife to the side, and blood splashed across her face as the orc collapsed to the side.
Gagging, fighting to keep down her breakfast, Miyo spit her mouth clear of blood. You can be sick later, you're busy right now. She crouched beside Fritha, eyeing the blood seeping between the fingers clamped on the other girl's leg. At least the blood isn't spurting, no arteries have been cut, Miyo thought, looking around. Now, where's — She froze, then sagged as her roving gaze found the other Keldara girl's body, her blood-covered chest split open. Oh, Thora ... God receive you.
Then Keiso dropped to his knees beside the two girls, his and Miyo's crossbows in his arms.
"Drop the crossbows, it's going to take both of us to get Fritha to safety," Miyo ordered, fighting to keep her voice level.
Keiso glanced at Fritha's blood-covered leg. "Right." He laid down the crossbows, then slid one arm around Fritha's shoulders and the other under one knee, Miyo following suit on the other side. Fritha's breath hitched when the two lifted her and jogged back toward the second barricade, teeth clenched against a scream.
/\
On the safe side of the second barricade, Miyo ignored the sounds around her, the lines reforming, the confused voices of Akane and Ukyo. Instead, she was focused on the pain-twisted face of her friend, her bloody hands and blood-drenched leg. "Okay, let's see it," she murmured in the Keldara girl's language. Without saying a word, Fritha lifted her hands, and Miyo winced, face stiffening as she fought to hide her dismay even as blood again began to spill from the deep wound.
Fritha gasped as she clamped her hands back down on her leg. Taking a deep breath, she nodded toward a pine tree nearby. "Okay, tie it off tight, put me against that tree, leave me a stack of crossbows. If the orcs come over the barricade, I can buy you a few seconds." Pasting a shaky smile on her face, she continued, "Maybe Thora will wait on the other side long enough for me to catch up to her."
"No! It won't come to that," Miyo asserted even as her heart sank. It was bad, very bad. Even what little she saw through the fresh blood flowing with the release of pressure was enough to tell her that. It would be a long time before Fritha rejoined the scouts — if her leg ever healed well enough to permit it — but even worse at the moment was that there was no way the girl was walking on it. And no way that they would be able to take her with them if they weren't able to stop the orcs and had to run.
Thoughts of the miracles she'd read of in her studies of her new religion since her baptism ran through her mind. She was supposed to be a prophetess, right? And prophets performed miracles, right? Ignoring the whisper in the back of her mind that no, not every prophet had been a miracle-worker, she laid a hand on Fritha's shoulder. "Everything will be fine," she murmured.
Up till now, she had been a passive vessel for Power, as surprised as everyone else at her baptism and when she had spoken to the Keldara elders by the torrent of fire rushing through her veins, the words limned in flame in her mind's eye that she'd listened to own voice reading out loud. But now for the first time she sought out the Power, demanding its aid. Closing her eyes, with all her strength she sent a one-word plea to whomever might be listening: Please!
Suddenly, she felt arms circle around her from behind, and the voice of the prophetess she had met in vision whisper in her ear, "Gladly, child. Her time hasn't come yet, so you had but to ask."
Again, the fire burned through her. This time, it seemed to focus in her hand resting on Fritha's shoulder, and her fears drained away as she felt herself encompassed by what felt like all the love in the world, centered on her.
She didn't feel it as she toppled to the side, caught by a stunned Akane who'd found them just in time to see the warm glow between Fritha's gripping hands and her wound. She didn't feel it when Ukyo gently picked her up to move her back as a shrieking Akane threw herself over the barricade, both hands gripping her hammer, at the orcs that finally resumed their attack and had managed to charge through the five-shot volleys to the end of the notch and reach the second barricade. She didn't see the bright flashes of Ranma's Moko Takabisha as he and his father arrived well ahead of the pikes and charged to the relief of his surrounded fiancée while the scouts in their fallback arc picked off the trickle of orcs that managed to slip by her and cross the barricade.
She awoke only just in time to attend Thora's funeral the next day, standing beside a fully healed Fritha as the flames of Thora's funeral pyre roared into the sky.
/oOo\
Sir Morgan sighed as he and Miyo climbed the last few yards of the trail up the side of the valley and the "garden" came into view. The sigh was partly relief that the climb was over. He was very fit for a man his age, but he wasn't getting any younger, and he was wearing his mail coat — they thought the few orcs they hadn't killed had fled back down the valley toward Caithness, but they weren't sure. But most of the sigh was one of contentment as he looked out over the "garden."
One of the refugees had been an old man, one that was well past being capable of working in the fields. When Mifune had offered to return to Earth with most of the rest of the elderly to make room for more children, the other refugees had flat-out refused to let him. The Kildar had wondered why, until spring arrived — and as soon as the first rush of clearing and spring planting was over, some of the refugees had found a flat space up the valley side, and spent their free time laboring under Mifune's guidance to create what Sir Morgan could only describe as a holy place. It didn't look like any garden he'd ever seen before — much of the space was taken up by patterned sand and apparently randomly placed rocks — but whenever he visited he could feel serenity seeping into his soul, as if he had stepped into a church.
And as Sir Morgan had expected, someone very much in need of that serenity had preceded him. The youngest Tendo was sitting cross-legged in the usual spot gazing out across the garden, dried tear tracks streaking her cheeks.
Sir Morgan and Miyo sat down, Miyo between Akane and the Kildar and slightly back, and for a time the two newcomers sat with Akane in silence. Finally, Sir Morgan quietly said, "Thora's father has missed you at the wake."
Miyo translated, and Akane's shoulders slumped. "I don't know why he would want to see the girl whose stupid mistakes got his daughter killed," she muttered.
