A Poor Day For Digging Graves

Rai Halfhead had a complicated relationship with fire. On the one hand, he'd always found a strange beauty in the flickering flames. There was something inherently human about the way flames cracked and undulated; just enough of a pattern to be almost predictable, but not enough to be truly understood. There was wonder in that. On the other hand-or lack thereof- it was the reason for his many ailments and extreme disfigurement.

The flames in the night tonight were of the second variety. As he weaved between burning tents, he found himself more focused on edging away from the scorching heat of his surrounds than conducting battle. His Jitte hung limply in his hand, forgotten and futile for its intended purpose. He'd lost track of The Fool when they'd crossed the moat on their makeshift bridge, and misplaced his awareness of the rest of their small army not long after. Soon, he was hardly even certain what it was that brought him here. He stumbled about in his own personal hell, shellshocked and confused. Something slammed into his back, sending him spinning to the ground.

Rai looked up dimly, mind slowly working its way out of its fogged state, and saw a man. The man lifted a sword, and Rai realized he should probably do something. The man started to swing and Rai realized it was too late. Then, a strange thing happened. The man's head disappeared. There was a thump, and a sizzle. The acrid smell of burning hair that always made his nauseous with repressed memories. An axe appeared out of the smoke, followed by the form of a demon stalking out of Rai's worst nightmares. There was a feral quality to the patter of the creature's feet, a wild tempo to the swirls of smoke its passage created. Its eyes burned like bright yellow coals, and blood dyed its form alternating black and crimson in the flickering firelight and moonbeams. And then, the figure resolved itself into Caj MacDouglas. Bigman. And just like that Rai Halfhead, was fine and dandy, thank you very much. He decided that if he really was on his third threshing, and he did end up burning in hell, he wouldn't mind as long as he could take big man with him.

Aye, those blighters in hell 'ave got nottin on Big-man. He's scarier than the whole chaffing lot.

There was a moment where the blasted big fellow made confused eye contact with Rai. Big-man could be a bit slow on the uptake at times. Consequences of a lacking education regarding the rigors of street living and adaptability, to Rai's mind. Big-man finally spoke, after what felt to Rai like it must have been a bloody great age. It couldn't have been long though, given that the corpse of Rai's attacker was only just starting to topple, with growing awareness of its lack of direction.

"Rai?" Caj said, "What the bloody hell are you doing here? You hate fire!" Rai stared at him in silence for a moment.

"Well, If I'd been knowin' ye was in the business o' burnin' us all tae hell an' back, I'd've picked the other side o' the threshing camp, wouldn' I?" Rai finally replied acerbically.

A figure in Vencheng under armor appeared through the smoke on Big-man's left. The warrior glanced at the approaching mercenary, then back to Rai, unconcerned. A moment later, the blade of a sword sprouted from the soldier's chest, and Lording appeared.

"In all fairness," Caj said easily, thumbing behind him "Burning us 'to hell and back' was Maxim's idea, not mine." Lordling shot Big-man a bright glower before panting out;

"Lies… You wanted… to send… us to hell… I just make sure…" he coughed violently "We cause enough damage that they send us back." Lordling looked at Rai as he regained his breath. "What are you doing here? You hate fire." Rai shot the man a dirty look, which the Lordling promptly ignored. Suddenly, there was an influx of chaos. A battle line, unseen previously, swept up on Big-man and Lordling's right. A line of two prisoners and one of Rai's 'cripple crew' were getting pushed backwards by eight Vencheng soldiers moving in practiced formation. Big-man's demeanor instantly changed.

"Get up Rai, now!" he gave Rai an unnecessarily firm nudge with his boot, which Rai decided to excuse under the circumstances. "Get to Braxton and Robert, and tell them to get over here before we burn with the Chaff. And stay there, and the hell away from flames and the fighting." Caj turned away, giving his full attention to the approaching fight. Rai got up and started moving, and with a purpose at that. Best not to argue with Big-man while he was on a battlefield, or holding an axe. Doubly so when both of the aforementioned criteria were met.

***

Caj took a step forward, and Sven's axe came up, came back down, a man's arm disappearing below the shoulder. The butt of the haft flashed out, the screaming mercenary's temple cracked, and his screaming stopped. Caj took a step forward, and his left foot shot out to crack into hips of a Vencheng soldier, stalling the man for a moment as Maxim's blade threaded the needle of death. Caj took a step forward, and bodychecked one man to the ground, while Sven's axe embedded itself in the spine of an enemy. Caj took a step forward, and stomped on the throat of the man he had just knocked the wind out of. Caj took a step forward, and the enemy died.

