Title: Battlebrand
Author: Miss Guinevere
Rating: PG-13 for violence
Summary: This is how Drogyn and Hamilton met... at least in my mind.
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, never will.
A/N: Thanks to Tan for beta-ing!
Part Two
Distant voices sound through the haze in my mind. My chest throbs with pain and I long to surrender myself to eternity. Still something tugs at me, prying me from the arms of sweet oblivion. Darkness recedes and the world beyond my closed eyelids is bathing in light.
Reluctantly I force myself to open my eyes. Immediately I narrow them to slits because of the bright light surrounding us. I can make out three shapes that are standing over us. When my eyes grow accustomed to the blazing radiance, I see that two of them are the druids we attempted to rescue from their attackers. The other figure is the source of the light, shining brightly upon us. Next to me, I feel Marcus stir. Gratitude engulfs me for a moment when I realize that Marcus has not died.
I realize the druids are talking and I try to focus my thoughts enough to listen. They are talking about Marcus and I, that much is clear. It seems that they notice that my eyes are open and Marcus is on his way to regaining consciousness, because they stop talking and turn to us. With the utmost exertion, I shift my head so as to look at my brother. He is awake and his hand searches for mine. I understand his need for physical contact and indulge him. Marcus has always needed physical touch more than I have. At this time however, being in this situation and not knowing what is happening is enough to make even me crave the comfort that a human touch can bring. He grips my hand and increases pressure when one of the druids addresses us.
"Heroes," the man speaks solemnly. "Giving their lives for the benefit of others."
The light dims and the third figure steps out of it. It is a woman of great fairness. She is translucent, wearing nothing but a white gown. Her raven black hair falls in waves to her waist. She floats above the ground and at this point I am certain we have passed on and reached that of which many myths speak: Avalon.
When she speaks it is as if the trees whisper to us, as if the wind forms words in our heads.
"As brothers you have fought to protect mine. As brothers you will be restored and granted eternity. You will be Battlebrands. Warriors. Travel with mine and you will be taught."
The woman bends over Marcus and touches the wound on his head. He stares up at her in shock and awe. I am certain my own face reflects his emotions as she floats over to me and places her hand over my throbbing wound. As though by magic, the pain disappears. Marcus and I try to sit up and we are both surprised to find we are without any discomfort. Looking up at the woman, we see a serene smile tugging at her lips. While we watch her, she disappears back into the light, prompting the druids to assist us in standing up.
The men escort us to our horses and hold the bridles while we mount, although we assure them this is not necessary. By now we feel unusually strong and healthy. The druids insist that we should join them on their travel further north. Marcus and I exchange a glance. We are aware of the dangers that lurk along their way. Nodding, we give in.
During our journey, it dawns on me that we have been in an odd situation. I confront the druids with this notion and they half-heartedly explain what has happened to us. It seems that the druids were performing rituals to call on their goddess Eanfrith when the Christians attacked. Two druids were murdered before Marcus and I arrived, but not before Eanfrith appeared. The goddess had been witness to our attempt to salvage the two others. The druids speak of a reward that Eanfrith would grant us. This shakes Marcus from his thoughts.
"We do not desire a reward," Marcus tells them gruffly, and I nod my head to indicate that I agree with my brother.
The druids smile serenely. "It has already been granted. Such are heroes, always refusing tokens of gratitude for acts of heroism."
I can see that being referred to as a hero unsettles my brother. To be fair, it unnerves me as well, but for a different reason. Marcus is completely void of any vanity, and considers our acts a sacred duty. I, on the other hand, have always been aware of the image we create in the minds of people, and I have always been afraid that this image will someday haunt us. I fear that this might be that day. There is nothing else to do but ask.
"What is this reward you speak of?" I ask the druid riding to my left, slightly vexed.
"Come with us to Fidaich," the man implores. "All will be explained in Fidaich."
Marcus lays a calming hand on my arm. I know my brother well enough to know that he is tired and wishes to rest. The druid village will provide that opportunity. I nod my consent and silence comes over us.
We ride together for what seems like hours. Marcus attempts to gain further information from the druids but his endeavors are fruitless. They are taciturn men. After a while, my brother admits defeat and lets his horse fall back to join me in the rear.
