//------------------------------// // Reunited // Story: A Song of Storms: Shattered Skies // by Sigur024 //------------------------------// It took Eboric a long time to release Theod from his embrace. He had never seen such a display of affection from the tercel in all his years. Theod could almost feel Aella avert her eyes from the scene, the pain of losing her own father still fresh. Eboric looked his son up and down and smiled. “You have grown. Stronger than when they took you.” Theod could not make words form in his beak at first. Finally they had made it. The weeks of ceaseless marching, the terror, the deaths of those left behind. It was all worth it now. “We have come a long way.” He forced out, trying to keep tears from his eyes. Eboric extended one massive arm towards the crowd still encircled by his warriors. “And who are these?” “They… we were the Auxillia.” Theod said. He saw the question written plain across his father's face, so he continued. “The Cirrans were trying to build a griffon army from hostages and volunteers. I thought it might be better than being caged like a normal hostage.” “We learned what they taught us, fought for them. But they betrayed us, poisoned us like cowards. A few survived somehow and we fled east towards the Canii. They too were betrayed. A few of the survivors joined us and we made the long journey out here.” Eborics expression turned grim as he noted the state of the Auxillia. Their dull coats, ribs showing through, haggard and gaunt faces. “We will do what we can for them.” he rumbled softly. “But perhaps you would have been better served to leave them.” Theod looked back at the fearful faces of his friends, the refugees, the Auxillia. “How could you say such a thing?” Eboric sighed deeply. “You have always been focused on honour. I understand. It is a fine thing. But if you have come from Konighorst then you have journeyed many days. Maybe many days shorter had you left the weak behind. You could be with the hens and fledgelings now, safe and away from this place. But you are here now and the prey-beasts are at the gates.” “So you would have just abandoned them to die?” Theod asked Eboric waved to his warriors and they put down their weapons, each turning to return to their own business. “Better that some survive than none.” He rumbled. Aella moved clear of the mob and bowed before Eboric, looking up into the tercels eyes. “I am Aella, daughter of Gervasius. We met not too long past. These Canii are my people and it is my duty to protect them. I beg that you let us rest here a while.” “I remember you.” Eboric said. “I was to marry one of my sons to you to bring friendship between our peoples. We have some food left, and many beds. You all may stay as long as you can.” Theod turned away and looked to the buildings of the village. They were fortified, but seemed dead. There was firelight only in a few. Drapes and furniture had been taken from them, and only warriors gathered within. “Where are our people?” “I swore oaths with the chieftain of Verstecktholm.” Eboric said, showing the cut on his palm where he had bled to cement them. “He is leading the hens and fledgelings away while I delay the Cirrans. We are to join them later.” “Why not go with them?” Theod asked Eborics face turned stony, tracing the line of his scabbed hand with a claw. “Better that some survive than none.” -    -    - Pruina set down amongst the rubble of Konighorst, Barley not far from his side. He had been here not so long ago, admired its neatly organised streets and clumsy if enthusiastic adoption of Cirran architecture. Now it was so much loose stone and scorched wood. “They could have at least left it standing as a camp.” Barley grumbled. “Good lodgings are hard to come by this far east.” Pruina ignored his old friend and set off towards where he had been told to meet. Part of the stallion hoped that their king, Gervasius, had survived the razing of the town. He did not hold out much hope, but if the Emperor's temper cooled with time then there was at least a small chance the Canii would be able to return in strength. Though, he realised with a pang of guilt, the tercel’s only daughter had joined the Auxillia. Aella probably still lay at the bottom of that ditch. As the pair passed a high wall of fallen stones, Pruina spotted their goal. A few pegasi stood in a circle around a pair of cowering white-coated griffons. Frumentarii from what Pruina had been told, but judging by the bright sheen on their armour they had only just been elevated to that station. A stallion broke from the group and saluted Pruina, then pointed a hoof at the filthy, half-starved griffons. “We pulled them from the rubble, Legate, but they don't speak any Cirran it seems.” The stallion said, sighing with exasperation. “You speak their barbarian tongue, can you show us how an old hand interrogates these vermin?” Pruina nodded silently and left Barley to chat with the Frumentarius as he advanced on the griffons. They looked up at him with undisguised dread, tears cutting lines of white through the grime of their former hiding place. “P-please lord, we-” One began Pruina shifted his wings, making the blades hung from the outside edges clatter menacingly, cutting the wretch’s pleading short. He took no pleasure in this, and they were already properly terrified. Best to go straight for the throat. “Where are the others hiding.?” He snapped in griffonic. The pair looked at each other. “Sire, we dont-” “Where?!” Pruina shouted, making the griffons flinch and throw themselves onto the ground. “They hide sire, wherever they can. Us who were too weak to go with the others.” the other whimpered. A hen, Pruina guessed by the tone. “And where are the others, the ones who were strong enough?” Pruina asked. “A group of other griffons came through. All different tribes, but no weapons. They took the ones who wanted to go and went east sire, that is all we know!” Pruina frowned. “Who were they, this other group?” They looked at each other again before answering, the male speaking softly. “They were lead by one called