Cirea's War
Chapter 2
Soldier vs. Outlaw
June 6th
The past three days have been easy. The war seems so miniscule when you are away from the action. We have been traveling along the tree lines, careful not to leave open ground. Long since did we lose view of the battlefield. There have been movements seen in the trees, scaring the men, including myself. Last night, we confirmed the rumor of the outlaws, when one of them came to our camp, armed with a small hunting knife. Before the man had a chance to attack, my sword had slipped between his ribs, piercing his heart, killing him almost instantly. Other than that, we have run into no opposition, though Horth is afraid the outlaws found their man and are advancing on us. He is huddled by the fire with his sword in hand, ready to attack. Koghir and I are more at ease though. I am not sure what it is, but something is making us more relaxed. Perhaps the death of the outlaw spurred battle spirits. Over the days, I have gotten to know these men. Horth, he is certain not made for battle. His abilities are great, but in real danger, though he demonstrates his efforts for bravery, he is always scared. Koghir on the other hand is made for combat. By the time I had killed the outlaw, Koghir was already ready with his pistol. There is no fear in the man, and I am scared for him. Without fear, there is no sense of danger, and without a sense of danger, he will die young…
"What you up to Cirea?" Asked Horth, his sword still in hand.
"Nothing, just a little habit I have." He replied, slipping the journal into his pack.
"What? Writing an autobiography? You've been working on that thing for over an hour!" Koghir said, a sharp grin on his face.
Cirea was about to reply, when a sharp cracking sound drew all their attention to the forest a few hundred paces away.
"THAT was no animal." Said Horth, trembling, "they're here, I told you they were coming. They have come to get us!"
"Shut up!" Cirea whispered, scanning the darkness for any sign of movement.
An hour passed, then another, and the men began to relax. As always, Koghir volunteered for first watch, but the fatigue on his face told Cirea otherwise. "You will not be on watch at all tonight Koghir, you have been the night sentry far more than Horth and I put together! Tonight, you will sleep soundly."
Koghir was about to answer, but realized the logic in what Cirea was saying. What good would his keen eye be if he was too tired to even keep it open.
Horth groaned. "That means double watch for us you know." He grumbled, "Oh how I revel THAT thought."
"You can pick first or second watch tonight Horth. Which will it be?"
"First, I'm too awake to sleep. That crack almost made me shit myself. I don't much care to sleep if I know someone is out there."
Cirea went and lay down in his tent, unfolding his wool-lined sleeping bag. The bag was itchy, but is sure kept the heat in. He lay there, thinking of Elmyra, and finally drifting into a long-needed sleep – only to be awoken by Horth an hour later.
After about 3 minutes, Cirea heard Horth's breathing slow, and he knew he was asleep. Sitting on snow, he swore he heard another crack, though not as loud as before. He sat for five minutes, five long minutes of silence, until an arrow flew past his ear, nicking the skin. Cirea jumped to his feet, his heart pounding in his chest. Quickly, he awoke the others, alerting them of the attack. By the time he turned around, he saw at least thirty outlaws rushing towards the site. The enemy appeared to be about a hundred paces, progressing at a calm pace, almost like a delicate march.
They stopped their movement mere paces from the camp. One outlaw stepped forward.
"You have been found guilty of murdering one of our people. You shall pay the death penalty." He said pointing at all three.
"What, do you plan to take us alive, skin us, and hang us on polls?" asked Cirea, making no effort to contain his irritation.
"Something like that." Said the outlaw, drawing his saber, "You seek to kill all 32 of us?"
"If only it were possible…" said Cirea, throwing his hands in the air.
Puzzled, Horth and Koghir followed suit. Another outlaw stepped forward to disarm Cirea. The man took the hunting knife Cirea had taking off the dead outlaw from the night before. The man moved to his right side, about to take his sword. Cirea leapt back, drawing the sword and with a quick slice, the outlaw's head spun from his neck to the cold snow. A few of the outlaws notched arrows to their bows, but the leader through up his hand to stop them shooting. He was about to speak when Cirea cut him off.
"If I am to die, I die with my sword in hand. Now, would there be anyway to win freedom?" He asked lamely.
"Yes, but you have no chance. The only way is to beat our champion in a death match, swords only. You stand no chance, but you are welcome to try!" said the leader, a hint of laughter in his voice.
"So be it. I shall fight. Better to die fighting for freedom and the freedom of my comrades than to be killed in an execution, though I hardly plan on dieing."
The line of outlaws let a roar of laughter run from their filthy mouths.
"You're a cocky one aren't you, tough guy?" asked the leader, a grin on his face.
"Of course!"
They were locked in large cages; composed of large amounts of steel; and hung from the trees. The branches groaned and bent under the weight of man and steel, but none broke for they were strong trees.
"So, when is my battle?" Cirea asked the guard rather plainly.
"Three days, thought we'd starve you a bit first!" Said the guard menacingly.
Cirea nodded. "Makes no difference to me. I can wait to kill your champ. Never did like killing anyway."
The guard burst out in laughter, turning a few heads.
The outlaws had settled well. Many of the trees in the surrounding area had been cut down to build huts and for firewood. In the trees many of the hut were situated. Cirea was stunned at first, for the closest thing to this he had seen was a small tree fort he had built when he was younger. The trees appeared to be made for the huts, not visa-versa. The whole area looked like a large tree settlement, composed entirely of wood.
Over the next three days, Cirea observed his opponent sparring with some of the outlaws. The man was big, there was no doubt there, but his speed was affected greatly. He moved with grace, but his swings were poorly timed and his large arms took a short while to prepare for the next attack. Cirea noticed the man always shifted his weight before he attacked, making his moves easy to read. The match would not last long, he thought.
On first dawn of the third day, he was hauled from his cage and placed in a great circle. He drew his sword, and the giant did the same. Cirea advanced slowly, leaving his opponent to believe he was tired. The giant did not fall for the bluff, but instead charged at full strength cutting madly at Cirea. Cirea launched a series of quick ripostes, open small holes in the man's great frame. The giant attacked again, his fury at the speed of his opponent spurring him ever on. Again Cirea countered with lightning fast ripostes. The giant was tiring now, his large frame no longer fit nor young. He steadied himself and began to attack more defensively, Cirea's ripostes being repelled by the giant defense. The man struck out with his fist, shattering Cirea's nose with a deafening crunch. Cirea used the pain to spur him to the heights of his power. Now was the time to finish it. He launched a series of attacks, and the giant fell. Cirea pulled his sword clear of the man's chest, and the screams of pain erupted.
"Well…" said the leader gritting his teeth, "that was… most unexpected."
"As… was… this…" Cirea heard, coming from behind him. The giant was on his knees now, his sword ready to stab. Before Cirea had a chance to defend, the giant's sword had stabbed through Cirea's belly. Everything went black.
They are free to go. Take your friend's body.