When the sun sets over the hills and we enter a dense, dark forest, one of the druids finally speaks up again. "Soon, all will be clear," he assures us.
After a small amount of time we arrive at a primitive settlement in the middle of the forest. It is surrounded with pointed wooden poles, set together and driven into the ground to form a protective fence around the village. The gate is open and as we ride through it, I see dozens of men standing in front of what appears to be a temple. By the looks of them, not all of the men are druids and I can even distinguish some women.
The druids dismount and gesture for us to do the same. A man approaches us, standing almost as tall as Marcus. He is wearing a peasant's clothes, although his posture indicates that he is a man of considerable status.
"Welcome, heroes," the man addresses us. "I am Ainel. We have been expecting you."
Marcus and I introduce ourselves. We are captivated by Ainel's presence. He is a charismatic man and he seems to radiate light and kindness. Ainel invites us to rest in his quarters. We accept his generous offer, grateful to be resting on beds instead of the hard ground we are used to. He points us to our beds. When I open my mouth to ask for the explanation the druids promised us, it is as though he senses my thoughts and he silences me with an understanding look. "Please. Tomorrow," he whispers, then turns and leaves.
Marcus is asleep in a matter of minutes. His steady breathing calms me somewhat and I vow to myself that I will keep him safe no matter what. To do that I must discover why death hasn't claimed us as it should have done.
Soon, I too am asleep.
The next day brings us a great surprise. Ainel is present when we awaken, and after he has offered us a meal, he sits us down and explains all.
Marcus and I have become Battlebrands, immortals. Demon banes and truth-sayers. Eanfrith has granted us a new destiny, which enables us to battle demons and men alike. Ainel speaks of an age that existed before the dawn of our time, when Eanfrith was a powerful being. Her army consisted of Battlebrands, and she has deemed us worthy to carry on her tradition. From now on, we are immortal. Beheading is the only thing that will kill us. Our purpose is to protect the innocent from evil-doers. As long as we are Battlebrands, we are not able to tell a lie. This does not concern us in the least. We have never lied, nor do we feel a need to do so in the future.
Ainel regales us with the history of Battlebrands. He speaks softly and carefully, as though he fears a wrongly chosen word might chase us away. Once Eanfrith commanded vast legions of Battlebrands. Beings, envious of her power, set upon her and destroyed her army of warriors. All but one. Ainel was not present at that battle, and so he is the sole survivor of the onslaught. Ainel's destiny was to educate Battlebrands in strategy and fighting skills, and as such he was far too valuable to engage in combat. Ainel did not expect to ever train Battlebrands again until Eanfrith appeared before him the previous day and spoke of two heroes.
After he has finished his tale, he is silent for a moment. Then he speaks again, "It would be my honour to be your teacher."
Quite comfortable with our new destinies, we accept his offer.
For years and years we live in Fidaich. We are treated well by the villagers and we complete the Battlebrand training. Ainel teaches us well. We come to understand that he too is immortal and we look up to him as a mentor. He is a wise man, and we value his words.
Now it's time to fulfill our destiny. Marcus and I set out into the world.
877 - Iona, Alba (Scotland)
Although Marcus and I are warriors, Ainel has taught us other worthy lessons. We know a code of honour and law is more valuable than a hundred victories on the battlefield. Even as we know this, we also know that the sword sometimes must prepare the way for such a code.
Scotland does not lack warriors, or so it seems from the incessant ring of clashing arms. Kenneth MacAlpin has long passed away and his successors do not succeed in retaining the relative prosperity his reign has brought. Where the sword is busy, diligence rests. Acres of crops perish instead of flourishing; wild boars and wolves reclaim the cultured fields that once were wilderness. Our homeland has relapsed into the chaos that reigned a century ago. This is why a battle must be fought to unite Scotland under one King. The Picts and the Scots must be joined in a common cause, for there is a greater danger that threatens our land. This danger is what Marcus and I foresee and set out to defeat. We cannot do this alone, and a year passes before both the Picts and the Scots are convinced that there is a greater goal than fighting amongst each other. King Constantin, direct descendant of Kenneth, is offered the throne and commands both under one flag. Still, there is mutiny in the ranks and a strict hand is needed.