Sir Morgan shrugged. "You don't understand the Keldara. I didn't understand the Keldara until Nabiki pointed out my blindness. In spite of almost two centuries of peace, they are a warrior people, and the way Thora died is the most honorable that they know — she almost certainly is the first woman of her family to receive the honors she did today, and her story will be told for generations. No, her father doesn't hold her death against you.
"Still, you're right, you made mistakes, and those mistakes probably got Thora killed. Do you think this is going to be the last time that happens if you continue to lead warriors? No matter how experienced you become, you are going to make mistakes, and those mistakes will kill people under your command. And even if you don't make any mistakes, no matter how hard you train, how well you plan, how stupid your enemy may be, your people will still die — it's the nature of the job, and the flip side of glory's coin."
He paused to wait for Miyo's translation to catch up, then continued, "If you are going to blame anyone, blame me. The first and biggest mistake was mine — I essentially dumped the job of first sergeant on you and Ukyo, without assigning one of my men to show you just what that entailed. Sure, I had my reasons — you were only doing endurance training and target practice, while the pikes were practicing maneuvers — but it still meant that when the hammer fell you lacked the guidance you should have had. And at least your mistakes were made out of ignorance rather than panic or cowardice, instead of carelessness like mine. I can't tell you how impressed I was by the fight you and your scouts put up."
By now, Akane was staring at the Kildar, haunted eyes searching for signs of prevarication. "Do you mean it?" she asked desperately. "You aren't just trying to make me feel better?"
Sir Morgan shook his head. "No, I'm not. For soldiers going into their first fight with less than a month's training and no experienced leadership, your performance was the best I've seen. If you continue, you — all of you — are going to become legends."
Akane stared at him for a moment longer, then fresh tears started rolling down her cheeks, and Miyo scooted forward to embrace her former classmate, pulling Akane's head down against her shoulder as the other girl sobbed.
Sir Morgan looked at Miyo for guidance, then at the prophetess's smiling nod turned to look out over the garden, shoulders slumping in relief. In all his years in the legions giving pep talks to young officers learning their trade, he'd never imagined having one of them breaking down like that and having it be a good thing. But then, the legions were exclusively male.
Feeling more than a little out of his depth, he waited as Akane's sobs eventually died down to sniffles. When she finally thanked Miyo and straightened, he glanced over to see her scrubbing at her cheeks. "Feeling better?"
Akane nodded and replied in heavily accented Anglic, "Yes, I am, thank you."
"Good." Sir Morgan hesitated, but finally sighed. Might as well get it over with, let's hope this works. He glanced back at Miyo, then continued, "Maid Akane, don't take this wrong, I meant every word I said before, but while you and Maid Ukyo will continue sharing overall authority over the scouts, I am removing you from direct battlefield command."
Akane's face darkened as Miyo translated. "Why?" she asked in a strangled voice, hands shaking with her struggle to maintain control.
"Because you're a berserker," Sir Morgan replied, keeping absolutely still. "And while most berserkers don't last very long, with your training and power — there isn't a commander alive worthy of the name that wouldn't seriously consider selling his soul to have you under his command. If things go as badly as Myrddin is afraid they might, you are going to be the tip of a spear that will shatter armies. But that same fury in a battlefield commander? Think about yesterday's fight — once Ukyo had to shake you out of your fury, and the second time if Ranma hadn't arrived when he did and the scouts been forced to fall back, you may well have died. And you weren't capable of giving orders either time."
Akane's gaze lost focus as she thought over the fight, and the shaking of her hands eased off as she reluctantly nodded. "You're right, I lost track of everything except what was happening right in front of me, around me," she admitted, sounding defeated.
Sir Morgan leaned across to grip a knee. "Remember, just because you can't command on the battlefield doesn't mean you can't fight. We're going to be very happy to have you before this is over ... very happy." He hid a smile as Akane brightened. Good, she'd bought it — it helped that it was mostly true, and at least one young officer would avoid a burden she couldn't handle. She would have the extra distance she'd need to accept the inevitable casualties, and they would have a hammer to break open enemy formations. "And now," he said, standing up and offering both girls his hands, "we need to get back. We have a life to finish celebrating."
So, the initial baptism of fire over for the least trained of the recruits, and a new role for Akane. (Though don't assume this is Violent Akane finding her proper place — while she's always had something of a temper, she usually isn't this bad. The life-or-death stakes brings it out.)
As always, thanks for the reviews!
sparky555: You got it half right: it was battle shock, but because she was facing others' mortality rather than her own. Don't forget that this is at best the second time she's faced her own mortality in a life-or-death struggle. She nearly died in the Saffron finale, and kept her head. But different people have different limits, and some people that can risk their own lives with no hesitation can't deal with risking other people's lives.
Chargone: Actually, their tactics sucked. Fortunately for them, they faced a near-mob with no ranged weapons of their own — if the orcs had been able to break through the martial artists and their backers and close with the rest, the scouts would have been slaughtered. And I can't remember the name for the particular maneuver that the scouts used, either, at least not with infantry — with cavalry, it was called the caracole. But I think your history is slightly off with the infantry, what led to its abandonment was the serious decrease in the amount of time needed to reload. Rifles weren't consistently used as battlefield weapons to begin with precisely because their reload time didn't drop — a hammer was required to force the ball down the barrel until the American Revolution, by which time backwoods Americans had come up with using a leather patch to allow the use of a ball smaller than the barrel while still getting the needed spin. The British did manage to learn something from that fiasco (for them), they used riflemen as skirmishers during the Napoleonic Wars but not as main line soldiers; even with the patch the reload time was longer because the ball still needed to be pushed down the barrel. Then the Minié ball was developed that allowed rifles to be reloaded as quickly and easily as muskets, and the result was the bloodbath of the American Civil War.