Theod. Called themselves the Auxillia-” Pruina lashed out with his wingblades, catching the tercel across his throat and sending a flood of red down his chest. The hen screamed and tried to scramble away, but was stopped short by an armoured hoof to the skull. Pruina lifted his bloodied hoof from the twitching carcass and spat. “Just insults. Find any others and put them down. The Legions just can't be trusted to dig through the rubble properly.” He said with feigned disdain, turning away to hide how pale his face had gone. The Auxillia lived, it was certain now. And when his commanders found out he was certain to suffer. -    -    - The Auxillia gathered before the hall of Eboric just after dawn, shivering in the cool morning air. A night of rest in actual houses had done them good, as had the bread and meat that Eboric’s warriors had given them. Theod was glad to see them smile again, see hope written plain across their faces. He had spent the night by the fireside with his father telling stories of their time apart. Eboric had never much bothered with such conversation, preferring to brood in menacing silence. Perhaps now he had proved himself his father was more willing to hear. Or perhaps the strain of war had cracked his normally stony facade. Either way Theod was glad for it. Aella came and sat by Theod’s side. She made a show of busying herself with a cloak she had found, changing the placement of the brooch before speaking. “You’ve done well.” She said. Theod raised an eyebrow at the statement, and the hen chuckled. “I don't mean it like that. If I had been in charge after Konighorst, we would still be there. Or be dead. We might not have saved everyone, and it has not been easy. But I wanted to thank you for it.” As Theod opened his beak to respond the great doors to Eborics hall swung open. The huge tercel emerged, dressed in his armour and Huscarls trailing in his wake. He acknowledged Aella, then pointed off to the west where the valley ended. “My warriors have seen Cirrans flying down into the valley. A proper warband come to burn this place. You do not have long left before they will be here, I think.” Theod nodded, standing and glancing back towards the valley mouth. “You could still come with us.” He said Eboric slowly shook his head, a rare smile on his face. “We have to slow them down. Fight one small skirmish or two, buy you some time. We will follow on as fast as we can.” A cry went up from the edge of town, sudden and fearful. Warriors echoed it until it reached the Great Hall. “They are here!” Warriors scattered, rushing into houses and gathering up weapons. Each building was a fort to take, with few entrances. A good place to kill many pegasi. “You need to go. Now.” Eboric growled, drawing his sword and swinging it to loosen the muscles of his shoulders. Theod looked to his Auxillia. Rested and full, but still weak. “We can't outrun them.” “Then hide, or fight. But when I say run, you run.” Eboric said flatly, turning back towards his hall. Theod led the Auxillia in behind his father, slamming the doors shut behind them.The Auxillia armed themselves as best they could from the hall, borrowing spare knives or breaking furniture to make simple clubs. Anything was better than nothing. Pushing his way through the now crowded building, Theod joined his father by one of the shuttered windows and watched as Legionaries formed up at the edge of the town. Four centuries judging by the banners, marching on hoof with their huge shields and gladius. He could see the bloodlust written plain upon their faces, their eagerness to put anything and everything to the sword. A few Cirrans broke from their units and took to the air, clutching lanterns in their teeth. They went straight for the thatched roofs, avoiding the murderous spikes to drop the lamps contents onto the buildings. Burning coals scattered onto dry straw and caught light almost immediately, flames leaping up in their wake. The warriors inside rushed out. Some had not the time to put on their armour and carried only spears and shields. Eboric snarled as one of the lanterns shattered on the roof of his hall, and stormed out. “Warriors! To me!” He roared, his Huscarls scrambling to form a protective shieldwall around him. Theod led the Auxillia from the burning hall and joined the crowd gathering around Eboric. If they were doing as Theod had been taught, the Cirrans would have already surrounded the town. The safest place to be was in the shieldwall. Smoke rose from the town in great choking clouds, turning the morning sunlight feeble and gray against the firelight as the Cirrans came forwards. Eboric’s warriors shouted and beat upon their shields, and were drowned out by the chanting of old Nimban war songs. Theod kept the Auxillia as close as he could. He could feel their fear, their frustration. They had come so far, only to be caught here of all places. Now they had to fight the legions, or die. The closest block of Cirrans broke formation and rushed towards the circle of griffons. Whooping with youthful enthusiasm they surrounded the warriors and the fighting began in earnest. Theod could not see past the warriors around him, but he heard the cries and shouts. The voices of pegasi rang high in pain and anguish as their eagerness met the strength and skill of much older warriors. The young tercel looked to his companions. Gretus stood at Aellas side, still as a rock amongst the jostling movement of the circle. Tapfer was on Theod’s left, a look of acid hatred etched into his features as he gripped a dagger in white-knuckled talons. The rest of the Auxillia held a line as best they could, protecting the Canii refugees with their bodies. The tumult died down suddenly with the blare of a horn. The Pegasi pulled back into their block, dragging wounded or dead comrades as Eborics warriors jeered at them. Another century moved up to take the place of the first. These were more experienced legionaries, Theod could tell. They betrayed no emotion but contempt. As they came close they pulled into a testudo with shields overhead. Theod