We have just finished putting together a vast, but unruly and rugged army when strange and swift ships appear off the coast. They strike terror in the hearts of those dwelling in coastal villages, and it does not take long for these tidings to reach us. By then, the pillaging has already begun. They are Vikings, cruel and merciless in their slaughter and burning everything in their path. Plundering the coastal settlements and raping and murdering men, women and children alike, these beasts make their bloody way across our land.
Marcus and I lead our army to follow our king Constantin to Iona. The Vikings have wreaked unholy havoc on the village, slaughtering the monks and villagers and burning the remnants of houses and cattle. This scene unfolds before our eyes when we approach Iona. The barbarians are hauling women off to their ships upon our arrival within the village walls. We manage to slay the several dozens of Vikings in the village with considerable ease.
Still, my brother looks as concerned as I feel. We sense something else, something far more ominous coming our way. It takes mere hours before we are proven right. Countless hundreds, maybe thousands of Viking men surround us and attack. Marcus and I take the vanguard and hack our way through the thick wall of men. The mutiny within our army proves fatal however and a legion of soldiers deserts, leaving their comrades disheartened. The Vikings take advantage of this and a dozen of them seize the brave king Constantin while he is fighting amidst his rapidly diminishing ranks.
Too late Marcus and I see through their scheme, and the king is being dragged off to the rocks west of the village. Marcus gestures for me to follow and try and relieve our king. Even though I ride at a gallop, it takes me too long to make my way through the din, and when I arrive at the scene Constantin lays bleeding and dead. I make short work of his brutal murderers and I am satisfied to see the fear in their eyes before I strike them down. Riding back, I oversee the battlefield. Thousands of men lay slain like our king. The losses are immense on both sides, but because of the death of Constantin, the battle is theirs.
This is our first defeat since becoming Battlebrands; but it is not the defeat in itself that stings us. We have led thousands of men into death and most of these men had families. We are the cause of much suffering and sorrow; widows and orphans cry because of us. For the people of Scotland, the after effects of Iona are favourable, thus easing the pain of losing so many men somewhat. Since then, the Vikings never set foot upon Scottish soil again and fighting a common foe finally united the Picts and the Scots into one consistent nation.
Marcus and I stay for a while to ensure the installment of Eth, Constantin's brother, as king. This brave man had been present in the battle at Iona. When the king fell, Eth took command over the legions, rallied the broken ranks and led them off the field. We are sure he will prove a good king.
Eanfrith appears to us the night of the crowning ceremony. We are needed elsewhere.
1513 - Flodden, Alba (Scotland)
For eight centuries we have roamed through England and Europe, protecting the innocent and defeating evil. Finally, after three hundred years, we have come back to our home country, Scotland. It has changed in many aspects, but the battles are fierce as always. At this time, we sometimes grow weary of the fight. Marcus and I have come to understand that there are not only advantages to our destiny as Battlebrands.
Along with the strength, skill and near invulnerability comes a great responsibility that weighs heavy on our limbs. We have never again experienced a defeat as painful as that fateful battle in Iona, but we have lost men nonetheless, sometimes friends. Our families are long dead. There is no rest for us, no peace. After every fight comes another one, and then another. We cannot win them all; we have to accept that fact. Still, we must continue our struggle against evil. Marcus and I have embarked on this quest driven by the optimism of our youth, convinced that we were able to deliver at least a weakening blow to the face of evil on this Earth. After so many centuries of waging war against darkness, we have found that it never grows weaker. It might lay low, but it is ever present.
Being back in Scotland provides us with the opportunity to visit Ainel. Because of our waning vigour, we decide to request his advice on our state of mind. He welcomes us warmly, and we are invited to stay for some days.
It is on the last of these days that Ainel speaks the words that strengthen our faith. During a walk in the forest surrounding Fidaich, Marcus brings up our crumbling conviction. Ainel nods and does not speak for several minutes. When he does, his pensive voice tugs at our hearts and disposes of the grey cloud that darkens our outlook.