It had been some time since he sent Rai to find Braxton and Rob, and Caj had yet to see hide or hair of the two men. That wasn't to say there weren't reinforcements present, but it was hardly as though Caj could tell at the moment. The chaos of the battlefield made it impossible to coordinate, or spot anyone from any real distance. The many fires that Maxim had set, while an excellent distraction, were now proving a hinderance. Whatever force Braxton might've brought, Caj had no way of knowing, and he now wished he had delayed long enough to question Rai somewhat. But past was past, and done was done. Nothing for it now but to push forward.

Robert's initial plan had the prisoners causing enough chaos and damage to make pursuit difficult, and then escaping into the forest on the south side of the encampment, which was the closest to the Dupandover river. Now, thought, Caj hadn't any way to know if enough damage had been done, or whether retreat was realistic. He'd started to see fewer and fewer of the prisoners fighting. Optimistically, this might mean that lines of retreat had already been established, and he and Maxim were just running behind. More darkly, and likely, in his opinion, the prisoners were dead and dying. Choked off by the smoke, and without leadership. He cursed himself once more for allowing his squad to dissolve into the smoke around him. His initial thought had been to allow them to move freely and faster and individuals and duos, but that had been a mistake. He wondered how many of them now lived. He refocused on the battle, pulling himself out of the autonomous state he had been occupying as he rounded the burning mound of a tent with a few bodies atop it.

Maxim trailed him closely, three steps behind and to his right, the optimal spacing to support an ally with a polearm. The man had taken the position smoothly, and without direction, and Caj reflected that Maxim's time in Edral's army had left him with more skills that Caj had given him credit for. The man could be a bit pretentious and flighty at times, but he was the son of a sword master, and trained in the ways of war, no matter how he might sometimes act.

Caj's musings were cut short as he and Maxim came abreast of their next batch of foes. Twelve men stood before them, five mercenaries and seven soldiers. Maxim muttered a curse in Edralian, and Caj was inclined to agree. Thus far, Maxim and he had contributed to the fighting by taking on five to six soldiers at a time. While this might seem like a lot, the men they nhad been facing to this point were still largely disoriented, choked by the fire, and typically unarmored. The group in front of them appeared to be none of these things. Enough time had passed, apparently, for at least some of the enemy to strap on armor, get their bearings, and band together. What was worse; they had shields.

To an uneducated observer, one who only ever engaged in duels, a shield might not seem like such an advantage. Those observers were fools, and had no knowledge of a real battlefield. Bietre's voice echoed in Caj's mind:

Lesson 14, Solnyshko: A bad shield is better than good armor. A shield blocks. A shield parries. A shield kills. Armor is just dead.

Caj and Maxim started edging backwards as the enemy approached, looking for a good chokepoint to limit the numbers they would have to face at once. Unfortunately, the soldiers and mercenaries didn't seem inclined to let them brace themselves. The five soldiers who had shields rushed them first, followed not far behind by first their two fellows, and then the five mercenaries. Caj swore aloud this time as Bietre's voice echoed chidingly in his mind.

Lesson Number One, Caj; Your opponent will never wait for you to be ready.

Caj Glanced at Maxim and knew one thing with certainty; If they stood and fought here, they would die. And Caj would be thrice threshed and burn with the Chaff in hell before he let one of Bietre's children die on his watch.

"Split southwest!" Caj said loudly, to be heard. Maxim visibly hesitated, multicolored eyes lingering on Caj. Caj shoved the man, hard. "GO!" he bellowed, brooking no argument. As Maxim's feet pounded turf away from him, Caj turned his focus towards the enemy, still running towards him. He breathed in deeply, letting the smell of ash and blood fill him. And then, he sprinted towards the enemy. He heard Bietre and Narm's voices echoing in his mind for what he hoped wasn't the last time.

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Lesson 25: Don't die. But if you do, have some class.

If you must die, Caj, face it with dignity, and give your enemy a story to tell their grandchildren.

***

Engaging 12 armed and armored men at once, while armed with nothing but a long-handled axe, went about as well as Caj had expected. Things started out well enough, as he pulled the shield of the man second from the end on the left side of the formation out of alignment. Hooking it with the blade of Sven's axe, he yanked sharply downwards and to the left, throwing the man off balance, and thrusting forward into the man's throat with the uppermost point of the axe-blade. Caj twisted, shoving the dying soldier into his comrade on the right, entangling the other man's weapon. He then dove through the opening he had made, swinging the axe, one handed, towards the ankle of the enemy on his left, intending to make the man one foot short of his allotted set. Caj missed, unfortunately, but the haft of the axe still managed to trip the soldier, sending him stumbling into his comrades, further muddying their attempts to reset.