wondered why for the briefest moment before a ghastly whistling filled the air. A sudden storm of arrows fell upon the griffons. Points tore into unarmoured flesh, or bit deep into bone bringing cries of anguish and pain. The Auxillia suffered greatly. Few had shields to heft above them to protect themselves. The moment the volley ceased the Cirrans charged into the griffons, holding their formation and pushing through the shieldwall. The group began to split apart as the Cirrans cut and stabbed their way through griffon flesh. Eboric led his Huscarls forwards with a roar and his warriors parted to let him pass. They checked the advance, discipline meeting raw savagery. The shieldwall began to open up as Eborics warriors moved around the flanks of the Pegasi. Theod looked back to the Auxillia. Many were wounded, some fatally so. They clutched at the arrow shafts protruding from their bodies with pale faces and red coats. Tapfer was nowhere to be seen. “Aella! Gretus!” Theod shouted over the din of battle. “Get the Auxillia back in line! Keep them safe!” Not checking to see if they had followed his command, Theod rushed off into the melee. He was instantly lost in the confusion. Warriors pushed forwards and back in a chaotic mess. Blood and chunks of flesh made the dusty ground into a foul morass, and the terrible screaming and yelling blotted out even the clash of arms. Theod heard a familiar cry in the din and forced his way towards it. Tapfer was caught in the midst of the crush, blood flecked across his coat and a bloodied table leg in his talons. He swung it own over his head, smashing it into the upturned face of a Legionary over and over. The Pegasus was already dead, held up only by the pressure of the bodies around him. Yet Tapfer continued to attack in a frenzy of mindless hate. Theod barged through to Tapfer and grabbed him by his neck, hauling him back against the tercel’s screamed protests and rage. The Auxillia formed up around him as he tried in vain to calm his friend. Only up close could Theod see the tears running through the blood sprayed on his face. The third unit of Cirrans advanced, spreading out to protect the flanks of their comrades and wrap around Eboric’s warriors. As tercels found themselves surrounded their will broke. The ordered shieldwall became a dozen split and scattered groups, each surrounded by the merciless swords of Cirra. The Auxillia formed their own pocket, fighting desperately to keep the Cirrans at bay. Theod hauled himself to his hindlegs to look over the melee. Eboric was isolated and alone. All his huscarls lay dead at his feet, but yet he fought on, wounded a dozen times. A pegasus leaped at him, thrusting a spear into Eborics thigh. The legionary lost his head to a sweep of the tercel’s sword for his effort. Another tried his luck, and another, and another. They rushed and piled in on him, the chieftain roaring his defiance even as he was dragged down. Theod cried out in grief and anguish as he saw his father's head hefted up on a spearpoint by one of the legionaries, a savage shout of victory rising from the Cirran ranks. A horn sounded from where the Cirrans had come, and as one they pulled back, setting their shields into a testudo once again. Eborics warriors milled about, confused without their leader. “Form up!” Theod howled. “By the gods, form up behind the shields!” Before the warriors could react, the horrid whistling of arrows filled the air once again. Theod could see them coming through a gap in the billowing clouds of smoke, glinting briefly before they plunged down into the black. As the sound rose higher and louder Theod closed his eyes and prepared for death. He could not even bring himself to hold his arms up to protect his face as the first volley came down. Theod barely felt the arrow skip off the side of his skull as he slumped to his haunches, eyes fixed on his father's headless and ruined corpse. Auxillia and warriors fell dead all around, unable to protect themselves in their scattered confusion. Aella screamed in anguish, Gretus falling from where he had tried to shield her, pumping his lifeblood from the arrow-wound in his heart. They were doomed. They had marched across half the damned world just to die at the very gates of safety. As the vile whistling rose through the air once again Theod prepared himself for death. At least he might join his father. But the arrows never fell. A sudden howling gale slammed into the backs of the Auxillia, scattering the falling arrows uselessly across the ground. The wind swept aside the billowing clouds of smoke, and with the sun came a shining golden figure. An enormous tercel, twice as tall as even Eboric and clad in golden armour crashed down between the surviving warriors and the Cirrans, a sword as long as a rowboat clutched in his talons. He did not screech or roar, or even say a word. He simply advanced towards the shocked pegasi. The giant’s own warriors swooped down to join him, screaming vengeance as they fell upon the Legionaries. All kept well away from the giant, whose enormous sword swung through whole ranks of Pegasi with every blow. The Cirrans lasted mere moments. Outnumbered, surprised and unable to fly with the howling gale still roaring down the valley. As suddenly as it had come, the wind fell silent. The giant in golden armour plucked a pegasus from the dirt as easily as Theod might lift a fruit, holding the terrified stallion up to his face. Theod could see wetness running down the legionary’s hindlegs. “I am Magnus.” The giant began, his voice deep and sonorous. “I am the living god of my people. Tell your masters that I have seen what you have done, the murder of my hens and my fledgelings. Tell them that I shall lead this war myself henceforth.” He lifted a talon and ran it through the pegasus’ mane, squeezing hard enough with the other that Theod could hear his armour creaking dangerously. “Tell them that their crimes will be answered a hundredfold.” The giant tossed the legionary almost casually into the air, and watched him quietly as he fled west once again.