"Evil does not fade. It was, is and always will be. Our destinies are to bring order and balance to the world. For every single thing has been written in stone hundreds upon thousands of years ago. Our actions are not of any significance in the grand scheme of things. Therefore, nothing bears any importance save for our actions. Our decisions, our deeds are the only things that are able to make a difference, however small."
Ainel's words have the ring of truth about them. I feel hope blossoming in my chest yet again and Marcus' eyes tell me he too feels the fire of justice burning strong. As one man we turn to Ainel and ask for a new task. We are needed at Flodden, where the aftermath of a bloody battle is holding the villagers in its cruel grasp. Bands of thieves and murderers attack the ruined villages. Much like those dreaded Vikings did seven centuries ago, these villains rape and murder and set fire to houses and livestock. But unlike the Vikings, these bastards take their time and amuse themselves with the innocent people of Flodden.
Two days separate Flodden from Fidaich. During our journey Marcus and I speak sparsely. We have renewed our vigour and we are already laying out a strategy in our minds. Approaching Flodden, we confer and decide we will split up and attack the pillagers from two sides. Marcus takes the south and I will ride in from the north.
As I watch my brother's retreating form I think about our immortality. Even though I am inspired by the notion of a great purpose I cannot help but contemplate which path our lives would have chosen, had we not fought for good. Guilt weighs on me for I know Marcus has never thought any such thing. Determinedly I erase these thoughts from my mind and I prepare for the fight.
I have taken down two score men when I see Marcus fighting across the village square. He swings his sword gracefully and it is obvious that his newfound conviction grants him even more strength. My focus has strayed from my own fight to Marcus, and this is what earns me a sword through my chest. This wound would kill a mortal in mere seconds, but my immortality leaves me standing, albeit shakily. The pain is excruciating, and I realize this is the first time since Eanfrith bestowed our new destiny upon us that I have been severely wounded.
Attempting to ignore the pain, I fight on. Before my mind's eye, I see the vile deeds perpetrated by these villains and I am struck with the sudden belief that Marcus and I are maintaining balance within the world. Ours are the acts that make a difference. Small it may be, but not so for the ones we protect today. In their hearts this day will live on as the day they were relieved from the brutal savagery they were subject to. As this thought enters my mind, I feel the pain diminishing. With strength I have not felt in centuries I fight on for every soul I can save.
1737 - Galway, Ireland
Because of prosperous trading activities, Galway is a heavily beset village. More often than not the villagers have fallen victim to bands of brigands, led by a man named Brude. Since several months, this is our home. Without us, the village would be ransacked and burned to the ground. It is up to us to strike fear in the hearts of these villains, enough so that they will cease their attempts. Unfortunately, the brigands are beginning to understand we are protecting this village and they are undoubtedly plotting against us. We cannot stay forever, we need to find a way for the villagers to protect themselves.
A month ago, we have instructed the villagers to construct a man-sized stone wall around the village. On top of this wall, battlements will be built from where archers can shoot their deadly arrows without being seen by those who besiege the village. Marcus and I have started to train every able soul in the village. Men and women alike, every one who can hold a sword or use a bow and arrow is taught to fight. In addition to this, Marcus and I have taken to teaching the children of Galway the principles of battle. Naturally, we steer clear of using swords and other weaponry. We feel strongly about teaching them fighting skills, because we know the time will come when they will need to be able fighters. However, most of the time training the children is spent sitting around a fire, telling them stories of battles won in the days of yore.
Marcus loves children. Were it not for his destiny, he would have taken himself a wife and family. As it is now, that is not possible. That is why he settles for teaching these children everything he knows about strategy and battle. There are two children in particular that he has a great affection for and I am no different. Both are boys of ten years old. Marcus has told me on several occasions that he thinks these boys have greater purposes, and remind him of our youth. They show an aptitude for all forms of combat. Liam is the brawny child, ever inclined to pull pranks and act up. Still, he has a gentle heart and he looks up to us as though we are his heroes. The other child, an orphan named Aidan, is meek but brave. The two boys are never without each other, much like Marcus and I were centuries ago.