Caj panted as he broke through, adrenaline high, and body already exhausted from the last half hour of fighting. He kept moving, engaging the two soldiers in the middle of the formation in a haze. He heard Narm's voice calling out drills that his body had never before seemed to grasp so well, and for the first time that night, the axe in his hands felt truly his.

High, Low! High Low! Side-to-side! MAKE SPACE!

One man fell, faceplate of his armor dented in, and Caj swept the axe, his axe, from side to side. The shield-less mercenaries were forced to jump back or risk death, the unfortunate second soldier from the middle of the formation didn't jump back fast enough, and caught a full speed swing from axe in the side. His leather chest plate, as it turned out, didn't do too much to hinder a rapid introduction of his insides, to the outside. Caj yanked his weapon back as the soldier collapsed like a freshly felled sapling, and spun to face the lousy excuse for a shield wall behind him, which still hadn't properly formed up. He heard the mercenaries start to yell from behind him, but Caj couldn't be bothered to care just now. He charged the shield-bearers, Narm's voice echoing once more.

Cut off line! High, Low! High… Roll! Back-swipe! Pull Cut! Reset!

Caj stepped diagonally right, engaging the opposite edge of the five-man squad from before. He feinted high left, low right, and high left. The soldier, confused, yanked his shield back and forth uncertainly, and Caj grinned without realizing it, causing the man to flinch. The man had turned to far to his right, leaving a gap between him and the small fire next to him, allowing Caj to roll around shield-side. Caj did so, narrowly escaping the slashes and thrusts from the mercenaries to his rear, and soldiers to his right. He swung with his roll, catching the back of the soldier's neck with the haft. His tongue clucked internally. That had been meant to behead the man, but managing striking distance with an axe was so much more proactive than with a sword. No matter. He used a pull cut, like hie might to slice an opponent with a sword while grappling, and hooked the man's neck with the underside of the axe, making a particularly morbid little shepherd's crook.

Caj yanked the man sideways, guiding this unsuspecting, not so innocent lamb, headfirst into the fire behind him. The soldier rapidly began screaming as his metal helmet did a remarkable job of conducting the heat from the fire around him. The man pulled himself up, burning his hands and forearms as he got to hands and knees. Absentmindedly, Caj stomped on the back of the man's ankle, severing his Achilles tendon and sending him thrashing back into the fire. He reset himself, just in time to realize he was about to die.

BLOCK! BLOCK! PARRY! BLOCK!

It wasn't Narm's voice this time, but his own. Caj was beset on all sides by the strikes of his enemy. If not for the fact that they weren't doing a very good job of working together, Caj would've been dead immediately. The end finally came as one of the men swung a war hammer at Caj. Caj slipped it, like Narm had taught him to slip haymaker punches, but the haft still struck him a blow on the shoulder. There was a popping sound, and suddenly Caj couldn't move his left arm. A shield caught him in the face, breaking his nose, and slicing across one brow. He stumbled backwards, tried to reset, and caught another blow sidelong from a soldier he didn't even see.

Just like that, Caj was on the ground, pinned there by a man with a shield, axe nowhere to be seen. He scrabbled, trying to roll the man off of him, but to no avail. Desperately, Caj thrust his fingers into the man's faceplate, trying to gouge out an eye. The man turtled, though, powering downward with his legs all the while, driving the air out of Caj's lungs, and grinding his back in the dirt. Caj batted at the man's head futilely doing nothing but bloodying his fists. Then, he tried to shave the man's shield up and off him, to no avail. Finally, he lay still, and waited to die. This game of Tafl had come to an end, and unfortunately, the king hadn't found his corner, and however the dice rolled, it wasn't looking favorable for Caj.

A moment or three later, Caj realized he wasn't dead. The man with the shield had been replaced by two soldiers sitting on either of his shoulders, pinning his arms, and a mercenary pinning down his hips and legs. Caj wasn't sure if he'd blacked out or not, it was hard to tell with this level of battle fatigue, but obviously he'd missed something. He started to thrash, before realizing such efforts would be futile. Instead, he started taking deep breaths, trying to regain some of his energy, and looked around, trying to figure out why they hadn't just killed him outright. Off to the side, where he'd thrown a man into the fire, a pair of figures was arguing, one of them calmly, the other gesticulating wildly. He pointed first at the man Caj had put in the fire, who was now rocking back and forth, face blistered and eyes apparently scorched by the flames. Then his finger pointed at Caj, accompanied by a series of vehement words that likely impugned Caj's parentage, capped off by the ever in fashion Wūhuì. The other man slapped his hands together like he was dusting them off, then turned away. The Vencheng mercenary turned to Caj with a vicious grin, and absent his helm, Caj recognized the man. It was the same fellow who had started up the betting pool on how long Caj could last without water, and sliced him with a shaving razor. A cruel twist, no doubt. He brought out a large, clay jug he had sourced from somewhere; perhaps the men had carried packs that Caj didn't see?

The man, wirier than even most of his countrymen, approached Caj with the bandy-legged swagger. He squatted next to Caj's head, and spat phlegm onto the young warrior's face.

"Wūhuì…" he murmured, and began pouring the contents of the jug over Caj's face slowly. Caj smelt kerosene and knew what was coming he began to thrash wildly, and the mercenary laughed, and stopped poring. He slapped Caj across the face, hard, then grabbed him by the throat and pinned his head to the ground. Caj blinked, stunned, and the man shifted his grip, squeezing Caj's jaws open and pouring a substantial waft of kerosene into the young man's mouth. Caj, hyperventilating already, immediately began to choke on and swallow some of the kerosene, before finally managing to thrash aside, and slam his mouth shut. The Kerosene he had swallowed came back up, filling his mouth to almost bursting with the foul-tasting stuff, but Caj refused to unlatch his jaws, fearing the addition of more of the foul stuff. The mercenary laughed again, and began a sing song chant that despite the language barrier, sent chills down Caj's spine. He knew despite not knowing the language, that if he survived this, he would never forget the words to what was obviously a children's nursery rhyme.

"Liǎng zhī lǎo hǔ, liǎng zhī lǎo hǔ,

Pǎo de kuài, pǎo de kuài,

Yī zhǐ méi yǒu yǎn jīng, yī zhǐ méi yǒu wěi bā,

Zhēn qí guài! Zhēn qí guài!"

The mercenary leaned forward grinning madly at Caj, who could do little other than glare at the man fiercely. His voice lowered to almost a whisper, as he looked directly into Caj's, soon to be literal, burning gaze.

"Dì sān zhī xiǎo lǎo hǔ.

Pǎo dé tài mànle."

He slapped the cork back into the at least half full jug, and cackling, began to beat the side of Caj's head with every word.

"Yī zhǐ méi yǒu liǎn!

Zhēn qí guài!

Zhēn qí guài!"

The jug broke halfway through, sending kerosene spraying all aver both Caj and the Mercenary, and leaving a spiderweb of broken shards around Caj's left eye, and down his cheek. The mercenary, did even break stride, tossing the jug aside and instead twisting his palm to grind the pottery shards deeper and deeper into Caj's face with every blasted sing song syllable. The kerosene, already burning Caj's lungs, eyes and nose, added the cuts on his face to the medley. Caj probably could've bitten the man's thumb off at one point, but he didn't bother. It would be a pointless act that would accomplish nothing. The man stood, by now conjuring disgusted looks from even his fellow mercenaries, and walked briskly to where a torch was waiting, and snatched it up. He advanced on where Caj was still pinned, and gestured imperiously with the torch. The three men holding Caj leaped up and away, as the mercenary waved the torch in Caj's face. Caj scuttled backwards, fear on his face, because… what man wouldn't be afraid in this circumstance? The mercenary stepped forward once more, and leaned towards Caj stretching out the torch menacingly.

Caj smiled. The mercenary frowned. Caj grinned, and like a mummer at the city fair, spat a stream of kerosene straight through the torch and into the mercenary's face. The man's eyes widened, and he started to flinch back, but it was far to late for that. His kerosene-soaked leather armor caught fire first. Funny thing about armor; it's hard to get off in a hurry. Caj Stood as the Mercenary fell back among his fellows, spreading his burning plauge to the two who had been sitting on Caj's chest. Caj grinned at the wildly all the while, as he reaches across, grabbed his left arm by the wrist, and pulled it smoothly until his elbow was behind his head, then a little further. With a pop, his shoulder was back in socket. He rolled it once as he stepped to where his axe lay on the ground.

"Zhēn qí guài, indeed." He muttered, wondering what the words might mean.