As the weeks pass by, we grow closer to these two children. Marcus appreciates the quiet, thoughtful nature of Aidan, and assumes the role of his father. I find myself drawn to Liam's brazenness. I suspect I recognize a young Marcus in the little boy. Many evenings are spent with the children, teaching the art of fighting or telling ghost stories.
Until a fateful day.
We receive a message from Fidaich. Only Ainel, being immortal, is alive at this time, but the village is still dear to us. The origin of our life journey lies there. The words we read are Ainel's, asking us to waste no time in travelling back to Scotland. Marcus is not pleased, but he too understands why one of us should shield Eanfrith's heritage from violence. It is soon decided that I am to go to Fidaich and Marcus will continue to protect Galway from Brude's men. Thus, I say my goodbyes to the children and I embrace my brother. I plan to return in a few months.
I am but a day underway when a vision appears to me. It is Eanfrith. She speaks of a great danger threatening Marcus and the village of Galway, and then disappears again. For a short time, I do not know what to do. My loyalty lies with my brother, but my assistance has been requested by Ainel, our mentor. With great mental exertion, I call upon Eanfrith. She re-appears and hears my plea. I ask her to inform Ainel that my arrival in Fidaich will be delayed, for I shall rush to my brother's side. She nods curtly and while she diffuses into the landscape, it is disconcerting to me that she does not speak.
I ride like the wind back to Galway. My horse is worn out by the time I reach the village. Relief floods me when I see Marcus standing amidst a crowd of people, but it is soon replaced with fear as he looks up. The sight of his grief chills me and his words shake me to my core.
"They took Aidan."
Once I have composed myself, Marcus continues to explain what happened in my absence. It seems as though Brude and his men have waited for one of us to leave the village to carry out their scheme. They have lain in wait and seized Aidan when the child ventured outside the village walls, after having been challenged to do so by Liam. Brude has left behind a message for Marcus, and this message is what distresses us the most.
Brude offers a trade. Aidan's life for leaving the village without our protection. Should we decide not to leave Galway, Aidan dies. If we decide to leave to save the boy's life, most of the villagers will die. We are overcome with grief, for we know which decision we have to make. I am worried how Marcus will cope with this, since the boy was as a son to him.
Not an hour after I send Brude word of our decision, Aidan's small and limp frame is deposited in front of the village gate by Brude himself. I hear a muffled cry and when I turn back to face Marcus, his eyes have gone empty. Liam runs up to me and clutches my leg in his little arms. I shield his eyes from the sight of his best friend's body, and by doing this I provide my brother with the opportunity he waits for. I am occupied with comforting Liam and therefore react too slow to prevent Marcus from reaching his horse.
Furious, Marcus rides towards the hordes of brigands laying low in the forest. I usher the child to his mother and mount my horse. I cannot let my brother commit suicide. Not without me by his side.
I follow the sounds of combat until I reach the fight. These are odds we have never seen. There must be over a hundred men, all armed to the teeth. In a fleeting moment I take pride in the fact that they have not dared to trespass on our territory. The knowledge that we are fierce adversaries, combined with the loss of Aidan, sets fire to the rage inside me. I join Marcus in the fray. Quickly glancing around I see that he has already disposed of dozens of men. Marcus does not acknowledge my presence, and I do not know if he realizes I am there. Still, I stab and strike until there is no man left standing. It is a bitter fight, tainted with the blood of an innocent boy.
As I am battling the last of the brigands, I look around in search for Marcus. Finally my eyes find him, his face expressionless. He forces Brude to his knees with his broadsword, then tosses his sword to the side. I can tell he wants to end this bastard's life with his bare hands. Taking a blow to my shoulder, I focus on my opponent. By the time I have killed him, Marcus stands still, staring at his bloody hands. In a feeble attempt at comfort, I go to him and lay a hand on his arm. He shakes it off and looks away, then turns on his heel and storms off.
I stand for what seems like hours until Eanfrith appears before me. She does not need to speak. I have read it in my brother's eyes.
I have lost him.
Numb, I ride back to the village. I refuse to talk to anyone but Liam, who might not understand but acts like he does. The boy falls asleep on my shoulder. I press a soft kiss to his small head and I leave that same night.
Part three coming soon...